[Xiyao] How did you live a dream in the past

The snow is still falling, boundlessly, seemingly without stopping, the mountains in front of the quiet room have lost their outlines in this piece of flying pure white. After the people are gone, the mountains are empty, the snow is silent, and the wind sighs alone.

Lan Xichen turned his head and glanced at the desk in the quiet room. The incense burner was filled with smoke, and a guqin was placed beside it.

Although he is using the cracked ice flute, it doesn't mean that he can't use the zither or... ask the spirit.

For three years, Lan Xichen played every day, but he never played to the end.

Many times, it would take effect with only one Gongyin difference, but with just one Gongyin difference, his fingertips would tremble unceasingly, and the repertoire that he had practiced thousands of times would become so unfamiliar, so... …unbearable.

He and Wangji are different after all.

Recalling that Wangji was punished by dozens of lashes, lying in a quiet room almost dying, but still playing "Questioning the Spirit" year after year, with a deep persistence, almost crazy.

His uncle had asked, and Lan Xichen himself had asked.

But Wang Ji always said lightly: "He will come back."

At that time, there was no hesitation or retreat in Wang Ji's eyes.

Lan Wangji is worthy of Wei Wuxian.

Lan Xichen didn't know how to face Jin Guangyao.

The night was bright and the stars were sparse, and when the moon was cool on the steps, he asked himself, if he faced Jin Guangyao again, what would he say?

Ask Ling, ask Ling, what else can he ask?

Under the Avalokitesvara that night, did he make a move?

What exactly did he say and do before he and his elder brother died together?

Since the three became sworn brothers, has he put everything in the play?

still is……

Do you hate me...

There are too many questions to ask, so I have nothing to say.

There are too many things I want to say, so I have nothing to say.

But if everything spread over the fact that he personally inserted the sword into the man's chest and destroyed the hope of others, then all the things he wanted to talk about and ask would become so insignificant, so sad and ridiculous.

What qualifications does he have to ask, what qualifications does he have to meet.

If he was deceived by Jin Guangyao, then he would pay with his life, would that be enough?

There was a sudden throbbing pain in his heart, and Lan Xichen raised his hand to caress the pain. There was no wound, but he remembered that this was the place where he pierced with the sword.

The scene of that day was always repeated in a cycle, like a nightmare from which one could not wake up.

"Ayao..." Lou Ruo sighed and called out from Lan Xichen's mouth.

He suddenly didn't know whether it was his own voice or an auditory hallucination echoing in his memory.

The furnace is surrounded by smoke, the beam is turned back, the piano is insomnia, and the flute is covered with ashes.