Kuai Chuan: The cold Lord God always acts like a spoiled brat to me

Chapter 974 Old things in the Republic of China: Even if it is indifferent, it is romantic (end)

Seeing that she was about to run out of the train station, Tang Hanting was crying and laughing, wearing makeup, but was dragged back by someone, she stretched out her hand: "No—"

"boom!"

The bullet pierced someone's heart, and Tang Hanting felt the pain dully.

In confusion, Fu Jingshen grabbed Tang Hanting to shield himself from the gun, with a pale face and a ruthless voice.

"You and I are destined to die together! What are you dreaming of in our two lifetimes?"

Tang Hanting's vision was blurred, and when she saw his face, she finally woke up from forgetfulness. She plunged a dagger into Fu Jingshen's heart: "You killed me..."

In the last twist, he was the one who shot her!
Fu Jingshen widened his eyes unexpectedly and looked at her in disbelief.

Tang Hanting laughed instead, laughing loudly, and couldn't tell whether she was crying or laughing at the end: "I'm the one on the tall branch, you all have fun..."

In a trance, like the torrent of the times, involved in a sentence that is right and wrong.

"If I were the second female lead in the play, I wouldn't be so stupid. Of course, the one who climbs the top is the one who climbs the most - Fourth Master Fu."

A crimson cheongsam was in full bloom in the heavy snow, blooming at the end of Huangquan, reflecting the sad train station thousands of miles away, with one last glance, Tang Hanting subconsciously looked at the infant child, and her body slowly fell to the ground...

All trajectories overlap surprisingly, going round and round, reflecting the original comment.

Heart is higher than the sky, life is thinner than paper.

It turned out to be a big dream, the past in the dream, the present in the wake of the dream.

"Sixth Young Master, let's go!" The subordinates, who were few left, shouted desperately.

Fu Jingshen came back to his senses, clutching the wound on his heart, not only did not run, but also rushed up with a gun, unwilling to shout: "What are you running, can you run, if you can kill one, you will be buried with me under Huangquan Road! "

Life is like mud, despicable and greedy.

Feng Lingzhi looked at him from a long distance, and pulled the trigger with his finger.

"boom--"

The world fell silent.

Fu Jingshen has long been a powerful bow, so how could he dodge this bullet.

He fell to the ground in response, only two or three meters away from Tang Hanting, so they were considered dead together.

Five meters away, a swaddled baby lay in the snow, blue and white with cold, crying loudly.

That sharp cry became the only sound in this train station where corpses were strewn all over the place.

The snow fell more and more, kindly covering all the filth in the world, and the whistling night wind seemed to mourn this white funeral.

"Adjutant, everything has been dealt with." The guard said, "This child..."

Feng Lingzhi's face was complicated: "The parents killed themselves, but the baby suffered."

"Give me the baby..."

A vicissitudes of life sounded from behind

Mr. Fu leaned on a cane, walked over step by step, and sighed.

"Mr. Fu." Feng Lingzhi looked serious, picked up the baby, and put it in his arms.

Fu Zhenshan hugged the child, stretched out his hand to check for breath, and breathed a sigh of relief, "Evil barrier."

The baby boy seemed to feel the warmth, and slowly stopped crying. His eyes were surprisingly big, and he looked at him ignorantly.

"Rong Heng is really merciless." Fu Zhenshan looked at the two corpses.

"There are too many people who died in vain because of the six young masters, and there must be an explanation." Feng Lingzhi said.

"When I was young, Jing Shen fell into a ravine somehow. That time, it was Rong Heng who found out and carried him back and saved his life."

Fu Zhenshan squinted his eyes and talked. When people are old, they like to recall the past. After digging out many old things, they can't bear to look back.

There are eight or nine things in the world that are vague, and human feelings cover up two or three points.

Now, it can be regarded as returning this life.

"Fourth master never mentioned it."

"He has a taciturn personality." Fu Zhenshan said, "He will never say what he does, and his thoughts are hard to guess..."

"That's it, that's it."

The matter is a foregone conclusion, what's the use of recalling the past, it will only add to the sadness.

"Go back and report to him." Mr. Fu closed his eyes, dressed in a dark Chinese tunic suit, attending the funeral for someone, "From now on, he will support the Fu family."

Holding the child in his arms, Fu Zhenshan walked away slowly, leaving the sad train station with footprints of different shades in the snow.

"From now on...you will be called Fu Xiang."

The past and the past are like clouds and smoke, and they become empty in a blink of an eye.

The snow stopped and a bright moon rose.

The study was quiet.

When Feng Lingzhi came in, Fu Rongheng was sitting by the window, wearing a military uniform, playing chess under the lamp.

One person, one lamp, one game of chess.

"Fourth Master." Feng Lingzhi said, "It's over."

Fu Rongheng stopped playing chess for a moment, and responded smoothly.

Looking at people under the lamp, you can't see through their faces.

On this road, too many people have died, all of them are old friends.

Feng Lingzhi thought, he might be sad for a moment, but he has no regrets.

The bright moonlight in the sky is like flowing water, reflecting the snow on the ground. Every year, people are different.

one year later.

When the spring blooms, the weather will be smooth and the road will not be picked up.

Old people on the street were boiling hot tea, and the fragrance of tea rose in the air. A Tong, a newspaper seller, begged for a cup of tea, and a child chased him and accidentally knocked over the wooden table.

The spring breeze blew across every corner of Beicheng, and people talked about the big wedding of the Fu and Chu families. How many times can life be like this?

Folk rumors—

If you don't become a mandarin duck, you don't envy immortals, but you envy Fu Chu for a hundred years.

It's hard to compare with Ruicao, who grow old together.

Fu's house.

The scene of spring is deep, and at night, the red candles turn the tears of spring, and the flickering is uncertain.

It was already late at night, when Chu Jin'an woke up, the red candles in the room were burned out, and the fire was dim, and he realized that he was not around.

He usually doesn't like to be lively, and the dark wooden furniture in this room has turned red, probably this is the only time in this life.

The ten generations cultivated to cross the same boat, and the hundred generations cultivated to sleep together.

Chu Jin'an put on his pajamas and went out barefoot. The door of the house was ajar, and he was sitting on the steps of the Spring Court. He was wearing a white shirt, his back was straight, and his long legs were slightly bent. He didn't know what he was thinking.

In the courtyard, the begonias did not rain, the pear blossoms snowed first, and half of the spring rested.

Most of the man's body was hidden in the dark night, and the frosty pear blossoms fell on his shoulders and then on the steps.

Chu Jin'an leaned against the door and stared at him for a long time.

Suddenly, I thought of a long time ago, so long that I can hardly remember when, in the old days, under the eaves of the courtyard, it was the same.

The young man looked at the snow outside with his back to the light, and it often took him a long time to look at it.

It was freezing cold, and he was wearing a dark blue crane cloak, brilliant but quiet.

And she was looking at his back.

I didn't know at that time that Feng Guanxia would marry him and be his main wife in the future.

Chu Jin'an came back to his senses, smiled, stepped across the threshold, stepped on the pear blossoms on the spring steps barefoot, and hugged him from behind: "Fourth brother."

He didn't know how long the wind was blowing, and his body was covered with a three-point coolness.

"Why did you wake up?" Fu Rongheng looked back at her, under the bright moon, his brows and eyes were clear and idle.

There was her in those eyes.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blows past the old and simple heavy wooden furniture, and blows the pear blossom snow in the courtyard, rustling to the ground.

Stretching [-] miles to the north, the mountains and seas in his eyes became the stories she had heard.

(End of this chapter)