Farewell letter from the seven fairies

It is said that when the seven fairies left, they left a letter on the polished dining table. There was a pot of old wine under the letter and a pot of steaming old duck on the table. Next to it is the dish of cold vinegar cabbage, silently accompanying the only cooked local duck in the family.

Stop gossiping and let's talk about this letter ... well, reader, it's a little long. My old man has bad eyes. I'd better extract the original text, and you take your time.

Dong Lang:

I haven't called my name for so many years, and I don't know what lovely adjectives to add. Forgive me for not having time to think clearly, because I just heard a piercing moan hovering in the sky. This sound may be just a gust of wind to you and the villagers, but it sounds overwhelming to me.

Listen! It's calling me again, it's calling me back, back to the place where my soul was born. But I also know clearly that once I step out of this door, my feet will be held back by the villagers, who have long understood my origin. Yes, I am a fairy from heaven, and they should regard me as a god, but in the eyes of the villagers, what is the difference between me and those stone statues squatting in the ancestral hall? Oh, no, my statues can talk and walk, so they respect me more like cows and horses.

Dong Lang, don't blame me for saying that about your folks. You must remember the boss of Zhaojiabu Village in the east of the village. Just because he called me "fairy", you took on the heavy work of ten pieces of cloth for me for three days. Dong Lang, Dong Lang, you know it's impossible for a normal person. Why do you push me like this? But you told me that I am a fairy, and I want to benefit the village before I deserve this title. Yes, what a glorious title, what a magnificent title. For this so-called title, I have to weave day and night, weaving the miracle that fairies should create. So I have been knitting for hundreds of days and nights, because people are waiting for miracles to happen to fairies every day, aren't they?

It doesn't matter. It just needs some energy. I don't care. The most terrible thing is that my last snack gas has gradually worn away. You didn't notice the beauty of boss Zhao to me, and you wouldn't think how many bosses Zhao were behind me. Ah, their blasphemy against me, a fairy, naturally met with retribution. The women in the village don't seem to be as virtuous as you say. Whenever the sun goes down, I can always hear the master's pots and pans buckled on the man's head, the broom of the West family smashed on the man's back, and the man of the North family knelt on the washboard and begged his grandfather to tell his grandmother. The man in Nanjia cried and shouted at his parents, clutching his red ears. Finally, when it was dark, the women finally finished these "housework" and the village gradually quieted down. So, I heard them spit in the direction of our house as if they had an appointment, then groaned from their throats and squeezed through their teeth. Three words-foxes, I can even imagine their delicate faces.

Dong Lang, you know, I love you very much. I don't want to be a fairy, let alone a fox. I just want to live with you like a normal couple. For such a simple dream, I endured all grievances and jealousy, did my work in obscurity, and then got the praise of some fairly kind people. Even women who used to scold men have to say that I am beautiful, virtuous and capable. At first, I thought things had finally turned around, but later I found out that they just wanted my husband, my Dong Lang, to entertain those miscellaneous demands and wishes with a smile.

I'm disappointed, for them and for you.

I have nowhere to tell the bitterness and bitterness here. I have been married to you for many years, and my eyes and teeth have long been dim. My fingertips like onion roots have worn calluses, and my face like peach blossoms has been destroyed by wind and rain. Those days, my full of spring, like silk, slowly dried up. I scrimped and saved, and worked hard for your education. I don't ask you for fame. I just want you to cultivate your self-cultivation, be reasonable, follow the example of sages and sages, talk about the past and the present, understand the avenue, and don't waste this time. But you took a nap behind my back and played cricket like a three-year-old child. Every time you don't listen to my advice, you have the cheek to retort that we should have cultivated men, knitted women and raised a pair of dolls for future generations to praise. Alas, it turns out that you, an ordinary person, are more "prophet" than I am. Even the "prophet" can touch the light of "immortal" and fly to the sky to be immortal. You don't know, whenever I listen to you, I can live happily in the sky and become a pair of immortals. What I feel is not sweet happiness, but burning pain, but I still pretend to smile on my face and just ask you gently, do you remember what I said to you when I raised my wedding wine in the wedding room? You always scratch your head foolishly.

