Drama • Chapter 32 • Breaking off loneliness

It was the end of summer and the beginning of autumn, and it was time for the various forces to rest.

King Haofa fled to the northeast, and fled into the mountains to avoid people's eyes.

Because of this, King Haova's mistake involved an inconspicuous woman, that is, this woman, who almost subverted the victory and defeat that the entire dynasty should have.

It was a beautiful day, Feng Jianfeng dipped himself in ink to write a letter to his sister in the capital, and asked for information by the way. After Feng Jian escorted the messenger out of the city, he watched it for a long time, and saw that the messenger was gone, so he turned around and wanted to return.

"General, stay." A bright and slightly cold voice sounded faintly.

Feng Jian was stunned for a moment, and when he looked back, he was surprised.

The person standing behind him can be called an immortal, dressed in a white dress that is not stained with a trace of dust, and a crane stands on his shoulder, the white belt gently rises along the breeze, and the dust in his hand also flutters with the belt, and the wide sleeves are rolled up to block the face because of the wind, but it can't stop the waist-length white hair. The crane spread its wings and flew down, and the light dust rolled up by its wings made Feng Jian's eyes squint.

"I wonder where Your Excellency is sacred?"

"It's just a little way."

The white coat fell, and Feng Jian couldn't help but be stunned.

The snow-white hair is not surrounded by a withered face, on the contrary, starry eyebrows and sword eyes, a pair of deep and bottomless pupils that can't see through anything, the face is like a crown of jade, pure and translucent, and the corners of the mouth are slightly upturned to make it impossible to guess him. Feng Jian looked at his pair of deep pupils, and his heart skipped a beat.

This deep feeling, there is a sense of déjà vu.

When Feng Jian saw Zhuge Xi for the first time, before he saw his face, he was confused by the pair of deep pupils. And now, that feeling is back in place. It's just that he was a gorgeous man in red back then, and now, he is a widowed man in white.

“…… I don't know what I mean? Feng Jian was stunned for a while before asking.

"Poor Road...... Come to serve the general and give advice to the general. It was still that cold and faint voice, and it looked very ethereal in the place where no one was outside the city gates.

"The Taoist may as well go into the city and speak slowly." Feng Jian suppressed the strange feeling in his heart and invited him into the city.

The man in white didn't say anything, he walked forward unceremoniously, and the moment he passed by Feng Jian, a white veil gently brushed Feng Jian's eyes. Such a color that is not stained with red dust remained in Feng Jian's eyes.

"Confucianism...... Lord, who is this? Zhuge Xi looked at the man in white sitting on the upper seat suspiciously.

Feng Jian didn't answer yet, but the man in white got up first and bowed generously to Zhuge Xi.

"Poor Daoben lived in seclusion in the northern mountains and forests, and when he heard that the world was in turmoil, he went out of the mountains to find the master, wanting to save the troubled world." The voice of the pure heart and few desires, Feng Jian listened very comfortably.

"Thou ...... What's your last name? ”

"Poor Dao Wu Chen."

Zhuge Xi looked at Feng Jian suspiciously, obviously not believing this Taoist priest.

I didn't think that Feng Jian didn't respond to Zhuge Xi, but looked at the white-clothed man's eyes slightly hooked and the corners of his mouth gradually smiled.

"Wu Chen, dustless, not stained with red dust, good name! Hahaha! There was only a thick smile and gentleness left in Feng Jian's eyes, but Wu Chen didn't say anything, just glanced at Feng Jian lightly in response. Zhuge Xi looked at the corners of Feng Jian's mouth, and his whole body was furnished.

It's as if there is something that was supposed to belong only to you, and now it has been taken away by another person.

That kind of laughter originally belonged to him alone.