Zhao Rong buried Liu Sanbian under a nameless green mountain.

There are few striking landscapes and intriguing stories around.

It's just an ordinary green hill.

A low hill.

It's like this early morning that buried Liu Sanchang.

Ordinary.

Zhao Rong originally wanted to bury Liu Sanbian next to his father's grave.

But on that day, not long after Zhao Rong and Su Xiaoxiao "razed the Liangjing Qin Mansion to the ground".

The Great Wei officials and the remaining clansmen of the Langxi Qin clan began to hunt down the culprit overwhelmingly.

Zhao Rong and Su Xiaoxiao had no choice but to take Liu Sanchang's corpse with them, day and night, and fled in a hurry.

There were some setbacks on the way, but they escaped to the border of Great Wei with a relatively smooth operation.

Now that he has arrived at a safe place, he is about to leave Dawei.

Zhao Rong and Su Xiaoxiao had time to let the deceased rest in peace, at least in Liu Sanchang's hometown

He deliberately chose this remote and quiet place.

South-facing.

Facing the direction of Dawei Liangjing, it is also the direction of Liu Sanchang, the direction of turning back, and the direction of home.

Among the trees, there was a misty mist.

In the wet cracks of the leaves, strips of pale golden light leaked out.

The morning air was still cold, but it smelled of earth.

In front of a newly erected lonely grave.

Zhao Rong lit three pillars of incense.

took the yellow paper from Su Xiaoxiao's hand.

Get down.

Burn the fire with her and burn the paper.

Lonely graves are remote.

There was no one around.

It's just the two of them, busy in this wilderness.

A Confucian student, a fox demon.

Grave a martial artist.

Zhao Rong stands in front of the tomb.

Take out a jug of wine.

It's not a fairy wine, it's just that he bought it from the open-air liquor store where he stayed for a short time on the way to his death that day.

Zhao Rong thought at that time that he would use it.

He sprinkled wine across the tomb.

Quietly look at this lonely tomb.

At the head was a humble tombstone.

Blank without words.

It's not that Zhao Rong can't write inscriptions, on the contrary, he knows a lot of good inscriptions.

or generosity, or tragedy, or philosophy, or expansiveness.

No matter how bad it is, he can also engrave Liu Sanchang's name.

But he still didn't write.

It's for the future, leaving it to the kid named Aoyama to do it.

When Zhao Rong gave the relics to Liu Qingshan, he would tell him truthfully where his father's grave was and why his father died.

Tell him that during the long journey, every night when the bonfire is lit and there is wine, the taciturn Liu Sanbian will always take the trouble to talk about him.

Tell him that whenever he hears the word Qingshan, no matter when or where, the most warm and soft smile will always bloom on that fierce face.

Tell him that Liu Sanbian doesn't care about him, but as a son of man, he must fulfill his responsibilities for the result that he is not satisfied with, and ask "why" in person?

Zhao Rong would point Liu Qingshan in that direction and let him engrave the inscription himself, because he was also a son of man.

The wine in the jug has been spilled.

Not a drop fell.

Zhao Rong stood quietly.

Su Xiaoxiao squatted on the ground and looked at the raging flames.

The two were speechless.

When the flame burns out.

Zhao Rong turned around, picked up the bookcase, and left directly.

Su Xiaoxiao hurriedly followed, just walking, and couldn't help but look back a few times.

It was her and Zhao Rong's companions along the way, his voice was still in his mind not long ago, but now he was lying alone in the cold wooden coffin, sleeping forever.

Su Xiaoxiao hates parting, hates death, and hates all sad stories.

So.

She cherishes what she has.

The little fox demon quietly glanced at Zhao Rong's emaciated back.

The two of them went all the way, leaving the lonely grave behind them, and re-embarked on the journey north.

Zhao Rong didn't look back in the end.

In fact, he did not feel sad.

Even behind a window on Suzaku Street that day, he witnessed the process of Liu Sanchang's death, except for the dying finger, which gave him a shocking and inexplicable martial arts insight.

He is not sad.

A simple thought arose in my heart.

Oh, he's dead.

It's just that.

After that, on the way.

Sometimes when the wine shop fights wine, it will habitually buy an extra pot, but after being slightly stunned, he will silently reach out and put away half of the wine money.

