Waste Strong Foundation

On the dome, the portrait of Nuwa with a human face and a snake body keeps her hands crossed, and the cinnabar paint on her forehead becomes more coquettish and gorgeous in the firelight.

As the person moves, the light of the torch swirls to the blue bird holding the ten suns in the sky above, and finally falls on the wooden pillar in the center.

This giant wood supporting the weight of vegetation on all sides is carved with a variety of bird totems, among which the flying swallow and white crane totems are the most similar and easy to identify; in addition, there are faint turquoise paints on the outer layer of each totem, and green lines Associate totems with totems.

This is the second time Fei Mingqiu has entered the thatched cottage with the Qi family.

But he didn't have the heart to carefully appreciate these rough and natural primitive arts.

The delay in falling asleep can be quite a challenge for a heart with a restrictor.

He felt a slight tingling from under his left rib, and at the same time, the sound of a click like a second hand was pouring into his eardrum like a tidal wave.

"That egg, show me again." Fei Mingqiu's tone was not very friendly.He pursed his lips, his brows and eyes were full of exhaustion, and he rubbed his temples and the bridge of his nose frequently with his hands, as if he would fall to the ground in the next second and fall asleep without doing anything.The torch inserted obliquely in the stone trough gathered the light and shadow on his cheekbones, the tip of his nose and the peak of his lips, which further reduced his tenderness during the day.

Qi You turned a deaf ear to it, humming a song, rolled up a small bundle of dry grass to light the fire, quickly cleared the fire pit, and then skillfully stacked branches and stakes.

Fei Mingqiu tried his best to endure sleepiness with his eyes wide open, and emphasized again: "The egg you asked the player to dig, show me."

Qi You was lighting a fire with his back turned to Fei Mingqiu, although he was full of joy, he shuddered inexplicably.

He honestly handed over the bluebird egg in his pocket under the reminder of a certain reliable desire for survival, forgetting for a moment that it was his father's relic.

The turquoise egg looks like a small bronze vessel with exquisite workmanship, but its actual weight is quite light.

Fei Mingqiu held the egg with both hands, and gently wiped the soil trapped in the thread with his thumb, "Did your ancestor find it in the ore?"

Qi You: "Gaozu? My lord, what does this word mean?"

Fei Mingqiu frowned slightly, and looked down at the little priest squatting beside the fire pit with displeasure, his dark pupils glowed with a cold light.

Qi You felt that the young man in front of him seemed to be a different person, and said aggrievedly: "Oh... I see, you mean my grandfather's grandfather? Well, he discovered it when he instructed his clansmen to dig. He said he heard something inside. There is the singing of the blue bird. Since he took this egg to participate in the great sacrifice in October every year, our Qi family has rarely encountered disasters, and the pregnant women have given birth to more male babies than in the past."

Fei Mingqiu squatted down and looked at the blue bird's egg in front of the firelight, "In other words, it has a history of at least 70 years."

Qi You corrected: "85 years——no, 87 years."

"Can it still hatch?" Fei Mingqiu said as he threw the egg into the fire.

Qi You was so frightened that he rushed over and grabbed his hand, "No, you can't do this! Give it back to me! I'll hold it, and the leader will listen to me!"

Fei Mingqiu chuckled, and let Qi You take the egg away with his five fingers, "It shouldn't be an egg."

"Then what else could it be?" Qi You's breath was unsteady, and he never mentioned the ambition that was unintentionally revealed in the panic just now.

"...Fossil?" Fei Mingqiu tilted his head and looked over.

Qi You didn't dare to ask what "fossil" meant, but just bit his lip and stared at Fei Mingqiu's face, suddenly showing a sly and relieved expression.

"My lord, are you shaken? You don't really believe that we have a blue bird egg, but you did see it. Well, I don't think you even believe that our leader is a warrior with a god's relic. You regard us as Ants. You never underestimated us."

As for the shaking, the ten-year-old little priest couldn't describe it accurately.

