Spring is coming, and the spring in Shushan is still the same.

There is a flower that blooms especially much this year. How can there be so many dark flowers? Who said that the dark flowers have no fragrance? That's just because they don't bloom all over the mountains and along the rivers. The entire Shu Mountain is now diffused with the fragrance of the dark flower.

Yan Ping really wanted to wake up the entire Shushan people from death, and looked at the Dark Flower with him and Gu Xiaowen.

It turned out that there were no traces, and Shushan was empty, so the dark flowers bloomed all over this empty dream river. Yan Ping's thoughts became more and more confusing to him. Of course, in this uninhabited world, the idea will naturally become strange. Yan Ping thought that it was the Dark Flower that now ruled the rivers and lakes of Shushan.

Yan Ping planted a dark flower on Gu Xiaowen's head. The purple-black flowers just matched Gu Xiaowen's silence at this time, or the stubborn silence of the past half a year. Ya Jing solemn.

The boring rivers and lakes are a good pastime for Gu Xiaowen to wear flowers.

Yan Ping planted a head full of flowers for Gu Xiaowen every day, and then laughed. Laughing is boring, laughing because it's boring, and laughing because it's always laughing, so it's even more boring.

If the mountain flowers are full of flowers, it will be a place for slaves to return, and what is even more boring is that every time Yan Ping puts a flower on Gu Xiaowen's head, he reads the sentence in this play.

Thinking of himself, he was also upset, and he didn't know how annoying Gu Xiaowen was.

There are more beasts to go, and the so-called more means that you will occasionally see a few small beasts. This is something that cannot be seen when living corpses are rampant. How kind it is, those wild wolves that made Yan Ping hate in the past, sometimes when he saw one, Yan Ping couldn't help but be moved to tears. That said, there are fewer and fewer living corpses.

The age of the living corpse is coming to an end.

If there is no one, there will be no corpse. Or maybe so.

Kong Jiusi said that in terms of toxicology, a poison is to the extreme, and the antidote that can cure this poison can only be formed in the poison itself. It seems that Gu Xiaowen must be able to use Neidan to give birth to an antidote by himself, so that he can return to the second lady's thoughts. It's as if the living corpse is slowly dying out on its own.

However, Yan Ping felt that what Kong Jiusi said was not right, a kind of poison was to the extreme, and what could really restrain this poison was actually the creation, and it was the creation that made Shushan full of dark flowers, and this dark flower was the nemesis of the living corpse.

Kong Jiusi also said that along the Stygian Flower, you can find the Infinite Heaven.

Let's go back to the simplest reasoning, there are no living people, there are no living corpses-

Gu Xiaowen was angry. Will Gu Wanwen still be angry? Yan Ping was even happier, and when the joy, anger, sorrow and joy returned to Gu Qiaowen's body, Gu Xiaowen was resurrected.

Gu Xiaowen knocked out all the flowers on his head that Yan Ping had inserted messily when he was thinking, indeed, those flowers were too ugly.

Gu Xiaowen reinserted one for himself, just one flower, and he had the style of an empty river and lake.

Yan Ping looked at the silhouette of the rivers and lakes behind the flower, a living corpse staggered over, a living corpse about to die, they were avoiding the pollen of the dark flower, Yan Ping always thought so.

But the wind rose.

The wind is up, and it's April.

In April, Yan Ping and Gu Xiaowen came to the Yuanhui Temple. An ancient temple, in the recess of the mountain cliff, so thin scenery. Even the rain withered and fell. The sound of rain is like an iron wire beating on the emptiness of Shushan. strung into Gu Xiaowen's speechlessness and put it in front of Yan Ping.

In front of Yan Ping was the silent Gu Xiaowen. Gu Xiaowen's silence was the words spoken by her blank memories of the world. Yan Ping slowly understood, listened attentively, and understood. Gu Xiaowen was saying that she would be the last living corpse to die.

Gu Qiaowen's eyes are getting clearer and clearer, and she is getting thinner and thinner, and her strange potential is disappearing, disappearing quickly, just as quickly as it came back then. It turns out that there is nothing in the world that can make people become immortals, Neidan is a fleeting illusion, a kind of outright torture, like yesterday's Gu Xiaowen, maybe it is the yearning of those careerists in the rivers and lakes, but her enviable "martial arts", it seems that today it is just a short-lived dream, and the high price is needless to say.

I should have thought of it a long time ago, Yan Ping said to himself, Gu Xiaowen and Neidan have become one, Neidan is exhausted, and Gu Xiaowen will also die.

So what should I do?——

The flower actually grew into the Buddha's hand.

Half of the Buddha statue is broken, a hand of compassion stretched out to the world, has fallen all over the soil, I don't know whether it is the hall full of birds, or the full hall of mountain wind blowing seeds, a dark flower bloomed in the palm of the Buddha's big hand stretched out.

Gu Xiaowen also looked at this flower, and seemed to feel that it was blooming in the gloomy hall, but on the palm of the Buddha, it was extremely bright.

Behind the Buddha statues, rows of niches are filled with thick scrolls. The booklets were covered in green silk and the pages were yellow. The handwriting is different from one book to another, but it is not written by one person. I remember that it was all about the rivers and lakes, anecdotes and strange stories. Yan Ping thought, it is a good ancient temple, but it is an inexhaustible running account of Shushan rivers and lakes.

I'm not in the mood to bother with it. The mountain wind blows the pages of a book, making a thin and crisp sound, and the rivers and lakes are fighting and killing, and in the end it is just a few pages of old paper, a story of fishing wood. Listening to the sound of the page, it is just a little whisper left after the old things of hundreds of years ago passed through time and space, if you also write down the story of yourself and Gu Xiaowen and leave it in this temple, future generations will laugh when they see it, but it is just a nonsense, full of absurdity. Unable to sleep at night, Yan Ping took out the pen and ink in the Buddha shrine, a volume of white pages, the story of her and Gu Xiaowen is only bloody and terrifying, he doesn't want to write, he just wants to write about the love of life and death in this story.

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