There is a peak on the top of life and death, and the name is rather funny, called "Aah".
Regarding the origin of this name, there are many theories in the sect, the most common one is that because this mountain is so steep, people often fall accidentally, so it is named "Aah".
But the ink burns know that it is not.
This peak is towering into the clouds, and it is extremely cold. If someone dies at the top of life and death, the coffin will stop here, waiting for the mourning.
Mo Ran has only been here once in his last life.
At that time, it was not much different from what it is now. It was also after the incessant hell split that a bloody battle took away countless lives, and the teacher also lost his life. He didn't want to accept this reality, so he knelt beside the coffin of the teacher and looked at the face of the person in the ice coffin, and it took many days to kneel...
"The reason why it's called ah, is because that year, your father went." In the previous life, Xue Zhengyi was with him, and said to him in the cold Shuangtian Temple.
"I only have one elder brother. The summit of life and death was created by the two of us together, but your father... He is like you, he is a very willful person. After enjoying Qingfu for a few days, he is probably tired of it. He lost his hand in the confrontation and left."
The Shuangtian Temple was too cold, Xue Zhengyi brought a pot of shochu, took a sip, and handed the sheepskin wine bag to the ink to burn.
"Give you a drink, but don't tell your aunt."
The ink burned and didn't pick it up and didn't move.
Xue Zhengyi sighed: "This peak, it's called ah, because in those days, I was also very uncomfortable, my heart seemed to be dug out, the whole person was guarding your father on the mountain, thinking of the sad place, bear it I can't stop crying loudly. I cry badly, and I always howl, that's why I have this name."
He glanced at Mo Ran and patted the other person's shoulder.
"Uncle hasn't read for a few days, but he also knows that life is like the morning dew, and it will disappear in the blink of an eye. You should take Mingjing a step ahead and be a brother in your next life."
The ink burned slowly and closed his eyes.
Xue Zhengyi said: "Sorrows and changes are empty words. If you are sad, just cry. If you don't want to go, just stay with him here. But you need to eat food and drink water. Go to Mengpotang to eat something later. Come back. You have to kneel after that, and I won't stop you."
The Shuangtian Palace was silent and silent. In the huge cold room, the white silk fluttered gently, like a gentle finger brushing his forehead.
Mo Ran slowly opened his eyes.
It is still the kind of ice coffin in my memory, made of Kunlun Xuanxue, the body of the coffin is crystal clear and lingering with cold air.
It's just that the person lying inside was replaced by Chu Wanning.
I didn't think that the ink burned anything. In this life, in this sky crack, the dead person will be Chu Wanning.
He was a little caught off guard and couldn't even react.
In the face of this person's cold body, there is not much fluctuation, neither the joy of the enemy's death, nor the sorrow of the master's immortal passing.
The ink burned almost a little suspiciously, and looked down at Chu Wanning for a long time. The man's face was thinner and cooler than usual. Now it is really covered with a layer of frost, and even the tightly closed eyelashes are frozen with ice, and the lips are It was bluish-white, and the skin was almost transparent, and light-blue blood vessels could be seen, like tiny fetal fissures on white porcelain.
The one who left, how could it be him
Mo Ran raised his hand and touched Chu Wanning's cheek, the tentacles were very cold.
All the way down, throat, neck, no pulse.
Get it again.
He held his hand, the knuckles were a little stiff, but it felt rough.
Mo Ran felt strange. Although Chu nightning had small cocoons on his fingertips, his palms were always soft and delicate. He couldn't help but look carefully, but what he saw were cracked and broken scars, although they had been wiped, but But the wound will never heal, and the flesh is still open.
He remembered what Xue Meng said.
"His spiritual power is completely damaged, and he is no different from mortals. He can no longer use spells or transmit voices. He can only carry you on his back and climb the steps of death and life step by step..."
Unable to hold on anymore, unable to stand up, prostrate on the ground, kneeling, dragging until his fingers were worn out and his hands were covered in blood.
Take him home too.
