Chapter 1: The smell of wine in the wall, and the sticks fall outside the wall

Smelling the strong fragrance wafting from the mansion opposite, the old guard at the post house sniffed hard, and even leaned forward a little, looking from a distance, like a duck waiting in a cage for people to feed water.

It's no wonder that his standing posture is indecent, the meat is too fragrant, the wine is too thick, and the little lady who welcomes guests at the door is too sultry. The daily wheat soup and soybean sauce can corrode his back molars, but it can't damage his nose and stomach, and the lack of food, salt, and oily food can't make him grow two taels of meat, but it doesn't prevent his dough from thickening day by day.

The postman, who had just passed his age but looked like an old man who was almost fifty years old, cleared his throat and whistled towards the mansion. The whistle was long and flirtatious, and it actually had some singing tones, which caused several rough maids in front of the mansion to turn their heads to look. It's just that the maids saw that the main owner who whistled was not a young man, but such an old man, so they couldn't help but feel annoyed, and spat a few times towards the gate of the post station, feeling deeply unlucky.

The veteran oil was not angry, laughed, and wanted to sing a minor tune to get over the dry addiction on his lips. Before he could open his mouth, there was a sudden burst of applause in the courtyard of the cold mansion: "Good stick method!"

The cheers were gathered in one place, like thunder, and he was so startled that he was stunned, and he choked back with a breath stuck in his throat, almost out of breath. This breath made him beat his chest and hit his back again, and it took a while to smooth out. Looking up again, I saw a young man dressed as a steward very politely accompanied a few ranger-like characters to the gate, but the blades in the hands of these tall rangers were either broken or notched, looking like remnants who had just retreated from the battlefield.

The mansion opposite is full of men from other places who are brave and fierce, and it is not surprising that they gamble on martial arts every day, but the scale of today's gambling game looks a bit large. As soon as these rangers who had lost the contest left, a few colonels of the garrison entered the gate with big guns, and there were a few red-shirted guards with big sticks on their shoulders behind. The big stick of the soap bottom hoop is painted with red, yellow, green and white stripes, faintly with a smell of blood, and the weather in early spring is still a little dry and cold, but it attracts a few black flies around the five-colored stick and refuses to disperse. Needless to say, these people are all subordinate officials who are running in front of the northern lieutenant of Luoyang. Luo Yangcheng, who is now supporting the northern lieutenant, is a ruthless character who dares to overturn and kill even the hot internal officials' family members who have violated the ban, and these little officials who have to be used by him are all cool officials like wolves and tigers.

Seeing that the steward of the mansion opened the door and beckoned the northern lieutenant's subordinates into the mansion with his fists in all directions, the veteran let his tongue relax a little. People who can make a living in Luoyang City are not stupid, but compared with ordinary state and county households, Luoyang people have more of a different spirit, and the four words "Sleeves and Proud People" are specially created for these people who are mixed in the Shoushan District all day long.

Cleaning up his mind again, the veteran cleared the phlegm in his throat, let the small amount of saliva moisten his throat, and paved the way for a syllable that was trembling in his chest and advancing in front of his throat, and a minor tune about Luoyang and peach blossoms popped briskly from the tip of his tongue:

"Luoyang Chengdong Road, next to Taolisheng Road......"

I have to say that this veteran has a good voice, and the handmaidens who are trying to pile up flowers and smiles finally draw a little attention from the young and heroic military commanders and officials, and notice him—mainly his turban stained with large oils, his armor with several pieces of leather removed, and ......

A half-stick flying upside down from inside the courtyard wall?

Time seemed to slow down as he breathed, and the veteran could see the broken wooden stick slowly enlarge in front of his eyes, and he could see the wooden thorns protruding from the not-smooth stick - it was cut from jujube wood, and the smell of stinky ink went straight to his nose.

There's no way not to stink, this is the smell of inferior ink, not to mention that this half of the stick is densely crawled with twisted and stiff broken words, and the smell is a matter of course. The broken characters are rapidly enlarged in front of the veteran's eyes, and each stroke looks like a dried earthworm that has died under the sun.

When the broken word and stick fell, the veteran's head was wooden, and the tip of his nose smelled the unpleasant ink smell, and his eyes suddenly turned black. A good family is here, the little people who eat food as soldiers are always as tough as grass, if they are replaced by a poor student of the Five Classics, maybe this stick will have to lose half of his life, but the veteran just scolded and covered his forehead, squatted down, picked up the half of the jujube stick and shouted angrily: "Which old man throws a stick, there is no royal law!"

His shout was justified, but the last note was a little low - maybe the heroic man of Emperor Xiaowu had to be a man with his tail between his legs, and the military leader would have to go to prison if he was not careful, and the eunuch was not as arrogant as he is now.

However, it is now the spring of the fifth year of Guanghe, and Emperor Xiaowu has been on the dragon for almost 200 years, and the cypress tree in front of the palace of His Majesty, who moved the capital to Luoyang Zhongxing Emperor, has also been surrounded by dozens of cypress trees.

Today's Luoyang, there is no stupid county order with an iron ring around his neck, and there is no stubborn court lieutenant who can use a mouse as a litigation sparring partner when he is young, and he can only be rampage by a group of eunuchs who are full of lust and the sons of high-ranking families. Although the house opposite is the property of a group of rangers, the people gathered today are not ordinary gangsters who are begging for food in Luoyang. The Praetorian Guards stationed in the West Garden of the Son of Heaven are like wolves, the subordinates of the Luoyang Cheng Sect who came out of the Cao family in the palace are like dogs, the post men of the small post station are barely a mouse, and a little person like a veteran has to make a cameo appearance as a tide worm.

