ps: This chapter is about Murong Tiankui's love, which I have actually been brewing all along. I finally thought I could brew it, but when I really wanted to write it, I couldn't write it clearly. Suddenly I felt that I was brought in by this love, sad and sad.

As for whether Su Hetu will have such a situation in the future, I can't guarantee it, but I hope that there will be ** who will eventually become a family.

The second more is sent.

Song Jianguo's heart was much brighter than that Murong Tiankui back then. But Murong Ge was apprehensive in his heart, listening to the meaning of Su Hetu's words, there seemed to be a tendency to accept himself.

The three of them drank a few more glasses each, and Song Jianguo suddenly burst into tears because he remembered his silly girl.

"Dad, why do you have to marry him if he doesn't like it?"

The young and stubborn face, the white face, and the delicate facial features make people jealous. It's like a fairy, I don't know how many people are chasing after it.

"Do you like him, then?"

This sentence seems to have poked at her weakness all of a sudden, yes, I like him. I have imagined countless times that I put on a wedding dress and he walked into the marriage hall.

She liked him, from the first time she saw him. I just like it silently, and I don't dare to show my thoughts, so I have been tormenting in my heart. Now that she finally has the opportunity to marry him as a wife, she wants to back down, because she knows that person doesn't like her, at least she doesn't feel it.

She likes to write, and she doesn't answer, and maybe it's the best answer. Turned around and silently returned to his room, carefully picking up some of the things he had written when he was sad or lonely, tears falling on the yellowed paper, and a little bit of beautiful flowers were blurred.

On December 5th, the weather was cloudy.

It was late, and I was forcing myself to sleep all the time, tossing and turning but I couldn't sleep. The mind is full of some things that are not available, scattered and scattered. A stream of happy and unhappy brains surged into my heart, and the nerves were sour for a while.

I've been having nightmares for the past few days and I'm scared to sleep now, so I have to try to keep myself awake. I'm afraid that all of a sudden the dream will extend to reality. Reality lost to dreams, and it feels ridiculous to think about it.

Three thousand worlds, millions of sentient beings, and you are the only one who often breaks into my dreams.

I've never hated myself so much. Why is it so difficult to weave a sweet dream?

In the meager world, there will always be someone to hold your hand, sooner or later, or eight hundred on the side, or three thousand on the left. There may be stumbles and stumbles on this road, but it is also full of bitterness. If you look ahead, you will always see the palace.

Look out the window, they should all be asleep, which is a little sigh to wake up.

I know I've been waiting, and it's been hard, hard. It is said that amorous is ruthlessly annoyed, but how can that kind of love be controlled, even if there is a heart to control it, there will eventually be a day when the embankment will burst and the water will fall, at that time, how will you deal with yourself? Cutting the mess quickly is just a fantasy that doesn't know the taste of bitterness, and once you are in it, it's no longer something you can break free if you want to.

Time always goes by quickly, reminding you from time to time that you are old. I suddenly remembered an English poem I had read a long time ago.

When you're old, when you're old, gray-haired, sleepy,

Take a nap in front of the hearth, please take down this hymn,

Sing slowly, dreaming of your eyes

The soft light and the green shadows;

How many people have loved your beauty,

Loved your joyful and charming youth,

Falsehood, or true affection,

Only one who has loved the soul of your pilgrim,

Love the painful wrinkles on your aging face;

When you're lying on your back, by the scorching grate,

You will speak softly, with a touch of sadness,

The love that has passed away has now stepped up the mountain,

In the dense constellation lies his face.

I still can't sleep, in fact, I think about you the most every night. A sentence of thought, how can you provoke thousands of thoughts.

Good night and good dreams.

At the end of these papers is a verse written late at night:

Floating like a dream

The rain smeared Zhu Yanxue in the pond, and Xiao Seran was stunned.

The wind broke through the mirror and injured the remnant moon, and it was difficult to thank the former alliance for the empty guard.

Thunder and cold night terrors, how to clear the rain without getting wet.

The clouds are bright and the sky hides warmth, and the old sorrow is endowed with new words.

She was still married, but she couldn't be happy the day she put on the white wedding dress. From beginning to end, he had to go through the motions as if he was coping, and his eyes were cold and distressing......

Late at night, she hid in the quilt by herself, wanted to cry but didn't dare to cry, comforted herself, how can you cry when the silly girl is your big joy today.

He dragged his drunken body back, and his mind was not very clear. She quickly got out of bed and helped him get a basin of hot water, wiped his face and helped him take off his clothes.

When all this happened last night, he suddenly grabbed her hand, and then pulled himself to the ** with Kong Wu's powerful arm.

**It hurts very much, but my heart is happy. Because after all, he still gave it all to him, even if he probably didn't care about all of this at all.

Sure enough, when he woke up the next morning, he had already left. Touching the bed that still has residual warmth, the sun shines in warmly. But after that day, I never saw him again.

Later, I found out that I was pregnant, and I looked at my belly that was getting bigger day by day, and my face exuded a great mother's surname. The child has arrived, and she is a very cute little girl.

The child grows up day by day, but her body is not as good as day by day, and every time the child asks herself where her father is, she will always be sad.

Later, she learned that she had an incurable disease, and at that moment she wished that he would appear by her side and accompany her on the final journey. In the end, the dust returned to dust, and in the end, he did not wait for the man he loved the most in his life.

But she still insisted that if her daughter wanted to marry, she would marry a man like her father. I don't know if these are reincarnations, but her daughter is hopelessly in love with a little boy who looks like that man, maybe she will wake up laughing even under the ground.

"Old Song."

Zhu Hongjun naturally knew why Song Jianguo suddenly appeared in this situation, and patted his shoulder, which was almost unable to straighten up, with his eyes slightly red.

yes, it would have been nice if he had been like this kid back then.

Song Jianguo wiped his tears and drank a glass of spirits. Murong Ge didn't know what his grandfather was thinking, and his eyes began to moisten. But she knew that the woman who was waiting stupidly was not stupid.

"Grandpa Song, I know what you're thinking. You may have been blaming the old sword ghost master, but I don't think the old man who was willing to hide in the hallway of our house and talk to me about the rivers and lakes and life. It's not that he doesn't love her, but he doesn't know how to love her. Just like the old monk master and his wife, one seems to be **uninhibited, and the other seems to have seen through the red dust. In fact, they all have their own obsessions, and since they have picked it up, how can they easily let it go. ”

Su Hetu also drank a cup himself, although he had never given Murong Tiankui a good face. But he admired the old swordsman in a green shirt with a sword in his heart, not because of how high his cultivation was, nor because of how reasonable what he said, but because he admired that he could be the enemy of the whole world with one person and one sword, but that his two lines of tears were not for the beauty of the country. (To be continued.) )