Farmer of Shu Han

Chapter 87: worried

  Chapter 87 Don't worry

"This kid is such a rascal. Sister, you don't know. Sometimes, it can really make you so angry that you want to grit your teeth." Huang Yueying smiled at Zhang Xiahou, with a look of no surprise, "But the old man God gave him a whole body of knowledge, do you think it’s strange?”

   Assi!

  How can I say that I also regard you as an elder, and I often send food to the prime minister's mansion. Is it really okay for you to slander me like this?

  Feng Yong stood there respectfully with an awkward yet polite smile on his face, scolding MMP in his heart.

Mrs. Zhang Xiahou put down her sleeves, picked up the tea bowl and wanted to sip tea to cover it up. After thinking about it, she put it down again. She was probably worried about something. She looked at Feng Yong and said, "Although it's September, the sun at noon It's not too light, my sister told him to come in and sit down, don't burn him out."

  Huang Yueying nodded and motioned to Feng Yong: "Come in and sit down."

Feng Yong glanced gratefully at Mrs. Zhang Xiahou, and entered the gazebo. He was very self-aware and did not dare to sit at the stone table. He sat on the farthest pony in a regular manner, and then curiously pointed at the painting Huang Yueying was holding. look.

  That painting depicts a half-length beauty with a face that looks a bit like Guan Ji, but she doesn't have that coldness, and her belt is fluttering. It should not be Guan Ji. Guan Ji has never worn women's clothing. The beauty's expression was a little nimble and mischievous, which was quite Zhang Xing's charm.

   I didn't expect Huang Yueying to be good at Danqing.

   "Madam is really good at painting Danqing, this painting looks like a real person." Feng Yong flattered.

   "Oh?" Huang Yueying was a little surprised, "Do you recognize the woman in this painting?"

   "I don't recognize it." Feng Yong shook his head, "It's just that Madam painted it so realistically, if I see it in the future, I will definitely recognize it."

Huang Yueying laughed with a "sigh", put the painting on the table again, and picked up the brush to draw again. It seemed that she was not satisfied with her work, and she said after a while: "There is no such person in the world. I imagined it, how did you meet it? Okay, you don’t have to please me, tell me, what’s the matter? Now that Ba Niuli is in the limelight, it must be possible for you to come out with such a big limelight It's not a trivial matter."

   This is said, as if I am a shrinking turtle...

"It's like this, ma'am, didn't the boy take a leave of absence a few days ago due to illness? These days, thinking about how these eight ox plows are being promoted by the court, I'm afraid the boy's body is under heavy trust." She made a sickly gesture, and Zhang Xiahou next to her couldn't help but cover her mouth with her sleeve.

   "Oh? So what?"

  Change jobs, doesn’t your husband want Supervisor Zhuye? You even did something that made Zhao Yun sick of his own son, don't you really understand what I mean?

As a subordinate, you need to be sensible, so that your boss will like it—well, although it seems that the Zhuge old demon may not like you very much, but you are so sensible, does the prime minister, who has a clear distinction between public and private, still care about such a small person like himself? Supervision order?

  So people who are high officials are the most hateful! You have to be secretive when you say something, let alone do something. Give this a hint, that a metaphor. It's okay to pretend that you don't understand what he means, or you understand too much, and you think others know too much... annoying!

   "Well, the kid hasn't recovered from his illness for a long time, so he thought, it's better not to let go of the position of supervisor of Zhuye, and let someone who is capable take the position, so as not to miss the prime minister's important affairs."

   "I'm just a woman, what's the use of talking to me about such official matters?"

   Damn it! Wasn't it you who asked me to be the supervisor of Zhuye? Why didn't you say that women don't do political affairs?

   "After all, it was my wife's relationship at the time, so I entered Zhuye Prison. Now the boy wants to beg for bones..."

   "Poof!"

  Zhang Xiahou took another sip of tea.

  Feng Yong couldn't go on talking anymore.

"You wait to continue, don't worry about me, I'm sorry!" Zhang Xiahou buried her head behind her wide sleeves this time, her voice muffled from behind her sleeves, her shoulders were constantly twitching, and she pulled Zhang Xing up with one hand. hand, walked quickly out of the gazebo, and disappeared behind the courtyard arch.

  Here, Huang Yueying shook her hands when she heard Feng Yong's words, a large black birthmark appeared on the half-length beauty's face, and she glared at Feng Yong angrily.

  Feng Yong looked at her innocently, expressing that he had done nothing.

  No choice, Huang Yueying had no choice but to put down the pen, hastily rolled up the painting and put it aside, sneered: "I don't know if Feng Langjun is a Geng this year?"

   "Mrs. Hui, sixteen years old."

   "Sixteen-year-old begging for bones? Feng Yong, are you scolding the court or the prime minister?" Huang Yueying's voice became sharper, "Is it possible that a big man really can't tolerate you?"

   "Ma'am, what do you mean by this? How dare you do this, kid? It's just that you have an old disease, so you..."

   "Stop talking about such useless things!" Huang Yueying roughly interrupted Feng Yong's words, her chest heaved violently, she stared at Feng Yong and asked, "Let me ask you, why are you resigning?"

  The world is so big, I want to see it?

  Feng Yong scratched his head, thought for a while, and then said: "I want to go to Hanzhong to collect folk songs..."

  Huang Yueying almost couldn't catch her breath.

   "A few days ago, you were still opening up wasteland on the **** of Fengzhuang, and it didn't look like you were going to give up your foundation. Why do you have this idea now?"

  Huang Yueying really couldn't figure out what this **** was thinking.

  Give up the foundation? I never thought about giving up! Feng Zhuang is Lao Tzu's base, how could he just let it go?

  Feng Yong looked up at Huang Yueying blankly: "Ma'am, where did you start? The kid never thought of giving up Feng Zhuang."

   "Still arguing! You haven't married yet, and you don't have any other relatives in the mansion. If you stay away from home, in case something happens to the village, who can make the decision? How is this different from giving up the foundation?"

  Is there such a saying?

   "The boy is just going to collect the wind, and he will be back in two or three months. It shouldn't be a problem, right?"

   "Can you guarantee that nothing will happen in the mansion for these three months?"

  I guarantee an egg! How can I guarantee that there are no mobile phones and no Internet in this day and age?

   "Then according to Madam's opinion, so what?"

"Be at ease as your prison order, just stay there. If you want to be on duty, go to be on duty. If you don't want to be on duty, just stay in your poor village and enjoy yourself. Isn't that bad?" Huang Yueying hated that iron can't make steel He said calmly, "Don't forget that I made a bet with you at the beginning. Now it seems that although the result has not yet come out, it can be guessed. The promise of keeping you safe can be fulfilled when it comes to it."

  Understood, it seems that the old demon Zhuge is still worried about wandering around. Some regret it, the identity of the disciple of the mountain gate is also a double-edged sword, which can give oneself a layer of protection, but also restrict oneself. In order to be able to stabilize himself, the old demon Zhuge can even temporarily not move the position of the Zhuye supervision order—although even if he occupies the position of the supervision order, it will definitely not affect the old monster Zhuge's control of Zhuye supervisor in the end. up.

  Gritting his teeth, Feng Yong thought to himself, luckily I am still a little bit prepared.

  (end of this chapter)

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