With his big sleeves in the wind and his scarf flying, Feng Jing was panting, but he didn't stop for a moment, running along the waterfront, catching up with the dragon boat painting boat floating in the distance between the water and clouds, which was his vague target.

When he learned from the monk that she had taken a boat to the north, he thought that he could deal with it calmly, but he specially invited two friends at that time, and found a place where the wine was mellow and beautiful, and he was constantly laughing and laughing, and he was drunken and reclining on the dangerous railing, as if he had forgotten what had to do with her. At this time, a courtesan played the pipa from the side, and sang in a mansheng voice: "Wu Shanqing, Yue Shanqing, the green mountains on both sides of the strait greet each other, who knows the parting feelings?" The gentleman is in tears, the concubine is in tears, the Luo belt is not in the same knot, and the tide by the river has flattened. ”

The tide has flattened by the river.

His smile condensed, his mind was disturbed, and the temperature of Jin Chuan in his arms seemed to rise sharply, scorching near his heart.

The woman who knew him best in the world was going to leave him again. This farewell, the long time between them, will it be another decade? Or will he never see her again?

He stood up suddenly, and without explaining a word to his friend, he ran to the boat.

The boat she was on had already set sail, and he ran wildly along the shore in the direction of the boat. What do you want? He walked drunk, and didn't have time to think about it, but ran as fast as he could, shortening the distance between him and her as fast as he could.

The back coat brushed over the shore of the Yuan Zhi Lilan, the cloth touched the jagged vegetables in the water, set aside the heavy reeds, let the clothes be soaked with white dew, he even waded into the water, traced it, but she still drifted away, slowly drifting to the middle of the water.

Looking at the painting boat carrying her and the bright spring scene he had perceived this year, all disappeared at the end of the smoke, he finally fell to the ground, lying in the depths of the grass and willows, looking at the faded blue sky under his eyes in confusion, and fell asleep exhausted.

When I felt a little consciousness again, it was already the sound of frogs and the willows on the moon. Someone brought a lantern close to him to illuminate his face.

Feng Jing frowned, slightly covered it with his hand, opened his sleepy eyes slightly, and vaguely recognized that there was a woman figure in front of him.

Is that her? He vaguely thought that he wanted to see more clearly, but the light was dazzling, and the drunkenness in his body hit him, and he was so drowsy that it became difficult to even lift his eyelids.

The white dew stained the clothes, and the cold was bone-chilling. He felt cold, and then vaguely tasted the desolation and loneliness here, and couldn't help but reach out to the light source, as if trying to grasp the warm orange color.

The woman was leaning over to examine him closely, so close that he could feel her breath touching his face, a sweet girlish scent.

His outstretched hand grabbed her wrist carrying the lantern, her skin smooth and delicate, with the warmth he needed. He suddenly pulled with force, and the woman screamed, and the lantern fell to the ground, and she fell into his arms.

He hugged her tightly, as if he wanted to keep her warm, but also as if he wanted to lock her in his arms. She resisted desperately, struggling like a deer caught in a trap. This fierce action, together with the remaining alcohol in his belly, strangely aroused his desire. His body was hot and hot, and his blood was full of blood, and he overwhelmed her sideways, but she did not give in, and tried with all her strength to push him away, so that the two compartments were entangled and rolled down among the flowers, and two or three gulls and herons perched nearby flew away.

The sound of birds fluttering and flying made the woman stunned for a moment, but at this moment, Feng Jing had already wrapped his arms around her head and neck, lowered his head and winked at her face, letting his eyelashes gently brush back and forth on her cheeks.

She trembled like an electric bolt, stopped all movements, and was arrested.

His lips slid over her smooth face, tasting the scent of her daughter on her plump lips, and kissing her all the way to her shoulder and neck. Gently holding a piece of skin there, his lips and teeth grinded, his closed eyes seemed to see seven colors of light, behind the red silk veil, there was a woman looking back faintly, a swan-like elegant posture, and the hairline at the bottom of the sleeve exuded the fragrance of Zhilan.