Chapter 66

At sunset, Pullman stood quietly on the hill. He could still see the dried up blood on his armor. A big sword was inserted beside him. There were many gaps in the body of the sword. The cloth twisted around the hilt was badly worn, and many of them had been dyed dark red.

On the field near the sunset, scattered weapons, broken guns, burning flags and twisted corpses form a desolate picture.

The rebels with white headscarves are searching one by one on the battlefield. If they find any living people, they quickly lift them with stretchers and send them to the medical points in the rear. Whether they are their comrades in arms or former enemies, every life is precious.

"Brother Pullman, did we win?" A young man lying in a stretcher asked weakly. His upper body was covered with bandages and his arm was shrugging.

"Yes, we won." Pullman held his other perfect hand, and his words were full of exclamations.

"Good... Good." Looking at the blue and purple sky, the boy muttered to himself.

"We're one step closer to our dreams."

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Continental South, Vega business alliance, Hopland.

After dealing with the chamber of Commerce, Lorraine Hill recently ushered in a rare moment of rest.

At this time, she sat alone in a small yard behind the residence. The yard was not big, and there was a pear tree in the middle.

The small yard is very quiet. You can hear the clear song of birds. Occasionally, a few birds fly down from the eaves and fall on the grass. They walk back and forth, Peck and then fly away.

Wearing a white skirt, the girl sat on a wooden chair with a back. It was under the eaves of the courtyard. Next to it were several stone pillars. Some green moss spread from the grass in the courtyard to the gap between the steps.

Now in her arms was a small bamboo basket with half a basket of green pea pods. Hold the nail on the edge of the pod, cut it off, and then pull apart a green fiber. A few crystal wet beans will be exposed from the pod, followed by the faint fragrance of plants.

With your fingers, a few green peas will roll down to the white palm of your hand. The peas will be put into the porcelain bowl on the right, and the torn pods will be put into another bamboo basket on the ground on the left.

Lorraine Hill quietly peeled the pods. There were several golden hairs scattered on his chest. Occasionally, the wind came, the birds sang and flew away in the wind, and the shadows of pear branches and leaves swayed gently in the courtyard.

These days, the maid has been serving her life. At first, it was a little fresh, but after a long time, she wanted to do something by herself.

While sitting on a wooden chair peeling pods, Lorraine hill slowly recalled some things in the past. When she was a child, she would go to her grandmother's house every winter and summer vacation. Unlike her family in the depressed City, her grandfather lived in the mountains.

Every time it rains, you can clearly hear the sound of raindrops on the green tiles. She likes living in grandma's house very much. Because there will be no one to urge her to study, and no one will stare at her every day. My grandparents like her very much and don't give her any restrictions. She can do what she wants.

Whether it's reading novels under the trees on the hillside, fishing by the river, baking corn on the sun field, squatting in the field to dig peanuts, or hiding in the house to play games for a day. No one would say anything about her, just eat on time.

Every summer night, she would lie on a bamboo reclining chair and watch the Milky way, stars and moon in the sky. Grandma would also tell some magical stories, such as savages eating children in the mountains and so on.

By the way, she also saw fireflies. When she was 6 years old, fireflies were flying all over the mountain, twinkling. She wanted to learn from the ancients to catch a few fireflies, put them in a transparent plastic bag, and then use them to read books at night.

Unfortunately, the stories are all deceptive. The light of fireflies is too weak to see clearly, unless hundreds of them get together.

As I grow older, I don't know why there are fewer and fewer fireflies in the mountains. I haven't seen them since I was 10 years old.

As time goes on, she likes to cook her own food.

At first it was just baked sweet potato, baked peanut, baked corn, baked potato and so on.

Later, she learned to make soup with the crucian carp caught in the pond. At that time, she was not very good at cutting vegetables, and her grandmother was afraid that she would cut her hand and would not let her touch the knife, so the fish were all handled by her grandfather first. She watched beside her, and there was a cat in her hometown squatting with her.

If you don't want to cut and fry, cook something. It's really delicious to cook corn. Then potatoes are also good. Occasionally, she cooks beans, which makes her think it's also good.

As the peas are slowly peeled away, the mind is slowly withdrawn.

The original empty porcelain bowl gradually accumulated from the first few peas, gradually increased, and finally filled the white porcelain bowl. Looking at it, the girl felt a faint sense of satisfaction.

She picked up the white porcelain bowl full of peas and went to the kitchen next to her. This is a small room that she asked Chelsea to clean up. Only she would make some food here.

Green beans into a pottery basin, and then scoop out a ladle of water from the water tank, into which, gently rub, and then fingers in the pottery basin rotation stirring, bring up a small vortex. At this time, fingers stop, and then mischievous opposite rotation, set off waves.

After going back and forth in this way for a few circles, tilt the pottery basin, stop the round beans with one hand like a small dam, and let the water drain out slowly.

With the rubbing of flint, a few dry withered grass are ignited, a deep pottery pot is put on, clear water is poured in, and then the peeled beans are covered, and a few firewood are added again. The flame slowly rises from the withered branches and licks the bottom of the pot.

Lorraine Hill brought a chair and sat quietly by the fire. The crackling sound of firewood came, and the orange flame reflected in her pupils. She was a little stunned.

When people are alone, they will think about many things, present, past and future.

It's not a short time to come to this world. There are no relatives in the past, no friends and familiar faces. Now she is no longer bound, and what kind of road will she embark on in the future.

Unlike the history recorded by later generations and the inference made by experts, Loran hill, the great sage who lowered ten starlights and saved the world ten times from being on the verge of breaking, had no ambition in the third era, the year of 1684 when the iron gun set foot. At this time, she just wanted to live a quiet and simple life, just an ordinary life.