It is my tolerance that finally makes you put down your books, carry a hoe, drag the scrawny old ox at home and plow the fields in the scorching sun, so I walk more than ten miles every day to give you food to wipe your sweat. At that time, do you know why I watched you sweat, your face was black and red, and your face was full of tears? You always smile and comfort me. Do you think I am distressed by your fatigue? No, it's not true, because I see that your smiling eyes are full of an original color, yellow as bright as land and gold. It has occupied my original position, and I can no longer throw it into your eyes, let alone into your heart. I suddenly remembered the first time you came back from the field, patting the loess all over you, and exclaimed happily: The word Yong Dong is not as valuable as a lump of soil wrapped with Chinese cabbage seeds. At that time, I wanted to warn you with "the book has its own golden house", but now I think it is unnecessary.

Later, I always hear your helpless sigh and your heavy dream talk at night. You are counting when the seeds in the field germinate, bear fruit, water and weed. I hope the wind will be lighter and the rain will be heavier, and the rent collected above will be less, and the grain sellers in the city will give more. I really can't bear for you to pull a long face all day, which is depressing, so on that windy night, you still frowned in your sleep and complained that the wind was too strong, which would scare the young plants that just came out of the ground. I have already put on my clothes and walked outside, facing the ruthless wind and floating on the loess you miss.

The next morning, the wind stopped and many people were in a hurry to go to the fields. Flowers and leaves fall all the way, and the grass is broken and the trees are broken, which is shocking. It also makes the footsteps of passers-by more and more vain. I came home with a strong wind like last night, and you were about to go out. When I came back, you just hurriedly dragged me to the field with you to see the situation, and there was always a seedling on your mouth that worried you. Dong Lang, go. I can only do so much for you. I was really tired. I don't even know how I fell asleep or fainted in bed.

When I woke up, it was three days later. I opened my eyes and saw you looking at me proudly, like a child who had just left school and was praised by her husband. You can't wait to show off this pride. At first you gently blamed me for being so sleepy, and then slowly raised your voice to tell me about that morning. You said that almost all the land in the village was torn apart by the strong wind, but your crops were not swept away, but all harvested overnight, and so were you. You said that all the people in the village came to meet you at the entrance of the village, and even the county grandfather didn't come for such a big battle, and his eyebrows were almost raised to the top. When you are in a good mood, you have to let me get out of bed and put on that new dress, and look at me again and again, praising how my wife was born like an angel. No, she is an angel. I think you are so cute and have a little warmth in your heart. I couldn't help smiling to hide my haggard face. I thought the rest of my life could finally be so happy and ordinary, but I was wrong again. Everything is my illusion.

Since then, our family has become a temple, which is more prosperous than the incense of the earth temple. The villagers always perform the ceremony of kneeling three times and worshipping nine times, and more devoutly beg me to weave brocade for them, build a house, grow crops, or marry a daughter-in-law, have a son and go to court. The patriarch once knelt outside the door all night and begged me for some rain from the sky in the dry season. After the dry season, he asked me to drop some copper coins from the sky, saying it was the best.

I really can't figure out why I had to clear the clouds and overlook the world in the first place. I thought that the friendship between people would be as beautiful as the green hills and beautiful waters I saw at that time, as pure as the joy of fish and water, as cheerful as birds singing and mountains flowing, as natural as flowers blooming and falling. I was wrong. I shouldn't believe my childish fantasies so easily that I was bewitched by my sisters. I'm leaving, dear folks, the old woman selling vegetables, the playful cowherd, the lazy man in the hotel and my poor Yong Dong. You must be naked in the sun and sweaty at the moment. You must be thinking about eating my delicious food when you come home at noon. I really hope you can finish eating the last local duck at home and drink me with your favorite vinegar cabbage.

Oh, my God, why, why would I miss something I hate, which makes me feel embarrassed? I have to go. I really have to go. I hear someone calling me. He said I didn't belong here, and everything was just a dream. When I woke up, I forgot all about it.

Really? Is that so?

No, I have no time to think about it. I have to go. I heard his call again.

Take care, Dong Lang.

The letter is here. It is said that the seven fairies left in such a hurry that they forgot their names and dates, so we don't know their names and the time when they disappeared. Besides food and wine, what would Dong Yong think if he really read this letter?

It's a pity that this letter didn't seem to appear in the legend, or maybe Yong Dong didn't know so many words and was directly ignored, so Yong Dong climbed to the sky, so the fairy asked the Queen Mother to draw a galaxy to stop him, so we could "lie down and watch the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl Star" while flapping fireflies with a small fan, so many people fantasized about meeting at the Magpie Bridge, and everything was as wonderful as it should be.

Really? Is that so?

Who knows, I should go to dinner, too.