At night, the sound of the piano wafts in the courtyard.

Xie Wei sat in front of the small case, his wide sleeves were folded behind his wrists, and a pair of small hands rested lightly on the taut silk strings, turning his palms from time to time to pluck out one or two overtones.

The overtone sound is vague and ethereal, as if there is a yearning for floating upwards, and the difference between the notes of the guqin is obvious and simple, and it is said that "the overtone is the sky, the scattered sound is the earth, and the sound is the law", so the overtone is also called "the sound of the sky".

Such an ethereal may have been the sound of the clouds in the sky, right?

The faint voice of Xie Yu is also as ethereal and indifferent as the overtones, "The feathers of the mayflies, the clothes are beautiful." Where do I return to my heart? The wings of the mayfly, picking clothes. The worries of my heart are at my mercy? Mayflies dig and read, and the linen clothes are like snow. The worries of my heart, to me? ”

"Mayfly" was originally a mournful and desolate song, and through the overtone accompaniment she picked up casually, there was less confusion and fear of death, and more relief to see through life and death.

After a while, he covered his eyes, his slender fingers gently wiped the extremely tightly twisted silk strings, turned his head and sighed softly with self-deprecation, "Come like flowing water and pass away like the wind...... I don't know where I came from and where I ended......"

As if unintentionally, she turned her fingertips and pulled hard, the strings made a turbid sound, and a blood mark oozed from her fingertips, and in an instant, the snow-white silk strings were dyed red, condensed into red beads and slowly dripped onto the surface of the piano.

Yi Shen looked up from the book, and under the shadow of the candle, he saw that she indifferently took Supa and wiped the blood on her fingers, frowned slightly, but didn't say anything.

“…… Worry. Xie Wei suddenly opened his eyes, took his fingertips into his mouth and sucked lightly.

The thing that killed the servant girl should be the tightened silk string...... With the slightest force, the sharpness of the steel strings was enough to strangle human skin, and if it weren't for the fact that the strings were all made of silk or animal tendon in this era, they could not reach the strength of the steel strings, she would have confirmed this guess.

But now it seems that as long as it is tight enough, even weak silk is enough to hurt people.

As for the strings...... When passing by Huiyuan during the day, I heard that Shaoji's drum broke the three strings, is it just a coincidence?

However, it is clear that someone wants to harm Shaoji, why does the suspicion fall back to her now? - Is someone deliberately confusing?

Relieve your worries and close your eyes, and carefully sort out your thoughts.

First of all, Shao Ji was born, when the incense was different from the past burned in the Hui Garden, and the Yue Nu came to cry for relief and healing, at that time, Bo Ji and Yan Yao were in the snow hall, and played a song "Mayfly" together.

The next day, Bo Ji lost her temper in Hui Yuan because she was too grief-stricken, and Yue Nu changed the incense ashes that had been burned in Hui Yuan.

On the second day, Chu Yu was falsely accused, and I don't know who did it - but it seems that everything about Chu Yu was told by Yue Nu.

Then today, a maid in Xuetang was killed outside Huiyuan with a silk string, and Shaoji's Se happened to break the string.

After going around for a while, the matter fell back to Shaoji's head, and the only person in the Shijiang Courtyard who was still out of the matter was Bo Ji.

I'm afraid that even Jing Xuan himself didn't expect that this seemingly simple thing would involve such a huge amount.

Thinking about things, I fell asleep unconsciously, and I seemed to be thinking about these interlocking things in my dreams, which one must be wrong, but where?

There are more and more chirping birds in my ears, and there seems to be the rich fragrance of flowers lingering around my side.

Xie Wei suddenly opened his eyes and saw himself dressed in white, standing under the ancient Xinyi tree, and behind him were the red flowers blooming in thousands of mountains, burning like the sunset.

The corners of her lips hooked up a smile, she should have returned to the ancient town where the bones were buried in her dream, but such a picture did not seem to be what she had seen in her life.

A black trench coat turned out of the flower forest, and the familiar back made Xie worry twitch suddenly, and he couldn't help but follow the steps of the person in front of him and hurriedly chased after him.

I wanted to call her, but my voice choked in my throat, and I didn't know what to say.

Two figures, one black and one white, turned around the nine-turn Mulan Forest, and the person in front of him suddenly stopped, didn't stop worrying, and staggered forward.

But instead of colliding with the man in front of her, she crossed the man and fell straight to the ground, throwing flowers all over the ground.

Looking up, there was a plain monument in front of her, and after a long while, she fixed her swaying eyes on the last word.

Tomb...... This is her grave......

It turned out that this was the scene after her death, no wonder there was never one in her memory.

Xie Wei patted the dust on his clothes, picked up the fallen flowers on his skirt, slowly stood up, and turned to look at his former friend, for a moment.

However, the eyes of the person in front of him were lowered, and his eyes fell on the monument, but he did not see her figure.

She wanted to ask, she suddenly wanted to ask, how many days did it take for her body to be found after she died? How many people know about this? What does the outside world say about her? How many years has it been since she died?

When she was alive, everything had to be perfect and perfect, and she didn't want to be criticized too much after she died.

However, she didn't know where to start, and even if she did, she wouldn't get an answer.

Xie Wu slowly knelt down and sat down, the petals piled up all over the ground, white with purple color, swaying into a blur.

Then, the person in front of him also half-crouched down, stretched out his hand, as if to caress her cheek, and say something comforting.

Xie Wei's eyes widened, tears dripped down the corners of her eyes, sliding over the corners of her slightly upturned mouth, she rarely cried, but this time she couldn't cry, muttering in her mouth, "Can you see my ......?" You just deliberately teased me, didn't you? ”

Everyone is afraid of death, everyone is afraid of being forgotten after death, even if she has died once, she is still not exempt.

But the familiar hand crossed over her, stroked the stele behind her, and then pasted the cold stele on the corner of his forehead, choked and whispered, "Empty Lingyun is talented, and I have never opened my arms in my life." Where are the birds crying and the flowers falling, and the bamboo dies and the withered phoenix does not come. ”

He turned his head in disappointment, sat down against the stele, stretched out his hand to caress the inscription on the stele, and connected it lowly, "The good horse is full of no owner, and the old friendship is the absolute sorrow." Jiuquan sighed at the separation of three lights, and sent Wen Xing into the night platform. ”

She doesn't know if she really has a talent like Li Shangyin, but when she was alive, she did have a bad life, and she was vain all her life, saying that her heart was depressed and sick, if she could be more comfortable at that time, she would not have ended up dying early.

Empty and talented, he has never opened his arms in his life. Where are the birds crying and the flowers falling, and the bamboo dies and the withered phoenix does not come.

The good horse is full of no owner, and the old friendship is mourning. Jiuquan sighed at the separation of three lights, and sent Wen Xing into the night platform.

It's so desolate, so desolate that it's so helpless...... Even her friend who believes in the victory of man can only mourn her with such a helpless poem, what hope can she have for what will happen after her death?

So, don't dream again...... What good is the meaningless dream of the past?