Zhang Wuji knew that what he said was so conservative that it was almost a lie, Senior Brother Song, it was not that he might never be able to practice martial arts again, but that he really couldn't practice martial arts again, but he still chose this kind of statement with a slight hope.

For many people in this world, death is never the worst end in their minds, and there are thousands of more painful situations in this world. The most feared fate in the eyes of a peerless luthier may be to have his hands cut off, the most terrible thing in the eyes of a loving mother may be to send a white-haired person to a black-haired person, and the most painful thing in the eyes of a loyal minister may be to witness the destruction of the country and the death of the family......

Among all these things, what could be more gratifying than mere death?

And in the rivers and lakes, many times, compared to dying at the hands of the enemy, being abolished by the other party for countless years of hard work, breaking the meridians, and breaking the dantian is a far more cruel punishment than letting the other party directly kill himself.

Hearing what Zhang Wuji said, Song Yuanqiao almost suspected that he had heard something wrong. His hand that had been gripping the hilt of his sword tightened suddenly, and the wooden hilt creaked slightly from the weight of the weight. It was as if something sticky was blocking Song Yuanqiao's throat, making him unable to utter a single word fluently.

"Mowgli...... Are you telling the truth?" he forced out the sentence.

Just like the waste person in Zhang Wuji's mouth who will never be able to practice martial arts in the future is not himself, Qiao Heng admitted in a comfortable tone: "Senior Brother Wuji, he is not wrong. ”

Song Yuanqiao's gaze fell on Qiao Heng's body.

The farmhouse was unusually simple, small and dark, except for a window that was not even three feet square on the wall facing the door. Sunlight was projected into the room from this small high window, and the warm sunlight was obviously less than an inch away from shining directly on Qiao Heng's body, but in the end, it only became a small spot of light next to his feet, passing by him.

However, Song Yuanqiao felt that Qiao Heng's eyes were much more dazzling than the beam of light on his side.

It's not that his eyes are sharp and resolute, in fact, his current eyes should be said to be flat and indisputable, compared with the once full of youthful spirit and brilliance, his eyes at this time can be called completely dim.

However, it was these eyes, which could not be said to be gentle or indifferent, like a spring lake frozen by the wind, that made Song Yuanqiao's brain blank.

“...... Qingshu, come here. He said with difficulty.

But before he could react, he stepped forward, pulled Qiao Heng's wrist, put his fingers between the veins, and probed a wisp of internal force into his body. After that, the face of this humble and elegant hero almost became gray in a few snaps of his fingers, and no one in the rivers and lakes had ever seen the current appearance of this Wudang Song hero, who has always been stable and gentlemanly.

Unconsciously, he slowly let go of the hand holding Qiao Heng's wrist.

Zhang Wuji secretly annoyed that he should have said it tactfully, and he said worriedly: "Uncle Master?"

Qiao Heng's gaze stayed on Song Yuanqiao for a while, and then casually picked up the medicine bowl he had just put aside, and said politely: "If the father has nothing important, the son will go to clean these sundries first." ”

That demeanor and tone, as if in his eyes at this time, this abolished martial art is not as important as a dirty bowl.

Until he walked out of the room, Song Yuanqiao didn't stop him.

Zhang Wuji looked at Qiao Heng, who walked out without looking back, and then at Song Yuanqiao, who was standing in place in a daze, and only called out to the master again.

Song Yuanqiao slowly came back to his senses, there was a little imperceptible haggard hidden between his eyebrows, and he waved his hand: "Wuji, you go out first, let me stay alone for a while." ”

Zhang Wuji had no choice but to leave according to his words, and before stepping out of the house, he said uneasily: "I still hope that the master will put his body first." ”

Song Yuanqiao stood in the room silently as if he hadn't heard anything, only the room was lonely.

He finally figured out one thing - Qingshu was the reason why he was reluctant to return to Wudang, but with this glimmer of enlightenment, what surged into his heart was the depression and pain that could not be lightly brushed away.

He blamed Qingshu from the beginning, Qingshu was not to evade responsibility, nor did he hold a grudge against Wudang, but simply because he didn't want to, he just didn't want to.

Just imagine, how arrogant and arrogant as he is willing to return to Wudang as a waste. The strange gaze of everyone, the sighs of others, at such a time, these sighs from his peers who were far less outstanding than him in the past are far more unacceptable than pure ridicule.

......

The next day, the rooster crowed, the farmer got up early, and at this moment, there was already a light smoke wafting out of every house. The sun shyly poked its head out at the junction of heaven and earth, pulling Liujiacun from a drowsiness into the morning light.

