"Auntie said," Xiao Yuer thought about it, and said to her father: "Children always tell bedtime stories before they go to bed. You can fall asleep after you tell them."
Yeheng ignored her and looked at the waiter next to her, with an impatient tone: "Tell her, and let her shut up after speaking."
The cubs in the God Realm grow very fast, and there are few of them like their little highness. Three hundred years have passed, and they are so innocent.
There are not many books for cubs, but there are many stories suitable for cubs in the world.
Just as the waiter tried hard to recall what he had heard of the folk tales he had gone to the world before, but before I remembered, I saw their little majesty puffed up and said angrily:
"I want my dad to tell me, everyone else is my dad."
Ye Heng did not change her face: "I won't."
This statement is naturally false. Although there are few story books suitable for young children in the God Realm, and even Ye Heng has been busy with official duties and has never gone to the world, but in recent years, the history of calamity has become a trend. The matter of time, some stories of the mortal world, have long been circulated in the gods.
What's more, Fusang is also a person who likes to find someone to chat after the tribulation, even her little niece who is only two hundred years old has not let go. Under her propaganda, I don't know how many mortal interesting things have been moved to the God Realm.
Even if Ye Heng doesn’t pay much attention, but more or less, you can hear a few words.
Says that he can’t tell stories, and that an individual can hear the falsehood in his words.
But a certain doggie’s legs were convinced, her eyes rounded, and a sad look on her face: "Then father, you are so pitiful. Even I can tell stories."
Yeheng: "..."
What is something to be proud of telling stories?
"Well," Ye Heng was too lazy to argue with her, "go to sleep."
"Then Dad, let me tell you a story."
Xiaoyu'er didn’t sleep, but was still excited: “My aunt told me so many stories, I’ll write them down, and I can tell you all of them!”
Yeheng relentlessly refused, leaving no affection for the father and daughter: "I don't want to listen."
"Why?"
The little girl was anxious: "It really sounds good!"
The waiter said in his heart, your father just wants to clean his ears, and he doesn’t want to hear any ghost stories. Seeing this, he hurried forward:
"Your Majesty, Jun Shang is busy with his official duties. I am afraid that I don’t have much time. Or you can tell my subordinates. They have never heard stories."
"do not want!"
The little girl shook her head, "I want to be the first to tell Dad."
The waiter was moved and sad, and looked at Ye Heng embarrassed.
Yeheng closed the opened memorial fiercely, her eyes darkened, as if she was holding her impatient temper, and spit out: "Speak."
The little girl is happy now, and very thoughtful: "Dad, what story do you want to hear?"
Yeheng expressionless: "How to make a fat girl who is only two hundred and ninety-one years old keep her mouth shut forever."
"Huh?" This sentence was too long, and Xiao Yu'er didn't turn his mind.
The waiter hurried forward and explained with a smile: "The Lord means, your little majesty, just watch it."
Now the little girl understood and was happy again: "Daddy, you are so kind."
Yeheng: "..."
Attendant: "..."
Hey, the little majesty is so good to deceive, what should I do in the future.
Then, the little girl gave her father a vivid description of the story of seven pears, riding a pumpkin cart, holding a fairy stick, and going up the mountain to beat the tigress.
Ye Heng didn't know what his expression was, but the waiter was silent for a long time. As if remembering something, he asked with difficulty: "My lord, the seven pears you are talking about...are they called dwarfs? "
"Yeah," the little girl thought for a while, and said, "Auntie said, they are all small or small, as small as Lili, and there are seven, which is too much!"
The waiter couldn’t laugh: "Then this pumpkin cart..."
This shouldn’t just appear in the Cinderella story!
How did you get inside Snow White!
And actually let the seven dwarfs get on the pumpkin cart, what about Cinderella? do you died?
So are they seven dwarves or seven robbers?
The little girl is confident: “There are too many people, it’s faster to take a car, because we are going to fight tigers!”
This tiger is even more outrageous, and it is still beaten with a fairy stick.
how? Are you planning to go to the mountain to perform a magic trick on the tiger and make the tiger laugh alive?
The waiter choked, still euphemistically reminding her that she had mistyped the story: "Your Highness, if I remember correctly, it was not the seven dwarfs who beat the tiger, but a talent named'Wu Song'. "
"Yes?"
The little girl couldn't believe that she had remembered it wrong, so she scratched her head and looked at Yeheng.
Yeheng didn’t say much, just glanced at her faintly: “Look at what I’m doing, isn’t you the one who tells the story.”
The little girl patted her head: "Yes."
Speaking, the little girl opened her **** eyes, turned her head, and asked: "Uncle, have you heard your aunt tell this story?"
The corner of the waiter's mouth twitched: "...that's not it."
Even if I have heard it, it shouldn’t be a story that combines so many stories.
The little girl's confidence came in an instant, and the expression on her face looked very confident: "It must be uncle, you remembered it wrong, the tiger was beaten by Lili, it is not the five-handed!"
The over-confident look, as if she had really hit a tiger. After speaking, she couldn't help but whispered:
"We have seven. They are super powerful. Only one for five harvests. How can we kill the tiger? Only Lili can kill..."
Attendant: "..."
It's called "Wu Song"!
Wu Song! !
Robbed other people’s tigers, and at any rate called them the right names.
But the self-confident and shameless look almost a bit overbearing, but it is a bit of the shadow of their king.
Not only did the attendant collapse, but Fusang, who had listened to this earth-shattering story of ghosts and spirits, also collapsed afterwards.
not only fell into deep suspicion: is this really the story she told before?
Furthermore, being played by her like this made Fusang almost lose the ability to tell stories to others.
Whenever I tell people about mortal fairy tales, fables, and mortal stories, the first thing that appears in her mind is:
Her seven dear little nieces robbed other Cinderella’s pumpkin cart and the little fairy’s fairy stick. They ran to the mountain without any problems, snatched the tiger from Wu Song, and grabbed the beating footage.
Seven small dots, clutching fairy sticks, and surrounding tigers who are many times taller than them...
Thinking of the scene, I couldn't look directly at the stories for a while.
But at noon the next day, one more person was added to the one who was on the verge of collapse.
The little girl lay on her father’s back and asked: "Dad, do you tell bedtime stories today?"
Yeheng: "..."
Yesterday, I listened to a few more stories, the waiter with a particularly haggard face: "..."
[Recently preparing for an exam, fate is more, I am thinking about the new book, it is about to come out in November, it may be five and a half years old, IQ may be higher than Lili, follow the plot... This book will also end as soon as possible in November. 】