Reading The Remnants (Wen Guan)

A Luo said that she had no other spells, but A Yin thought she did.

For example, she must be proficient in dreaming.

Ayin opened her eyes and woke up in a dark night that was as quiet as a coffin, with the old wood scent of a carved bed at the end of her nose. The square container was so familiar that her dreams were trapped in it and sealed with long nails. Prison, then buried under the ground, becoming a dead secret.

Missing is an outrageous thing, and it is also the most silly face. As long as you show it through a crack in the door, it will drag in and live in, just like a master.

At first, Ayin pretended to rush to it. After a long time, she also resisted, so Aluo often appeared in her dreams.

She got up from the bed, opened the door boredly, and looked at the empty corridor in a daze. She remembered a girl who had stood weakly in the floating moonlight. She raised her head and said to her: The windows are tightly closed and the quilt is tighter.

Her hair is very thin, like a smooth silk satin when spread on the pillow.

Ayin rubbed his fingertips several times before sighing suddenly.

Ayin understands that many people and things have no beginnings and ends, but people usually don’t talk about it. Once you think that a story needs an ending, it means that it is very important.

And the ending is not to make people give up, but to weigh the weight of unwillingness.

A Luo’s departure is the weighing scale. The weighing mound sinks Ah Yin’s worries and avoidance, and the scale picks up her love. The scale is the day when she disappears. The longer the day, the deeper the score.

She hid the door and knocked on the door of five coins.

Wuqian has sleepy eyes, his eyebrows are frowning like an earthworm that has just been excavated, but there is no temper in the words: “Something?”

A Yin Yao Jiao Jiao Jiao said: “Playing cards?” She couldn’t bother Li Shixi and Song Shiji, only this ghost was like her alone.

Wu Qian turned his head to look at the western clock on the wall, then turned back: “Yin Shi.”

At three o’clock in the morning, five coins habitually convert it to twelve o’clock.

Ayin scratched his neck, grabbed a faint red mark, said “Fine”, and turned his head to go back.

Five coins thought for a while, but said: “Since you are here, take the letter away.”

“Believe?” Ah Yin raised his eyebrows and leaned against the wall.

Wu Qian turned around, took out a few shredded paper from the drawer of the desk, pinched it in his hand, and walked over. A Yin squinted, and when he was able to see it clearly, the wind burst into his heart.

Her snow-white chest twitched, and her heels retreated, almost wanting to flee.

But she only licked her dry lips, looked away from the familiar paper, moved to Wuqian’s face, and asked him dumbly: “What do you do for me?”

What did she tore things for me?

Wuqian stretched out his arm and handed it to her: “My lord has gone, but didn’t take it. Your things, what you want, return to the original owner.”

The heart shrank, as if being kicked by the rabbit, Ah Yin didn’t stretch out his hand, but looked at him with a long gaze, “My stuff?”

Wu Qian cleared his throat: “Heaven is not old, love…”

“Stop it,” Ah Yin stretched out his hand to stop, thinking of A Luo’s sad look, couldn’t help but stab him, “I’ve heard it, it’s terribly hypocritical.”

Wuqian tilted his head and frowned at her: “Do you still write hypocritically?”

“Me?” Ayin blinked twice, her hunch in her heart was not very emboldened to object, and she raised her hand to cover her chin.

Wu Qian stuffed the letter in her other hand, and held the door frame so sleepy that she wanted to go to bed immediately: “You wrote to an adult, a love letter.”

He bit the accent on the last two words, and knocked gently on the wooden door with his tune finger.

Ayin opened his mouth, the word “uncle” circling around, stopped at the back of his teeth, cursing, neither cursing nor cursing. She took a hard breath and came to understand in twos or twos: “Fu, Fu Wuyin…”

The sin of doing it?

Wuqian looked at her with the look of a guilty man.

Ayin took a deep breath, and covered his lips with the five fingers sticking to his chin.

“There is also a letter of appointment.” Wu Qian said blankly.

Ah Yin’s eyelashes were shaking like a fan in summer, and he managed to control it easily. He lifted his chin to release the biting lower lip, rubbed his face and touched his ear. Five money glanced at her, then hid the door and went back to the room.

The palm of my hand was sweaty, and I was spreading it on some old paper. Ayin took the letter with his other hand, rubbing the rough edges of the cracks on the thumb and fingertips, as if his chest was torn apart, letterhead The pain also has vitality.

She looked down for a while, then stretched her neck, slammed the back of her head against the cold wall, then walked to the top of the stairs and sat down, and started spelling letters in the moonlight.

