Since ancient times, Yanjing has been the most prosperous place in China. Its urban history can be traced back to three thousand years ago. Its names have been successively called Jicheng, Yandu, Dadu, Beiping, and Shuntianfu.
From the pre-Qin Dynasty to modern times, after thousands of years of cultural precipitation, Yanjing has become an international big city and the capital of China.
Yan Murong stood on the side of the road carrying his country-style canvas bag with a helpless look on his face, and smiled bitterly as he looked at the back of the fiery red Porsche that was riding away.
Recalling the look on the woman's face when she drove him out of the car, he felt so wronged that he wanted to die.
People are walking well on the roadside, so you have to pull them into the car to show you the way.
I asked you kindly if you were sick, but you gave me a hard look.
Okay, just stare, who said this is someone else's car? But, after hearing that she was going to Xinhuamen, why did the woman brake suddenly like a cat whose tail was stepped on?
He stopped on the side of the road and then drove himself off ruthlessly?
Forget about driving him down, Yan Murong felt that he didn't have to worry about a woman as he was a tall and dignified man.
The problem was that when he asked her to borrow two yuan to take the bus, she seemed not to hear him. After the motor roared for a while, all that was left was the butt of the bus getting further and further away.
"Don't let me see you again, or I will stick a few needles in your face and turn you into an ugly monster." Yan Murong looked at the sports car that had disappeared into the traffic and swore a vicious oath.
Those who should complain have complained, and the oaths that should have been sworn have been sworn. The road is still underfoot, and the destination has not been reached, so we must continue to move forward.
Fortunately, he had already run more than half the distance, and Yan Murong didn't have to walk much longer before arriving in front of Xinhua Gate.
Two tall and mighty warriors stand like javelins at the gate, with upright bodies and resolute eyes. Coupled with the five characters "Serve the People" inscribed by Mao Taizu himself on the gate, there is always a solemn atmosphere here.
Yan Murong carried the bag and walked over, but was stopped by the soldier on guard.
"Brother, you are new here, you two weren't here eight years ago." Before Brother A Bing could speak, Yan Murong grinned, showing eight neat little white teeth and smiled.
Brother A Bing was stunned by Yan Murong's clueless words ----- What does this kid do? Is there something wrong with his brain or is he just looking for trouble? This is Xinhua Sect, and looking for trouble is almost equal to courting death.
"Don't get me wrong." Seeing Brother A Bing staring at him like a cat staring at a mouse, Yan Murong quickly explained, "I am Yan Murong."
Yan Murong? Who is Yan Murong? Never heard of it.
Brother Abing wanted to use the soles of his military boots to kick the inexplicable young man in front of him away, but as a Chinese soldier, his good education and quality made him give up this idea.
"I'm sorry, comrade." Brother A Bing saluted Yan Murong and said, "Please leave here."
"But, I want to go home." Yan Murong said awkwardly.
"Then please go home. It's already very late and your family will be worried about you." Brother A Bing reminded him kindly.
"I also want to go back, but I can't."
"Comrade, if you need any help, you can tell me." As he said that, Brother A Bing took out a hundred-dollar bill from his pants pocket and handed it to Yan Murong.
Yan Murong was immediately moved to death - look, look at how kind-hearted our Chinese soldiers are.
After being moved for a while, Yan Murong did not accept the money, but looked at Brother A Bing and said, "Brother, I'm not short of money - I just don't have money for the time being. I can't go home because you stopped me."
The two soldiers looked at each other and then at Yan Murong at the same time - they felt that this boy was here to cause trouble.
"Brothers, I'm not mentally ill." Yan Murong explained and fumbled around in his coat pocket for a while before handing over his ID card.
"Yan Murong."
"Yes, that's me." Yan Murong pointed to her nose, showing a smile that could make women as young as eight and as old as eighty swoon.
"This name seems familiar." Brother A Bing looked at Yan Murong in confusion and muttered.
"My father is Yan Canghai." Seeing Brother A Bing still thinking hard, in order to prevent the soldiers of the motherland from wasting too many brain cells, he had no choice but to follow the example of the father-fighting tribe and state his father's name.
"Yan Canghai." Brother A Bing was even more confused. "This name is more familiar."
He couldn't remember, but the other one was shocked.
Yan Canghai, my God, doesn’t he have the same name as the secretary of the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection? The surname Yan is originally a minor surname. This young man’s father is named Yan Canghai, and he is also called Yan Murong.
Suddenly, Brother A Bing's expression changed, he stood up straight and saluted Yan Murong. "Hello, little chief."
This time, Yan Murong was confused.
"Well, brother, can I go in?" Yan Murong asked.
"I'm sorry, little chief, we still need to call to confirm your identity." After saying that, Brother Abing turned around and entered the duty room, picked up the phone and dialed, said a few words to the phone, and looked at it again.
After looking at the ID card in his hand, he hung up the phone and ran to Yan Murong again to salute.
"Little Chief, you can go in."
"Thank you, thank you both." Yan Murong thanked her politely, picked up her bag and walked inside.
Although he has been away for nearly eight years, the roads here are so familiar that he can find his home even with his eyes closed.
In less than five minutes, when Yan Murong saw the familiar two-story building, he felt angry in his heart with an indescribable feeling.
Just when I was thinking about who I would see first when I entered and what I should say, the door of the small building opened from the inside. Then, a beautiful woman wearing home casual clothes and showing a mature charm stepped out.
He took off his shoes and ran out with a bang.
Before Yan Murong could react, he hugged Yan Murong.
"Xiao Yanzi, you're finally back. You're a little kid who's been stabbed a thousand times. Where have you been in the past eight years? You've worried your mother to death. Woo hoo hoo!"
As the woman spoke, she couldn't help crying.
Yan Murong hugged the woman in panic and said with a wry smile. "Mom, it's not that I won't come back, it's that the old man won't let me come back. Also, I'm already in my twenties, can you stop calling me
Little swallow?"
"You brat, what's wrong with calling you little swallow? Even if you become an old man, you are still my little swallow." Guo Wanjun looked at Yan Murong sobbing, turned around and shouted to the villa. "Old Yanzi, come out quickly, let's
The little swallow is back."
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