When Xiao Cong woke up from a coma, it was night, the moon hung high above his head on this side of the sky, the moonlight painted a shadow of a tree on the ground, there were insects in the Mid-Autumn Festival, but it sounded intermittent, as if he was weak, extremely tired, but he didn't want to stop, Xiao Cong listened, and suddenly remembered the old guy, it seemed that he was like a worm in the Mid-Autumn Festival, dragging his crippled body and soul to survive here, endure humiliation and steal life, eager to one day be able to recover his blood and continue to write brilliantly, maybe this is the common disease of the monks, or it is the inevitable calamity of their fate, stubborn, and bent on going their own wayI can never let go of the obsession in my happiness, and even destroy myself to the point of falling apart, and I refuse to give up if I have nothing, but have you ever thought that in this world, it is not only practice that makes people so obsessed, is it possible to ignore the scenery along the way for the sake of practice? What's more, life is a practice.

A gust of autumn wind blew, slowly blowing away the white powder not far in front of Xiao Cong, Xiao Cong felt cold on his body, he couldn't help but shiver, sighed slightly, and slowly looked away, he was extremely tired and haggard, as if he had also become a worm in the autumn night, but he sighed alone and was silent.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something flashing in the white powder.

Xiao Cong rubbed his eyes, but after rubbing it, his eyes were still dark, and then he rubbed his face hard, I don't know if it was too much force or how, a heavy exhaustion permeated his body, and he let out a long sigh, he felt that he was extremely uncomfortable at this time, and his lack of intention was slowly eroding in his limbs, he felt like a hundred insects, but it didn't hurt, there was only a very helpless numb and itchy feeling, he really didn't want to move.

With his arms firmly supporting his body, he slowly got up from the ground, he was covered in dirt, and he didn't care about beating his robe, he slowly, step by step, walked to the white powder that had been blown away, slowly bent down, picked up a silver-white thing from it, just put it in front of his eyes and looked at it, and put it in his pocket, he was listless, and seemed to have no interest in this time.

Autumn is deep and dewy, the cold night is bleak, and the lonely moon hangs lonely in the sky, disappearing in the clouds, like a woman indulging in sadomasochism, moody, sometimes sober, sometimes crazy.

Xiao Cong also stood alone in the moonlit night, his face like stagnant water, and the ancient well had no waves. He felt that he was awake now, awake enough to catch every thought that flashed through his mind, and he thought that it was the biting cold that gave him a different kind of calmness, and he felt that he was so real in this lonely and cold autumn night.

"Am I doing the right thing?"

He muttered, his voice muffled and inaudible.

He didn't know if the Xiao Cong during the day was himself, he felt like he had a dream, a very terrible dream, in the dream, he dreamed of a ruthless, dark, and self-contained Xiao Cong, a Xiao Cong who was often contrary to the principles of heaven, a Xiao Cong who was destined to be doomed, and when he thought of this, he shuddered.

He slowly squatted down, holding his body with his arms, assuming that someone was holding him hard at this time, giving him endless warmth, giving him endless comfort, so that his heart could find a harbor to anchor, so that he was no longer afraid, and let him sleep peacefully for a while, even if it was a few breaths.

However, he also knew very well that it was just a distant luxury for him, which would slowly turn into disappointment and finally despair as the world went by. But he felt that he could not let go at this time, he felt like a lost fawn on a cold winter night, he was tired and hungry and cold, and at last he found a steaming pile of horse manure, in which he wanted to hide himself, even though he knew that it would lead him to a quiet and comfortable death.

He didn't know how the old man had spent all these long, lonely nights, and whether he would look up at the bright moon, thinking about the laughter of his loved ones, and thinking again and again about where he was going—no, he wouldn't, because he was afraid!

"So where do I go from here?"

Xiao Cong muttered to himself, his face was sad, he tilted his head to look at the cold moon hanging above, the moonlight reflected in his eyes, making his eyes look extraordinarily bright, he inserted his open hand into his messy hair, and then rubbed it against his scalp and stroked it down the back of his head, then laughed at himself, and said:

"Hey, so be it, what else. ”

The sneer stiffened on his face, slowly faded, he lowered his head again, then let out a long sigh, and finally stood up abruptly.

He thought: "I can't just give up like this, I can't just leave with failure and cowardice, because, I'm Xiao Cong!"

When Xiao Cong returned to the holy city, it was almost early in the morning, walking on the gravel path outside the city, he saw the tall and majestic city gate brightly lit from a distance, and when he slowly approached, he found that there were heavy guards on it, and the black armor close to the torch was strange and deep in the firelight, and the one away from the torch seemed to have merged with the night, and had become a part of the night, they were strict in military discipline and motionless, if it weren't for Xiao Cong's amazing eyesight, he could see the eyes that occasionally blinked in the helmet, and if he was someone else, he might think that it was a sculpture used to bluff。

Seeing someone approaching under the city gate, a person who seemed to be the leader shouted to Xiao Cong:

"Who is under the city? ”

The sound was as loud as a bell and a big lu, rippling in the sky above the silent early morning of the holy city, spreading farther and farther.

Xiao Cong raised his head, smiled, bowed and said:

"Xiao Cong, the fourth son of the Xia Xiao family, went out of the city yesterday and delayed his late return because of something, I don't want to disturb everyone's purity, and I hope that the guard brother Haihan will be accommodating and let me in. ”

But seeing that the person in charge of the city seemed to say a few words to the left and right, and then, a gorgeous firework rose into the sky, with a long flute blooming in the sky, and the remnants of the flames were raised, and the heaven and earth seemed to have golden snow in an instant, but it melted into the invisible only a few dozen feet away from the city wall, the golden snow, so beautiful, Xiao Cong was the first time to see such a beautiful fireworks.

"Click-quack-squeak-"

The city gate was slowly opened, and the person who was the leader on the city wall went out to greet him in person, Xiao Cong saw that his face was heavy, his face was like fire coal, and the two thin bloodless lips were as cold and sharp as those cut out by the winter wind, and then look at the eyes, the tiger's eyes were heavy, and the pupils were pitch black, faintly making people feel a kind of anger that could not be concealed mixed in the eyes and diffused out, his body was powerful and powerful, and his cultivation was extraordinary, Xiao Cong knew after a little thought that this must be a person who has been in the army for many years, experienced in a hundred battles, and died in a lifetime, and these people often live not as glorious as the boys imagined, free and happy, not so much that they are human beingsIt is better to say that they are puppets of war, because the cruelty of war has deprived them of most of the soft things in their humanity, leaving them only to kill, maybe they once hated killing, but slowly they became eager to kill, and the saddest thing is that in addition to those things buried in the deepest part of human nature about love, they are just a walking corpse.

But what can they do? In order to survive, they have to do it.