The Husky and His White Cat Shizun

Chu nighting is lying on the bed, his mind is groggy, his consciousness is sometimes clear, and sometimes he is very vague.

He seemed to hear the quarrel between the two people. It seemed to be a teacher and a smoldering sound. Later, the sound of the quarrel disappeared, and there was only a whistling wind in his ear.

Later, he seemed to be lying in the warm bedding. Someone was talking to himself. The broken voice was like passing through the ocean. He couldn’t hear clearly. He only occasionally drifted into three or two sentences. What kind of past life, what master respects— - He vaguely felt that this seemed to be the voice of the teacher, but he did not have much effort to digest, and these sentences quickly dissipated like the fog in the morning.

His memories became complete little by little, and became clear little by little. The memories of the past life were like rainwater flowing into the river and eventually rushing to the sea.

The first thing he dreamed of was the deep corridor, which was built in the red lotus waters of the dead and the dead. The gallery was covered with vines, and the wind was blowing and the snow was falling.

He sat down at the gallery and was writing a letter at the stone table.

The letter can not be sent out, stepping on the Emperor Xianjun does not allow him to contact with outsiders, and he is not allowed to raise pigeons or any animals, even the red lotus water scorpion has been overlapped and countless whistling curses.

But Chu Yuning still wrote.

Too lonely, one person, one world, probably has to live like this for a lifetime.

To say no trouble, it is fake.

The letter is written to Xue Meng, and there is not much more than nothing. It is nothing more than asking about the recent situation, whether it is safe, and asking about the external sun and the moon, what is it?

However, there is nothing wrong with it.

So a letter slowly wrote an afternoon and there was not much content. At the end of the writing, some of them were fascinated, and they remembered the days when the three little apprentices were around, and they taught them to write poetry and painting.

Xue Meng and the teacher drop out of school very quickly. Only the ink burns. It is wrong to write a word three or four times. It is always necessary to teach him.

What was written at the time?

Chu night, Ning Hao Shendi, pen and ink slowly spread on the rice paper.

He first wrote "Being a Bodhi tree, the heart is like a mirror table", and then wrote "Life has no roots, floating like a dust", a stroke, a whole workmanship.

Write a book or write a letter, his words are always clear and correct, afraid of reading people can not understand, but also afraid that disciples follow their own learning.

The words are like people, and the backbone is very proud.

He wrote "Where is the old man" and wrote "Hai Kuo Shan Yao".

Later, the wind blew the wisteria flowers and rested on the crepe paper basket. He was reluctant to look at the faint and magnificent purple. The pen tip turned and wrote, "When the dream is awake, the river is still old and gentle." ”

Ping Ping.

May I be like a star, like a moon, night and night.

Written and written, his eyes could not help but soften, as if returning to the original quiet years.

The wind was blowing, the paper was blown, and the paperweight was not pressed, and it was blown up. In the afternoon, the mottled and fragrant sunshine filled the ground.

Chu Xiaoning put aside the brush and sighed to pick up the letters and poems of the place.

One after another, falling on the grass, on the side of the stone steps, falling on the residual flowers, between the dead leaves. He was about to pick up a piece of paper floating in the fragrance of the fall.

Suddenly a long, well-balanced, well-defined hand appeared in the field of vision, and before that, he picked up the page.

"what are you writing?"

Chu night Ning a glimpse, straight up, standing in front of a handsome and handsome man, is not knowing when to come to the water in the sacred emperor Jun ink rain.

Chu night Ningdao: "...nothing."

The ink burned a black gold robe, wearing a nine-crowned crown, and wearing a dragon-scaled finger on the narrow-skinned fingers, apparently just coming back from the hall. He first stunned Chu Yuning with a cold look, then flattened the crepe paper in his hand, read two paragraphs, and his eyes smashed: "See the letter as a meeting, the exhibition letter Shu Yan..."

Silence for a while, raise your eyes: "What does this mean?"

"Means nothing."

