Panguan

He never opened his mouth when he heard it.

He has always been like this, what he says is always different from what he thinks in his heart, he is always bored, and he can't always say what he wants.

This kind of temper may not be tolerated by anyone for a long time.

But the dust couldn't hear it.

He never speaks, but he can always hear him when there is no dust.

Even if there are no puppet lines involved, just look into his eyes.

Wen Shi's brows and eyes are actually not soft, they are kind of sharp and good-looking. When he is not smiling, he often seems to be watching with cold eyes, but when he smiles, he looks different.

As for now, those eyes are covered with wet mist, and there is still a passion that has not receded. Except for Dust, no one else will see it.

Chen Bu hooked the puppet thread, looked at those unique eyes, and silently said what he wanted when he heard it.

At that moment, he had the most contradictory temperament.

The most restrained and the most straightforward, indifferent and full of desire, is the mountain snow filled with tea stoves on the tip of the fire in the midwinter.

"I can't find another person like this in the whole world, how can I not like it."

Chen Bu's eyes glanced at the side of his neck, where there was a mark of divine punishment for a short time, but now the mark has long since disappeared, leaving only a slightly reddish trace.

He pushed his thumb over his chin when he heard it, and tilted his head to kiss there.

When I smelled it, my eyelashes moved slightly, and my Adam's apple slipped.

...

Because the medicated bath has soaked the muscles and bones, it is easy to sweat when you smell it.

There were wet marks on the couch, and the bitter fragrance of the medicinal juice, but later there were more mixed ones, and the emotion spread.

A person who is obviously so stubborn is soft at this time.

It is the fusion of extreme cold and extreme heat.

At a certain moment, he somehow recalled that later generations often say that the fingers of top puppet masters are slender and distinct, and every joint is straight and beautiful, and the muscles and bones are even more even when wrapped with puppet threads, and every movement and stillness is pleasing to the eye.

What is obviously very common, but now it has become nonsense.

No one is more familiar with dusty fingers than he.

When this thought flashed by, his neck turned red, and he wanted to grab the man's wrist with his hands behind his back. But only the puppet threads scattered all over the bed were hooked.

In the next second, his forehead pressed deeper into the pillow, and his knees rubbed against the couch.

...

The dim light of the lamps and candles diffused in this corner, illuminating a thin layer of blood on his knees and in front of him.

He knelt and sat, half of the puppet thread was still on his finger, and half of it was wrapped around somewhere. He heard the man whisper, "Call someone."

He leaned against the other's shoulder, pursed his lips tightly and couldn't speak at all.

After an unknown amount of time, he opened his eyes, and said in a hoarse voice with scattered eyes, "There is no dust."

He called the other party's name many times. At first, he called him "Chenbubu", but he always had a hard time, so he changed his name to "Xiewen".

Then it became chaotic, no matter how much I teased, I stopped talking.

...

When I fell asleep, I can't remember clearly when I smell it.

He only remembered that when he closed his eyes, he reached out and groped for a while, and grabbed the other's fingers. It's like using everything this night to confirm that this person really exists, and he will never lose it again.

What he didn't know was that when he was about to fall asleep and his consciousness was no longer awake. Chen Bu clasped his hand, and said a word to him through the puppet thread.

It was what he had doubted in his heart before——

There are so many people up and down the mountain, why me?

In fact, it is hard to tell if there is no dust.

He has indeed traveled too many places and seen too many people and things. It seems that no matter who asks a question, he can answer it.

He knows the ins and outs of many things, and understands many truths that ordinary people don't understand. In his eyes, even life and death were just a parting, no different from the countless partings he experienced.

He could answer countless "whys", but he couldn't answer this one.

Maybe this is something that I don't understand.

If I must say...

Maybe it was that winter night many years ago.

He had just finished cultivating the fate of the world, and was recuperating in that unknown mountain col, when he suddenly received a letter from Lao Mao.

The letter said that when I heard about it, I encountered some troubles at the foot of the mountain. I happened to pass by Songyun Mountain and went to his house to read books. Maybe I will stay for two days.

His condition at that time was unprecedentedly poor, exhausted and weak, and even a little gloomy due to the influence of those mortal relationships, and he couldn't hold on to his usual appearance.

He shouldn't have come out of that col.

But he closed the letter, stood by the lake for a long time, and finally came out from the col.

He couldn't open the gate too far, and almost walked back to Songyun Mountain. After passing through several towns and seeing new wind lanterns hanging everywhere, he remembered that it was an auspicious day. Some places called it the winter solstice, and some places called it the head of the road.

Habits vary from place to place, but what he remembers most are the cities and villages at the foot of Songyun Mountain.

Every ten years, people in the village will light up lights at night.

At that time ten years ago, several apprentices were in their teens, and they were still young. They happened to be away from Songyun Mountain, so they couldn't see that scene.

Bu Ning, Zhong Si, and Zhuang Ye had been muttering for days, always saying they were sorry. He didn't say anything when he heard it. But it can be seen from the dust that he is the most unhappy.

The other three people are forgetful and don't accept death so much. not long before

Forgot about it and never mentioned it again. Only when I smell it, I keep thinking about it.