The snow fell early this year, and the ancient plums in Tianchi Mountain also bloomed early.

Next year will be a good climate.

"...Smoked snow tea, boiled porridge flowers, and a lot of honey-stained plumsnew snow boiling new tea!"

"White plum fruit, red plum, butterfly cake pan fry-"

"Plum cake five cents a..."

"..."

The tactful sound of early morning shop hawking echoed in the deserted air, the snow was getting heavier day by day, and the number of tourists and literati who came to Meicheng to watch the snow and appreciate the plum was also increasing day by day. Most of the people who come to Meicheng in winter will not stay in the inn in the morning, but go out to drink a bowl of authentic Meicheng porridge in the cold.

At the end of East Street, under the weeping plum.

A bamboo pole raised an old flag with the word "Yang" written on it, and underneath was a simple shop. The old woman in charge of the scoop, surnamed Yang, was never married, so she opened a breakfast shop when she was old. In addition to making ends meet, she was mainly looking for something to do, not to be too lonely. Last year, I received an orphan from a deserter and recognized it as my granddaughter.

The little girl wore a red cotton-padded jacket and sat on the stone steps to help grandma pick out the plum blossoms for porridge.

While counting, he shouted loudly.

"Two jars of white plum wine, and two plates of honey-stained plum blossoms." A pair of boots that had come from the snow stopped under the old flag.

"Okay... Hey, don't you want breakfast porridge?" The little girl raised her head in surprise.

In the snow, stood a man with an umbrella and a black cloak. The edge of the umbrella was a little low. The little girl sitting on the top of the stone steps couldn't see his face. Others are different.

"Morning porridge?"

The visitor glanced at the many jars placed on the wooden shelves and stone steps.

The jars were not burnt delicately, but they were neatly placed one by one, washed very cleanly, and the mouths of the jars were plugged with corks. Only the red paper was pasted on the altar, and the words were written in regular script: mountain peach white, Qianshan snow, white beard cinnabar, money green calyx, jumping snow and weeping branches, smoke in red... There are many, dozens of names of plum blossoms. .

Seeing that he was looking at the jar, the little girl put down the bamboo strips in her hand and explained to him seriously: "The white plum wine in our house is relatively strong, and it is easy to burn the stomach without eating anything in the morning. Big brother, you should order a bowl of porridge. , very cheap, such a big bowl is only four cents..." She put her hands together and gestured hard, "Such a big bowl! Grandma's porridge is delicious, I won't lie to you!"

"Then add a bowl of porridge."

Come and close the umbrella.

The moment he put away the umbrella, the little girl was stunned. The single-petaled five-blossom plum that hangs over the courtyard wall, the youth surrounded by thick velvet, the smoky fingertips, the half-closed paper umbrella, the falling snow... The small shop in the secluded place suddenly dimmed, and then suddenly glowed again. Hui.

Standing under the plum, he became a natural danqing, cold and quaint.

"...you, you, what kind of porridge do you want to drink?" the little girl asked, feeling a little stumbling.

"What's good to drink?" Qiu Bodeng brushed off the snow on the chair and sat down.

"The plum porridge with the white rolls of mountain peach is the clearest, the taste of Qianshanxue is relatively mild, but the aftertaste is the best, and the taste of white beard and cinnabar is the strongest..." Speaking of familiarity, the little girl finally became fluent again, and counted with her fingers. He listened, "If you want white plum wine, the best thing is to go with something sweeter... How about plum porridge that's red in the smoke?"

Qiu Bodeng listened to her countenance, before nodding and saying yes.

People in Meicheng like to collect fallen flowers when they are shoveling snow, clean them, sort them, and seal them in jars. Well water cannot be used to cook plum porridge, but snow that has not fallen on the ground and is not stained with dirt, so every household will put several large jars in the yard at the door to hold the snow.

The falling flowers are light and thin, and the fragrance is easy to disperse in the morning when cooking porridge. In addition to the black heart shop, the porridge sellers boil the white porridge until it is almost cooked, and then press the small firewood to let it boil slowly. The little girl went to fetch wine and honey-stained plum blossoms, and the old woman began to make porridge.

Qiu Bodeng wanted to wait for someone, so he sat under the shed with plumes and watched them busy.

The old woman divided the porridge into small soup pots and added a spoonful of snow. After the snow boiled, the rice grains began to churn. When the rice soup was thick, the jar with the plum petals was opened, and a few scoops of the washed cigarettes were poured inward along the edge and sprinkled evenly.

The wine came up, the honey-stained plum blossoms came up, and so did the porridge.

Really generous bowl.

Served in a black pottery bowl with a wide mouth and a deep bottom, the rice grains are crystal clear and plump after being simmered over a slow fire, as clear as snow, and adorned with plum blossoms. With a warm bowl, elegance has become common in Meicheng. In this world, most people live, that is, such a bowl of porridge.

Qiu Bodeng scooped slowly, watching the white water vapor roll.

A distant visitor stopped at the table.

The young man in black and white crown stood in the wind and snow with a cold expression.

"sit down."

Chapter 133 The Great Cold Friends Gather, Meet in Hometown

The white plum wine fell into the shallow-bottomed and wide-mouthed wine cup, splashing crystal water droplets. The wine brewed with the cold water of Furukawa has a long-lasting fragrance, and the guests who have come from afar sit opposite, without saying a word, drinking a glass and pouring another. The god in the black cloak and red clothes drank the porridge with the scoop, the white scoop touched the black pottery, and the voice was solitary and cold. Grandma Hu's granddaughter will look at this one and another at a while, but for some reason, she doesn't dare to call out any more guests.

There are only two strange guests under a porridge shed.

White ladle gently put down.

Divine Sovereign raised his eyes: "This year, the Western Continent Whales will not go south."

"Yes."

Mu Di, in black and white crown, held a wine cup and kept his words concise.

"Is it Baimin?" The goddess pushed aside the porridge bowl, opened a jar of wine, stared at the wine and poured it into the cup, "Luo Tang and Su Shen," and the whale group bet ten bets and nine loses, always denying the account ... He paused slightly, passing all the surging trivia of the past, "Although they are close to the whale group, they can't convince the whale group."