Gu Mang didn't speak, blue eyes looked at the black eyes, and Xiang gray passed silently around them.
Jiang Yexue's sigh seemed to sound again, Jiang Yexue told him--
"In the year Fring Ling left, Moxi was only seven years old."
"Betrayed by the deputy commander, separated from his head, and detached from the spirit core. The unposted letter also said that Qi said that there was no clothes, and he was in the same robe."
"You did almost the same thing as him. How did you let Mo Xi forgive you?"
The soot wind blows away, and the incense is misty. Gu Meng whispered in a low voice: "The ink is off, I think, I also ... don't want to fight."
When I said this, I don't know why. He had a sore throat and almost choked. Although he didn't remember, he felt that this sentence was sincere.
It's Mo Mo who didn't understand him, but Mo Mi misunderstood him.
How could he like to fight ... so many people died, and the blood died, all of them would die. How could he like it.
He's not fighting to stand up, not to fame, not to fight for his own way-otherwise he can't see so many ghosts, he can't see them questioning him, and blame him. He has always lived in sin.
"I know ... your mood."
I understand you lose your father's mood.
I understand ...
Ink went out without a word.
In front of his father's tomb, he didn't want to quarrel. He used to believe that Gu Mang regarded human life and human affection as the most important, but now he only thinks Gu Mang's words are ridiculous. How can a person who has said "Can't read too much of the old feelings" and a man who can point his sword to the hands and feet of the past for revenge understands his mood?
He is different from Gu Mang. He can't let go of his old feelings from the bottom of his heart, just as he still does not like to smell the sweet fragrance of osmanthus blooming.
It was as if he could never forget his father's everything, even though he was so young. But as soon as he thought, he could see the scenes once he closed his eyes.
Seeing Mo Qingchi standing under the laurel tree, the back is tall and tall.
He couldn't even like his weapon, because after so many years, he had never forgotten the phrase he once asked his father-"Daddy, what is your weapon made of?"
It's like a curse.
Mo Xi looked at the gold line of "Fu Lingjun Mo Qingchi, the heroic dormant", and he could easily outline the grass and trees in the backyard of Mofu. And his agreement with his father.
He closed his eyes and said, "You won't understand me."
From the age of seven, he understood what warfare meant. At the cruelest price-his father's life.
At that time, Mo was young and astringent. The child did n't know what the war meant at first, but he felt very powerful. He only felt that the pleasure and enmity of those who killed and killed could not be described as attractive. It's almost all about weapons.
He likes the appearance of his father in a jersey.
He likes his father to go to the battlefield. In his heart, his father will not lose, and the flames of war bring only the supreme glory.
After all, he was too naive.
No idea what the war would take away from him.
As for Mo Qingchi, at that time, I felt that the young child was too young, and it was too heavy to talk about the morals of life and death, so he answered with a smile: "Dad has two, one is cast by a frank soul, that is us The Mo's family inheritance blade will be passed on to you in the future. The other one is that when Dad was young, he just got it when he entered the Xiu Xue Xue Palace. "
Mo was full of admiration, and looked up at his father's sleeves and said, "I want to see I want to see!"
Mo Qingchi stood under the sweet-scented osmanthus tree, picked up the fine flowers in the corner of Mo Xi's forehead, then lifted his palm, and said with a smile: "Xiao Yue, call."
A golden light flew from his hand, and a little bit of aura merged into the shape of a sperm whale. You swam across the osmanthus, the tail swept away, and the rain in the courtyard was full.
The little child stood by his father's legs, his eyes widened in surprise, and he looked up.
"Huajian." Mo Qingchi's order quickly turned the sperm whale's spirit into a golden shield, which was held by Mo Qingchi. Mo Qingchi lowered his head and smiled at his son. The nuclear weapon, after the blade, is a shield. This is Dad's second weapon. "
Envious and curious at the time, he reached out his hand and carefully touched the shield.
"So all the weapons used by monks are spirits?"
