cry that scum

The next day, Cong Lang called Lan Jing and took Shang Shaodong and Lin Shao to find the most authoritative psychiatrist.

The man lived in the mountains and practiced Zen every day. His treatment method was also a combination of modern medicine and Zen.

According to Cong Lang, this master is also related to him, and he is his second uncle.

Lan Jing couldn't hear what the second uncle's name was, but he was indeed a very self-cultivated, somewhat immortal old man.

After they arrived, the second uncle took them to the tea room. He hit it off with Lin Shao and talked to him all the time.

Lan Jing sat with them for a while, and then began to feel a little bored, lazily lazing on the futon.

Cong Lang kicked him and winked at him.

"Huh?" Lan Jing asked silently.

Cong Lang pointed outside, motioning for the two to go out.

Lan Jing was happy, and the two left the tea room without saying a word.

"You're bored, I'll take you around." Cong Lang smiled and asked Lan Jing, who was immediately refreshed as soon as he came out.

Lan Jing patted his numb legs and asked Cong Lang to lead the way.

The mountain where the second uncle lives is not lonely, there is a small village with simple folk customs.

The two walked around the village, and Cong Lang suddenly remembered that his second uncle still had a few jars of good wine brewed by himself.

"I remember being in this room."

Cong Lang dragged Lan Jing from the front yard of the second uncle's house to the back yard, and quietly pushed open a door.

Sure enough, there were several jars hidden inside, and there were wine utensils on the small table next to it.

"Have a drink, it's a good thing."

Cong Lang picked up a small jar and brought it over to pour a glass for Lan Jing and himself.

The mellow aroma of osmanthus immediately filled the whole room.

Lan Jing took a sip, smashed it on the tip of his tongue, and took another sip.

"how does it feel?"

"It's delicious." Lan Jing said.

Seeing that Lan Jing seemed to have found a treasure, and quickly drained his glass, Cong Lang couldn't help laughing, "Drink it slowly, this stuff has great stamina."

Lan Jingbai glanced at him and said with disdain, "I've never been drunk since I grew up."

Cong Lang sighed, "Okay, if you drink too much, I'll throw you here and go back by myself."

Before he knew it, it was already noon, the wine jar in front of him was already empty, and Lan Jing still had something to say.

Cong Lang was afraid that he would get really drunk if he drank any more, so he coaxed him that he heard the voice of the second uncle's housekeeper calling for someone.

As he spoke, he quickly picked up the reluctant Lan Jing and ran out of the bar.

But looking back, Lan Xiaojing was still holding an altar in his arms.

Cong Lang didn't know whether to laugh or cry, he pointed to the wine jar and asked Lan Jing, "When did you get along?"

"When I knew how to do this, you were still playing with mud." Lan Jing snorted.

Tsk, the cat is getting proud again.

Cong Lang liked Lan Jing's strength so much, he couldn't help but rubbed his hair.

Lan Jing glanced at him, patted his hands away, and slowly browsed the second uncle's house.

When he came to the door of a room with a piano, his steps stopped.

The entire room is a storage room for musical instruments - Guqin, Guzheng, Hulusi, piano, violin...all placed together.

It's like a blunt mix-and-match of them by someone who doesn't know the theory and loves to pretend, just to show that he is rich and versatile.

"These were all given to my second grandpa by others. For a while, he fell in love with making musical instruments, and many people gave them to him. In fact, he didn't like to use other people's at all, and he couldn't return them, so he put them here. " Cong Lang stood behind Lan Jing and explained.

Lan Jing ignored Cong Lang, he stood at the door and scanned everything inside, and then said, "I know all these things."

Cong Lang raised his eyebrows when he heard that, there are no less than ten kinds of musical instruments in this room, and Lan Xiaojing said he knows all of them?

Cong Lang glanced at Lan Jing, he thought the cat must be drunk and started bragging.

However, Lan Jing walked in on his own. His fingertips tapped on the piano keys, and a string of notes immediately flowed out.

But he didn't stop in front of the piano, but walked around it and took down the violin from the wall.

"This is my best game." Lan Jing said softly.

He stared at the piano in his hand, with complex emotions in his eyes, including nostalgia, pain, fear and hatred.

"Come on?" Cong Lang leaned against the door frame and said.

Lan Jing turned to him and was silent for a while. He put the piano in his left hand on his collarbone, and the bow in his right hand lightly touched the strings, and then closed his eyes.

The soothing and soft tune slowly sounded in the room.

Perhaps it was because he hadn't touched it for a long time or he was not familiar with the piano in his hand. The master's technique was obviously a little rusty at first, but he quickly became coherent.

Cong Lang looked at him quietly, Lan Jing at this moment was very different from before, as if shed the indifferent skin that he used to pretend.

Standing in this world, his eyelashes drooped, and he looked very obedient and soft, scratching Cong Lang's heart like a feather.

Cong Lang hadn't heard Lan Jingtan's song before, it seemed more like he created it himself.

The beginning of the tune is very light and bright, like a girl in love, but it didn't take long for the melody to sink suddenly, full of depression and sadness, as well as unspeakable deep pain.

Cong Lang frowned, and took two steps forward, Lan Jing, who was originally blushing, was now pale.

"Lan Jing?" He called out tentatively.

The bow in Lan Jing's hand suddenly pulled, and the melody suddenly changed from gloomy to sharp, and then stopped abruptly in a piercing neigh.

It's like there are two hands tightly holding the heart, which is about to be crushed, but that moment never comes, which is indescribably uncomfortable.

Lan Jing put down the violin, opened his eyes, Cong Lang walked to him, and was about to speak, but Lan Jing reached out and hugged him.

Cong Lang felt Lan Jing's body trembling, he paused, and stretched out his arms to hug him.

Lan Jing's eyes were in chaos, and he was overwhelmed by the memories that he couldn't forget even though he wanted to forget them deliberately.

Big tears rolled down from his eyes and dripped onto Cong Lang's shoulders.

Cong Lang was slightly surprised, he never expected that Lan Jing would suddenly lose control of his emotions in front of him one day.

He knew he was really drunk.

The room fell silent.

After a while, Lan Jing seemed to calm down, he let go of Cong Lang, glanced at him, and said, "I'll go and look around by myself."

With that, he turned and left the room.

Cong Lang followed, and then stood on the porch watching Lan Jing go out of the gate and walk towards the bamboo forest in front of the yard.

That back view made Cong Lang feel distressed for no reason.

When it was time to eat, Lin Shao came out of the tea room with Shang Shaodong and the second uncle.

"Lan Jing went for a walk, you eat first, I'll go find him." Cong Lang said.

The second uncle stopped Cong Lang, went outside with him, and asked, "Who was playing the piano just now?"

"Lanjing." Cong Lang said.

The second uncle then asked, "You said on the phone that you only provide psychological counseling for Boy Lin, and there is no Boy Lan?"

Cong Lang nodded.

"Then ask Boy Lan if he would like to talk to me." The second uncle said.

Cong Lang frowned, "You mean...?"

The second uncle said, "Boy Lan's psychological pressure is not lighter than that of the Lin family."