Early spring, gangnam town. Grass warblers fly, apricot blossoms drizzle. The bluestone paved market is full of people, and all kinds of shouts and sales are endless. In the cool morning air, drizzling rain, a woman, dressed in aqua green dress, hair like clouds, a beautiful face, slim jade hand holding an oil-paper umbrella. The unworldly beauty makes pedestrians on the road turn back. But the woman seemed to be unaware, and drifted forward. Her name is Green Shirt and she is looking for someone. A thousand years ago, that man had saved her life. At that time, she was still a small green snake. Practice underground in the darkness and cold.
That day, the dirt on her body was suddenly turned over. Before she could open her eyes, she heard a crisp child's voice say, "Wison, Wison, come and see, a little snake." Let's kill her, "An older boy came up to her and said, "Don't fight, bury her." From that moment on, she remembered the boy named Wison and remembered that there was a cinnabar mole behind his left earlobe. Qingyi inquired that Wison had gone through several lifetimes and was now reincarnated in this town, and his family lived in the east of the market.
She saw the man, who was sitting on the side of the street weaving bamboo utensils. At the feet are bamboo baskets, bamboo baskets, bamboo baskets and other woven finished products. He is clean and handsome, elegant, and slightly vicissitudes. Plainly dressed but clean and tidy. A pair of hands was extremely dexterous, and the bamboo basket flew and jumped in his hand, and in a moment a small bamboo basket was woven. He was concentrating on what he was doing, as if the hustle and bustle of the world had nothing to do with him. An old beggar stretched out his hands to beg him, and he put down his work and took a little broken silver from his sleeve and gave it to the old man. He had just sold a bamboo basket for it. When the green shirt saw all this, his heart was wet. This was her Wison, and she certainly didn't look at the wrong person. The family is poor but so kind, although they sit on the street and make a living by craftsmanship, they are calm and calm.
She learned that Wison had lost his father at an early age, and although he also wrote poetry, he was quite talented. Due to his family's poverty, he could not seek fame, so he had to make a living by weaving and selling bamboo utensils, and he already had a wife. Qingyi decided to go and see his wife, what kind of woman dared to rob her of Her Life, if it was the vulgar village girl who took her soul, just refined into the eighty-fourth umbrella bone. The oil-paper umbrella in her hand is no ordinary umbrella, and each of its umbrella bones is made of a person's soul. It has been refined into eighty-three, and with the last one, it has become an invincible weapon.
Qingyi made up his mind to walk forward, walked to Wison's stall, and fainted on the ground with a "Oops" sound. Wison rescued her home, and she met his wife ---- Yunniang. Although Yunniang is not a worldly beauty, she is petite and lovely, gentle and virtuous.