At the foot of Wuwei Mountain, in Liu Fufeng's yard, Liu Fufeng is sitting under a tree painting.

Suddenly, he sneezed, and Ling Yan, who was sitting on the other side, picked up a poncho, walked up to him, and draped it over for him.

And before that, he already had a cloak on him.

This kind of snow poncho is made of fox fur, and it is generally worn on snowy days, but Liu Fufeng is weak, so it is autumn, so he has to put it on to keep warm, and when it comes to winter, he can hardly go out again, so he can only shrink in the house all day long, relying on charcoal fire to survive.

"I said I was going to put on and come out again, why didn't I listen."

After wrapping Liu Fufeng in a snow poncho, Ling Yan frowned.

It's just that although she is a concerned word, she still doesn't have any emotion when she says it.

The habits that have been formed are not to be changed.

Helplessly wrapped in a ball of smoke, Liu Fufeng stretched out his arm and found that he couldn't stretch it out at all.

Sighing and putting down the pen in his hand, Liu Fufeng smiled and sat down.

"I also know that I should put it on, but in this way, I can't paint, the outside scenery is just right, I can't paint it, it's a pity."

Ling Yan walked to the bookcase and looked down at his unfinished paintings, the autumn mood on them was already obvious, and a few more strokes could be completed.

She lifted the brush that was put down by Liu Fufeng, and added a few more strokes to Liu Fufeng's painting to complete the whole painting.

Looking at the people who were concentrating on making up the painting over there, Liu Fufeng's eyes were full of smiles.

He wouldn't say that those strokes were deliberately left for her to make up, nor would he say that this kind of thing had happened more than once in the past month.

Ling Yan is an extremely intelligent woman, and although she does not speak most of the time, it does not mean that she does not like to speak.

It's just that the environment in which she lived before caused her to be unable or afraid to say more.

She loves to draw and is very good at drawing.

Liu Fufeng really couldn't figure out what kind of place she grew up in to develop a temperament like her.

A good woman, become so depressed.

That's why he tried his best to lure her to help him complete the painting, because only at this time could he feel that she was peaceful, reassuring, and at ease, living for herself.

And he, like her like this.

The person who was silently admiring Ling Yan's painting suddenly heard a few birdsong sounds, which was originally a very normal sound in the mountains, but Ling Yan's painting hand paused, and then put down the pen that had not yet been painted.

Ling Yan walked to Liu Fufeng, helped the person up from the seat, and said to him: "The weather is getting colder, I'll help you in." ”

Knowing that she was hiding something from him to do, Liu Fufeng didn't ask, but obediently followed her back to the room, but when Ling Yan turned to leave, he whispered: "Return safely." ”

Ling Yan paused, didn't look back, but hummed softly.

Then they went out and covered the door.

Out of the room, the smoke shot in the direction where the birdsong had come from.

Not far away, I found that there were two ghost-faced black-clothed people staying in the forest, one was a gold-patterned ghost with a blue background, and the other was a gold-patterned ghost with a red background.

When the cyan ghost face saw Ling Yan coming, he opened his mouth and asked emotionlessly: "Purple Face, the Lord asked us to come and ask, how are your things doing?" ”

Ling Yan also replied to him expressionlessly: "It's being done." ”

Unexpectedly, after hearing her answer, the red-faced man sneered.