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Victory Banquet

In the last month of spring, the sun is in the stomach, the sunset is in the middle of the seven stars, and the dawn is in the middle of the morning star. It is the day of Jia and Yi. Its emperor is Dahao, and its god is Ju Mang. Its insect is scale. Its sound is Jiao, and its musical scale is Gu Xi. Its number is eight. Its taste is sour, and its smell is rancid. Its offering is to the door, and the first spleen. The tung tree begins to bloom, the field mouse turns into a quail, the rainbow begins to appear, and the duckweed begins to grow. The emperor lives in Qingyang Youge, rides on the Luan Road, drives the Canglong, carries the green flag, wears green clothes, and wears Cangyu. He eats wheat and sheep, and his utensils are sparse and clear.

I want to piss off the prince every day.

General Wang was rebellious, and Emperor Ming of Jin, with his talent for heroic martial arts, was still in charge, so he was dressed in military uniform, riding a horse and whipping a golden horse whip Lao, staying in the shop to sell food, said Lao said: "Wang Dun raised his troops to rebel, guessed to harm loyalty, the court was frightened, the country is worried Not. Grandma said: “Going long, not resumption.

The robber in the martial arts world

Zu Shishao loved money when he was young, and Ruan Yaoji liked to wear shoes. They both managed their own things, but they did not judge their gains and losses. When someone visited the ancestor, he saw the items and property. When the guest arrived, the screen had not yet been fully screened. I put two small baskets and chopsticks behind my back and leaned over to block them, feeling unsatisfied. Someone who visited Ruan saw him blowing on his wax clogs, and he sighed and said, "I wonder how many pairs of clogs I should wear in my lifetime?" He looked relaxed. Then the winner was decided.

Personal Doctor

. When parents grow old, they should not change their ways and should not be late. When parents are sick and look pale, this is the filial son's indifference. When a father dies and one cannot read his books, the traces of his hand remain; when a mother dies and one cannot drink from the cup, the traces of her mouth remain.

Urban Immortal

The Rebirth of the National Male God