The green hills on both sides of the bank are swaying, the drizzle is continuous, the breeze is gently waving the lake, a flat boat swims down, at the head of the boat, there is a woman in white clothes and snow, blowing the green jade flute, and the maid stands quietly behind her holding an oil-paper umbrella.

The sound of the flute whimpered, with a kind of tender affection and a kind of indifference that did not understand the world. The maid listened, and her heart was inexplicably stained with some sadness that was difficult to discharge.

After the song, the boat had docked, but the woman just looked at the center of the lake in a daze, and had no intention of getting off the boat. The long inky hair, and the eyelashes are already hung with sparkling raindrops. There is no way to avoid the gentle drizzle of the cold spring, but it gets on your skin little by little over time, like a chronic poison.

The maid stood for a moment and felt a little

Chapter 23 of "The Age of the Covenant" Wishing is being hit by hand, please wait a moment,

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