Qi Longsong dragged the body of the six gods and no owner, and he didn't want to see anyone, for fear of seeing others, and even more afraid of seeing himself in the eyes of others. Along the Tianquan River, Qilongsong went all the way like last time.

That time, he was also the same as today, self-confused, self-lost. It was that time, at the end of the Tianquan River, in the fiery little wooden house, that he saw the steel being folded layer by layer and kept forging it, and finally, it was forged into a sharp sword. Although his reaction was slow at that time, and he didn't immediately feel the power of encouragement, but soon, his heart was slowly filled with hope that he would be tempered and become a sharp sword. Who knows, he is not a sword, but a wooden sword, or a moth, rushing towards the fire of hope.

The more Qi Longsong thought about it, the more embarrassed and confused he became. If you don't say it well, you can't do it, is it destined to be a thing that is difficult to achieve.

Walking and walking, Qi Longsong has already reached the middle of the Tianquan River, do you want to go forward, what can you do when you see that smoky and burning house? Can you forge me into a useful person, can you?

Qi Longsong squatted by the river, holding stones, one by one, kept throwing them into the water, looking at the splash, thinking that the water was hit hard by the stone, and it would soon calm down, but why do people always leave a scar when they are hit hard. When can people be like water, let the wind and rain blow, and be able to tolerate and eliminate all the heavy blows.

Qi Longsong sat by the river, throwing stones one after another.

Suddenly, from the wind, there was a faint voice, the voice was euphemistic and beautiful, and it contained a little sadness. That sorrow is very light, a light form of moonlight on the midnight lotus.

Qi Longsong's raised hand suddenly stopped, and the whole person was completely intoxicated by the looming voice.

The sound of music is like a spring, shallow and flowing, without the ups and downs of the waves of the sea, only the twists and turns. It was a faint sadness, very faint, but faint and mellow, like missing a friend decades later.

Qi Longsong drunkenly put down the stone in his hand and followed the music.

Next to the quiet Tianquan River, the music seems to be so pure and mellow. Qi Longsong squinted his eyes, allowing the shallow sad music to flow quietly in his heart like flowing water. This shallow sadness washes the heart, and it is a faint sour, sour happiness.

The footsteps of Qi Longsong involuntarily followed the direction of the music.

The music is faint and gradually clear. Qi Longsong saw an old man with gray hair, and his straight hair was running vertically. The old man squinted his eyes, and let the faint sadness flow from his heart to his lips, and the trembling breath from his lips was extracted and purified by the instrument, vibrating in the air with intoxicating sadness.

Suddenly, a breeze blew up, and the gray hair flew with the wind, and the hair fluttered repeatedly. The music suddenly turned high-pitched, rising and falling slowly, like the wind raising waves. However, a wave has not yet fallen, and a wave rises, stepping on the music that has fallen, but the remaining momentum has not faded, leaping up, impacting a higher place, knowing that there is no strength, and there is no choice but to fall unwillingly. The other wave goes up the trend, towards a higher place.

In this way, the music is like a wave, a wave of unevenness rises again and again, one by one, stepping on a wave, pulling up the air, towards a higher direction.

The wind gradually stopped, and the old man's white hair hung silently. The top-notch music gradually turns to tragedy.

Qi Longsong walked to the old man and looked at it seriously: he has the same sorrow as himself, but his sorrow is different from his own sorrow, there is a faint happiness in his sorrow, and my sorrow is just a pure pain.

"Grandpa, what do you have in your hand", Qi Longsong asked with weak curiosity.

"Rhyme", the old man said, and handed the instrument in his right hand to Qi Longsong, "Look at it."

Qi Longsong seemed to be appreciating, and it was this voice just now that pulled me out of a kind of despair, and Qi Longsong turned over and over to appreciate, and asked and asked in doubt: "What is this made of."

"Soil", the old man's voice was low and warm.

Qi Longsong scratched his head curiously, and incredibly turned this thing called 'rhyme', it was really incredible, I didn't expect that soil could make such a noble and simple thing.

Qi Longsong asked puzzledly, "How did it come to be?"

The old man smiled slightly and said, "It is the baptism of water and fire, and finally feathered."

When Qi Longsong heard this, his eyes were like torches, and he was speechless in a daze.

The old man just smiled slightly, and then said lightly: "Little brother, few people are willing to listen carefully to the music played by a pinch of soil, and you are the only one who listens to my heart seriously. I want to send you a rhyme".

Before Qi Longsong could react, the old man had already dug out a handful of soil on the ground with a knife. Using spring water and mud, and then attaching it to a model blank that he had already made, the old man stopped from time to time while doing it seriously and meticulously, and smiled at Qi Longsong.