Chu said that he wanted to take the letter back, but he was easily blocked by the ink.

"Don't," he said. "What are you nervous about?" After reading this sentence, he carefully looked down and looked at the line, silently, "Oh. To Xuemeng?"

"With the handwriting." Chu nightning would rather not be tired of others, said, "I have no plans to send it out."

The ink burned and sneered: "You don't have the ability to send it out."

Chu Xiaoning had nothing to say with him, and turned back to the table to clean up the pen and paper basket at that table. Unexpectedly, Stepping on the fairy followed, and the black gold robe sleeves were displayed, grabbing the piece of stationery he was trying to close.

The phoenix eyes lifted up, and the narrow face on the stepping on Xianjun.

"..."

Then he will give it to him.

So he withdrew his hand and went to take another one, and the result was burnt with ink.

In this way, he took one, and the ink burned a piece. At the end, Chu Yuening finally got some intolerance. I don’t know what madness and madness in this man’s yin and yang, squinting, and sullen: “What do you want?”

"Seeing the letter as a meeting, the exhibition letter Shu Yan, what does it mean?" The ink burned in the dark and looked at him deeply, and the thin lips whispered, "Say."

The flowering branches and the vine leaves are swaying, and the light and shadows are mottled. Chu nighting can't help but think of the ink burning just under his door. The smile and the words are very soft. He smiled and asked him: "Master, body. It’s Bodhi, and the heart is like a mirror. What does this mean? Can the teacher teach me?”

In contrast, at this moment, the aggressive attitude of stepping Xianjun made Chu late Ning’s heart sorrowful. He bowed his head and stopped talking and blinking.

He did not say anything, and the smoldering began to become gloomy. In this silence, he picked up the stationery on the table and read it one by one. The more he looked back, the more dangerous his eyes were. He muttered thoughtfully, a man who could make the year number "snap", find a sentence at the stone table, and rack his brains.

In the end, the face was hazy and slammed the stack of stationery on the ground.

He calmly raised his eyes.

"Chu Ning, you want him."

"……No."

He didn't want to entangle with him, he said that he was going to leave, but he didn't take two steps. The sleeves were shackled, and then the violent and fierce strength of the chin slammed into the chin, and it was pushed to the stone table. on.

The burning power of the hand is so big, so oh, in the blink of an eye, he has a cyan red mark on his cheek.

The sun shone through the vine flower and shone in the eyes of Chu’s late night, which reflected the face of the emperor’s almost mad and distorted face.

Handsome, pale.

hot.

Stepping on the fairy, I don’t know the shame, and the curtains began to tear the clothes of Chu’s late night. If there is anything else that can be pushed on the stone table, then it is obvious that there is nothing to return to the ground. Chu nightning is almost irritated and sulking: "Mini rain -!"

The tone of anger and disappointment did not extinguish the evil fire of the ink, but instead the hot oil fell, splashing the flames.

When he rushed in, Chu nightning only felt extreme pain.

He didn't want to touch the back of the ink, only grabbed the edge of the stone table with his backhand, and gasped in a low voice: "Hey animals..."

The ink-burning eyelids are covered with a layer of blood, and the word "small animal" is not judged, but it is sullen: "You don't explain it. You really shouldn't ask you again. You can't count it now." The teacher is respected."

His movements were fierce and fierce, and he only sought his own pleasures and comforts.

"What is Ning Ning now?" He was almost gnashing his teeth: "It’s just a side squat, it’s banned... the legs are separated from the seat."

During the entanglement, the ink burned him over, the paper and ink on the table were all smashed, and the brush fell to the ground. Chu nightning was shackled at the table, and there was endless pain under his eyes. There was boundless sky in front of him.

He looked at the word and looked at the stroke.

As a bodhi tree, my heart is like a mirror...

What is the old man?

Haikuo...shanyao.

Words are hearty.

There was still a teenager in front of his eyes, and he smiled at him. The dark curtain of the ciliary feathers trembled softly, like a black butterfly.

