The blood marriage of Liao Zhai

The old boy would look at the lantern and say with a smile, "Ziqin, look, this lantern is so big..." But he couldn't wait for a response.Later, people who came back from the snowstorm said that when they saw a young master holding a black umbrella standing on the Duanchang Bridge, it was only a moment before he disappeared.In the bleak yard, the willows are still twirling their branches and drooping their sash, and the weeds are quietly growing wildly. Occasionally, the sound of crickets settling here at night can be heard.Those eaves with mottled traces seem to whisper the age of this house. With white temples, Zhuoyu, who is nearly half a century old, stands in the room, brushing the tables, chairs and banknotes over and over again, his eyes can't restrain his nostalgia. He softly called "Ziqin..." Some memories were deeply pulled out like this, vivid and moving.It was the same afternoon, after the summer heat, the flower towers in the small courtyard stretched their heads and were lifeless.The thick branches of the willow tree hang down and shine on the mottled ground. On the stone table, it looks like a woman swaying the waist of a water snake, graceful and graceful.Content tags: Childhood sweetheart sadomasochism ┃ Search keywords: Protagonist: Ziqin Zhuoyu ┃ Supporting role: Other