The Cold Lord God Always Acts Like a Spoiled Brat To Me

  Chapter 974 Old Affairs of the Republic of China: Even if it is indifferent, it is also romantic (end)

   Seeing that she was about to run out of the train station, Tang Hanting was crying and laughing, wearing makeup, but was pulled back by someone, she stretched out her hand: "No—"

"boom!"

  The bullet pierced someone's heart, and Tang Hanting felt the pain dully.

  Fu Jingshen was in confusion, grabbed Tang Hanting to shield himself from the gun, his face was pale, and his voice was ruthless.

   "You and I are destined to die together! What are you dreaming of in our two lifetimes?"

  Tang Hanting's vision was blurred, and when she saw his face, she finally woke up from forgetfulness. She plunged a dagger into Fu Jingshen's heart: "You killed me..."

  The last twist, the one who shot her was him!

  Fu Jingshen suddenly opened his eyes wide and looked at her in disbelief.

  Tang Hanting laughed instead, laughing loudly, and in the end she couldn't tell if she was crying or laughing: "I'm the one on the tall branch, you all have fun..."

  In a trance, like the torrent of the times, involved in a sentence that is right and wrong.

   "If I were the second female lead in the show, I wouldn't be so stupid. If I want to climb a high branch, of course it's the one who climbs the most—Fourth Master Fu."

  A crimson cheongsam was in full bloom in the heavy snow, blooming at the end of Huangquan, reflecting the sad train station thousands of miles away. With one last glance, Tang Hanting subconsciously looked at the infant child, and her body slowly fell to the ground...

  All trajectories overlap surprisingly, going round and round, reflecting the original comment.

   Heart is higher than sky, life is thinner than paper.

  It was originally a big dream, the past in the dream, and the present in the wake of the dream.

   "Six young masters, let's go!" The subordinates shouted desperately as there were not many left.

Fu Jingshen came back to his senses, covered the wound on his heart, instead of running, he rushed up with a gun, unwilling to shout: "What are you running, can you run? If you can kill one, you will be buried with me on Huangquan Road! "

  Life is like mud, despicable and greedy.

   Feng Lingzhi looked at him from a long distance, and pulled the trigger with his finger.

"boom-"

  The world fell silent.

  Fu Jingshen has long been a powerful bow, so how could he dodge this bullet.

  He fell to the ground in response, only two or three meters away from Tang Hanting, so they were considered dead together.

  Five meters away, a swaddled baby was lying in the snow, blue and white with cold, crying loudly.

  The sharp crying sound became the only sound in this train station full of dead bodies.

  The snow fell more and more heavily, kindly covering all the filth in the world, and the whistling night wind was like mourning, commemorating this white funeral.

   "Adjutant, everything has been dealt with." The guard said, "This child..."

  Feng Lingzhi's complexion: "Parents seek their own death, but they suffer for the baby."

   "Give me the baby..."

  A vicissitudes of life sounded from behind

  Master Fu leaned on a cane, walked over step by step, and sighed.

   "Old Mr. Fu." Feng Lingzhi looked serious, picked up the baby, and put it in his arms.

  Fu Zhenshan held the child in his arms, stretched out his hand to check his breath, and breathed a sigh of relief, "Nie Yi."

  The baby boy seemed to feel the warmth, and slowly stopped crying. His eyes were surprisingly big, and he looked at him ignorantly.

   "Rong Heng is really merciless." Fu Zhenshan looked at the two corpses.

   "There are too many people who died in vain because of Liu Shao, and there must be an explanation." Feng Lingzhi said.

   "When I was young, Jing Shen fell into a ravine somehow. That time, it was Rong Heng who found out and went back with him on his back, saving his life."

  Fu Zhenshan squinted his eyes and talked. When people are old, they like to recall the past. After digging out many old things, they can't bear to look back.

  Worldly affairs are ambiguous in eight or nine cases, and human feelings cover two or three points.

   Now, this life can be regarded as returned.

