The fine brush hangs on the inkstone, the easel is the craggy mountains and rivers, the continuous smoke and clouds, and the peach and willow Mo that leap on the paper and half of the embellished colors.

Shen Zhihe put down the wolf and looked at the sky outside the window.

It's time for a child.

Shen Zhihe collected the wattles, she closed her eyes, and slowly walked to the window lattice to lean on, the dark and floating, the burning moon hung in the forest, and the night wind in early winter was mixed with the cold, scrambling to drill into her bones.

After returning home with Meng Jinghuai today, Mrs. Meng sent Ning Zhi to fetch some pomelo leaves for Shen Zhihe to bathe, while General Meng asked Meng Jinghuai to rush to the study without moving forward.

It's been half a day, and now the moonlight has disappeared into heavy dark clouds, and Meng Jinghuai has not returned.

I don't know......

There were thousands of layers of shocking waves in his heart, and the agarwood in the pavilion was swirling, mixed with a little bitterness of medicine, which made Shen Zhihe feel at ease a little.

She has no regrets.

The skirt was abruptly plush and gently rubbed, Shen Zhihe lowered her eyes, the dryness between her eyebrows dissipated, she rolled up her sleeves, bent down to pick up the small ball-

It was Meng Jinghuai's cat that gave her earlier.

"Velvet Tuan'er, I haven't seen you for a few days, why are you getting heavier."

Shen Zhihe stroked back and forth on Rong Tuan'er, she left the window, walked to the short couch with the cat in her arms and sat down, Rong Tuan'er was lazy, lying in Shen Zhihe's arms and not moving.

"It's time to call you Fat Tuan next time."

The green onion finger stroked the fine velvet on the neck of the velvet ball, it seemed to be particularly useful, Shen Zhihe smiled, his eyebrows softened, and he twisted a piece of hibiscus cake on the table and handed it to its mouth.

The fluffy ball whimpered a few times before taking small bites, and the crumbs fell on its white fur, and Shen Zhihe gently brushed it away.

The thick dark clouds covered the starry sky, overlapping and trapping, and the fragrance of the pavilion was lush, and Tilian was wrapped in gold wires, and the cloud tent was thick, and the night wind could not send it in.

The people on the couch were already asleep.

There was a muffled thunder in the sky, and on the corridor of the Pujia Courtyard, there were tall and thin black shadows walking slowly, and the lanterns on the corridor were hung high, which could not warm this person's heart for half a minute.

It seems eeriely silent.

The black shadow stood still in the corner of the pavilion, and the biting cold wind that poured into his thin clothes became more and more fierce, and he opened his voice in a low voice:

"Next time, you don't have to send milk tea to Mrs. again."

The little man who was keeping vigil under the porch answered softly.

The man pushed the door open and entered the cabinet.

Only a creaky sound remained.

Walking through the outer pavilion, through the bookcase, through the dresser, the man spoke softly, without a sound under his feet, and he lifted the layers of cloud tents until he stood still on the edge of the collapse, and saw the delicate sleeping face.

Meng Jinghuai's anger around him dissipated a little.

He sat down on the edge of the collapse, and the pavilion was silent, except for the sparks that came out of the charcoal stove that he didn't know what to do, crackling and haunting.

In the middle of the sound, Meng Jinghuai bent his eyebrows, and reached out to tighten the quilt on Shen Zhihe's body.

The heavy rain that had been pouring all day finally fell, and the raindrops crackled on the eaves, and the small window in the pavilion did not matter, the rain poured in along the window lattice, and the cold wind poured in.

Meng Jinghuai frowned, and was about to get up to go to the close, but the hand that was twisting the quilt was covered with warmth.

He froze, and raised his eyes to see—

Shen Zhihe's eyes were shining, and the tails of her eyes were red, obviously she was awakened, she just opened her eyes and looked at Meng Jinghuai, lazy and worried, and opened her mouth with a rare coquettish voice:

"You're back?"

The anger that had haunted Meng Jinghuai for a long time disappeared in an instant.

The dissipated mist swallowed the lonely cold, and the emotions between the four eyes were undercurrent.

The mist in Shen Zhihe's eyes dissipated a little, she froze, and then suddenly let go of herself and grabbed her hand, and the tips of her ears climbed into crimson:

"I ......"

The light laughter was particularly clear in this pavilion, and it was sent into Shen Zhihe's ears in the breeze.

Meng Jinghuai clasped Shen Zhihe with his backhand, bent down, and was about to touch the tip of Shen Zhihe's nose, who was flushed.

Outside the window, the rain is clustering, and the house is spreading.

