Don't come, are you all right
Greetings without sound, like a thunderous thunder in the bottom of my heart.
Meng Fuyao had fantasized about the reunion of herself and Yuan Zhaoxu many times, maybe at a certain festival, maybe at a certain noble's banquet place, maybe in another country—but she never imagined that she would be in Taiyuan. On the night of Yuan Gongchang, she met him again, and when they met, he was standing beside her enemy, and her knife was pointed at his heart.
With her knife pointed at his heart, he still smiled as before, and even greeted Yin Yin.
Meng Fuyao settled on the horse's head, turned over, the knife was still lit, but his heart was inexplicably softened.
Especially when you understand this lip language.
Especially when Yuan Zhaoxu's chest suddenly moved, a big snow-white head popped out, and the big head turned its black eyes, seeing the light of the knife, suddenly and quickly plucked out a hair, horizontal hair, and blocked it.
Does it think the hair on its buttocks is Gan Jiang, Mo Xie's famous sword
Meng Fuyao suddenly wanted to laugh, but she wanted to cry before the smile came out, but in the end she didn't laugh or cry, she let out her anger and fell straight down.
This made her scream in her heart, no matter what, Yuan Zhaoxu is now Qi Xunyi's helper, and if he failed to snatch the horse to pass the level, Yunhen would definitely not want to escape alone, but he was the one who killed him again.
She fell down and fell into a warm chest. The skin exposed from his collar was as smooth as his satin robe, with a strange light fragrance. They all seemed to catch fire in an instant.
The flame walked around the body, but did not feel burning pain, only felt warm and psychedelic, like being immersed in a melting hot spring, stretched from fingers to toes, this night of thrills, running around and toiling, seemed to be folded by tenderness in an instant , smoothed, and then gently brushed away.
The breath of the man behind him is as warm and mellow as a lost dream, or the spring breeze from Xuanyuan Kingdom, which is like spring all the year round, or the fragrant clear water rippling in the most beautiful lotus pond in Taiyuan, soft, charming, And everywhere.
His lips were so close to her, so close that the horse's back occasionally brushed against her ear pinnae when the horse's back was moving, itching heartily, his hot breath brushing over her cheek, soft and moist like a delicate kiss, Meng Fuyao stiffened her back and did not dare to move , but the whole body softened inch by inch, softening into cotton, into fog, into a net, horizontally and vertically.
This moment is only like a spark, but this moment seems to be a thousand years long.
In a trance, I heard the man's voice whispering in my ears, with a slight smile, and when I heard that smile, I felt that the flowers of the four seasons were blooming in an instant.
"I really want to kiss you..."
Meng Fuyao trembled, wondering in a daze, had this person's voice been bewitched? The simplest words, when he uttered them, each word seemed to have a golden hook, catching the listener's heart up and down.
She touched her face, which seemed to be burning too.
The voice paused, and when it rose again, there was already a touch of regret.
"Unfortunately... not now."
As soon as the words were finished, the source of warmth disappeared suddenly, and Meng Fuyao's heart seemed to be empty as well. She suddenly turned her head, and saw the man in the loose coat and sleeves floated back, giving way to the horse under her.
When he landed, he rolled over like floating clouds, with a bow already in his hand.
The vermilion bowstring has deep black arrow feathers, and the iron arrowhead is shining faintly. He smiled lightly, his fingers fluttered, he put the arrow lightly and delicately, drew the bow, and the bow became a full moon. In the astonishment of Qi Xunyi, who was catching up, and in the sound of footsteps chasing by a mass of guards behind him.
Point to Meng Fuyao.
…
The coldness of arrows has never been so cold.
Meng Fuyao immediately looked back, staring blankly at the arrow that was staring at her like a hawk's eyes, and the graceful and noble man who bent his bow and set his arrow.
At this moment, the air suddenly became quiet, so quiet that one could hear the sound of the torch being peeled off and the sound of breath suppressed by tension. In the firelight, the woman turned around and looked back. Her face was normal, but her eyes were as clear and clean as the unmelted snow on the distant mountain. Little by little, surprise, doubt, shock, incomprehension emerged in his eyes... thousands of words, all the thoughts that he wanted to say but couldn't say.
Such a complex and unspeakable gaze hit everyone's hearts like a heavy hammer, and everyone forgot their movements for a while.
Only the man who was looking at him still smiled lightly and remained unmoved. The hand holding the bow was as steady as a mountain, and the bowstring was overdrawn. It creaked and whispered under his palm, which sounded like a deep sigh.
He moves his fingers back and forth inch by inch, the arrow is on the string, it must be shot!
"call out!"