When Qi Lang woke up again, he found himself lying on the comfortable wooden bed in the barracks, with gauze bandages wrapped all over his body, and the strong smell of herbs choked him almost out of breath. This sleep seemed to be very hard, because Qi Lang felt that his head was about to burst. But he was glad that he had woken up again, and that it was business as usual.

Of course, there was also something that seemed to be different from usual, Qi Lang noticed that on the small wooden stool next to the bed, there was a guy who was almost dressed in the same way. It was Joanna, who was lying at the head of the bed, and she was frowning her forehead when she fell asleep, and if she went on like that, she would be wrinkled like an old woman.

Hopefully, she didn't take advantage of her sleep, this female demon is sometimes too open-minded, always trying to take her wishful thinking relationship to the next step.

Qi Lang sat up straight and rubbed his head, which was sinking like a lead ball. He felt as if something was missing. Something was missing, and the guest was gone. Iglu actually played missing, naughty guy, he shouldn't have sneaked out again to fool that stupid big dog, right?

Qi Lang got out of bed, poured himself a glass of water, raised his neck and poured it. At the same time, he felt the breath of his fateful companion. Igru should be nearby, not too far, probably by the lake. Leo shouldn't have been there, though there was still a man standing next to Iglu, who was probably going to be courting him at night. That sycophant has always been that virtue.

Qi Lang shook his head, turned around, brought a blanket and gently draped it on Joanna's back, and was about to sigh funny, but suddenly realized - it was not a nightmare!

It was a real life-and-death battle! Flashing swords and guns, whistling arrows, splattered blood, and broken corpses falling to the ground......

That bitter battle really happened!

The key is not in those bloody pictures, Qi Lang has long been extremely accustomed to that level of cruelty and violence, and he is very sure that those occurrences will not cause such a big psychological impact on him at the moment, let alone bring a headache......

Crystal coffin!!

Where did the crystal coffin go?!

Qi Lang seemed to let out a cold sweat in an instant!

There is the queen mother, her own mother, the dearest mother!

Recalling the situation at that time, Qi Lang vaguely remembered that just a second before he struggled with the last bit of strength, a voice sounded. It was a voice that was both familiar and unfamiliar to him, but it was extremely intimate, as if it were ......

Just as the name hesitated to smile and jump out, the song came in through the half-hidden wooden window.

The song was soft and low, like a brook bypassing a shallow, just entering a rocky river, tinkling tentatively, but eager to express its joy.

"A camellia, two roses, the fragrance is your beauty, the curtain is a pearl, the wind is blowing, and the pleasant softness is your beauty......"

Qi Lang pushed the door open, gently, slowly, lest the screeching sound of the dry doordoor interfere with the air floating in the air.

The moonlight is like water, spreading wisps of white to the grass in front of the door. The four fields were silent, and even the waterfall hanging from the lion's mouth had silenced the rumbling of the past, leaving only a light noise, as if it was accompanying the faint and clear singing.

"Why are you so beautiful, stealing eight buckets of wisdom, exhausting a thousand days of divine loss, you can't depict it, your beautiful ...... that makes me poor in words"

The singing voice gradually turned from relaxed and euphoric to low, and the singer's frustration seeped out little by little, making the pores constrict, and gradually depressed as the tone darkened. It is as if a stream passes through a narrow and shallow channel, and its speed needs to be increased urgently but it has to be slowed down powerlessly.

Qi Lang took a step forward in hesitation. Bypassing the beaded grass in front of the door, he held on to the five-needle pine and looked into the distance. Located under a gentle slope, the view is obstructed, and only the silver waves of Xiangshui Lake to the west can be seen gently rippling and undulating, as if beating rhythmically—it is a slow and mournful rhythm.

"Your beautiful ...... that never belonged to me"

It is an inaudible grievance that invites people to listen attentively and arouse sympathy.

Qi Lang slammed the spirit. His mind desperately needed to get back to its usual rapidity, and that need was hard to fulfill, held back by the looming singing. He held on to the dry and cracked bark of the pine tree, and shook his head to let his mind recover for a moment, while he was still checking whether what was happening now was real, whether it was not another dream.

"The blood of the heart is dyed with red tears, resentful of the rejection of fate, and the misunderstanding weaves and meets, and it becomes the bitter pursuit of eternal life!"

The song became hoarse, like a stream on its journey into the crypt before it began to whimper in despair. It is the sigh of the stream, for it will say goodbye to the light for a long time, and will henceforth exile itself in darkness.