Qiao Heng has never had the habit of snoozing, and because he has to go to the school to give lectures in the morning, he always gets up early.

Zhang Wuji habitually had to practice martial arts a few times in the morning, but he didn't want to make a noise to Qiao Heng, so he quietly went to the mountains to find a place where no one was there to practice his own, and when he came back, Qiao Heng often had already eaten dinner and went to the school.

So the meals of the two of them have always been staggered, and it is impossible to tell how much of this is a coincidence and how much is deliberate.

Even now that Song Yuanqiao is here, Qiao Heng has no intention of changing his schedule, he hastily finished his breakfast and went to the school alone.

It's also troublesome, he used to use the appearance of a disguised person when he walked in the village before, in order to prevent Song Qingshu's identity from being exposed and provoking his old acquaintances. Now that his identity has been exposed, Song Yuanqiao has run directly from Wudang Mountain to this place, he has no need to change his appearance, but the people in the village only recognize his appearance after his disguise, and he is inconvenient to explain some things, so he has to take the trouble to continue to change his appearance before going out.

Qiao Heng has already memorized the Four Books and Five Classics, and he has memorized the lesson plans he has transcribed in the past, and he can tell the content of the new lesson at any time. However, he did not rush to give a lecture, but first asked the students to read aloud the content of yesterday's lecture, and he took advantage of the fact that everyone was reading aloud, walked up to the students one by one, personally checked yesterday's homework - two large characters, and took out a brush stained with cinnabar, and sketched out the irregularities in the writing one by one.

The soft morning light hit his eyebrows and eyes, outlining him with a peaceful and peaceful temperament, full of Qinghua, a little warm.

As everyone knows, this scene was all taken into Song Yuanqiao's eyes.

A few peasant men who passed by the school with hoes on their shoulders accidentally lowered their footsteps, as if they were afraid of affecting the children who were studying. But they are more than ten years away from the school, how can the sound of footsteps be suppressed by the children's uniform reading?

A man thought of his son who was studying in the school, and his eyes couldn't help but glance at the school. He tilted his head as he walked, and before he could see anything, he accidentally bumped into someone.

It is also strange to say that he, a big man who works hard all day long, just ran into him in a daze, and the other party was not only not knocked to the ground by him, but his tall self was forced to stagger back a step when he hit him.

Broken, is this hitting a hard stubble?

The man didn't dare to be distracted, so he hurriedly turned his head and apologized sharply: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Blame me for not looking at the road well." ”

Instead of embarrassing him, the man he hit gave him a slap and said very sincerely: "It's not all Brother Tai's fault, it's also that I didn't make way for Brother Tai, and I am also at fault for this matter." ”

The man who hit people had never seen such a polite character in the fields and countryside, and he was stunned for a moment, and he didn't know what to say. He looked at the other party's appearance and clothing: he saw that this person was wearing a literati Confucian shirt worn by few people in Liujia Village, with a snow-white muslin collar exposed under his neck, and a long sword with a sheath at his waist.

The peasant man wondered in his heart, and was a little wary of facing the living, and said strangely: "This big brother looks at the face, from outside?"

The man who was hit bluntly said, "I'm not a local. ”

Among the people who traveled with the man who hit people, one of them had been a street seller for a few years, and an uncle had been a lizheng, so it was inevitable to think more. He felt that his brother's words just now were like a thief, this outsider had a long sword around his waist, and he was calm, maybe he was a person in the rivers and lakes, these martial artists were used to fighting and killing, and if they provoked the other party, it would not end well.

So he said: "Sir, don't blame, this Liujia Village can't see a few people all year round, I heard that there is a shortage of soldiers outside, my brother didn't open the door, and he couldn't help but say more." ”

The man dressed in a Confucian shirt said, "There is nothing wrong with being careful, there is nothing wrong with it." ”

He seemed to hesitate for something after saying this, and a few men heard him ask, "The tiled house in front of you is a local school?"

"Yes. ”

The outsider replied vaguely and asked, "The gentleman who attended the class...... I'm not a local, I'm right. ”

"In our small place, how can we have a scholar like Mr. Qiao!"

The questioner heard the other party say that his surname was Qiao, and he was silent for a moment, he seemed to sigh and asked, "Is he doing well in the lecture?"

Someone replied, "Okay, why not! That time I had nothing to do, and I went to a class, and oh, even I, the old man, understood it, and the old village chief said what was it called......? If I hadn't had that skill, I would have wanted to move to a bench to attend a lecture. ”

Another person laughed and scolded: "How old are you guys, and you still get together with a bunch of little dolls!"