The fine brush hangs on the inkstone, the easel is the craggy mountains and rivers, the continuous smoke and clouds, and the peach and willow Mo that leap on the paper and half of the embellished colors.

Shen Zhihe put down the wolf and looked at the sky outside the window.

It's time for a child.

Shen Zhihe collected the wattles, she closed her eyes, and slowly walked to the window lattice to lean on, the dark and floating, the burning moon hung in the forest, and the night wind in early winter was mixed with the cold, scrambling to drill into her bones.

After returning home with Meng Jinghuai today, Mrs. Meng sent Ning Zhi to fetch some pomelo leaves for Shen Zhihe to bathe, while General Meng asked Meng Jinghuai to rush to the study without moving forward.

It's been half a day, and now the moonlight has disappeared into heavy dark clouds, and Meng Jinghuai has not returned.

I don't know......

There were thousands of layers of shocking waves in his heart, and the agarwood in the pavilion was swirling, mixed with a little bitterness of medicine, which made Shen Zhihe feel at ease a little.

She has no regrets.

The skirt was abruptly plush and gently rubbed, Shen Zhihe lowered her eyes, the dryness between her eyebrows dissipated, she rolled up her sleeves, bent down to pick up the small ball-

It was Meng Jinghuai's cat that gave her earlier.

"Velvet Tuan'er, I haven't seen you for a few days, why are you getting heavier."

Shen Zhihe stroked back and forth on Rong Tuan'er, she left the window, walked to the short couch with the cat in her arms and sat down, Rong Tuan'er was lazy, lying in Shen Zhihe's arms and not moving.

"It's time to call you Fat Tuan next time."

The green onion finger stroked the fine velvet on the neck of the velvet ball, it seemed to be particularly useful, Shen Zhihe smiled, his eyebrows softened, and he twisted a piece of hibiscus cake on the table and handed it to its mouth.

The fluffy ball whimpered a few times before taking small bites, and the crumbs fell on its white fur, and Shen Zhihe gently brushed it away.

The thick dark clouds covered the starry sky, overlapping and trapping, and the fragrance of the pavilion was lush, and Tilian was wrapped in gold wires, and the cloud tent was thick, and the night wind could not send it in.

The people on the couch were already asleep.

There was a muffled thunder in the sky, and on the corridor of the Pujia Courtyard, there were tall and thin black shadows walking slowly, and the lanterns on the corridor were hung high, which could not warm this person's heart for half a minute.

It seems eeriely silent.

The black shadow stood still in the corner of the pavilion, and the biting cold wind that poured into his thin clothes became more and more fierce, and he opened his voice in a low voice:

"Next time, you don't have to send milk tea to Mrs. again."

The little man who was keeping vigil under the porch answered softly.

The man pushed the door open and entered the cabinet.

Only a creaky sound remained.

Walking through the outer pavilion, through the bookcase, through the dresser, the man spoke softly, without a sound under his feet, and he lifted the layers of cloud tents until he stood still on the edge of the collapse, and saw the delicate sleeping face.

Meng Jinghuai's anger around him dissipated a little.

He sat down on the edge of the collapse, and the pavilion was silent, except for the sparks that came out of the charcoal stove that he didn't know what to do, crackling and haunting.

In the middle of the sound, Meng Jinghuai bent his eyebrows, and reached out to tighten the quilt on Shen Zhihe's body.

The heavy rain that had been pouring all day finally fell, and the raindrops crackled on the eaves, and the small window in the pavilion did not matter, the rain poured in along the window lattice, and the cold wind poured in.

Meng Jinghuai frowned, and was about to get up to go to the close, but the hand that was twisting the quilt was covered with warmth.

He froze, and raised his eyes to see—

Shen Zhihe's eyes were shining, and the tails of her eyes were red, obviously she was awakened, she just opened her eyes and looked at Meng Jinghuai, lazy and worried, and opened her mouth with a rare coquettish voice:

"You're back?"

The anger that had haunted Meng Jinghuai for a long time disappeared in an instant.

The dissipated mist swallowed the lonely cold, and the emotions between the four eyes were undercurrent.

The mist in Shen Zhihe's eyes dissipated a little, she froze, and then suddenly let go of herself and grabbed her hand, and the tips of her ears climbed into crimson:

"I ......"

The light laughter was particularly clear in this pavilion, and it was sent into Shen Zhihe's ears in the breeze.

Meng Jinghuai clasped Shen Zhihe with his backhand, bent down, and was about to touch the tip of Shen Zhihe's nose, who was flushed.

Outside the window, the rain is clustering, and the house is spreading.