After a moment, the old man said in an expectant voice, "Light the fire, little brother."

Qi Longhai was at a loss for an instant, and lit a fire, whether he had a fire fold on his body, and how to light the fire.

The white-haired old man looked at Qi Longsong with warm and expectant eyes, as if he had seen through the embarrassment in Qi Longsong's heart, and muttered with a little disappointment: "I didn't bring a fire fold either." The two were at a stalemate for a moment, but it felt like a long time, the faint disappointment on the old man's face suddenly turned into a smile, and then he naughtily pointed to a small piece of wood on the ground and said to Qi Longsong: "There is no fire fold, but we still have a way to have fire, but it is a little troublesome."

Qi Longsong looked at the wood in the place, and suddenly realized in his heart, and immediately instinctively withdrew his hand. However, it is not good to shirk the old man's expectations, tiptoe to the wood, look at his swollen hands, and complain and say suspiciously: "Drill wood for fire"?

Qi Longsong held back the pain, and quickly turned a wooden stick with his still swollen hands, and on a wooden stake, a little smoke slowly rose.

The old man put down the mud in his hand, looked at Qi Longsong sympathetically, and then said warmly: "My hand hurts!"

Qi Longsong's face showed a burst of hatred, but this hatred was not because the old man asked for an inappropriate word, but because of the Tianquan brothers who caused harm to themselves. The hatred in Qi Longsong's heart sank deeper and deeper, and the muscles on his face writhed tighter and tighter.

Like a child, the old man took out two stones in ignorance, and struck each other while sparks splattered. While talking to himself, he said: "Drilling wood, you can make fire, two stones can strike each other, and you can also strike sparks." Two swords slash at each other, and sparks will also appear."

Qi Longhai was concentrating on the hatred in his heart and was interrupted by the old man's words, and he ignorantly felt that the old man's words seemed to mean something, but he would not be far away.

The old man stopped, glanced at Qi Longsong, saw that the hideous expression on Qi Longsong's face calmed down, pouted, and naughtily pointed to Qi Longsong's hand and said, "If you have something to say, don't stop."

Qi Longsong realized that he was unconsciously stunned, and drilled back up with a little panic.

The old man's mouth opened slightly, and he grinned slightly sarcastically: "Drilling wood for fire is the same as the cultivation of life, once you give up halfway, you will lose all your previous achievements." Before you have achieved success, your efforts are not cumulative, let go, rest for a while, and continue with the previous practice. Once you stop, you have to start from scratch."

Qi Longsong looked at the wood in his hand, there was a trace of pity and regret in his heart, there was smoke just now, so he stopped for a while, and now there is not even smoke.

The old man then played with the stone in his hand, and after a while said as if talking to himself: "Have you noticed that if you regard sparks as the merits of cultivation, then wood, stone, and steel, as long as they collide, rub, and chop each other, can burst out with dazzling sparks?"

Qi Longsong listened intently, stunned, but this time, his hand did not stop.

The old man wanted to speak and stopped, but suddenly he jumped up, picked up wormwood and surrounded the drill wood of the dragon pine, lay on the ground, and blew gently. Qi Longsong saw that the smoke was gradually rising, and his heart couldn't help but get excited, the movements in his hands were even faster, and the rhythm of the old man's breathing became longer and heavier. The smoke was billowing and the smoke was rising, Qi Longsong frowned, squinted his eyes, and choked the whole person to avoid it. Whew, the flames suddenly burst out of thin air. Uproot the smoke.

Qi Longsong stopped what he was doing, and looked at his hands with a pang, hot and numb.

The old man continued to add wormwood, and gradually put on the wood, and the fire slowly rose.

The old man blew on the wood for a while, and after making sure that the fire was stable, he stood up and said, "Drill wood for fire, it is not enough to drill wood alone, and attach wormwood, and wait for the fire to appear." However, the flame from wormwood is very empty, and wood must be added to make the flame stable and tamper. At this time, you can sit quietly on the edge of life and rest quietly. Wait until the fire is a little less and add more wood."

Qi Longsong looked at this childish old man, a little resistant in his heart, but he admired it very much, and always felt that what he said was aimed at himself, and what he said was very reasonable. At this moment, the resentment in Qi Longsong's heart was like drilling wood to make fire, and the billowing smoke-like resentment was finally uprooted by the flame of hope, leaving only a little smoke from the place where the flame had not burned and where it had just burned.

