The snowy northern frontier is full of boundless white as far as the eye can see. The population of the small town on the edge of northern Xinjiang is small, but only a hundred. However, at this time, unlike the previous poor and boring, many people in the town gathered in front of a small inn to watch the excitement. Perhaps the old days of the town were too boring, and such a small thing also aroused great interest in the onlookers.

"That little beggar came to steal again, what a ...... such a young child is evil," one said, pointing, and then another interjected: "Is that a beggar?" The beggar is a human being, this guy was raised by wild beasts in the mountains, he doesn't talk or do anything, and in winter he can't find food in the mountains and runs to our town to steal things. ”

"Look like that, it's just a six or seven-year-old doll. Tsk, if you look at the dirty, you can't see the men and women. Look! Lao Zhu pumped her! There was some excitement in the voices of the people in the market.

Boss Zhu, who was stolen two steamed buns, spared no effort to insult the beggar who was huddled on the ground and shivering, and began to add punches and kicks when he scolded him, regardless of the other party's thin body as if he was a six or seven-year-old child. The crowd of onlookers became louder, and most of them applauded.

The beggar was completely black, his hair was dirty, and his face was buried tightly between his legs. She only had a thin layer of tattered clothes on her body, barely covering her body, let alone any warmth in this ice and snow, her bare dirty skin was scarred, her right wrist was swollen and deformed, and she didn't know what was extremely badly injured. In the noisy environment, she let out a puppy-like whimper in her throat, but no one noticed at all.

It was getting dark, and the night was so thick that there were no stars or moons, but the snow on the streets reflected the light. After people had enough fun with the beggar, they slowly dispersed, and Boss Zhu picked up the beggar and threw it into the corner, spat viciously, turned around and slammed the door of the store.

Snow slowly began to fall in the dark night, and the huge snowflakes unique to northern Xinjiang fell softly, and occasionally the north wind swept by. The beggar cowered in the corner, looking from a distance like a lump of black garbage buried in the snow. Snowflakes fall on her, losing the beauty of poetry and scenery when the snow usually falls, and only makes people feel infinitely cold.

As the sky grew darker and darker, the beggars, who had been trembling violently, no longer trembled, and even the small ups and downs of their breathing disappeared. Everything is quiet, as if everything is dead.

The town's snow-covered streets are only moved by the wind and snow.

I don't know when, the trend of snowflakes flying has changed slightly, and the new snow that has just fallen on the ground has a slight cracking sound, and someone has come with an umbrella to divide the snow. A pair of white brocade cloud boots stepped softly through the new snow, and the pace was gentle, unhurried.

Nan Yang held a paper umbrella with a plain surface in his right hand, calmly walked in this small town in northern Xinjiang, quietly looking straight ahead, his eyes were like a bowl of translucent tea, naturally cold and ruthless, indifferent and cold.

Nanyang's facial features are very delicate and feminine, but they do not fall into any kind of vulgarity in the world, as if every hair and eyelash have just been washed out of the polar heavenly pool, with a fairy aura that does not eat fireworks in the world. The long, smudged black hair was draped behind his back, like the softest waterfall, more attractive to touch than any extravagant fabric in the world. She wore a plain white dress, with wide sleeves and long sleeves flying in the air to create a beautiful shape, as if no one could wear such a grace in white clothes, like the most holy lotus flower on the peak of the snow-capped mountain, and like the magnolia that bloomed at the beginning of the Kunlun branches.

Nan Yang's temperament is different from the youth of her appearance, and it is the kind of indifference that only hermits who have lived for a long time and have seen many states in the world. It is this indifference that makes her feel cold and alienated from her.

Her even footsteps suddenly stopped, sensing something very keenly, and a pair of beautiful eyes narrowed to look carefully at what was buried by the university in the far corner.

It was a man, and he wasn't very old. Nanyang pondered for a moment, shook his head, held his umbrella, and continued to walk his own way.

But I still stopped again when I almost missed it.

Nan Yang's good-looking eyebrows were twisted slightly, and he finally sighed, turned around and walked to the corner, and sighed softly in a clear voice like a hollow valley Mingxi: "There is still a breath." Her eyes softened, and she crouched down in front of the snow-buried beggar, put her umbrella aside, and touched the beggar's cold back with her hand. She looked at the beggar with a gentle gaze, like a holy god and Buddha who has compassion for all beings, solemn and not blasphemous.

The beggar suddenly raised his head unexpectedly, and a pair of dark eyes collided with Nan Yang's gaze. Her face was so dirty that she couldn't see clearly, but her eyes were clear and unpolluted. The beggar's still intact left hand was clenched into a small fist, and his eyes were full of vigilance and fear.

Nan Yang picked up the beggar's little fist and held it in his warm palm, feeling like he was holding a stiff piece of ice in his hand. She noticed that the child's right hand was hanging down to the side, and the flesh of the wrist was rotten, red and swollen, and it should have been picked on the tendons.

Nan Yang frowned, I don't know who it is, even this five or six-year-old baby didn't spare it, and so cruelly broke the child's right hand tendon. The beggar's innocent round black eyes were a little dodgy, but they aroused Nanyang's most secret compassion.

After a long time, Nan Yang tried his best to slow down his tone and asked in the most gentle tone he could:

"You...... Would you like to come home with me? ”

The beggar was raised by wild beasts in the mountains, and he couldn't understand Nanyang's questioning at all. She suddenly thought of the twisted faces that surrounded her during the day, sparing no effort to scold and insult, and the pain in her body was like a mountain collapse. She subconsciously shrank in fear. But then the child's eyes were confused again, and the person in front of her, the gentle and warm breath on her body inadvertently eased the beggar's vigilant beastly nature.

Nan Yang couldn't wait for the beggar's response, and most of his heart understood that the child's mind was not open. So she took matters into her own hands and picked up the beggar with one hand, not caring at all that she was covered in filth and stained with her clean white clothes. Nan Yang held up the umbrella with his other hand, carefully covering the wind and snow for the little guy in his arms.

Different from the previous wandering tune, Nanyang moved a few steps, took off into the air, and disappeared in the vast snow of northern Xinjiang in a blink of an eye with his profound and light peerless light skills.