Chu Wuyan has always felt that he is a strange person. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info He often had strange thoughts in his head, and even he couldn't tell where they came from.

Just like when he was two years old, he suddenly pestered his mother to get a few strange-looking carving knives, took a piece of boxwood, and carved a lifelike child.

Although the work is not very delicate, because the strength of the hand is not enough, that is, the human form can be roughly seen. But for a two-year-old, it's nothing short of an incredible miracle. Where did he learn the woodcarving technique? It seemed to be innate, and when he wanted to, he did it naturally, as he had done so countless times.

For example, when he was five years old, he suddenly realized that he was going to study. So, regardless of it, he ran to the school at the east end of the village, leaning against the window and listening to the master's lecture. Later, he would deliberately bring the finished wood carvings to the school, and exchange his works for a few large sums of money from the students in the school without a teacher.

Every morning after the age of five, Chu Wuyan would rush to the edge of the study school at the east end of the village, sit under the big willow tree, and carve the wood in his hand while listening to the students in the school reading.

There is never much door-to-door business. Chujia Village is a small mountain village, and the people in the village don't have so much money to spend on playthings.

It is the first time that there have been two business visits in a row like today.

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This is the 11th year of the Great Jin Kingdom, March 11.

This year, Chu Wuyan was ten years old.

Thirteen-year-old Chu Feng secretly took out a scroll of paintings from his schoolbag and carefully handed it to Chu Wuyan. His hand shook like his gaze.

The moment the scroll was opened, Chu Wuyan's hand, which had always been very calm, trembled, as if he had been stung by something.

"Be careful!" Chu Feng couldn't help but remind.

Chu Wuyan's heart jumped, and the picture scroll almost fell to the ground. He suddenly felt that the painting was like a Pandora's box, and once it was opened, there was no going back.

Strange, how could I have such a strange idea? What is Pandora's Box?

These questions flashed through his heart, leaving no trace. He was accustomed to these strange thoughts that popped into his mind from time to time, and he unfolded the scroll with both hands steadily.

Who knows, at this moment, a crow flew up, let out two terrible "quack" sounds, "bang", and hit the old poplar tree above their heads.

The poor bird fell in front of Chu Wuyan from mid-air, and under the messy feathers, its chest was still twitching.

It gasped for air with its mouth open, its bean-sized eyes glowing an eerie dead gray.

In a trance, Chu Wuyan seemed to see a cold smile from those dead gray eyes. It just stared at him mockingly, and he shuddered at the sight.

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"It's so unlucky!" Chu Wuyan tried his best to ignore the uneasiness in his heart, muttered, and unfolded the scroll.

In the painting is a teenager with a. The young man wore a black robe and sat in the pavilion at the top of the mountain, with a tube of ink jade flute across his lips.

With his back to the setting sun, the boy's back was covered with a light golden light. But the front is hidden in the shadow of the pavilion, like an abyss that never shines on the sun, deep and unfathomable.

The painter is very skillful, and the technique of light and shadow is just right. In this light and dark background, the boy does not have the slightest childishness that belongs to children, but is like a god on the clouds, and there is a temperament that makes people look up and worship.

How could there be such a person in the world?

At that moment, Chu Wuyan could only think of eight words: as dignified as an immortal, calm as an abyss.

Chu Wuyan's heart jumped wildly, and his hands trembled uncontrollably. For some reason, he actually felt that he should have seen this young man.

In the dark, there seems to be an invisible thread that closely connects the fates of the two people.

At this time, the crow on the ground exhaled its last breath, and its body twitched violently, making a rough "hiss" sound.

It was as if it was a grim smile.

It's suffocating!

The box has been opened, and there is no going back.

Chu Wuyan slammed the scroll shut and handed it back to Chu Feng.

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"Where did this painting come from?"

Chu Feng's eyes flashed: "It's me...... You can tell if you can carve it out of it!"

Chu Wu immediately shook his head: "I'm sorry, I can't do anything!"

This morning, he had just sold a carved wooden horse to Chu Feng. And now, Chu Feng actually came to the door again, and this incident made him smell an unusual meaning.

It's like this crow that was killed inexplicably.

He certainly liked the painting, and he longed to carve the person in it. But that didn't mean he couldn't see that Chu Feng was lying.

Chu Feng became anxious: "You will definitely be able to carve the person in this painting! Wuyan, think about it again! I am in a hurry." ”

Chu Wuyan still shook his head and said, "This thing is too complicated, I can't do it!"

Chu Feng gritted his teeth and said, "As long as I can make it, I am willing to pay three hundred yuan! With these three hundred dollars, you and your mother can have a better life!"

For a family in a mountain village, 300 wen is enough for a family for three months.

Chu Feng's family is not rich, and his willingness to pay this price shows that there is a lot of mystery in this painting.

Chu Wuyan shook his head lightly: "If you can't, you can't, Chu Feng, you don't have to force it!"

Chu Feng clenched his fists, but he couldn't say the words he begged anymore.

This is such a strong boy, and those words have exhausted his courage.

Chu Wuyan deliberately buried his despair in his heart, just like the crow that unfortunately died in front of him. He bypassed Chu Feng, limped, and walked towards his home in a difficult posture.

In this world where martial arts practice prevails, a child born lame is a waste doomed to have no tomorrow and hope.

The mud bodhisattva, who is unable to protect himself, what can he do to help suffering sentient beings?

Chu Feng looked at his back, suddenly squatted down, held his head, and cried silently.

At this moment, the spring breeze rolled up a fluttering table, scattered from his head, and gently covered the dead crow, like a small grave built out of thin snow.