Unconsciously, Murong Qian had slowly walked to the corridor where the "Wind Flower Snow Moon" was placed, and he stopped the carved railing at the staircase. He looked at the jade quality not far away, and then looked at the green gauze curtain at the warm pavilion, and after a little hesitation, he stepped up towards the warm pavilion.

The wat head knocked on the wooden plank of the staircase, "dong dong" sounded, like the beat of the drum, a sound, echoing in this cold loneliness.

Murong Qian's steps stopped in front of the warm pavilion, looking at the wooden lattice flower gate, and he was stunned for a moment.

In a daze, the door suddenly opened with a "bang", revealing a thin blue shirt in the pavilion. The blue shadow swayed lightly, faintly revealing the figure of the woman, the woman sat on her knees, holding a grate and carefully combing the three thousand troubles, the red comb, the white hair, every time it was shocking.

Murong Qian's throat tightened, and he called softly with doubt: "Light dust? ”

The movement in the woman's hand stopped slightly, and her voice turned low: "Ah Qian, you are here." ”

Murong Qian's heartstrings plucked, staring at the back of the day and night, his ten fingers gradually clenched into fists, freezing inch by inch tenderness into alienation: "Hun Qingchen, you should know, I don't want to see you!" ”

"I know, but I've done my best to dye this 'sky and water', and I should let you see it again." The sleeves of the light dust yarn were raised, and the grate was put down.

Murong Qianjian's eyebrows frowned slightly, his eyes focused on the fresh and pure tone, and he snorted coldly: "Are you just going to do such boring things?" ”

Hu Qingchen got up slowly, and did not look back to pay attention to Murong Qian's disdain. She looked in the direction of the 'Wind Flower Snow Moon' platform, and paced towards the pavilion step by step, with a smile in her voice: "Bored? If you've tried endless waiting, you know that nothing else in the world can be called boring. ”

Murong Qian looked at the back of Hun Qingchen standing on the edge of the pavilion, quietly falling into a lonely autumn river, he moved his lips, and finally couldn't bear to say hurtful words again.

The light dust turned slightly, showing a plain face without powder, like a spring breeze blowing over, graceful and tingting, showing her weak willow posture more and more. The words came with the wind, ethereal like a dream, no sadness and no joy: "Ah Qian, let me dance another dance for you!" Before he could finish speaking, his body leaned back and fell out of the pavilion.

Murong Qian had a bad premonition, and reached out to grab it, like a water shawl brushing his palm, leaving a trace of coolness: "Light ......"

Before Murong Qian could exclaim when he chased to the edge of the pavilion, he saw that the blue silk silk turned around, and a magnolia bloomed under Hun Qingchen's body, firmly stabilizing the fall.

The light dust rose up, and the jade feet were a little stamen, and the paragraphs settled on the stage of "Wind and Snow Moon".

Three thousand snow silks fell softly, and they drooped down like flowing clouds.

Xun Qingchen tilted his head slightly, and his sheared water pupils turned to Murong Qian, and a trace of tenderness appeared on his lips: "Murong Qian, after all, you are still reluctant to let me die!" ”

Murong breathed a sigh of relief, immediately stopped the panic on his face, straightened his posture, and retreated from the edge of the Warm Pavilion indifferently: "Whether you live or die, it has nothing to do with me!" After finishing speaking, there was a dozen "maple leaf floats" in his hand, cut the ribbon, put down the layers of curtains, and blocked the intersection of each other's eyes.

Looking at this situation, he was not in a hurry or annoyed, he relaxed his sleeves by himself, and slowly blessed his body slightly. After the ceremony, the orchid finger turned, the yarn sleeves were raised, and the momentum was good.