The deafness is the low breathing of stepping on Xianjun. In the humiliation, he is bullying him, and he said in a hoarse voice: "Chu night Ning... Oh, will Chu’s heart in this seat still remember others?"

"Would you like me to be like a star, like a moon, night and night, and the glory of the night." There was a killing in the voice. "Do you think I really don't understand?"

Chu nighting bites his teeth and lie on the stone table. The body is bitten, and the bedding is a wet red mark. The Fengmu is awkward: "You don't understand."

Ming knows that the words will be exchanged for more fierce treatment, but still obsessively say, you do not understand.

You don't know who the old man is, and you don't know why Haikuoshan is.

You won't know who Jun is, and who the month means.

You... won't understand.

After a ridiculous ridiculous, the ink burned finally let him go.

Chu nighting clothes are messy, lying in the wisteria flowers, lying in the poems of ink, his eyes have red marks, like the bright colors of the rouge flowers when they are fallen on the fingertips.

The lips have been bitten, all blood.

He got up, dressed slowly... He was under house arrest for so long, from the initial heart and bones, to the present, the mourning is greater than the death.

What can he do now with the destruction of the spiritual core? The so-called dignity, but only after the event, always stubbornly wear their own clothes, not willing to be artificial.

When he did all this, the ink burned and sat at the stone table, holding the letters he had written, and watching them one by one.

When he saw the dream of seeing the rain, his hand seemed to sink slightly, but soon he turned the paper over and then sneered with a sneer: "The bones are soft, and the words are still pretty. ""

He put the stack of letters into his robe and stood up.

The wind blew through his clothes, and the golden thread on the black collar smashed with brilliance.

"gone."

Chu nightning did not speak.

The ink burned through the eyes, and the wisteria flower lining his dark eyes deeper and deeper: "Don't send this seat?"

The shade of the trees was flowing, and the sound of the late night was low and dumb, and slowly said: "I have taught you."

Ink burns: "What?"

"See the letter as a meeting, the exhibition letter Shu Yan." He finished this sentence, finally raised his eyelashes and looked at the man who was very impressive. "I taught you to write, you forgot."

"You taught me to write?" The ink burned and frowned. This is not a deliberate attempt to tease Chu Xiening. Looking at him, he really has no impression at all.

The person who wants to go has stopped.

Ink burning asked: "When is the matter."

Chu night Ning looked at him and said: "A long time ago."

After he said this, he turned and walked to the room where the red lotus water was smashed.

The ink burned in the same place, and did not leave for a while, nor did it come in. Later, Chu Lingning saw him from the window and returned to the stone table, and read the remaining stack of letters under the paper.

Chu nightning closed the window.

That night, he was tortured and didn't know how to clean himself, so he felt cold.

It was not a big deal, he didn’t think it would be known. But I didn’t know why, I heard Liu Gong said that it was Song Qiutong who cooked a bowl of hand-picked hands. I don’t know why I was so angry that I was not angry with the emperor’s residence. Go and walk away.

It was late at night and it began to rain. At this time, the red lotus water came in.

"There is a flaw in your majesty, please ask Chu Zongshi to move to the palace."

These dears are clearly aware of the relationship between the ink-burning and the Chu-Ningning, but they are also required to be called the master.

If there is still a trace of goodness, it is mean and vicious.

Chu Xiuning’s body was very uncomfortable, his face looked pale and his face was very gloomy. He said, “Don’t go.”

"Your Majesty -"

"There is nothing going on."

"..."

It is not an interesting thing to go to bed with a patient. When he was particularly unwell, his ink burned basically wouldn’t force anything.

However, it didn't take long for the palace man who was sent back to come back. He entered the red lotus water scorpion and performed a ceremony in front of Chu Cunning, who had a cough and cough. Then he looked indifferently and said: "There is a squat, small If you are sick, ask the guru to go to the Wushan Temple to serve."