Murong Qian stroked the snow silk on his head, the roots were like needles, and he scratched the scar in his heart: "I'm sorry, Qingchen, I'm sorry!" ”

"Excuse me?" Hu Qingchen raised his head and looked at Murong Qian with his eyes open, looking at the sadness flickering in the peach blossom eyes, and wondered, "I'm sorry for what?" ”

Murong Qian's voice trembled, and he tried his best to hold back his crying: "It's me who is not good, it's me who didn't protect our children......"

"What are you talking about?" Hu Qingchen suddenly became a little anxious, pushed away Murong Qian's embrace, and interrupted unhappily, "The children are all good, and they are well protected!" ”

"Alright, let's not talk about it! Do not say! Murong Qian swallowed the bitterness in his throat, turned away from his scorching gaze, picked up the porcelain bowl on the table, moved the spoon, and said softly, "Come, drink the porridge!" ”

Hun Qingchen's eyelashes drooped slightly, looked at the spoon handed to his lips, and reached out to take it with a smile: "Xuan'er loves to drink this porridge the most, come, Xuan'er!" As he spoke, he took the spoon and turned around to go in the direction of the spiritual seat—

"Qingchen, don't be like this!" Murong Qian grabbed Hao Qingchen's wrist and tried to suppress his grief.

Hu Qingchen turned his head with a smile: "Ah Qian, Xuan'er loves to eat!"

"Light Dust!" Murong Qian's voice floated slowly, seemingly soft and weak, but it could kill with one blow, "Xuan'er, he's dead!" ”

Xun Qingchen was stunned, brushed aside Murong Qian's hand, pretended not to hear, and continued to walk towards the spiritual position: "Come, Xuan'er, take a bite!" ”

"Li Zhongxuan is dead!" Murong Qian blocked the way of Hun Qingchen, full of suffocation, and spewed out, "Whether you are sad or not, accept it or not, he is already dead!" Never and never again! ”

Hu Qingchen froze, threw down the spoon, shook his head and took a few steps back: "Lie to me, you are all lying to me!" Xuan'er, he didn't die! Shallow, listen...... He's calling his mother, mother......"

Murong Qian stepped forward and clapped Hun Qingchen's shoulder, looked at her eyes deeply, and comforted her with the last trace of strength: "Qingchen, we will still have many children, and there will be children who will call you mother." ”

"No!" Xun Qingchen opened Murong Qian's arm with both hands, rushed to the incense case, hugged the spiritual position tightly in his arms, and gradually curled up to the ground, muttering incessantly, "No one can replace Xuan'er, no one can!" You can't ......."

"Look what you look like now!" Murong Qian dragged the crazy Hun Qingchen up from the cold ground, pulled him to the dresser and sat down, "Xuan'er, would he want to see you like this?" Will it! ”

Xun Qingchen looked at his face in the mirror, his eyebrows jumped, staring at the white hair, his open pupils trembled and gradually retracted, and slowly turned into a star sneer. Oh, Shixian's "morning is like green silk turning into snow at dusk", it turned out to be this description.

Her fingers trembled and stroked her slightly sunken cheeks, and the sickly yellow was no longer a pink peach blossom with spring.

This is old age.

This is despair.

"If I die like this, I will be able to accompany Xuan'er."

"What about me?" Murong asked in a hoarse voice, and later, this question turned into a thin sob, "Have you ever thought about me, thought about Zhongyu?" Light dust, you said you'd be by my side......"

The dried water-cutting pupils gradually gathered water, and the slightest cold tears slid down the corners of the eyes to the looming soul-locking mole, which was cold to the bones