Lonely King and Widow

Chapter 137 The Pit Depth 045 Meters Affair (7)
The breeze blew, and the leaves rustled.

This was the happiest time she had eaten, and she was slightly drunk after drinking for three rounds, so she couldn't help but look up at his face under the moonlight.

"You said that if the Xiao family finds that the century-old home brew is gone? What will happen?"

He took a sip of wine, his expression blurred, "Maybe he will cry a lot?"

Mo Jiu squinted his eyes, hiccupped, nodded and said, "Good flowers need good people to pick them, and good wine needs good people to carry them. Let's drink their wine. This is called...fate. It's the craftsmanship that respects their ancestors. What have they to cry about? Come, have a drink."

He quietly clinked glasses with her, drank each of them, and talked about the delicacies in Lin'an, as well as the delicacies he had eaten, and swallowed Mo Jiu's saliva again and again, shouting that he finally found a bosom friend, and happily Drank three cups, "There are many foodies, but few bosom friends. Whoever eats a plate of Chinese food, every grain is a treasure. Come, in order to solve the Xiao family's worries and problems, get rid of the century-old home brew, do it!"

He laughed and said: "Food is the most important thing for the people, and no one can't eat it, just do it."

"Haha." Mo Jiu, who is always scolded as a foodie, has always felt that eating is the greatest artistic sentiment of human beings and the source of power to promote human civilization, so he sang with him, and took another piece of sweet-scented osmanthus meat into his mouth. mouth, discouraged: "It's a pity that I ate it this time, and I don't know when I will be able to eat it."

He poured his drink slowly, "The delicacies of the Rong Dynasty are all in Lin'an. If the girl comes to Lin'an one day, I will take you to eat all the delicacies."

Mo Jiu loved to hear these words, she half-opened and half-closed her half-drunk eyes, "Is this really true?"

He looked at her calmly, "Naturally."

Mo Jiu said again: "One word from a gentleman."

He looked towards the center of the lake, his brows slightly stretched, "It's hard to catch a four-horse."

"Okay, it's a deal. I will definitely go to Lin'an for the sake of eating." The wine nowadays does not have as heavy alcohol content as later generations, but Mo Jiu ate a lot, and his voice softened unknowingly. On the head, but also on emotions, "I tell you, don't lie to me. I am good at everything, but I hate people lying to me. There was a man who once told me that there was a smelly smell in his hometown. Tofu is delicious, and he said he must bring it to me when he returned from vacation. But he broke his promise and didn't bring it to me. Guess what happened to him afterwards?"

His eyes lingered on her face like water waves, with a gentle smile in his eyes, "What's the matter?"

Mo Jiu said: "I let him eat boiled white tofu for half a year... no salt is allowed."

Thinking of the past, she laughed out loud, but he didn't. He slowly took off the ring on his hand and handed it to her, "This is your token. If you come to Lin'an, you can take it to... …Look for me on Suzaku Street.”

"Okay, let's meet again in Lin'an and meet friends through food." Mo Jiu happily agreed, with a hazy beauty on her face, but as she chewed the delicious sweet-scented osmanthus meat, she thought of another thing, and she must look at him, "You You haven't told me your name yet? Who am I going to find when the time comes?"

At this time, a yellow leaf happened to fall on her head.

He reached out to take it off for her, thought for a moment, and then said two words in a soothing voice, "Dongji."

Mo Jiu looked at his hand picking up the fallen leaves, said "Oh", and asked earnestly, "This name is so strange, so are your brother's names Summer, Spring, and Autumn?"

He smiled and shook his head, took her hand over, spread out his palm, and wrote one stroke at a time under the moonlight, "Dongji."

His fingers were warm, and his slow movements were exceptionally gentle. I don't know if it was the effect of alcohol, or she was also shy. The itchy touch of his hands when he wrote made Mo Jiu's usual thick-skinned, a little red hot.

(End of this chapter)