   "Fourth Master never mentioned it."

   "He is a man of few words." Fu Zhenshan said, "He will never say what he does, and his thoughts are hard to guess..."

   "That's all, that's all."

  Things are a foregone conclusion, what's the use of recalling the past, it will only increase sadness.

   "Go back and report to him." Mr. Fu closed his eyes, wearing a dark Chinese tunic suit, attending the funeral for someone, "From now on, he will support the Fu family."

  Fu Zhenshan hugged the child and walked away slowly. In the snow, the footprints were of different shades, away from the sad train station.

   "From now on... your name will be Fu Xiang."

  The past and the past are like clouds and smoke, and they become empty in a blink of an eye.

  The snow stopped, and a bright moon rose.

   The study room was quiet.

  When Feng Lingzhi came in, Fu Rongheng was sitting by the window, wearing a military uniform, playing chess under the lamp.

  One person, one lamp, one game of chess.

   "Fourth Master." Feng Lingzhi said, "The matter is over."

  Fu Rongheng stopped playing the chess for a moment, and responded steadily.

  Looking at people under the lamp, you can't see through their faces.

  Too many people have died on this road, all of them are old friends.

  Feng Lingzhi thought, he may be sad for a moment, but he has no regrets.

  The moonlight in the sky is like running water, reflecting the snow on the ground. Every year, people are different.

one year later.

  When the spring blooms, the weather will be smooth and the road will not be picked up.

  The old man on the street was boiling hot tea, and the fragrance of tea rose in the air. A Tong, a newspaper seller, begged for a cup of tea, and a child chased him and accidentally knocked over the wooden table.

  The spring breeze blew across every corner of Beicheng, and people talked about the big wedding of the Fu and Chu families. How many times can life be like this?

  There are rumors among the people—

  If you don't want to be a mandarin duck, you don't envy immortals, but you envy Fu Chu for a hundred years.

  There is Ruicao in the situation, and they grow old together, so it should be difficult to compare.

   Fu Zhai.

  The scene of the spring is deep, and the red candles turn the tears of spring at night, and the lights are uncertain.

  It was late at night, when Chu Jin'an woke up, the red candles in the room were burned out, and the fire was dim, and he realized that he was not around.

  He usually doesn't like to be lively, and the dark wood furniture in this room has turned red, which is probably the only time in this life.

  Ten generations of cultivation can cross the same boat, and a hundred generations of cultivation can sleep together.

  Chu Jin'an put on his pajamas and went out barefoot. The door of the house was ajar. He was sitting on the steps of the Spring Court. He was wearing a white shirt, with a straight back and slightly curved legs. He didn't know what he was thinking.

  Begonias in the courtyard did not rain, pear blossoms snowed first, half of the spring break.

  The majority of the man's body was hidden in the dark night, and the frosty pear blossoms fell on his shoulders and then on the steps.

  Chu Jinan leaned against the door and stared at him for a long time.

  Suddenly, I thought of a long time ago, so long that I can hardly remember when, in the old days, under the eaves of the courtyard, it was the same.

  The young man looked at the snow outside with his back to the light, often for a long time.

  It was freezing cold, and he was wearing a dark blue crane cloak, which was brilliant but quiet.

   And she was watching his back.

  At that time, I didn't know that Feng Guanxia would marry him and be his regular wife.

  Chu Jinan came back to his senses, smiled, stepped across the threshold, stepped on the pear blossoms on the spring steps barefoot, and hugged him from behind: "Fourth brother."

  He has been blowing the wind for an unknown amount of time, and his body is somewhat cool.

   "Why are you awake?" Fu Rongheng looked back at her, under the bright moon, his brows and eyes were clear and idle.

  There is her in those eyes.

   Suddenly there was a gust of draft, blowing past the old quaint wooden furniture, and blowing the pear blossom snow in the courtyard, rustling to the ground.

   Stretching 90,000 miles to the north, the mountains and seas in his eyes became the stories she had heard.

  (end of this chapter)