Aro said she didn't have any other spells, but Ayin thought there was.
For example, she must be very good at dreaming.
A Yin opened her eyes and woke up in the dark night as quiet as a coffin. The nose was filled with the old wood scent of the carved bed. The boxy container was so familiar that she trapped her sweet dreams in it and sealed it with long nails. prison, and then buried in the ground as a dead secret.
Missing is an out of control thing, and it is also the most shameless face. As long as you give it a crack in the door, it will drag its family in and live in it, like a host.
At first, Ayin pretended to chase it away, but after a long time, she did not resist, so Aro often appeared in her dreams.
She got up from the bed, opened the door boredly, and stared at the empty corridor in a daze. She remembered a girl who once stood weakly in the suspended moonlight, raised her head and said to her: The windows are tightly closed, and the quilt is more tightly covered.
Her hair was fine, like silky satin on the pillow.
A Yin rubbed her fingertips a few times, and suddenly sighed.
Ayin understands very well that many people and things have no beginning and no end, but people usually don't discuss a story at all costs. Once you think that a story needs to have 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.
Ah Luo's departure was the scale that weighed on the pole. The scale weighed down A Yin's concerns and avoidance, and the scale lifted her love. The scale was the day she disappeared. The longer the day, the deeper the notch.
She closed the door and went out, knocking on the door of Wuqian.
Wu Qian was sleepy, his eyebrows wrinkled like an earthworm that had just been dug out, but there was no temper in his words: "Is something wrong?"
Ayin pursed her lips tenderly: "Are you playing cards?" She had no way to disturb Li Shiyi and Song Jiujin, only this ghost was as lonely as her.
Wu Qian turned his head to look at the western clock on the wall, and then turned back: "Yin Shi."
At three o'clock in the morning, Wu Qian habitually converted it into twelve o'clock.
A Yin scratched his neck, grabbed the faint red marks, said "that's all", and turned his head to go back.
Wu Qian thought for a while, but said, "Since you are here, take the letter away."
"Letter?" A Yin raised her eyebrows and leaned against the wall.
Wu Qian turned around, took out a few pieces of shredded paper from the drawer of the desk, pinched it in his hand and walked over.
Her snow-white chest twitched, and her heels retreated, almost trying to escape.
But she only licked her dry lips, looked away from the familiar paper, moved to Wu Qian's face, and asked him in a hoarse voice, "What are you doing for me?"
What did she tear up for me
Wu Qian stretched out his arm and handed it to her: "The lord left, but he didn't take it with him. Your things should be returned to their original owners."
Her heart shrank, as if being kicked by a rabbit, Ayin didn't stretch out her hand, only looked at him leisurely: "My stuff?"
Wu Qian clears his throat: "The sky is not old, love..."
"Stop," Ayin stretched out her hand to stop, remembering Aro's dejected appearance, she couldn't help but stab, "I heard it, it's terribly hypocritical."
Wu Qian tilted his head and squinted at her: "Do you still write hypocritical?"
"Me?" A Yin blinked twice, the hunch in her heart made her not very confident in her objection, and raised her hand to cover her chin.
Wu Qian shoved the letter into her other hand, holding the door frame so sleepy that she wanted to go to bed immediately: "You used to write to the adults, love letter."
He gritted the last two words and tapped lightly on the wooden door with his fingers.
A Yin opened his mouth, the word "Uncle" twisted around and stopped at the gap between his teeth, neither did he not scold. She took a deep breath and understood in two or three times, "Fu, Fu Wuyin..."
sin
Wu Qian looked at her with the eyes of a heartless man.
Ah Yin sucked in a breath of cold air, and covered her lips with five fingers on her chin.
"And the letter of appointment." Wu Qian was expressionless.
Ah Yin's eyelashes trembled like a summer fan, and she managed to control it. She raised her chin and released her biting lower lip, rubbed her face and touched her ears. Wu Qian glanced at her, closed the door and went back to the room.
The palms of his hands were sweating, and they were spread on some old paper. A Yin took the letter with his other hand, rubbing the pulp of his thumb against the uneven burr at the crack, as if his chest had been torn apart. The pain is also alive.
She looked down at it for a while, then stretched her neck and bumped the back of her head against the cold wall, then walked to the stairs and sat down, and began to spell letters in the moonlight.
