The following thing we are going to mention has nothing to do with this story, but it is somewhat interesting: about five hundred miles away, there is a small group of birds - perhaps more like beasts - carefully walking among the trees. Their heads are like flamingos, their bodies are like turkeys, and their legs are like sumo wrestlers; Their movements are abrupt and unsmooth when walking, as if their heads and feet are tied together with rubber bands. Even among the animals in the disc-shaped world, this is a very unique species - their main defense is to make predators laugh uncontrollably, so they can escape while they have not yet recovered. Lingsi Feng may derive a vague sense of satisfaction from them: their names are called Kou Yan.
The business of the broken drum is not good. The giant monster tied to the doorpost sat in the shade, thoughtfully holding a toothpick, trying to pick out the person stuck between their teeth.
Korisso sang softly to himself. He had just discovered beer, and there was no need to pay, because he realized that flattery was a hard currency here - for some reason, Anko's lover rarely used it - and had an amazing effect on the shop owner's daughter. She is a big girl with a good temper, and her skin color and - to put it bluntly - body shape are similar to the bread before it entered the oven. She was completely mesmerized by Coritho, and no one had ever described her breasts as watermelons adorned with jewels before.
Absolutely right, "Shalifa slid down to the stool with a peaceful expression." There's absolutely no doubt about it. "Not only were there those big yellow watermelons, but there were also small green melons with wart like blood vessels, he thought honestly.
And what about my hair? "She pulled him back, poured him some wine, and encouraged him to continue.
Oh. "Shalifa frowned." A group of goats grazing on the side of that mountain is not bad at all. As for your ears, "he said quickly," the pink shells that come to the beach kissed by the sea cannot compare to them -
How exactly does it resemble a group of goats? "She pursued.
Shalifa hesitated a bit. He always thought it was one of his best poems. Now it will face off against Anko Mobock's famous tendon for the first time. Strangely, he thought the other party was quite remarkable.
I'm asking, is it similar in size, shape, or odor? "She continued to delve deeper.
I think, "Shari said," perhaps the sentence I have in mind is completely different from a group of goats
Ah? "The girl reached out and took the wine jug.
And I think I might want another drink, "he said vaguely," and then - then - "he glanced at the girl with a slanted eye and asked without hesitation," How is your storytelling ability
What
He suddenly felt his lips dry, so he stuck out his tongue and licked them. I'm asking, do you know many stories? "He asked hoarsely.
Oh, not bad. There are so many
Is it too much? "Whispered Korisso. Most of his concubines can only talk about one or two of them, and they are all old and toothless.
Hundreds of them. What, do you want to hear a story
What, now
If you want to listen. Business is not busy right now
Perhaps I have indeed passed away, "thought Korisso to himself." Perhaps this is heaven. He grabbed her hands. You know, "he said," I haven't met a master storyteller in a long, long time, but I never want to force you to do something you don't want to do
She patted his arm. How gentlemanly this old man is, she thought to herself. Look at some people here.
There's a story my grandmother used to tell me, and I could recite it backwards, "she said.
Korisso sipped his beer and gazed tenderly at the wall. Hundreds of stories, he thought, and some of them she could recite backwards.
She cleared her throat and began to speak, her pleasant voice melting Korisso's pulse: 'Once upon a time, there was a man who gave birth to eight sons -'
The prince sat by the window and wrote something. For the past one or two weeks, his mind has been a mess, and this feeling is not very pleasing to him.
The servant lit a lamp to drive away the dusk, and several early rising moths were circling around it. The prince watched them attentively. For some reason, the glass made him a little uneasy. But when he stared blankly at those insects, the glass was definitely not the most annoying part for him.
The most frustrating part for him was that he had to desperately suppress a terrible impulse, otherwise he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't stick out his tongue to reach those moths.
Wang Fusi lay on the back of his master's feet, barking in his dreams.
The residents in the city lit their own oil lamps one after another, but the last few rays of sunlight had not completely disappeared. The afterglow of the setting sun shone on the monster's outlet, and they were helping each other climb back to the high roof.
The library door was open, and the administrator stood by the door, looking at the monster's outlet. He gave himself a meaningful itch, then turned around and locked the night outside the door.
It's very warm in the library. The library is always warm because scattered magic not only illuminates, but also gently cooks the air.
The librarian looked at his precious book with approval, making one final inspection of the sleeping bookshelf. He then pulled the blanket under his desk, ate the last goodnight banana, and fell asleep.
Gradually, silence regained control of the entire library. It brushed away the remains of a hat. This hat was heavily worn out and its edges were burnt, but it was solemnly placed in a niche. No matter how far a wizard goes, he will always come back to retrieve his hat.
Silence fills the university, just like air fills a cave. The darkness spreads over the disc-shaped world, like plum jam, or perhaps blackberry preserves.
But there will be in the morning. There will always be another morning.