She played off after wearing the book

Chapter 73 Red Clouds Like Yarn
Standing on the top of the mountains, Nangong Wenqing was dressed in white clothes fluttering in the wind, like an exile.

"who?"

A voice containing spiritual power sounded, and before the words fell, the person was standing behind him.

"Father…"

Nangong Wenqing turned around, his face was cold, and the voice of father seemed to melt into the night.

"You are…"

Nangong Jingyi looked at the impeccably handsome white-clothed man in front of him, but didn't recognize him for a moment.

When he retreated back then, Nangong Wenqing was only five years old. Naturally, he was very different from now, but the face that was very similar to his wife Shu Lan still gave him some guesses.

"Nangong Wenqing."

Nangong Wenqing has always said little, so he is special to Qianqiao.

"..."

Although Nangong Wenqing's answer confirmed the guess in his heart, Nangong Jingyi didn't know how to speak to the youngest son who suddenly appeared in front of him.

"Mother...did she miss me before she died?"

Seeing the somewhat cramped man in black in front of him, Nangong Wenqing felt extremely calm.

He originally thought that when he faced his father, he would be angry and blame him, but when this man really stood in front of him, Nangong Wenqing was relieved.

The past seems to have really dissipated with the passage of time, and now what he cares most about is whether his mother thought of him when he was dying.

He was afraid to face it at first, afraid of hearing negative answers, and afraid that his existence would not be recognized by his mother, but after hearing what Qianqiao said today, he felt a little anticipation inexplicably.

"Shu Lan didn't have time to speak before she died..."

Although more than [-] years have passed, all kinds of pains that day are still unforgettable in his heart, Nangong Jingyi's words are obviously mixed with sobs.

"But she does this all the time except fighting against the demons..."

Nangong Jingyi took out a half-embroidered purse from his bosom. This was a purse that Shu Lan embroidered for Qing'er, and he kept it close to his body all the time.

Back then, Shu Lan used her last spiritual power to save Nangong Jingyi and sent him out of the Demon Pit, but she ended up with no bones left. This purse can be said to be the only relic of Shu Lan.

So even if Nangong Jingyi saw his youngest son when he came back, he was not willing to return it to its original owner.

And now, it's time to put it back where it belongs...

Nangong Jingyi touched every stitch of the purse carefully, as if he wanted to imprint it in his mind, although he was reluctant to give up, he still handed it over to Nangong Wenqing.

"Qing'er, as a father...I'm sorry...but your mother loves you, and every thread contains all her thoughts about you."

"..."

Nangong Wenqing took the purse silently, looked at some clumsy stitches on it, embroidered half of the Qing characters crookedly, finally there was a slight change on his cold face.

"Mother must be a very beautiful and gentle person..."

Nangong Wenqing whispered softly as if talking to himself, but Nangong Jingyi still heard it.

"She... To me, she is the most beautiful woman in the world, unmatched by anyone..."

Nangong Jingyi looked at the sky that was already slightly bright at some point, and thought of the woman in red who tugged at his heartstrings.

Nangong Wenqing looked up at the sky with his father, as if in this way he could see the mother he had missed for hundreds of years.

It wasn't until the sun rose that Nangong Wenqing turned and left, leaving only a simple sentence in the wind that made Nangong Jingyi cry.

"I never blamed you..."

Nangong Jingyi, who had lived for a thousand years, cried like a child for the first time, venting all his longing for his wife and guilt for his son.

In the silent dawn, the red clouds are like gauze, gracefully blowing in the sky, as if the woman who always loves to wear red is back...

　The relationship between Nangong Jingyi and Shu Lan is probably what I yearn for the most...

　　It's hard to write this paragraph, I was abused by myself...

　　
　
(End of this chapter)