Disorganized fragments and disorganized thoughts, she put her skirt on her skirt twice, and then stopped fighting, she was stunned with her hand on her chin.
She had never wanted to cry so much.
When Master passed away, she told herself not to cry, and she didn't drop a single bean. When she questioned Li Shiyi, she said it was time to cry, and the tears couldn't stop.
But at this moment it was different. She let the desire to cry grow bigger than the sky, but she only opened her eyes and stared at the dark stairs in confusion.
Carrying Aro's shredded letter in her pocket, she remembered that Nineteen said that longevity was punishment. Maybe she thought wrong at the beginning. She and Aro have nothing to do with each other, and it is not a one-sided charity. Maybe, just like Aro redeeming himself, Aro also 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's dying heart swell, filling the lonely night with a bang.
The rain and the sun love to compete for the wind and jealousy in the mountain city. The dark clouds pulled the sun away, and the light rain fell without letting an inch. Nesting in the house is the most comfortable on a rainy day. The incense burner in the study room is not as warm as a charcoal basin, but it dispels some shade.
A silhouette of two girls intertwined was projected on the window lattice. The taller one sat on the Taishi chair behind the desk, raised his eyes from the stack of rice paper, and asked softly, "Is the last sentence of the puppet formula written like this? ?"
Her brows and eyes seemed to have passed through the rain, cool, clear and clean.
Song Nineteen faced her, and sat on the table with both hands on the table, tilted his head to take a closer look, and then looked at her again: "Isn't it?"
Li Shiyi glanced at her and started writing to delete two words.
Song Nineteen's eyes wandered along with her writing movements, and there was a soft "Oh" at the end.
Li Shiyi put the pen down, his eyes drooped, and he looked at her swaying calf in mid-air. The toe of the shoe was only halfway hooked, and the light-white heel slipped out lazily, and there was a spot on the table foot. tap.
Li Shiyi reached out with his right hand, held the back of the heel, pushed it up slightly, put the shoe on for her, put his finger on her ankle, raised his clear eyes: "Who taught you to wear this way? shoes?"
Song Nineteen was very honest: "Ayin."
Li Shiyi looked at her for two seconds before turning his face away. When he retracted his hand, he inadvertently hooked the pocket on Song Shijiu's knee, and then casually flipped through a book.
Song Nineteen bit his lower lip, touched his numb knee, and rubbed it again.
As the saying goes, no one is right or wrong, just mentioning Ayin, the beautiful aunt pushed the door. Seeing Song Nineteen sitting opposite Li Eleven, Ayin was stunned for a while, but she didn't take it to heart, she just walked straight to the table, put her hands on her hands, and leaned over without even saying a word. He opened his mouth to Li Shiyi.
"Eleven, you say, what is the greatest benefit of me as a person?"
Li Shiyi frowned and looked at Song Shijiu.
"Pretty." A Yin came to a conclusion.
Song Nineteen blinked twice.
"You said again," A Yin narrowed her peach blossom eyes, "What is my biggest weakness?"
Without opening his lips, Li Shiyi tilted his head and waited for her to speak.
"It's true and false."
Song Shijiu raised his chin.
A Yin chuckled lightly and looked at Li Shiyi across the wide table: "Tell me, what is my greatest inferiority?"
This time, she didn't pause anymore, and then continued: "It's selfish."
"If I've seen something good, no matter how I say no or no, I can't wait to hold it firmly in my heart."
She stopped and stared straight at Li Shiyi, the two arrogant eyebrows on the peach blossom eyes fell meekly at the moment, as if the wind had hit her head, sick and cowardly.
Li Shiyi's shoulders sank, his spine leaned against the back of the chair, pursed his lips and looked at her for two seconds, then shook his head and smiled lightly.
"Got it," she said.
After Yu Bi raised his right eyebrow to Song Nineteen, he got up and left.
In the hall downstairs, Wu Qian was still flipping through a military book when he heard clear footsteps coming downstairs unhurriedly, walking to him, the fragrance wafted on his face, and a tall shadow fell beside him.
A white jade-like hand stopped on the right side of the book, curled his index finger, and tapped on the tabletop.
He raised his head and saw Li Shiyi indifferently said, "Tell her to come back."
The author says:
"Partridge Sky, Painting Boat in the East of Luoshuiqing": After the west wind and tears were carried, the ten nights long pavilion and nine dream kings.