Kuai Chuan Zhi becomes a boss in the collapsed world

Chapter 251 The Book Has Its Own Yan Ruyu

The tooth-piercing sound of the door opening slowly echoed in the empty hall. In the courtyard outside the hall, there was a large vat. Due to the previous heavy rain, the water in the vat was muddy and bottomless, exposing a few reeds swaying in the wind.

The female ghost flew out the moment the door was opened, and jumped into the big tank. The reeds mixed with the moonlight, as if flowing with the clear light of the cold moon.

The man outside the door was wearing a plain white robe with wide sleeves and a long belt. His long hair was tied up with a simple hosta.

"Hiss..." Xu Bo gasped.

The man has black hair and snow neck, his eyebrows are strong and beautiful, his eyes are narrow and long, and the arcs on the corners of his eyes are full of charm. If it is not for the elegant and calm expression on his face, people will think that he has become a fine man Fox demon, come out to charm the world.

Xu Bo's movements attracted the man's attention. The glamorous man's eyes were dark and dark. When he landed on Xu Bo, he seemed to want to cut him into pieces. In summer, he felt the coldness of the ice and snow.

Cold... This is also a ghost.

Xu Bo burst into tears, the hall was full of ghosts, he was already numb.

He glanced at Chen Libin, and found that his classmate and friend was standing there rigidly like a piece of wood, only the eyeballs moved occasionally.

"Did you get on your body?" Xu Bo poked him, but there was no response, and when he poked again, Chen Libin rolled his eyelids and passed out.

"...!!" Brother, don't do this!He can't bear it alone!

Xu Bo plucked up the courage to look at Mu Xuan, but found that the ghostly man was clearly aiming at Mu Xuan, and he... had no shadow behind him.

Stepping on the clogs that the aristocratic family loved to wear most, the man walked slowly towards Mu Xuan step by step. Wherever he passed, all the faint commotions in the dark disappeared silently.

[Ding, your villain Fu Xian has arrived at Xiaopo Temple, and the villain's blackening value is 60, which is about to explode~]
The mechanical voice reminded.

Mu Xuan didn't speak, and calmly accepted Fu Xian's scrutiny.

In fact, she complained a lot in her heart, but it's okay, it's not a hanged ghost or a miserable face like a female ghost, at least it looks... pretty good?
Fu Xian stopped one meter away from her, the smile on the corner of his mouth seemed to be full of honey, the corners of his eyes showed joyful arcs, and he bowed seriously to Mu Xuan: "Dare to ask, Mr. Participate in the country test?"

"Yes."

"Speaking of which, I'm still the son's senior. I'm... a Juren from the Lingzhou Prefecture in Jiahe's 11th year." When Fu Xian said this, there was a trace of doubt on his face, as if his memory was a little confused.

Fu Xian has been dead for a long time, so long that he has forgotten what year it is now, he only remembers the 11th year of Jiahe.

The young scholar with red lips and white teeth still has the childishness of a teenager on his face. "His" long and curly eyelashes tremble, and there is a tranquility in his eyes, like a calm spring water, clear and peaceful.

This gave Fu Xian an inexplicable sense of intimacy, he couldn't help but want to get close to "him", and even turned over his long-lost memories in order to strike up a conversation.

The 11th year of Jiahe... Fu Xian felt a pain in his heart, and there was a brief blank space. He stared at Mu Xuan intently, with a sense of appreciation.

Fu Xian's figure was thin, but he was tall, a full head taller than Mu Xuan.

The complexion of the man in the long-sleeved gown was as fair as jade, and he lowered his slender swan neck slightly, making him look flattering and not vulgar under the dim yellow firelight. Not only did his supple posture not make him look flattering, but it added a delicate beauty.

"My son is very talented. Although this trip has some twists and turns, he will definitely get what he wants in the end." Fu Xian's long sleeves were in front of the wind, and with a light wave, the ghost baby on the ground disappeared.

He hadn't felt human emotions for a long time, but for some reason, when Fu Xian saw this scholar today, he was filled with joy.

It was like... a bright flame appeared in the lonely and bewildered Siye, and he couldn't help but search for it.

Before Mu Xuan answered, Fu Xian said to himself: "The guest has come from a long way, and he hasn't washed up yet. It's because I haven't entertained him well."

The scene changed suddenly, Xu Bo and the fainted Chen Libin disappeared in place, and Mu Xuan found herself standing in an elegant and exquisite wing room, in which the pictures of flowers and birds were vividly painted on the golden emerald screen.

There are many elegant porcelain vases and some antiques on the Bogu shelf on the side.

There was a book of "Book of Rites" on the beauty's couch by the window, which was half-opened and made a rattling sound as it was blown up by the wind, as if the owner of the room had just left and would be back in a while.

There was a knock on the door, and Mu Xuan directly opened the door, staring at the male ghost with a bright smile on her expressionless face, and said inexplicably, "You invited me here, you really want me to freshen up, right? "

Fu Xian seemed to like knocking on the door very much. He cupped his hands and bowed. His gentle appearance really looked like a student who had read a lot of poetry and books. His voice was soft and clear: "Young master is tired from the journey. It's late at night. It's time to take a good rest."

He was holding a copper basin in his hand, and the hot water in it was steaming like clouds, and the clean white facekerchief and sweat towel were folded and hung beside the copper basin.

Mu Xuan was silent, took the toilet utensils in his hand, and made way for a seat.

The room was clearly his.

The pen, ink, paper and inkstone are all available, even the bed curtain looks new, but the pattern on it is not the current fashion.

When the male ghost passed by Muxuan, it brought a vague fragrance, like a person who has been drinking medicine all year round, with the fragrance of medicinal materials on his body.

Fu Xian dyed all the lamps in the room, the candles were brightly lit, showing the beauty's posture, this man's lips were ruddy, full and attractive, when he slightly raised the corners of his lips and smiled at you, it was as if he was sucking the essence of food leprechaun.

Mu Xuan's eyes widened. He...couldn't be the old demon of Montenegro, could he?
That female ghost is Xiaoqian?
This is probably the worst time Nie Xiaoqian has been hacked.

"What are you thinking about?" The smile on Fu Xian's face never faded. He sat by the desk, propped his chin and looked at her, his tone was hooked, twists and turns, and breathy.

The atmosphere in the room became charming, his brows and eyes were full of spring, and the gurgling stream was flowing,

"I'm wondering which dynasty ghost you are from." Mu Xuan picked up the "Book of Rites" from the beauty's couch, and she sat on a triangular stool and read the book by the candlelight.

This book is very old, like an antique dug out from somewhere.

Her eyes stopped at the annotations on the blank pages of the book.The handwriting of the text on the book is somewhat blurred, and it can be seen that the annotations are all from the same person.

The title page seemed to be glued to the cover. She carefully opened it to prevent the fragile paper from being torn. The quality of the paper seemed to be good, and the traces of time were obvious. The dark yellow between the paper and the red on the cover made the It looks more like a funeral object.

"Fu Mingwei." She read aloud.

Fu Xian's eyes flickered, and he responded.

"Jiahe is the reign name of the former emperor, and the new emperor changed his reign name to Yongchang. In what year did you die in Jiahe?" Mu Xuan put down the book, soaked the handkerchief and wiped her face.

Fu Xian was stunned for a moment, "Qianchao..." His tone was emotional.

That peach-like face was covered with a layer of sadness like a veil, and he whispered: "Jiahe was 11 years old, and the year I died was exactly 20 years old."

　Some people read it, if you think the author's writing is boring, you can say it, no one talks, why don't you criticize me more, talk about the shortcomings of the characters, plot, and plot, and let the author know what is wrong question.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)