It started to rain in the evening in the town.

The room of the inn was unusually quiet, and the other people accompanying him seemed to have disappeared, and the rain was pouring outside, except for the occasional sound of turning books in the snow.

He leaned on the small couch by the window, hugged Song Qinghui from behind, and read to her the old poems of the previous dynasty.

Song Qinghui didn't have much perception left, this was the only thing that could relieve her fatigue.

......

Chapter 128 of "The Eunuch Pet Zangjiao" One hundred and twenty-eight, the golden knife is in the middle of the hand, please wait a moment,

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