The old man sat beside Qilongsong, and once again blew the rhyme, the sound was thick and solid, and the rhythm was hasty. Suddenly, out of thin air, the thick and solid voice suddenly turned, turned to sonorous and loud, and in an instant, the voice turned to the warmth of the model.

After the song was played, the old man looked at Qi Longsong, who was speechless, and muttered: "The mouth is the output of emotion, and it is the bridge that God has given to human beings to build a bridge to communicate with each other.

Qi Longsong glanced at the old man quickly, and instantly turned his head away, his eyes were wet and red. After a while, I picked up a few pieces of wood and threw them into the fire. The arrogantly jumping flames seemed to be overwhelmed, and they were instantly crushed.

The ruddy in the eyes of the dragon pine gradually steamed in the firelight, and after a while, it returned to its usual state.

The old man took the clay and roasted it in the fire for a while, and after drying the fire, he dug a pit in the middle of the fire, and put the clay in the pit and buried it.

Qi Longsong sat by the fire, holding a branch in his hand, snapped, broke off a section, and threw it into the fire. Smack, break off another section, and throw it into the fire. Qi Longsong repeated so mechanically.

The old man looked at Qi Longsong with empty eyes and looked at the fire, smiled slightly in his heart, and then said: "In the past, I loved music very much, but everyone looked down on me, I have practiced guzheng and pipa. But my talent is very mediocre, and I am always bullied and ridiculed by my classmates. They say that musical instruments are made of precious metal, and how can a stupid person like you, who is as ordinary as a stone, a piece of rotten soil, study such a valuable thing. At that time, I was so young, and my heart was so fragile that I couldn't withstand the slightest blow. In the midst of the painful blows of each day, I gradually lost myself and forgot myself. ”

Qi Longsong looked at the old man with empathy and pity: "Later!"

"Later, when I met a monk of the same age as me, he saw me, as if he was aware of the pain in my heart, and he sat next to me and asked me, 'Why is the benefactor distressed?' I said, 'I want to study music, but all the people around me think that I am wasting everyone's time, wasting their own time, because they don't see any qualifications in music.'" The monk laughed and said something to me: 'Everyone is born with qualifications, and qualifications are like fire. After saying that, he picked up the two short knives in my hand and slashed at each other, and sure enough, there were sparks on the spot, and then he picked up two more stones and struck each other, and the sparks shot out. I was instantly conquered by the sparks in the stone, and looked at the monk in disbelief. Then the monk took two pieces of wood and said to me, 'You are not a sword or a stone, maybe you are wood.' At that time, I was so angry that my nose was smoking, and I clenched my fists and tried to beat him, even the monks bullied people. Unexpectedly, the monk didn't care about my expression, just lifted the wood, knocked each other, I was stunned, eagerly waiting for the sparks to burst out, but I knew in my heart, how could the sparks burst out when the wood was tapped, the monk knocked for a long time, and then smiled, and said: "Look, wood can't hit sparks" I couldn't hold it back, and picked up my fist and knocked it on the monk's shiny head. Unexpectedly, the monk didn't blink his eyes, but looked at me with great sympathy, and asked, 'Does your hand hurt'? Don't mention it, that is how angry I am in my heart, how indignant I am, God is so unfair, I have suffered so many sins, I want to be angry, and I have encountered an iron head. My hands hurt, and I felt the pain of my muscles and bones. The monk took out the stick that knocked on the wooden fish, spun it against a wooden stake, and suddenly smoke rose, and my heart suddenly became clear, I am wood, and I also have fire in my heart, but the fire in my heart can not come out by simply knocking it, and I have to test another method, drilling wood to make fire."

Qilong Song's eyes suddenly lit up, and he looked at the raging flames, and his heart suddenly soured.

The old man looked at the change in Qi Longsong's expression, paused, and waited for Qi Longsong's expression to calm down a little, and then said again: "I want to start the practice of musical instruments again, I want to understand to all the people who laugh at me that there is fire in my heart, I want to light up, I want to use my light to illuminate those people dizzy, let them know that they look down on people."

Qilong Songdeng's blood was spurting, this thought was shining in his heart all the time, he wanted to do this, many times in his life, he woke up in his sleep. When I wake up, I always think of a thought: "blood for blood, tooth for tooth".

