"sasha vujacic! Shashasha! " It is raining again. Rain, as light as cow hair, as fine as silk thread, and dust as fog, falls from the sky. The rain fell gently on the branches, and the buds on the branches drilled their lovely little heads, opened their beautiful little eyes and looked at everything around them curiously. The rain fell quietly on the grass, and the grass stubbornly pulled open the soil pressed on it, trying to break free. It stretched, yawned and began to greedily suck the dew of spring. A pile of grass here, a pile of grass there, covered the earth with a layer of green clothes. There are colorful flowers in the grass, including yellow rape, red roses, purple bougainvillea and white tulips, which are competing to open and compete for beauty. A few swallows buzzed in the air, as if to say, "Spring is coming! Spring is so beautiful! "

But such a beautiful scenery in the rain can't attract the attention of pedestrians coming and going on the road. They come and go in a hurry, and they are all preoccupied Some pedestrians are carrying brooms and offering sacrifices to sweep graves, thinking of their dead relatives and feeling very sad; Some leave their homes and go out to make a living, with uncertain future and depressed mood; Some people walk on the road of visiting relatives and friends, their future is uncertain, and they are more upset. The gloomy sky overhead made their mood heavier in the light rain.

Among the pedestrians, a scholar-like person is particularly eye-catching. He is Du Mu. He is thin, white-skinned, wearing a hat and carrying a bag. Mutu's gaunt face and frown formed the word "Sichuan". He shook his head and sighed as he walked. He has been on the road for several days, and this kind of "bad weather" is overcast and rainy everywhere, which makes him depressed. At this moment, his stomach growled with hunger and his throat seemed to smoke with thirst. How much he wants to find a place to rest, eat a hot meal, fill his stomach, drink some old wine, quench his thirst, warm himself up, and then have a good sleep. However, this man is a stranger. Where can he find a restaurant?

Suddenly, there was a clear and melodious flute in the distance. That voice is so crisp and sweet. Du Mu's spirit can't help it. He looked up and looked around, only to see a scalper coming head on, with a shepherd boy sitting on his back. He is about eleven or twelve years old, with a red face and bright big eyes. He is somewhat clever, cute and naughty. Mutu believes that there are villages where there are shepherds, and restaurants where there are villages. By the way, shall I ask him? Thinking of this, he stepped forward and asked politely, "Little brother, is there a restaurant here?" When the shepherd boy saw him, he nodded, smiled, grimaced at him and pointed in the direction behind him with a flute, meaning: Go ahead and there will be a restaurant. Mutu understood that he quickly thanked the shepherd boy, cheered up and stepped forward. Sure enough, soon, a village was looming in the rain and fog, where the roads were full of apricot flowers, and several wine lids danced in the wind, as if waving to him ... Mutu was excited and inspired, and a seven-character quatrain blurted out:

It rained a lot during my stay in Tomb-Sweeping Day.

Pedestrians on the road want to die.

Excuse me, where is the restaurant?

The shepherd boy just laughed and didn't answer Xingshan Village.