Qi Lang was almost crushed by the never-ending sadness in the song, but the chaos in his mind gradually became sober under the stimulation of sadness. He wanted to reveal the answer as soon as possible, but he was worried that the answer would deviate from his conjecture. So, he moved slowly, pushed away the unsightly pine tree, and took a step, stepping over the cluster of spotted orchids, bypassing the tall rocks in front of the gentle slope, and stopping to look into the distance. The breeze on the lakeside swayed the shadows of the trees, the moonlight gradually blurred in the mottling, and the end of the horizon, the light and shadow were hazy, like illusion and reality.

However, the singing voice is still so real, as if lamenting the parting in repeated questions.

"I thought that singing could wash away sorrow, and I thought that singing could be fearless from now on - who would want to destroy?"

It sounded as if the singer was trying to express his state of mind that he was not sad or happy, and he wanted to comfort himself, or the person he was singing to, to ask her not to worry about her troubles, because everything was over and life would be peaceful again. Unfortunately, he himself overturned that illusion.

It was as if the creek that had sunk deep into the crypt had just calmed down, and had decided to turn into a pool of still water in the darkness, and soak up the land like that, waiting quietly for the deep well overhead to be dug for the day when it could see the light of day again. But the darkness was too oppressive, too long, and it wanted to make waves again, even though it was an unknown wave, and it wanted to struggle and make a final effort, but it still backfired—it was a deep cavern that swallowed up a river, and it was still too weak.

Qi Lang still hadn't found the source of the song, but he knew he was approaching. Along the smooth stone paved steps, he walked down the slope step by step, turning past the tree wall composed of more than thirty wild jasmine trees, his pace began to quicken, and the arrow wound in his right leg was still painful, making him limp and limp, and even his breathing became rapid.

However, the singing voice floating in my ears was still clear, it was like a sigh or two, but the sigh could go straight to the bottom of my heart.

"Surrounded by sorrow, oh, surrounded by sorrow......"

It sounded like he accepted that rejection, a little reluctantly, but he accepted that rejection. But he wanted his pain to be made clear, and he wanted the whole world to hear his sorrow. Just as the creek did its best to create a whirlpool under the crypt, although the core of the whirlpool would lead deeper underground, and the thicker darkness would become its final destination, it didn't mind, it just wanted to express it, even if it was not appreciated or cared for.

Qi Lang could already determine the source of the song, which was behind the rockery by the lake, which was the center of the entire Xiangshui Lake. Qi Lang ran up, his steps were light, as if even the pain was far away from him at this moment. Passing between the two maples, dodging the green bells that hung down from the tall rocks, the answer was closer to the name.

"It hurts, it's so heartbroken! Don't get ......drunk for a hundred years."

The final aria came from the song, so desperate, so sad.

Qi Lang saw it. A bright moon is in the sky, and the lake gently ripples in the moonlight. I don't know when a pavilion was set up on the edge of the rockery, and in the middle of the pavilion, a crystal coffin was quietly placed there.

She's all right.

Although she had fallen asleep, from the smile on the corner of her mouth, Qi Lang knew that she was all right in that world.

Iglu was lying in the corner, unflawed, as if the fight hadn't affected him in any way. But he was guarding the sleeping man at the moment, because he knew that she was the most precious memory of his fateful companion. He stayed there, not leaving an inch. But the vigilance in Iglu's eyes had long since vanished, replaced by a rare appreciation and appreciation.

Igro was looking at a man, tall and thin, dressed in a white robe, his black hair draped casually over his shoulders, but he didn't know if it was dyed by the moonlight or what, and his sideburns were mixed with a faint snow color. He folded his arms around each other and cowered—not because the breeze from the lake had pierced his shirt, but because he was still immersed in his own sad song, and for a moment he could not help himself.

Qi Lang slowed down. It was a scene he had been looking forward to for too long, but at this moment, he was a little overwhelmed. He hesitated, but his footsteps moved forward uncontrollably, as if his body was still trying to verify the correctness of his master's conjecture.

But does that still need to be verified?

That song is "Dedicated to Lil", "Dedicated to Li'er" sung by countless singers around the world, but no one can express the same mood - it belongs only to him. That's what he dedicated to her!

Finally, the choked throat was forcibly stretched open, and Qi Lang called out tremblingly:

"Mr. Zhu Lai!"