Little Mr. is one hundred years old

One day in the mountains, thousands of years in the world.

Living in the deep valley every day, bathing in the morning sun and sunset, although it is not enough to eat flowers and drink dew, it is already different from before.

A few years have passed, and Qing Huan can't remember clearly.

During this period, he went down the mountain a few times, and saw the devastation everywhere, the people running everywhere, with despair and pain on their faces, like purgatory on earth... It was the first time that Qing Huan realized that he was so useless, what he could do Even if he donated the food he brought from the mountains to the refugees, he wanted to save them, but when he was attacked by those extremely hungry refugees, he knew that he could not save them. evil.He can't help them escape, he can only be alone.

The most worthless things in those years were books. Qing Huan moved a pile of books up the mountain, and there were some rare ancient books mixed in. When he was in the mountains, Qing Huan relied on these books for his daily life. How many books have he read, from a collection of classics and history to Western classics, from poetry, history and politics to military and agricultural miscellaneous arts? Forgotten or blurred, as if engraved in the brain, after a long time, it seems to have a feeling of being reborn.He grows some flowers and fruits for self-entertainment, or explores the mountains for another day with a bamboo basket on his back. When he is hungry, he picks some non-toxic wild fruits to satisfy his hunger. When he is tired, he finds a flat place to rest.He seemed to be isolated from this troubled world alone, living a peaceful life.

Sometimes he also thinks about those things in the past, those people, there is a feeling of being separated from the world, it seems a little unreal, the sadness, pain, and despair of the past are all blurred, and even gradually, many things can’t be remembered up.He only knew that no matter what, he must live alone.

One day, Qing Huan was sitting next to the boulder, holding the white pieces in one hand and the black pieces in the other hand, playing chess on the chessboard laid on the stone. Suddenly, he heard the sound of bombing from far away, and the birds in the forest started up. He paused his hand, frowned, and sighed: "It's started again."

The bombardment sounded one after another, and gradually stopped for a whole day.Qing Huan stood on the top of the mountain, watching the gunpowder smoke in the distance, motionless.

It was night, a gray army of less than 20 people was marching in the dark, half of them were wounded, and the rest of them were gradually exhausted due to fierce fighting and hunger. They supported each other and wanted to get out of this mysterious jungle, but they couldn't last. fell to the ground.

Will they perish where no one knows?Did he die silently before he could finish his mission, before he could realize his original ambition...

"Aww—" the wolf howled.

Will it really die?Even if you die without exhaustion, you will be eaten by wild beasts in the forest...

A breath of despair pervaded the team, and the few people who were awake clearly heard rustling sounds from far and near, something was coming... The fog seemed to thicken all of a sudden...

Is it dead?

However, those who were unable to sit on the ground saw a white figure. Under the moonlight, that figure seemed to be coated with a layer of white light. "His" hair was very long and draped over his shoulders. , and slowly squatted down in front of them—that face was a beauty never seen before, "he" smiled at them—is it a fairy on the mountain?

The original action of drawing the gun stopped, and I could only watch blankly as "he" put something down, then stood up, turned and left, and the fog gradually dissipated as "him" left... When "he" left, those few people woke up like a dream. They saw clearly what the man put on the ground just now. It was a big cloth bag. When he opened it, there were steamed buns and wild fruits in it, which was enough for people like them. Temporarily restore stamina.

"Wake up! Wake up! There's food! There's food!!"

One woke up one by one, and the sudden appearance of food lifted their spirits, and the food was distributed to the wounded before the others ate.

"Where do these foods come from?" asked the person who had recovered a little after eating and fell asleep just now.

"Yes... it was sent by the gods..."

"Yes, it must be a god...the god on the mountain..."

"Is it really a god? Are there really gods in this world?"

"But we all saw it, didn't we?"

There was a lot of discussion, only one young man slowly gnawed on a steamed bun without saying a word.

As the sky was getting brighter, they found the arrows carved on the trees one by one. Although they were suspicious, they still walked in the direction of the arrows. Unexpectedly, they really got out of the mountain, cheering one by one, cheering for the death nightmare. Thrilled with escape and preliminary victory...

The young man who had been silent all this time looked back at the mountain shrouded in mist, then turned around and followed the footsteps of his companions, and walked forward resolutely.

This young man was born in a university, and he is best at Western oil painting in his studies. After he returned home, he painted a painting of "the fairy in white" and treasured it for 70 years.

At this time, Qing Huan was feeding the skylark who didn't know how to get in with the crumbs of cornmeal steamed buns, and there was a faint smile on the corner of her mouth.

He doesn't know how many people he accidentally saved and changed their fate with his kind act of kindness, and also paved the way for his future.

The second volume of this world