"Almost all." Mo Qingchi laughed. "The copper and iron forged blades often can't bear the spiritual flow, and can't summon the summons. They must always be with them. So no one will choose Fan Tie."
At that time, Mo heard it seem incomprehensible, blinked inexplicably, and looked at the shield again: "Dad, will I have it?"
"You are the only son of the Mo family, and you will enter the Xiu Xue Xue Gong in the future, of course."
Mo Xi's mood suddenly jumped up. The newborn calf had no awe for weapons and death. He only felt that this was very powerful. He would like to step on the horse like a dad in the future and fight north to south.
He didn't go through life and death at that time, only recklessly thought that he would love that kind of **** career.
Longbow broke the snow, and Ma Ge returned with his body.
What a heroic dream.
Mo Xi couldn't help raising his hand and touching his father's shield, his eyes flashed, and he asked, "What will be mine? Will it be the same big fish as my dad?"
Mo Qingchi lowered his body, flushed with his son as much as possible, and touched his soft black hair with a smile: "The elders of Xuegong will give you a delegation. In that delegation, you will summon the one closest to your soul. It 's a sacred weapon. Yes, you might get a big fish like your dad, or something else. Birds and beasts, flowers and trees are all possible. "
"Are you going to school soon?"
"Almost so." Mo Qingchi laughed.
"Then let's go to Xiu Xue Xue Gong!" He took his father's clothes and looked at him, "Will you go tomorrow?"
"Haha, it won't work tomorrow. At least you have to wait until you are seven years old. Children younger than seven years old will not be accepted." Mo Qingchi said patiently. "When you are seven years old, dad please play your majesty. Allow you to enter the palace. Then you can accept that appointment. After completing the appointment, our fireball is a real monk. "
He is not happy about the world, and he is showing a happy look, and suddenly he seems to think of something, hesitated for a moment, hesitated, "A father ..."
"Ok?"
"That commissioning, is it difficult? Will I fail and get kicked back?" Four- or five-year-olds are finally stingy.
"No." Mo Qingchi laughed. "Either a fool can live with an appointment, he can live with his eyes closed, and he can live with his eyes closed. You don't have to be afraid." Then, there will be a brother or sister to accompany you, if there is any difficulty, they will help you. "
He was relieved. His father's words made him fascinated, and it seemed as if he could not wait to grow up quickly, so that he would have a weapon of his own.
Dad said he would take him at the age of seven.
So he looks forward to it every day, to look at it, to count seven days to look forward to seven years old. He even took a heavy Chinese calendar, and every day before he went to bed, he made a real and serious mark on the calendar.
With each stroke, it seemed as if he was one step closer to his dream of the God of War. He likes to fight, can't wait to get weapons, cultivates and grows, grows up, and fights with his father-how happy.
Later, Mo Guochi came to commit crimes, and Mo Qingchi took command as usual and rushed to the battlefield.
That year, Mo Xi finally hoped that he would be seven years old.
But he is not looking forward to Lingwu, nor to enrolling, but a paper army declares the mountain thousands of miles, before he can react to what is meant by life and death, Mofu has fallen down and the palace has lost its bell.
"Fringer is stunned--!"
The city wailed, and the paper money fell to the ground, like a heavy snowfall.
Everyone is crying, grabbing the ground, knowing, not knowing, familiar, few facets, and groups of people came to Mofu to shed tears and offering wine. The mother has cried unconsciously several times, that The uncle at the heart of the tiger and the wolf was also doing his best to deal with the funeral of the righteous brother in sorrow. Everyone was wearing sacks and filial piety, and even when the king came up, he was all plain.
"I lost Fuling, like my liver and gallbladder ..." Laojun's head rested on the coffin, his tears crisscrossed, and he moaned, lamenting, "Yoyou heaven, how thin it is to me!"
The ministers knelt down, crying loudly.
