On the outskirts of Beijing, at the foot of Tianshou Mountain, the old man guarding the tomb was wearing a gray robe. Without the three idiots playing against him, he sat alone and meditated. After the daily cleaning in the morning, I sat on the edge of the long stream.

The guarding of the imperial tomb is a hard errand, not only is it hard, but there is no oil or water, so naturally some down-and-out people come here. And generally when you enter the imperial tomb, it is the kind that will be completely forgotten, and it will never be used again. There are even fewer people who have sat for 20 years and then resolutely resigned.

An old Taoist priest came to Shinto. When he entered, the guards in front of the mountain gate not only did not stop and interrogate, but also had to salute and greet him. He nodded, looked at Shi Weng, who looked at the easy-looking, and said to himself: "Things are people, but things are endless." ”

When he walked to the archway of the dragon and phoenix, he already saw the old man guarding the tomb standing in the center, looking at him. Shaking the dust in his hand, he said, "Quanzhen King Changyue, it's time to see the ceremony." ”

The old man guarding the tomb also bowed and said, "The Taoist chief is coming, and he is not welcomed." The imperial tomb is important, I don't know what is the important thing to come here for a long time? ”

The pines and cypresses are layered with greenery, which looks solemn and solemn. Wang Changyue said that the ring was returned in Baiyun Altar, so he came to take a look. "Just look. Hey, where's that kid? Why don't you see him? ”

"I went down to Jinling."

"Go down to Jinling, go to Jinling." Wang Changyue looked up at the warm sun in early winter and said, "The place chosen by Chengzu is really good, surrounded by mountains and rivers. ”

The grave keeper put his hands in his sleeves and said, "Yes, yes." ”

Wang Changyue sat in the wind, and after a long time, he asked, "Where did the last trace of dragon qi on the dragon shadow wall go?" He asked, looking at the grave keeper, a little confused.

"Continued to people, what, do you care so much? It seems that your brother doesn't care much. ”

Wang Changyue's face was a little colder, and his tone was a little colder, and he said: "He can not care about the rise and fall of the Quanzhen Dragon Sect, and he can connect his luck to the Dragon Shadow Wall at will, but I can't ignore it." The Quanzhen faction still has to be passed on from generation to generation. You can't ruin your luck. Could this matter be related to my senior brother? ”

"Ask him yourself." The tomb keeper seemed to smile and said, "The king Dao chief came here just to ask about the matter of the Dragon Shadow Wall, right?" ”

"Old Dort came to take his leave. At the beginning, the Baiyun Temple was placed, but it was to carry King Qin, but now that the dragon shadow is gone, the old way is also going to leave. Wait until you find your brother and ask the reason clearly. Leave. "Wang Changyue is meticulous in his work, not respectful or humble, so he can afford to be the head of the Vinaya.

"Good luck." The old man who guarded the tomb said that he was a good wish, and he didn't mean to get up and send him off at all.

Wang Changyue had just walked a few steps when the voice of the old man guarding the tomb came from behind.

"Although you promised Lord Xiao that the north and the south converge, the old man did not dare to agree. points, which can maintain a dynamic stability, taken together, is counterproductive. It's like half a pot of water and half a pot of oil. It looks like a pot is warm, but a pot is already full of smoke, stirring together, oil and water splashing, difficult to calm down. ”

Wang Changyue's footsteps faltered, looked back at the old man guarding the tomb, and said, "But that pot of hot oil is already about to burst into flames, and if you don't cool down with water, you may even have to burn down the house." Even if it spills a little water and oil. That's also taking the big picture into account! He threw his sleeves away, and the grave keeper sighed with his eyes narrowed, and continued to look at his never-ending game of chess.

……

……

Jiujiang, Jiangxi. The peaks and peaks of Lushan are stacked and green, and the Pure Land Donglin Temple. Jiujiang City under the sunset, the old streets of the ancient city, are brightly lit. The carriage slowly drove into the city. Yang Fan and others, who had been on the road for a few days, finally entered Jiangxi. However, the first time Yang Fan arrived. Someone got the message.

"Mountain Chief, Dean Yang and their party have arrived." Bailudong Academy, known as one of the four major academies in the south of the Yangtze River, has existed for more than 800 years, and it has an out-and-out heritage. Although it was destroyed in the war several times in the middle, it was rebuilt many times, the most recent one was destroyed in the war at the end of the Yuan Dynasty, and it was not repaired until the first year of orthodoxy, and it still enjoys the reputation of the first academy in the world.

"Set up a feast." The writer lifted the pen and silver hook, and the momentum was slightly retracted. A gust of wind jumped on the paper, and the ink dots strangled together, turning into sharp moves, and the paper disappeared.

A piece of paper was laid out on the table again, and the ink spots were still there, turning into wisps of black light, dancing in the air. Intertwined with each other, like light, like shadows, and finally into the belly of the pen, it did not burst out with the last power, but suddenly became a closing trend.

He put the pen on the table, stepped aside, and pushed open the hidden wooden window, just in time to see the sunset. But in his eyes, he can't see whether it is beautiful or not. His eyes can only feel the presence of light, so the sunset is just a touch of light in his eyes.

Feeling the evening breeze blowing on his face, the man took out a pair of tortoiseshell glasses that were a little weirdly polished from his arms, pinned them behind his ears, and covered the peach blossom eyes that were enough to fascinate the woman. He pushed his glasses on the bridge of his nose. In these days, there are only a few people who wear glasses. The hazy crystal lenses allowed him to see what was in front of him a little.

He still likes that blurry visual sense. The man walked out of the study and hurried out.

According to legend, the founder of the White Deer Cave Academy can be traced back to Li Bo of the Southern Tang Dynasty. Li Bo has a white deer and accompanies him all day long, so he is called Mr. Bailu. Later, Li Bo took office as the history of Jiujiang Thorn, revisited the old place, built pavilions and pavilions here, channeled mountain springs, planted flowers and trees, and became a tourist attraction. Because the mountain peaks here are round, shaped like a hole, it is named White Deer Cave.

Shu Zhenghao's words are not inferior to Dong Qichang. Ordinary people are known as Xiao Xizhi, and his words are also a thousand words, if anyone has a pair of words of Shu Zhenghao, they will definitely be stepped on the threshold.

Shu Zhenghao stepped out of the room, paused for a moment, turned around and returned to the house. After a while, Shu Zhenghao, who was dressed in a green shirt, waved his folded clothes, and it seemed that he paid special attention to Yang Fan this time. Shu Zhenghao is not such a corrupt Confucian, he walked through the border when he was young, and he also experienced the scenery of the north. I have special admiration for those soldiers who can fight well.

Especially when I heard that the battle of Daling River was won and the prestige of the Ming Dynasty was played, I drank wine happily for a day. When the emperor's ode spread all over the country, he was even more arrogant, a good and dignified poem of a big husband, but it was set with the word "ode to God", which was ridiculous, and it must have been added by those villains in order to win the favor of the saints.

However, he was impressed by the rhetoric inside. A year ago, Shu Zhenghao wrote many times, hoping that he would have the opportunity to visit Yang Fan in the future, or that Yang Fan could come to Bailudong Academy. It's a pity that Yang Fan couldn't receive his letters at all when he was overseas, and by the time Fu Bo handed over those letters to him, a year had passed.

There were many things that followed, and over time, I forgot about it. (To be continued.) )