Sometimes during the day, when I play with Su Xiaoxiao, who is happy again, and when I bully the stupid girl, I will inexplicably turn my head to look around, and in my field of vision, there is no longer the silent man who will silently watch them on the side.

Sometimes I meditate by the fire in the early morning, and when I heard Su Xiaoxiao's movement at night, I would look at it suspiciously, but then I would stretch my brows, turn back calmly, and look at the cheerful and beating flames, oh, it turned out that it was not that person who kept vigil with him anymore.

Zhao Rong didn't feel sad, just missed a little.

Unlike his longing for Qingjun and Qian'er, Liu Sanbian was the first person he missed in this world after he awakened the memories of his previous life.

I miss the first time I met in Longquandu because of a spirit stone.

There are also those martial arts tempering again and again, and the piles under the moon......

Zhao Rong was a little clear.

It turned out that the thread was not broken.

The thread that tugged at him, connecting his hollow heart with the thick and solid earth.

There was no break at all.

It's stronger.

He no longer has a sense of indifference and absurdity to the world.

Whether it's the first murder with your own hands not long ago, or the people and scenery you pass by on your way now.

It's all true.

He is who he is.

He is Zhao Rong.

He is the Confucian Zhao Ziyu who grew up in Qianjing of the Great Chu Dynasty in the Xuanhuang Realm and was incorporated into Concubine Zhao Ling.

He was seventeen years old.

His "story" has just begun!

————

this day.

Zhao Rong and Su Xiaoxiao left a small border city with strong folk customs.

Walked into a mountain forest.

According to the route on the map of mountains and rivers, this is the last country under the mountain.

Walk through it and you'll reach Lidu.

Midday.

The two hurriedly lit a fire to eat, and hurried on the road.

Zhao Rong glanced at the sky, and it was gradually gloomy.

The sun, which was still bright in the morning, had already hidden in the dark clouds.

The air was sweltering and suffocating.

Su Xiaoxiao handed over a silk handkerchief, "Here you go, wipe off the sweat." ”

Zhao Rong took the neat silk handkerchief that exuded the fragrance of a girl, wiped it on his face casually, handed it back, and looked around left and right, "Let's go faster and find a place to shelter from the rain, this rain is estimated to be a long time." ”

"Oh. ”

Su Xiaoxiao lowered his head, carefully folded the silk handkerchief stained with his sweat, put it away, and responded in a cheerful tone.

Soon.

A strong wind was blowing.

The sultry air was cool.

But in this wilderness, except for the shade of the trees, Zhao Rong and the others still didn't find a place to shelter from the rain.

Zhao Rong had no choice but to take out his umbrella.

Seeing this, Su Xiaoxiao on the side blinked.

Zhao Rong took a look, "Why are you stupid looking at me? ”

Su Xiaoxiao said with a small eye: "Hmm, I was in a hurry to leave in the morning, and I forgot the umbrella in the guest room......"

Zhao Rong patted his forehead, "Why don't you forget yourself in the inn?"

Her fox eyes narrowed into a crescent moon with a smile, and she didn't answer.

"I'm sorry for you, come here. ”

Zhao Rong put the small bookcase that Su Xiaoxiao liked to carry into Sumeru, and gave way under the umbrella.

The more the two of them are under the same umbrella.

"Boom ——!"

"Whoa—"

A downpour that had been brewing for a long time finally fell.

Thunder and lightning are combined, and torrential rain is like a note.

Zhao Rong and Su Xiaoxiao continued to hurry.

Under the umbrella.

The man is slender and the woman is petite.

One left and one right.

The umbrella is not big, so the two of them are crowded close to their bodies, so they can tolerate it.

A certain moment.

Zhao Rong held the umbrella in his right hand and deflected the umbrella to the right.

At this time.

It was not yet night, but it was already dark.

For a moment, Zhao Rong's attention was all on the road ahead.

Suddenly.

Zhao Rong felt a warm little hand covering his right hand holding the umbrella.

The palm of the hand is soft and smooth.

He was familiar.

Because not long ago in Dawei, he also had intimate contact with this hand.

However, it was just acting at the time.

On the road after that, both of them adhered to a tacit understanding and restored the original distance.

But now......