Jiaohua

Chapter 469 The Dead Person (Part [-])
Xia Zhaoyi took revenge.

A few days ago, she was wearing frost and bathing in the wind, and she was extremely tired after crossing mountains and ridges. The sudden arrows forced her to leave with her tired body. She remembered this account.

The subordinates didn't know what she wanted to ask, so they told them the truth.

"So it's really you guys," Xia Zhaoyi smiled, raised his hand and punched again, "I'll go find Shen Lie first, goodbye."

Turning around, Xia Zhaoyi looked curiously into the abyss.

In this way, Shen Yan should have brought people here very early, and judging by the scale, there were quite a few people.

Thinking of Shen A's purposely taking Lao Tong and Zhi Changle away to threaten Shen Lie here, and what Du Xuan said, this is not the first time Shen A has done this, Xia Zhaoyi frowned slightly.

……

……

The light comes from the sky, entering the abyss to illuminate the walls, the cable bridges hidden in the shadows are as thin as bamboo chopsticks, and the small platforms that are lit with fire, the faint orange light is as pale as white smoke under the sun.

Shen Lie came down from a hidden stone step. The stone steps became wider and wider, and a cable bridge appeared. At the same time, the stone steps can continue to go down. There are many cable bridges under the cable bridge. It is hard to see how many there are at a glance. .

Shen Lie took the first step on the cable bridge, and before he even took the first step, the plank under his feet fell down.

He looked at the board, and then looked up at the long, endless cable bridge ahead.

The cable bridge is empty, and the dust floats under the soft light.

Shen Lie thought for a while, took a few steps back, suddenly started to move his feet, and strode towards the cable bridge, his black clothes were like a gust of wind.

As he sprinted past, the planks fell into the abyss in pieces, the dust rose suddenly, and the light scattered in all directions.

A large number of boards were missing in the distance, and Shen Lie's footsteps did not slow down. While sprinting, he drew out the long sword on his back, stabbed into the cliff with his backhand, jumped up with his strength, stepped on the railing with one foot, and continued to run at the fastest speed without any loosening. Slowly, relying on the feeling of the foot to grasp the balance, he delivered his life arrogantly to the most primitive and innate intuitive senses, until he was approaching the first platform, his figure suddenly tilted slightly, his foot slipped, and he walked along the fence. It slid straight out and landed neatly on the platform.

Behind him came the sound of wooden boards hitting the cable bridge below, and the echo echoed like a raging tide.

Here, the long ropes left by Shen Wen's men can be faintly seen, very far away, tied one by one on the cable bridge in the dim light.

Shen Lie closed his eyes, the slender figure took a few steps back on the platform, and then ran wildly again, the dust in the air moved, sending these dead trees and rotten plants that had been dead for a hundred years to the last journey.

When the echo came, Xia Zhaoyi, who was following the traces of fallen vegetation, stopped on the cliff.

The floating dust was like a slender and transparent water dragon under the huge abyss nearly a thousand feet wide, heading north against her direction.

Xia Zhaoyi paused for a moment, then pulled up his legs and ran south.

When the dust was about to clear away, she pushed aside a piece of grass and found the hidden stone steps that could no longer be hidden.

The first melted snow water trickled down the stone steps, and Xia Zhaoyi went down to the cable bridge, which was no longer a bridge, but four parallel ropes up and down.

Xia Zhaoyi raised his hand and caressed the rope, the rope was hidden under the cliff, and the frost and snow on the cliff melted into water, like a curtain of water falling down, the wind blowing back and forth from the abyss made the rope slightly wet.

The cable bridge was too long. For her who was not good at long-distance raids, she could only find something to slide over for safety reasons.

……

……

The air was stale, windless, dry and rotten.

Aunt Rou couldn't fall asleep, she finally got up and walked towards the only light in the darkness.

"Aren't you resting?" Aunt Rou said softly.

Shen Yan turned to watch her approaching, and said, "Why aren't you asleep?"

"What are you looking at?" Rou Gu looked in front of him.

In the firelight, a dilapidated calligraphy and painting hangs, and the dust on it has been wiped off by Shen Yan. What is rare is that the ink on the painting is clean. Although the color has lost its luster, the handwriting is clear, and the twists and turns are clearly visible.

"The mountain temple is a stranger, and the mountain and the sea come in the moon. In the old dream of the past, peach blossoms and smiles are floating." Rou Gu read softly, and said, "It seems that it doesn't rhyme."

"Why do you need to rhyme?" Shen Yan smiled lightly, "For others to read, force rhymes, for yourself to read, do it as you like."

"Passed away." Aunt Rou looked at the three characters.

"Well, the deceased." Shen Wen said.

"What do you mean?"

Shen Yan laughed again, and said softly: "The dead."

"Dead..." Aunt Rou's eyes dimmed. For some reason, when she heard these words, she felt an indescribable depression in her heart. It's not that she didn't kill people before, most of them were in her hands "die".

"The dead seem to be alive again," Shen Fan looked at the calligraphy and painting, and read, "Mountains and seas come in the middle of the moon."

"How is it possible?" Aunt Rou said.

"Yes," Shen Yan nodded, and said, "How is it possible?"

"Maybe, the poet is thinking about his old friend, dreaming that his old man is back. Or maybe, the poet is seriously ill, and he hopes to cherish his poems, imagining that his soul will return to his hometown after death."

"Really?" Shen Yan said, with a slight sense of sadness in his voice.

Aunt Rou turned to look at him, suddenly a little sad.

"It should be like this, my lord," Rou Gu said in a low voice, "In this world, if you die, you have nothing, so..."

She couldn't go on.

"So," Shen Wen said, "If you want to live, beg for nothing, be shameless, criticize everyone, you must live."

"Yes," Aunt Rou nodded, looking at him with a firm gaze, "I will always be with you, Young Master."

Shen Yan raised his hand, his mottled and haggard fingers caressed the calligraphy and painting.

"Passed guest," he said softly, and repeated again, "Passed guest..."

Brushing the ink with fingertips, there are condensed dust lumps on the paper, and the slightly protruding touch feels rough and abrupt. I really want to scrape it off, but I am afraid of damaging the fragile paper.

Except for this one, there are nearly [-] calligraphy and paintings in the surrounding area, hung apart from each other, far away from each other. The seven or eight calligraphy and paintings that Shen Fan looked over one by one are completely rotten and can't be distinguished, but this one is clear and unsigned. There is no seal, only four lines and twenty characters.

After a long time, Shen Yan withdrew his arm and said, "Let's go."

Holding on to the torch, he turned and walked towards the next painting.

Looking down one by one, except for this one, there is another one whose calligraphy and painting are still clear.

"It's shocking to hear that the country is broken, the mountains and rivers are destroyed, and the imperial capital is isolated and dangerous in the north. The sparrows will return to their nests in spring, and where will the tired birds return." Aunt Rou read, paused, and said, "Poems of a subjugated country."

Also unsigned.

Shen Wen said: "The one who died was Zhang Chao."

"Zhang Chao?" Aunt Rou was taken aback, "300 years ago? Dagan founding the country?"

"This kind of paper would not exist 600 years ago. This is Yizhou white turtle paper."

Rou Gu stretched out her hand, and brushed the calligraphy and painting with her fingertips, without any roughness or dust.

"Yes, it's white tortoise paper, but it's not as dry as a millennium, as long as a tortoise, and it's more than glossy, but not smooth enough."

"Nonsense," Shen Wen smiled, and glanced at her, "what's the fuss about paper."

(End of this chapter)