The ink burned and murmured: "Did you carry me back?"
"… "
"Chu nightning, is that you..."
"… "
"If you don't nod yourself, I won't believe it." Mo Ran said to the person in the coffin, his face was calm, as if he believed that the person in front of him would really wake up, "Chu nightning, you nodded. Nod. Now, I'll believe you, I don't hate you anymore... You nod, okay?"
But Chu nightning is still lying like that, with a dull expression and cold eyebrows. It seems that the ink burns hates him or not. He doesn't care at all. He asked for a clear conscience, leaving others uneasy in the world.
This person, alive or dead, is more annoying than annoying.
Mo Ran suddenly sneered: "Yes." He said, "When have you heard me."
He looked at Chu Wanning and suddenly felt absurd.
For a long time, he hated himself because Chu nightning didn't look down on himself, because Chu nightning didn't save the teacher and hated him deeply.
Going around in circles, this hatred lasted for more than ten years, but one day, someone told him—
"Chu nightning turned and left at the time, because he didn't want to drag you down."
Suddenly someone told him—
"Observing the enchantment is a twin. You have suffered multiple injuries, and so does he."
His spiritual current was exhausted, he was powerless to protect himself, he...
Well, really good. Chu nightning is right, what about him
In the dark, like a fool who doesn't know anything, being played around like a harlequin, baring his teeth and digging his heart and digging his lungs and hating for so long.
What kind of? !
Misunderstanding this kind of thing, if it is short-lived, it is like a lump of dirt that sticks to the wound when it heals. It is better to be found in time, clean it off, and then apply the plaster again.
But if it is a misunderstanding, it will last for ten or twenty years, and the people trapped in the net will invest a long time in hatred, a long care, a long bond, and even life in this misunderstanding.
These emotions have been crusted, grown into new flesh, and completely integrated with the body.
Suddenly someone said, "That's not the case, everything is wrong."
What should I do then? The dirt from that year has grown under the skin and was born in the blood with the years.
That is to tear apart the intact flesh, in order to release the suspicion.
A year of misunderstanding is a misunderstanding.
Ten years of misunderstanding is a sin.
And from birth to death, a lifetime of misunderstandings is life.
Their fate is thin.
The thick stone door of the Temple of Frost opened slowly.
As in the previous life, Xue Zhengyi carried a sheepskin wine bag full of shochu, walked heavily to Mo Ran, sat on the ground, and stood shoulder to shoulder with him.
"I heard that you are here, and my uncle is here to accompany you."
Xue Zhengyi's leopard eyes were also red, showing that he had just cried not long ago.
"Come with him too."
The ink burned without speaking, Xue Zhengyi unscrewed the jug, drank a few sips, and then stopped suddenly, wiped his face, and forced a smile: "I used to drink, Yuheng saw it. I'm always unhappy, and now... Oh, that's all, don't say it, don't say it. I'm not too old, but the old people are sent away one after another. Ran'er, do you know how it feels? "
"… "
The ink burned down the eyes.
In the previous life, Xue Zhengyi also asked him this question.
At that time, he only had the withered flesh and blood of the teacher in his eyes, what was the life and death of others? He doesn't understand and doesn't want to understand.
But now, how could he not understand
Before his rebirth, he stood alone, and he was the only one left in the huge Wushan Temple.
One day, he woke up from a light sleep and dreamed of the situation under the gate of Yuheng, who was studying in the old days. After waking up, he wanted to go back to his bedroom to have a look, but he pushed the door and entered. dusty.
He saw a small incense burner knocked over, but he didn't know who knocked it over and when. He picked up the smoker, subconsciously trying to put it back where it was.
But the years were fast, he was holding the small stove, and he was suddenly stunned.
"Where is this stove originally?"
He doesn't remember.
Falcon-like eyes swept across the crowd behind him, but those people had blurred faces, and he couldn't even tell who was Zhang San and who was Li Si.
And they naturally didn't know where the incense burner of the emperor's youth was placed in the room.