Who has ever seen a worm demonstrate against a big-tailed wolf or a curly-tailed dog?

Therefore, the old soldier's angry shouting can only be heard by the maids who welcome the guests at the gate of the mansion, and only the laughter of the little ladies eating and eating can be exchanged for it.

The laughter fell down the clothes of the maids, but it did not fly with the warm breeze of early spring, because the black-shirted steward of the mansion accompanied a few young men carrying broken wooden guns out of the gate.

"Rank, everyone, in the same place," looking at the inkshirt steward who was only in his early twenties, he made a circle and smiled brightly, "I'm really sorry, our Tianpeng is really not serious, a few of you please make a record with me, and you can repair it at our blacksmith for free according to the chapter." There were many offends in the ring before, don't take it to heart. ”

Staring at the sunny smiling face of the steward, and listening to the repair for free, a few young men with half-short and messy hair finally looked better, and hugged their fists indiscriminately and said "Thank you". However, along with these men came a tall man, who walked very slowly, and did not go to the steward to register.

The veteran noticed the tall man at a glance, not for anything else, but because this man was still carrying half a jujube stick in his hand, and the stick was densely crawled with unbearable broken characters.

This tall man looked like he was still a young student, and he was wearing a wide-sleeved green shirt that was commonly worn by Confucian scholars in Luoyang City, as simple and simple as ordinary people at that time. However, the man's large sleeves were tied to his upper arms with inky tape, except for the cuffs hanging down from his wrists, which was supposed to be a scribe's sword with the hilt of his shoulder wrapped in stone blue ramie yarn.

In the past ten years, the atmosphere in Luoyang has changed three times a day, and the trend of men wearing women's clothes and Han wearing Hufu is not nothing, and it is still rare for a strongman to wear a Confucian shirt like this man. Coupled with the seemingly gentle face and a short beard combed on the chin, it is even more strange to match.

It is not strange for a Confucian to grow a beard, and it is not strange to have a short beard, but it is absolutely not in line with the aesthetics of Luoyang people to shave his lips and mustache but keep a short beard on his chin - don't say it is Luoyang, looking at the thirteen states in the world, where have you seen such a strange beard?

Probably not only the veteran who had an opinion on the man's short beard, the ink-shirted steward looked away from the registration book, deliberately not caring about the somewhat ridiculous beard, and couldn't help frowning when he saw the broken stick in the hand of the man in the green shirt.

"There has been an explanation in my division, with troops, there is no room for mistakes, regardless of swords, guns, swords, sticks, ......" The man in the green shirt didn't see the steward's brows twisted into Sichuan characters at all, and explained very seriously.

"Is it that the sword is in the people, and the stick is dead?" The ink-shirted steward glanced at him bored and disdainful, waved his hand and said contemptuously: "This kind of old-fashioned joke that has been outdated for hundreds of years will not even be used by those old storytellers in my hometown, man, can you change it to a new one? ”

As he spoke, he removed the registration book in his hand that was blocking his view, but saw that the man in green shirt was still carrying a food box with a vermilion red background in his left hand, and asked with a frown, "What is my brother doing with this?"

"Your banquet is too rich to eat, so pack it and take it away. Speaking simply, the hand of the green shirt guest carrying the vermilion lacquer food box moved backwards without a trace, and said with a gentle smile, "My master still has ancestral training, the food box is in the people, and the food box is dead." ”

"......" heard such a brazen and creative answer, and the manager of the ink shirt could only laugh dryly, and praised his jaw: "...... Get out of here. ”

Without holding his head, without rat scurrying, the green-shirted guest still maintained a gentle and amiable smile, and left the door of the mansion with grace. Behind him, a few rangers with short hair and unkempt hair were still coaxing: "Brother is amazing, dare to come to Zhao Lao's house to eat white food and pack it!"

The green-shirted guest who ate white food didn't look back, but just waved the hand carrying the broken stick, and there was a sour voice in his mouth: "I want to do it, I dare to ask for it." ”

The man in the green shirt was eating white food, and he was talking about the steward of the Zhao Mansion with a sour joke. If the owner of the Zhao Mansion really has a respected position in the night-like world of rivers and lakes like Guo Jie, the famous hero of Chang'an, and even without the people of the Zhao Mansion opening his mouth, there will be outlaws who intend to sell good to draw knives and shed blood on the street, so that the green shirts will go to see the king of Taishan Mansion beyond recognition. However, the young steward of the Zhao Mansion just glanced at the green-shirted guest who shook his head and shook his tail towards the post station, shook his head and scolded with a smile that others couldn't understand, and turned around and entered the gate.

However, when he turned around, his sleeves brushed a pair of short knives with a straight back at his waist, and the young steward couldn't help but think that if he could do it in Luoyang City, how many knives would it take to give this hateful mustache a miserable and funny end?

And just outside the door, a green-shirted guest who easily attracted a knifeman's killing intent was squatting by the door of the post station. He pulled the mustache on his chin in distress, and held a stick broken in two with broken words written under his arm: "This soldier brother, that's not how to talk about business, just rent an ox cart, how can you afford me to pay so much silver?"