Fan Xian lay safely and comfortably on the bed, his face was pale, like a young man with a hangover, there was a copper basin next to the bed, and the basin was very clean, because the vomit had been cleaned up a long time ago up.
Ruoruo has already been driven to sleep by him, and another maid is serving him. Fan Xian's pale face was not faked, and the vomiting was not induced by drugs, but the strength of Yan Xiaoyi's arrow really hurt his internal organs, and there was a feeling of distress in his chest and abdomen. It will take a few days to get well.
Thinking of the soul-devouring arrow, Fan Xian still couldn't help being afraid. If he hadn't exploded with a super-standard zhenqi series at the time of life and death, he was afraid that he would really be shot to death by that arrow. It's unimaginable that this arrow is still so powerful after such a distance. It seems that the great commander already has a realm above the ninth rank, and may step into the most peak level in the world at any time.
In fact, when he smashed the arrow with both hands, Fan Xian's shot was still not as fast as the incoming arrow, so he only hit the shaft of the arrow, which was very dangerous. I saw it, but I really don't know how to explain it.
At that time, when he ventured to Guangxin Palace, on the one hand, he wanted to see if he could find anything; , this is the most important thing.
He rested his fingers lightly on his waist, slowly stroking the hard thing, feeling a sense of peace in his heart, his luck is really good, but will his luck really last forever? He decided that he would never hide things in the secret compartment under the bed again, and he would never go into the palace to play again.
Within a few days of pretending to be drunk and convalescing, Fan Xian's "performance of a poetic fairy" in the palace had already spread all over the capital. In the past few days, there were countless scholars and dignitaries who came to visit, but Fan Jian stood coldly outside, saying that he The son was exhausted that day and needed to recuperate.
It's just that the level of people who come is getting higher and higher, and even after a few founding fathers, senior military generals have been killed. When Fan Jian was having a headache, Fan Xian announced a decision that made everyone puzzled and regretted through the mouth of the people in the house.
Fan Xian no longer writes poetry!
Many people thought it was just the young master's nonsense, and they didn't take it seriously. Only the Prince Jing's Mansion and Ren Xin, who knew Fan Xian's temperament, knew that this matter was probably true, but anyway, it was still in the aftermath, so let's talk about it later.
The summer heat in Kyoto has gradually subsided, and an autumn rain is slowly falling.
In fact, there were only three days before entering the palace, but Fan Xian felt that these three days were the longest three days in his two lives. The box is under his bed, and the key is in his hand. There is no greater temptation than this. But Fan Xian still endured it for three days, just like a child who stole a snack from the kitchen that his mother did not allow him to eat, carefully hid it in the closet, and then knew that the snack was there, so he went to sleep contentedly, every day before going to bed He glanced at the closet, but didn't really want to eat until the pastry rotted and spoiled.
That box wouldn't spoil, but Fan Xian still decided to eat it tonight.
The autumn rain outside the window was pattering down, falling on the backyard of Fan's mansion, and on the flowers and plants in the courtyard that were about to go through the autumn frost. Fan Xian did not light the lamp in the window, he knew that his eyes were good enough to see clearly in the dark. The case rested on the table, and he inserted the key steadily into the brass-like keyhole.
With a click, the splint on the front of the box popped open, revealing a small black screen. There are some strange little squares on the board. With one touch, those squares will sink. Each grid has a unique pattern on it, and no one in this world can recognize these patterns.
Fan Xian smiled, but the smile was a little bitter, a little clear, and after a long time of guessing, he was finally comforted by confirmation.
He closed his eyes and couldn't help laughing again, feeling that the world was really crazy. So with his trembling fingers, he lit a pot of the high-quality earthen cigarettes from Fujiko Jing Xiaojing, so as to calm down his mood.
This was the first time he smoked in the world of Qing Kingdom, the smell of smoke was very good, white smoke curled up in the dark room, and autumn rain fell slowly in the lonely yard.
Fan Xian felt that he was no longer alone.
※※※
People in this world will not know what these little black grids are, and they will not know what the strange patterns on these grids are. But Fan Xian knew.
Because after the lock on the box was opened, what was exposed was the keyboard. It was a familiar keyboard from the previous life. Those strange patterns on it were actually twenty-six English letters, number keys, and the F5 that Fan Xian was most familiar with.