"Where is this stove originally?"
He doesn't remember, but those who can remember such past events are all dead and scattered.
How can the ink burn not understand Xue Zhengyi's feelings at this time.
"Sometimes I suddenly think of a joke when I was young, and I say it unconsciously, but I find that there is no one who can understand this joke."
Xue Zhengyi took another sip of wine and smiled.
"Your father, those same robes from the past... Your master..."
His broken light flowed and asked, "Ran'er, do you know why this peak is called?"
Mo Ran understood what he was going to say, but he was upset right now, and he didn't want to hear Xue Zhengyi talk about his dead father again, so he said: "I know. Uncle cried here."
"Ah..." Xue Zhengyi was stunned for a moment, then blinked slowly, with a deep mark on his tail, "Did your aunt tell you?"
"Um."
Xue Zhengyi wiped his tears and took a deep breath: "Okay, okay, then you know what my uncle wants to tell you is that if you are uncomfortable, you can cry, it doesn't matter. The man has tears for the king, and it's not ashamed."
The ink burned but never shed tears, perhaps because the two worlds have passed through, and the heart is as hard as iron. Compared with the heart-piercing heartbreak when the teacher passed away, he is so calm now. So calm that he was even terrified of his own numbness. He didn't know that he was so cold.
After drinking and sitting for a while, Xue Zhengyi got up. I don't know if it was because his legs were numb after kneeling for a long time, or he stumbled slightly after drinking too much.
His broad hand clapped on the shoulders of the ink burning: "Although the sky crack is repaired, but who is behind the scenes, it has not been found out. Maybe this thing is over, or maybe there will be a second war soon. Ran'er, let's go down the mountain to eat something, don't starve yourself out."
After he said that, he turned and walked away.
At this time, it was night, and a waning moon hung high outside the Shuangtian Palace. Xue Zhengyi stepped on the snow that did not melt all the year round, carried half a pot of turbid wine, and his gong-like rough voice became a tune, and he sang Shuzhong A short song.
"I worship the old man half as a ghost, but now I can enjoy each other in drunkenness. Zongjiao hides under the brewed osmanthus tree, and the rotten temples are stained on the drinking face. The sky is light and the dream is broken. Everyone walks far away, abandoning my old body and tears. May I live longer With Duke Zhou, let you go with the wine and return it."
In the end, it is different from the previous life. It is not the teacher who died, but the late night of Chu, so Xue Zhengyi will have more emotions.
The ink burned his back to the door opened by the Shuangtian Temple, listening to the hoarse throat and shouting, the man was sonorous, but desolate. The sound of the song was like a vulture gradually moving away, and finally engulfed by the wind and snow.
The sky and the earth are bright, the moon is tall and people are small, everything has been washed away very lightly, only one sentence is left, back and forth.
"Abandoning my old body with dirty tears... Abandoning my old body with dirty tears..."
I don't know how long it took, and the ink burned slowly down the Shuangtian Temple.
Uncle is right, although the sky crack is repaired, things may not stop there. Chu nightning is no longer there. If there is another fierce battle, he will be left to defend himself.
When I came to Meng Po Tang, it was too late, and there was no one except the old woman who cooked the supper.
The ink burned for a bowl of small noodles, and found a place by the corner to eat slowly. The noodles are spicy and warm in the stomach. He raised his head as he devoured it. In the scorching heat, Meng Po Tang was dimly lit, and the image was blurry.
In a trance, I remembered that after the death of Shi Mei in the previous life, he was far more self-willed than now, and he refused to leave for three days and three nights, and he never ate.
Later, I was finally persuaded to leave the Shuangtian Temple and go to eat something, but I saw Chu Wanning's busy back in the kitchen. The man was clumsily rolling out the dough and fillings, with flour and water on the table, and several neatly sized rows of hands.
"Clanging".
The things on the table were swept away, and the tyrannical voice came through the rolling dust. It makes today's ink-burning chopsticks difficult to cast and swallow.
