Seeing a tuft of brown feathers on the head of the gray pigeon, Mulberry leaves recognized it at a glance as the one that flew home to send messages to her husband before, and couldn't help but be stunned for a moment.

It was not until the pigeon flapped his wings and fell in front of her and made a "cuckoo" sound that Sang Ye realized and had a bold guess in his heart: Isn't this little guy who sent her a message for someone?

Thinking of this possibility, Mang Ye was immediately excited. She hurriedly handed the dumplings to Duohua and hugged them, carefully grabbed the pigeon and took out the creed from the mailbox on its legs.

"Auntie, is your uncle back from writing a letter?" Duohua came over to see the note with Tangyuan'er in her arms. Seeing the small words he didn't know were written on it, she couldn't help but ask anxiously.

Growing up in the countryside, Duohua has seen many wild pigeons, but he has never seen a pigeon that can deliver messages. He has only heard of the existence of such pigeons from the old man who loves to tell stories in the village. Now, when he saw his aunt take out the creed from the pigeon's legs, he guessed that the uncle, who had not seen anyone for several months, had sent a message back.

Looking at the unfamiliar handwriting on the creed, Sang Ye was disappointed. When she heard Duohua’s question, she was about to shake her head when her eyes fell on the four words “My Wife Lijian” at the beginning, and her eyes suddenly lit up: “Yes, it’s your uncle’s letter. I’ll tell you in detail after I read it.”

As she said that, she smoothed the dense wrinkles on the creed and began to look carefully word by word, but the more she looked, the tighter her eyebrows became. When her eyes fell on the signature at the end, a knot had been formed between her eyebrows.

"Uncle, aunt, what's wrong with you? Did the uncle say what he said?" Duohua asked nervously, holding her cousin's arm tightened unconsciously, for fear that the uncle would write something bad to his aunt in the letter.

Sang Ye quickly put away the worry on his face and barely smiled: "It's nothing. Your uncle wrote to him that he is very busy and he won't be back this year for the Chinese New Year, so we don't have to wait for him."

When Duohua heard this, she felt relieved as if she was a little adult, and her tone became disappointed again: "I'm still waiting for my uncle to come back to bring me a beautiful head flower, but my uncle doesn't come back to celebrate the New Year."

After saying that, she looked at her little cousin and sighed, "When my uncle comes back, Tang Yuaner should not know her uncle anymore."

"Your uncle is too busy, there is nothing we can do about it! After a while, we will go to the city to buy New Year's goods, and my aunt will take you to pick beautiful head flowers." Sang Ye smiled and touched his niece's little head, so that she would not see her own forced.

"Really? That's great, thank you aunt!" After all, he was a child. When he heard that he could choose the beautiful ones by himself, Duohua almost jumped up happily. Fortunately, he remembered that he was holding his little cousin and did not make any dangerous moves.

After giving me a few more words, Mulberry leaves quickly walked into the study, and the smile on her face gradually turned into a worry that could not be dissolved, and the word Sichuan was faintly formed between her eyebrows.

Although the man who had not returned for several months said in the letter that he was very busy and could not come back to reunite before the New Year, no matter how familiar the narrative method was, he could not hide the fact that the handwriting was not written by his husband.

Although the man repeatedly explained in the letter that he was injured by a finger and hand, he could not only dictate it and let his companions write it on his behalf, Sang Ye was still worried: How serious the hand should be injured so that he could not even write it? Or was it not that his hand was injured, but that he was seriously injured elsewhere, or even so serious that he could not sit up and write a letter?

It’s no wonder that Sang Ye has such a speculation. Zheng Lin once briefly talked about Ling to her. Once the Ling has a task, he must not contact people who do not want to do the task before the task is completed, so as not to be noticed by those who are interested and leaked the news.

Now Zheng Lin suddenly sent a message back, but said he was very busy and didn't have time to come back for the New Year. Then there was only one possibility: the injury was true, not a minor injury such as a hand injury, but a serious injury that could not improve in a month. Otherwise, it would be impossible to write a letter to him in person in ten days and half a month.

When she thought that the man might be seriously injured, even if it was just her own guess, Sang Ye felt so heartbroken that she felt as if something was pressing her chest tightly and she couldn't breathe. She sat down slowly until her excitement gradually calmed down before she began to grind the ink.

After the ink was ground, Mang Ye lifted his pen and focused his mind. He looked at the yellow and white letter paper, but he didn't finish his pen for a long time.

She originally wanted to state her concerns in the reply letter and to determine whether the man was really seriously injured, but thinking that this question was meaningless, it made the man worry about her and her family, which would not be of any benefit to the injury.

In this case, just treat it as if you don’t know it, and then make a fuss when others come back!

After thinking it through, Sang Ye began to write a letter after he sorted out his mind. In less than a moment, he filled the whole piece of paper, and most of the interesting things and trivial things that Tangyuaner made. It was not until the end that he briefly expressed his longing.
Chapter completed!