After seeing the thing in front of him, Fan Xian secretly guessed in his heart for a long time, and finally got the most powerful confirmation. His physical mother, the woman named Ye Qingmei, came from the same place as him. At this time, he didn't think of the Tianmai person mentioned in the conversation between Zhuang Mohan and the eldest princess in Guangxin Palace.
The smoke pot of the dark lamp dimmed and flickered in the dark room. Fan Xian's face had regained his composure. He put his hands on the keyboard very gently, and began to guess what the password should be.
"It's the name." Wu Zhu, who came to him at some point, stood in the corner of the house. Although his eyes were covered with a black cloth, his face facing the box still showed what people call sadness. emotion, "I only remember the name, and the lady said there is only Wubi."
Fan Xian nodded calmly and began to type. After all, he hadn't touched this kind of thing for sixteen years. The initial feeling was a little strange, but after trying many times, the familiar feeling came back to him. hand. His fingers tapped on the keyboard like dancing.
But after many times, he suddenly raised his head with a wry smile: "There is no name in this world that only needs Wubi."
As soon as he said this, he knew where the problem was, took two puffs of earthen cigarettes, looked at the box in front of him, shook his head, and sighed: "Mom, you are really messing around, but the problem is, didn't you Have you ever taught Wuzhu Wubi?"
Wubi is not five strokes, but Wubi input method.
"kfh lca nhd", Fan Xian entered the first name Ye Qingmei, and then there was no response, he entered the Wubi of his own name a little unconfidently: "aib usi".
The box still didn't respond, he smiled wryly, thinking that his name was taken many years later, how could Ye Qingmei know back then? Suddenly his heart skipped a beat, and he looked at Uncle Wuzhu in the corner of the room with a half-smile.
Wu Zhu seemed to have sensed this strange gaze, tilted his head slightly and said, "What are you doing?"
Fan Xian did not answer him, but entered Wu Zhu's name "gg ttgh".
The box clicked softly and opened. Fan Xian glanced at Wu Zhu again, and said with a smile, "Uncle, now I really suspect that there is some dirty secret between you and your mother."
※※※
Fan Xian brought the box from Danzhou to Kyoto, of course he knew the weight of the box, so he wasn't worried that there was a hydrogen bomb hidden inside. But when he saw the contents of the box clearly, until finally he walked out of the room and walked in the rainy night a little stupidly, he still couldn't help shaking his head, thinking that his mother really didn't have much creativity.
…
…
The box is divided into three layers. Because of its shape limitation, the things that can be placed in each layer must be narrow and long. In the first layer are metal tools divided into three parts, some parts are tubular, and some parts seem to be suitable for holding. Fan Xian frowned and looked at these metal pipes. Although he was also from the earth, he still didn't understand what it was for a while. It wasn't until his fingers were inserted into a metal pipe that he finally understood.
He held up a part of it and looked at it carefully, and found a line of letters written there: M82A1.
"Oh, mother, father." Fan Xian's fingers trembled slightly. Although he was not a military enthusiast in his previous life, he knew what this row of letters represented.
This is a sniper rifle, the best sniper rifle in that world. If equipped with armor-piercing bullets, it can shoot through a thick wall at a distance of one kilometer.
Fan Xian grabbed the barrel of the gun with his right hand, and couldn't help trembling. He deeply understood what it meant to have a sniper rifle in his hand in a society like Qing, which was still in the cold weapon era.
This means that from now on, I have the ability to kill anyone from miles away without worrying about being discovered.
This means that no matter whether it is the commander who shot the sky with an arrow or Yun Zhilan who looked at him with bad eyes in the Dongyi Mission, as long as he is willing, he may try to kill the other party countless times—but he doesn’t know how to deal with the master level. Experts don't care.
Fan Xian nervously put the sniper rifle that had been dismantled into three parts on the table, and the smoke pot had already been put aside. He put his hands on the table, took a few deep breaths, and calmed down. It seems to have all the prerequisites to become a night demon.
Of course, the premise is that there must be bullets.
Fan Xian looked dumbfounded at the second floor. There was nothing in it except a letter, and there were no more than ten bullets as he expected.
Without bullets, this sniper rifle is no better than a fire stick.