The old man looked at the blood vessels and looked a little pity, and continued: "However, things are not so simple, I returned to the master's side and began to practice hard and for a long time, but I can't make great progress in what I do, I am still in the last place, I have never been able to prove my worth, revenge, for me is just a fantasy in life." I started to give up on myself, and I was back to myself, I was banging two knives, I was hitting the stones, and I was watching the sparks shoot around, and it was so beautiful. I raised my stick and drilled hard at the stake on the ground, but I saw only a few wisps of smoke. My hands were hot and numb and painful, and it hurt so much that I couldn't pick up a stick. After a month, I was completely disappointed in my heart, I was disappointed in myself, and from then on, I didn't dare to pick up a stick, and when I saw a stick, I would think of drilling wood for fire, and when I thought of drilling wood for fire, I thought that my ability was actually just a trace of smoke."

Qi Longsong was fascinated and continued to listen carefully to the old man's story.

"Suddenly one day," the old man continued, "I met an old man who played a rhyme, and the old man played such clouds and water, and the music seemed to be the moonlight pouring down from the sky, and there was a faint sadness of happiness, and that sorrow was very shallow, and there was a sour and itchy feeling. At that moment, my suspended and unsettled heart seemed to have found a home in life at that moment, and the voice, the gentle spring water, flowed through my heart, washing my bloodstained, complaining, hot and cold heart, washing it clearly, purely, and quietly."

Qi Longsong listened carefully to the old man's description, and fell into a quiet fog, in this misty tranquility, his heart was suspended, bloodstained, complaining, hot and cold intertwined. I also tried to find the looming feeling, the clear, pure, and quiet state of mind described by the old man. What a relaxed and comfortable state of mind.

The old man continued: "I sat beside the old man and reveled in it for a long time, and I found that the rhyme was very strange, and very different from other musical instruments. So, from that day on, I followed the old man even more, and I wanted that instrument, which was the most beautiful instrument I had ever seen. However, for the old man, the rhyme in his hand has accompanied him for most of his life, and is his best friend in the world and the only bond in his life. When the old man was doing the rhyme, I was startled, and I suddenly remembered those who bullied me at that time, they once sprinkled dirt on my head, and mockingly insulted me: 'We are the essence extracted from the chaotic soil, steel, and gems, and you are just a piece of rotten soil'!

There was anger and sympathy in Qi Longsong's expression

The old man didn't pay attention to my expression, but just concentrated on making mud.

I finally couldn't help it anymore and blurted out: "A muddy still wants to make a good instrument, who are you fooling". Now, the imagination is terrible, but fortunately I didn't blurt it out at the time, and I finally held back the resentment in my heart, and asked with restraint: "Just such a thin clay can make a musical instrument"?

The old man didn't speak for a long time, but concentrated on making the rhyme blank, and then motioned for me to light the fire.

I couldn't find anything to use to light a fire for a long time, and I remembered that the monk had taught me to drill wood to make fire, and I never succeeded, and even when I saw the wood, my heart was no longer a fire of hope, but anger. But at that moment, I ignored the anger in my heart and started drilling again, my hands hurt, I was sleepy, and I was sore. I stopped, wanting to rest for a while, but unexpectedly, the old man scolded me sharply: "I can't stop, stop now, it's a failure, all the previous efforts will be in vain, and if you endure the pain and sleepiness a little longer, you will succeed."

I endured the pain and drowsiness in my hands until I lost feeling in my whole hand. Finally, the fire came out, and at that moment, it dawned on me that it was not that my talent was too dull, but that I had not put in enough effort.

Now that I think about it, I complained because I didn't work hard enough, and I almost couldn't restrain my emotions and complained about the old man. Even if he has restrained himself, he is still so unreasonable and ignorant.

The old man said, his face full of apologies.

Qi Longsong's heart slowly calmed down, and he looked at himself with the same question, did I make an effort?

The old man sat up in shock, his expression flustered and excited, and hurriedly threw the rhyme out of the soil. The newly unearthed rhyme was very hot, and the old man was blowing his unbearable hot hands while throwing them left and right.

Qi Long let go of the old man, couldn't help but laugh in his heart, picked up a thick layer of leaves, and wrapped the rhyme in the old man's hand. The old man's hands were hot, and his hands were pinching his ears.

Qi Longsong stared at the rhyme wrapped in leaves, and laughed sarcastically at himself, he actually had such a stupid idea just now.

The old man glanced at the dragon pine, for a long time, opened the leaves, looked at the already cooled rhyme, smiled slightly, and then slowly blew up. The voice was euphemistic and beautiful, and after blowing a song, he said to Qi Longsong in a tone that revealed the truth of life: "See, as long as you go through the water, even mud can create something extraordinary."

Qi Longsong trembled deeply: "The steel water is scorching, and the soil is in dire straits. Anyone who wants to achieve equipment must go through the unbearable suffering of ordinary people! Tianquan Zi'an is the water of my life, and Tianquan Xiongying is the fire of my life!"

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