At that time, he felt that Chu nightning was mocking him and wanted to sting him with bad intentions.
But thinking about it at this moment, maybe Chu nightning really just wanted to replace the dead teacher and cook a bowl for him.
"What are you? You are also worthy of the things he has used? Also worthy of the dishes he has made? Are you satisfied that the teacher is dead? Do you have to drive all your apprentices to death and drive them crazy? Are you willing? Chu nightning! No one in this world can make that bowl of hands, and you can't imitate him again!"
Lettering cone heart.
He didn't want to think about it anymore, he ate his noodles.
But how could he, the memory would not spare him lightly.
He recalled the face of Chu nightning more clearly than ever, without joy or sorrow, he recalled every detail of that time more clearly than ever.
Think of a slight tremor on the tips of your fingers, a little flour crumb on the cheek.
Thinking of the plump snow-white chasing hands rolling all over the floor.
I remembered that Chu nightning lowered his eyes, leaned over and slowly picked up the food that could no longer be eaten, and then poured it out with his own hands.
Dump it by hand.
There is still half a bowl of pea mixed noodles left.
The ink burned but he couldn't eat it anymore. He pushed the noodle bowl away and fled away from this place that would drive him crazy. He ran wildly on the summit of life and death, as if to leave the misunderstandings of more than ten years behind him, as if he wanted to rewind the absurd rolling years and catch up with the man who left Mengpotang alone.
Catch up with him and say something.
"I'm sorry, I hated you wrong."
The ink burned in the dark and ran without order, running... But there are broken figures of Chu nightning everywhere. Good and evil, teach him to read and practice swords. Naiheqiao, hold an umbrella with him, and walk with him. Qingtian Temple, under the responsibility of the rod, walks far alone.
He became more and more miserable and helpless at night.
All of a sudden, I ran to a bright place, and suddenly I felt that the clouds opened and the fog was hanging, and the bright moon was hanging high.
The ink burned and gasped and stopped.
Tower of Babel…
The place where he died in his previous life, the place where he and Chu Wanning met for the first time.
His heart was beating like a drum, and his eyes were full of chaos.
When the moon is white and the wind is clear, when I first met you.
The ink burned and no longer ran. He knew that he could never escape from birth. In his life, he was destined to owe Chu Wanning.
He slowly walked up the steps and walked under the begonia tree that stood out from the wind. Reached out his hand and stroked the dry boil, hard like a cocoon in his heart.
At this time, it has been nearly three days since Chu Wanning died.
The ink burned and looked up, and suddenly saw that the flowers and trees were gentle and vaguely the same. It was only then that a burst of endless sadness suddenly surged. He pressed his forehead to the tree trunk, and finally burst into tears, tears pouring down like rain.
"Master, Master..." He choked and murmured, and the words repeated in his mouth were the words when he first saw Chu Wanning, "You take care of me, okay... You take care of me..."
But things are different. In front of the Tongtian Tower, he is the only one left. No one pays any attention to him, and no one will come again.
Although the ink burned after the rebirth is in the shape of a teenager, the shell is carrying the soul of the thirty-two-year-old stepping on the fairy. He has seen too many life and death, and tasted the sweet and sour world, so since the resurrection, he has The joys, sorrows and sorrows in my heart are not so sincere and clear, it always seems to be covered with a mask.
But at this moment, his face suddenly showed such confusion and pain, naked, immature, pure, and green.
Only at this moment does he truly look like an ordinary teenager who has lost his master, like an abandoned child, like a lonely dog who has lost his home and can never find his way back.
He said, take care of me.
you take care of me...
However, in the end, only the swirling branches and leaves and the lush flowers and shadows responded to him.
But back then, under Haitang, the person with sharp eyebrows and eyes would never and never raise his head to look at him, even for the last time.
The author has something to say:
Ergozi: "qaq"
As the Ergou subprogram continued to collapse, the big white cat glanced at him, sighed, and took the manuscript in his hand.
Everyday crab and crab chasing the text of the small partner ~ Mo Mo Zha!