Fei Mingqiu vaguely denied it, and turned his body to add wood to the fire.

The fresh branches still have a lot of water, and when they are swallowed by the tongue of fire, there is a hissing sound from the branches, and the clear and astringent fragrance is emitted from them.

Qi You felt that he had grasped the weakness of the omnipotent envoy, and let his guard down little by little.

He took out fifty stalks of yarrow from his bosom, and asked cautiously, "My lord, I have never seen you divination. I think you have other ways to communicate with God. Shall I take it for you once? You don't look right... ...have you been possessed by some grumpy god?"

It's called worry, but it's actually childish gossip and curiosity.

But where in the world is there a god?

Fei Mingqiu stood up with his hands on his knees, and coldly watched the craftsmen who were lying outside the cottage eavesdropping run away, "Next time. I'm going to sleep."

He walked towards the mobile home with a pale face, and after he ran into the bedroom and locked the door, he was shaking, his fingertips trembling uncontrollably.

The rattling bells hit the eardrums and the bones of the brain tirelessly.

No amount of bizarre coincidence could hold him back.

No matter how dangerous the unknown, it can only be explored until tomorrow.

about to sleep.

Must sleep.

The metallic timing sound was far away from him, 3000 trillion light-years away, yet close to his eyes, urging him to sleep over and over again.

Fei Mingqiu was dizzy, his breathing became more and more rapid, and he took off his jacket and unbuttoned it involuntarily with his fingers.

He was not the daytime him at all, his cheeks were flushed like when he was in a deep sleep due to excessive breathing, and his eyes were wet and full of hot tears.

It was too late to turn off the lights.

He takes one last look at his watch and falls to his knees with some self-loathing.

The familiar yet unfamiliar timing sound gently kissed his eyelids.

It's like falling into the clouds, like facing the abyss, and you don't know why.

Still get nine and a half hours of sleep.

One second is not much, one second is less, and he has been trained to open his eyes on time after 570 minutes.

If it was awakened by outsiders in advance, it would probably be... like this morning...

Blurred and unconscious, hanging on Shang Yuan's body without image.

And this state of being at the mercy of others will continue until the self-scheduled wake-up time before falling asleep the night before.

Therefore, he must turn Shang Yuan into his best friend as soon as possible.

Even if you act like an ignorant idiot for it.

Otherwise, he will be afraid of the other party every day.

Dark clouds rolled over the moon, insects whispered in the wind.

Shang Yuan finished today's doll assembly project early, lying on the beanbag sofa and reading novels.

This is a short collection of modernist novels.

Although it is short and precise, Shang Yuan has not started to read any of the articles, and his eyes stopped for a long time on the page introducing the author's life.

He heard the movement downstairs stop abruptly, he flipped through two or three pages in a row as if to cover up, and then continued to stare at the catalog page in a daze.

Fell asleep?

still none?

Shang Yuan recalled the way Fei Mingqiu was holding his hand and muttering to himself this morning, the corners of his mouth subconsciously curled up, and he flipped through several pages of the novel.

[I would like to dedicate this book to my neighbor, my friend, my beloved Shi Rong and]

He hurriedly scanned the page, thought for a while, and still leaned against the floor to hear the voice downstairs——

Blood-red footprints appeared beside Shang Yuan's hand.

He narrowed his peach blossom eyes and shouted coldly: "Get lost."

The tiger with three heads only took half a step, pacing back and forth with a careless expression, as if patrolling the hills to mark its territory.

So Shang Yuan didn't read it as a novel tonight.

His tiger frequently rubbed against his palm in a strange state of excitement, or scratched the wall and floor, and purred from time to time.

At dawn the next day, in Shang Yuan's view, the entire bedroom on the third floor was covered with tiger's bloody footprints and sticky bloody saliva.

These bloods that did not actually exist, slowly seeped into the second floor along the gaps in the metal floor, and dripped on the lips of the sleeping youth.

The author says:

Change the number on February 2.Wrong calculation, the author is iron waste QAQ