Jiang Yirou almost scolded, but when she saw that his black eyes were calm and his expression was soft, she remembered that the person in front of her was a person whose life was in danger of being poisoned, and he couldn't be treated like him.

She said, "You drink the porridge first, and I'll talk about it later." ”

Ji Lian Song blinked, and ate a bowl of porridge with seven or eight spoons in a row. His movements were unhurried, spoonful after spoonful, and even with a hint of the elegance of a noble son.

Jiang Yirou had been talking for so long before, her tongue and mouth were a little irritable, and she wanted to take a break while he was drinking porridge, but Ji Lian Song ate so fast, she only stared at the person sitting opposite, and then looked at the bowl at the bottom, and was speechless for a while.

Shui Sheng took the bowl and said with a smile: "It seems that Ji Gongzi is really hungry." As soon as he finished speaking, he remembered that Ji Liansong was poisoned, and realized that it was not the right time for him to laugh, so he touched his nose a little embarrassed.

Ji Lian Song glanced at him gently, with a faint smile on his face: "Thank you." ”

Xiaomei glanced at Shuisheng, looked at Ji Lian Song and Jiang Yirou, and said softly: "If you two need anything, call us at any time, you don't have to be polite, we are in the room next to us." After a pause, he said: "Mrs. Ji, don't worry, Ji Gongzi Ji has his own natural appearance, and he will definitely be able to survive this catastrophe." ”

Jiang Yirou had to laugh dryly, Ji Liansong's lips curled, and he responded calmly: "Mrs. Cheng's auspicious words." ”

Xiaomei and Shui Sheng came out of the house, Jiang Yirou turned around and saw a pair of black peach blossom eyes looking at her brightly, her heart trembled, and she shrank into the corner.

When Ji Liansong saw her move, his eyes froze, he clenched his fists and coughed lightly, and said with a light in his eyes: "You go on." ”

"Well," Jiang Yirou straightened up, a pair of Danfeng eyes as crystal clear as the round dew drops at the beginning of the light, "In the southern land hundreds of years ago, there was a ......"

"Why is it the Southland again?" Ji Liansong subconsciously frowned and asked.

The next moment, Jiang Yirou's eye knife flew over with a cold light, Ji Liansong's expression changed slightly, and he made a gesture of "you continue", not daring to interrupt again.

"Ahem, in the Southland hundreds of years ago, there was a girl who couldn't speak, and she ......"

Her voice was already a little delicate, and when she told the story, she lowered it more and more slowly. The words are clear, the sound is pleasant, and it is very comfortable to enter the ear. On the delicate white face of hibiscus melon seeds, sometimes the eyebrows are lightly raised and pretending to be unfathomable, and sometimes the eyes are crooked and smiling, vivid and free.

He unconsciously leaned over, his eyes were half-narrowed, one hand supported his chin, and the other hand was on the table.

Attracted not by the story, but by the voice and appearance of the person in front of you. But if you really want to talk about it, Jiang Yirou's voice is by no means the softest among the female voices he has ever heard, let alone charming, although her appearance is clear and beautiful, she is not a stunning beauty.

Ji Liansong shook his head, picked up the teacup and took a sip of water, and then hooked his lips and smiled.

Jiang Yirou saw his smile, anger came from it, and she slapped the table with a bang: "Do you listen?!" She spoke so dryly, how dare this surnamed Ji be so arrogant?

Ji Liansong almost choked to death with a mouthful of water, he coughed again and again, raised his eyes and saw her eyes wide with anger and her cheeks slightly red with anger, he was stunned for a moment, and then immediately put down the teacup and straightened up, flicked his hand, and smiled lightly and easily: "It's my fault, girl, please continue." ”

Having said that, there was no trace of guilt in his eyes, and his attitude was graceful and noble.

Jiang Yirou looked at him for a long time, secretly spurting out a mouthful of blood and stuffing it in his chest, feeling as if he had suffered an internal injury, and he was so angry.

Three or four hours passed, Ji Liansong listened more and more, and the sky outside gradually darkened.

Jiang Yirou couldn't count the number of stories she had already told, and whenever she felt tired and wanted to stop and rest for a while, the man sitting across from her would show an expression that made her very guilty and unbearable.

His long eyebrows, which were dark and a little blue, arched slightly, his long eyelashes rose high, his eyes wide open, and there was a slight longing that was difficult to detect, but he was full of deep sorrow and sadness that he did not dare to make it difficult for others. In short, it's a pitiful and painful look.

Jiang Yirou was sure that this person was pretending to be pitiful, but somehow, as soon as she saw his look, the little bit of hope that was left suddenly fell into the ground. And then—the ghost sent the hell to the ground, and then began to feel from the bottom of my heart—that I was the one who needed to be pitied.

Suddenly, the storyteller's voice weakened, and after a few moments, it faded completely.

He looked over and saw Jiang Yirou falling asleep against the wall, and was immediately stunned.

After a while, Ji Liansong looked at the dark blue sky outside the window, and felt a slight night breeze passing through, covering his face like a corner of a silk handkerchief passing back and forth. He turned his head sideways, and his eyes fell from the window to the daffodils on the windowsill, to the small cotton wool in the corner of the windowsill, and then to the quiet sleeping face that was only half left, and his brow moved.

Jiang Yirou didn't know how she fell asleep, and when she woke up and saw that she was the only one in the room, she only had one feeling in her heart, that is, she was stunned.

She jumped down from the couch, lifted the curtain and walked out lightly, turned left and right, and found that Xiaomei and Shui Sheng were not there, and she was even more confused.

Could it be that Ji Lian Song didn't hold it up yesterday, and accidentally died of incense, and then Xiaomei and Shui Sheng carried his body to cremation?

Jiang Yirou felt that it was very possible, after all, Xiaomei and Shui Sheng were such kind-hearted people, maybe seeing that she had become a widow and pitiful, she would help her handle this matter.

Her eyelids twitched suddenly-Ji Liansong's death wouldn't have anything to do with her accidentally falling asleep last night, right?

She sighed, pushed the door and went out, about to buy some paper money, when she saw a white and thin figure standing in the courtyard, frozen. Its soft and smooth palm slowly spread out, sprinkling a handful of golden light flashing with unknown things, the whole person was bathed in the morning light, his posture was like jade, his temperament was noble, like a god, which shocked Jiang Yirou.

The man heard the movement and looked back slightly, and there was a smile on his handsome and fair face.

Jiang Yirou swallowed a mouthful of saliva violently, could it be that Ji Lian Song ascended to heaven to become a Daluo Immortal after his death!

Just as her legs were weak, she bent her knees, and was about to prostrate herself on the ground to beg for forgiveness and wealth, when the god-like man suddenly said, "Do you want to be together?" ”

Frightened, she went to the two of them: "What...... Let...... "Does this mean to pull her to Huangquan together?"

Ji Liansong stretched out his hand, half-spread, and made an inviting gesture, with no expression on his face.

Jiang Yirou took a closer look, but saw that the pile of golden fine powder particles he was holding looked quite familiar, and he couldn't help but look at him.

Ji Liansong looked at her like this, raised his eyebrows, and said lightly: "Do you want to feed the chickens together?" ”

"Huh?" Jiang Yirou was dumbfounded, she rubbed her eyes, and watched Ji Liansong sprinkle a few handfuls of millet into the chicken pen with an indifferent expression, and between raising her hand and falling into her hand, her movements were indescribably elegant.

Jiang Yirou clutched her chest a few times, and spit out a word with difficulty: "Okay." ”