"The gentlemen in the school have said that anyone over the age of three who wants to attend the class can go to the school and sit, why can't I go?" said the man who spoke before, "The village chief has said it, this is called a ...... teaching" He paused for a moment, unable to remember what he said.

The man dressed as a literati was in a trance for a moment, and then said, "There is no class in teaching." ”

The man, who had been a seller for a few years, said: "I see you standing here looking at the school before, I think you came here to find the gentleman in the school, right? I don't know what your relationship is with that gentleman, but since you have asked our brothers about that gentleman, I will not hide it from you, this gentleman in the school is naturally very good, I am absolutely not telling a lie, just one thing, is enough to make our whole village remember him, I am not afraid that you will not believe it, this gentleman he-do not restrain him!"

The person next to him picked up the conversation: "Mr. doesn't ask us to restrain us, we don't want to go, usually the chickens, ducks and geese at home lay eggs, so we will send some to him first, so that Mr. can try it." We know that Mr. is a man who has seen the world, and these gadgets are not worth a lot of money, but Mr. has never disliked them. ”

They were so boasting that the listeners stood silently and did not interject until they had finished.

The former seller said with a smile: "The gentleman in the school has a good heart, he is willing to deign to be a teacher in Liujia Village, and we all owe a favor." If you come to ask him to choose another higher place, we countrymen can't stop him, but that gentleman is talented, let me say more, you must not be like us to give him a second word. Nowadays, the world is not good, sometimes I think, if Mr. is willing to be a parent official, I don't know how many people will be blessed, maybe, it is not impossible to add another Meng Weijun in this world. ”

When the listener dressed as a literati heard the word "Meng Wei", his body shook slightly, and a trace of sadness flashed in his eyes.

A few peasant men were busy going to do farm work, and after saying these few words to the outsider, they didn't talk much more.

Song Yuanqiao looked at the figures of several people walking farther and farther away, then turned around slowly, looked at the small school again, and looked at the familiar figure inside through the half-open window.

The young gentleman read a sentence in a clear voice, and the students in the underground shook their heads and said a sentence. Occasionally, a few clumsy sparrows would stop on the window lattice, poke their heads into the room, and then inadvertently be shaken by the sudden sound of reading by the students. The vision was hazy, as if all the harmonious colors of the entire heaven and earth were gathered in this small school.

He tried to get closer several times, but in the end, he reversed his pace and followed the way he came, returning to Qingshu and Wuji's foothold in Liujia Village.

He pushed open the small wooden door that was not very secure and walked into the courtyard, and walked all the way to Qiao Heng's room, he took a deep breath and pushed the door in.

The furnishings in the room are extremely simple, a table, a chair, a bed, a bookshelf, and a pot of Junzi orchid, which has nothing to do with the precious, the leaves are verdant and dripping, and the simple flowers are quietly blooming in the burrow.

On the table are several self-made books cut and bound with rice paper and twine, and the cover of each book has a neat title written in different handwriting, most of which are familiar to readers.

Everyone who can read and write, unless they deliberately imitate others, will have their own handwriting, some people may not believe it, but Qiao Heng is an exception - he does not have his own handwriting. Rather, he had forgotten the handwriting that was supposed to be his own.

In the process of constantly tossing and turning in different lives, he once tried his best to show that he was different from the original owner of the body, and he also tried his best to imitate the words and deeds of the original owner in order to protect himself. He didn't know how many people he had imitated, until one day, when he suddenly looked back, he suddenly realized that he had unknowingly lost his handwriting.

When he realized this, he sat alone in his room for half the night, and then searched for the calligraphy of a qiē calligrapher, imitating their handwriting, as if hoping to make up for something.

To this day, he can write the handwriting of any calligrapher outside of ancient and modern times, but what does this mean to him today?

The only use is probably to add a little study fun when writing and writing, and when he has nothing to do, he converts a kind of handwriting every time he copies a book, which can only be used as a little trick to entertain himself and relieve boredom when he is alone.

Song Yuanqiao heard Wuji say that these books were all transcribed by Qingshu himself, he understood that his son liked to be competitive and competitive, and now he saw that he could no longer practice martial arts, and could only work the pen, and his heart was a little empty after all.

He stood like a stubborn rock standing still, and no one could move him for half a minute.

He said to himself, if you are just Song Daxia of Wudang, you will directly bring this rebel back to Wudang. He said to himself, if you are only Qingshu's father, let him spend the rest of his life here.

But what when these two identities become one?

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Chapter 59 of the text, Heaven and Dragon Slayer, 7