The chaotic fragments and the chaotic thoughts, she put on her skirt twice, and then stopped fighting, and she was dazed by her chin.

She had never wanted to cry so much.

When the master passed away, she told herself not to cry, so she didn’t lose a single bean. When she questioned Li Shixi, she said it was time to cry, and she couldn’t stop her tears.

But it was different at the moment. She allowed her desire to cry to grow bigger than the sky, but she only opened her astringent eyes and looked at the dark stairs in confusion.

She carried Aro’s torn letter, remembering that nineteenth said that longevity is punishment. Maybe she was wrong at the beginning. She is not inferior to Aro, nor is it a unilateral charity. Maybe, just like Aro redeeming himself, Aro needs her very much.

She needs to be a living thought in a long and boring life, and she needs to explain the meaning of time and waiting.

This sense of being needed made Ah Yin Xing Jiang’s dead heart swell up, filling the lonely night bang bang.

The rain and the sun love to fight for the wind and jealous in the mountain city, and the dark clouds yank the sun away, and the light rain will not let go. It is the most comfortable to nest in the house on a rainy day. The incense burner is lit in the study. Although it is not as warm as the charcoal basin, it disperses some shade.

The silhouette of the two girls entwined was projected on the window lattice. The taller one was sitting on the grand master’s chair behind the desk, lifted his eyes from a pile of rice paper, and asked softly, “Is the last sentence of Puppet Jue written like this? ?”

Her eyebrows seemed to have passed through the rain, they were chilly, clear and clean.

Song Nineteen faced her, sat on the table with both hands, tilted his head to take a closer look, and then hooked his head to look at her: “Isn’t it?”

Li Shiyi glanced at her, and took the pen to delete the two characters.

Song Jiu’s gaze wandered along with her strokes, with a soft “Oh” at the end.

Li Shiyi put the pen down, eyes drooping, looking at her dangling calf in mid-air, the toe cap is only half hooked, and the white heels slack out, there is a hitch on the foot of the table. Tap.

Li Shiyi reached out with his right hand, grasped the back of the heel, gave her the shoe with a slight force, put the shoe on her, put her finger on her ankle, and raised her light eyes: “Who taught you to wear this way? Shoes?”

Song Nineteen was very honest: “Ayin.”

Li Shiyi looked at each other for two seconds before moving his face away, and when he retracted his hand, his fingertips accidentally hooked the pocket on Song XIX’s knee, and then flipped through a book casually.

Song Nineteen bit his lower lip, touched a puffy knee, and kneaded it intently.

As the saying goes, there is nothing right and wrong when you are idle. Just when Ah Yin was mentioned, the aunt, like a flower, pushed the door. Seeing Song Jiu and Li Shixi sitting opposite each other, Ayin was stunned for a while, but didn’t pay attention to it. He walked straight to the table, supported with both hands, without even a greeting, so he leaned over. He spoke to Li Shixi.

“Eleven, you said, what is the greatest benefit of being such a person?”

Li Shiyi frowned and glanced at Song Shiji.

“Pretty.” Ayin came to a conclusion on his own.

Song Jiu blinked twice.

“You said again,” Ah Yin narrowed his peachy eyes, “What is my biggest weakness?”

Li Shiyi didn’t open his lips and turned his head to wait for her to speak.

“Duplicate.”

Song XIX propped his chin.

Ayin chuckled lightly and looked at Li Shiyi across the large table: “Besides, what is my biggest weakness?”

This time she didn’t pause anymore, and went on in a short while: “It’s selfish.”

“If I have seen a good one, no matter what I say, don’t don’t, but in my heart I always want to hold it firmly.”

She stopped and looked straight at Li Shiyi. The two arrogant horizontal eyebrows on Taohua’s eyes were drooping meekly at the moment, as if being beaten by the wind, sick and timid.

Li Shiyi’s shoulders sank, his spine leaned against the back of the chair, his lips pressed and looked at her for two seconds, then he shook his head and smiled softly.

She said: “Understood.”

Yubi singled out his right eyebrow to Song Jiu, then got up and left.

In the hall downstairs, Wu Qian was still flipping through a military book, and he heard clear footsteps going downstairs unhurriedly. When he walked up to him, the fragrance was blowing, and the long shadow fell beside him.

A white jade-like hand stopped to the right side of the book, the index finger flexed, and it tapped on the tabletop.

He looked up and saw Li Shiyi lightly said: “Call her back.”

The author has something to say:

“Partridge Days·Painting Boats in the Eastern Time Luoshuiqing”: After the tears of the west wind are divided and carried, the ten nights Changting Jiumengjun.