Outside the main hall, the sacrifice of gold and silver ingots was piled high, the high priest sounded the yak spirit horn, a golden light floated out of the coffin, a little golden light turned into a whaling whale, circled in the hall for several times, and swam outside the court .
The sweet-scented osmanthus outside the court is long gone, and the big fish swim past it.
It rushed up to Gaotian and returned from the sea of clouds.
"The martial arts have been solved," the high priest sang, and bowed his head kneeling. "Soul-- tranquility--"
Everyone cried and said, "Fring Ling is heroic."
"The Return of the Spirit--"
In this group of white charms, only Mo Xi did not cry, he knelt there silently and looked blankly. Who went
Who is stupid ...
Who is Yinglie?
Who is the hero?
Yinglie, what does it mean? He had heard the two words in his ears since he was small, and suddenly became so strange because of his father's death.
He used to feel dazzling words, what was the battlefield he had longed for?
"The Return of the Spirit--Soul Changning--"
No no, he shuddered sharply. He didn't want heroism, he didn't want his father to do what Yingjie did. He just wanted his father to stand in the courtyard, and take him to pick the sweet-scented osmanthus in the autumn, and make a pot of sweet wine.
He just wanted his father to come back, took his hand back, smiled down and told him, "Little fireball, you are seven years old this year. Dad takes you to the palace. You have to be obedient and practice with the elders."
He thought this way, as if he really saw his father standing at the door, turned around, and smiled at him.
"Fireball," he told him, "good boy, come here and let dad see it."
Mo Xizhuo walked towards the figure in the light of that day.
Suddenly, the funeral firecrackers exploded, and the crackling sound was like a dream waking up the soul.
"Dad?" He said blankly, "Dad, where are you?"
You, where are you
There was no one at the door, only Bai Zhi was hanging low.
His fingers were cold, and at that too cruel moment, he realized what "death" meant, and he suddenly yelled, shouting at his father, and chased away from the hall. Seeing this, all the courtiers were shocked and sad, and kept tearing. His uncle hurried out, holding up Mo Zhu, who was struggling for more than a minute, and red eyes said, "Xie Er obedient, come to Uncle, here to Uncle ..."
"I see dad! I see him!" He shouted, shouting and suddenly lost his tone, and fluttered into his uncle's arms and finally wept, "I saw him ... why is he? Gone? Why did he leave? Why didn't he want me! "The seven-year-old child hissed with a sigh of exhaustion, tears streaming down his face.
In the end, his lips murmured, and there was only one sentence: "Why didn't he want me ..."
He is seven years old.
He looked forward to the stars and the moon, seriously, and the seven years old he was looking forward to with his father.
It turned out to be such a situation.
It turned out to be war. It is also the price of glory.
More than half a year later, his birthday has arrived. He is still wearing mourning clothes, the finest silk thread, and the most exquisite workmanship. But what about that?
He came to the window of Xuan window, the osmanthus blossomed outside the window, and the verdant turquoise green was covered with golden stars, each one is like the reflection of last year. He sat down in the rich fragrance and took out the Chonghua calendar that had been painted for more than two years, and it was already covered with thick dust.
"I have a few more days to celebrate my seventh birthday?" My voice seemed to be in my ear a few years ago.
Mo Qingchi put his big hand on his head and rubbed lovingly: "Not in a hurry."
"But I'm in a hurry, Dad," he mumbled. "I really want to skip the past two years. As soon as I open my eyes, I will be 7 years old."
Mo Qingchi laughed, the laughter went from clear to fuzzy, and finally became a soft leaf shuttle outside the window.
At that time, Mo Xi didn't understand what would happen in the future. He only felt that the past two years were long and boring, and he wanted to spend it in a hurry, so that he could hurry up to the age of seven and get closer to the battlefield he longed for. However, he didn't know that he had been eagerly looking forward to the past two years, which would be the last period of his life to have a father.
From now on, no matter how much he regrets and becomes more sensible, he will never go back again--the one that he once hated and hate.
The last seven hundred days.
He hugged the large calendar, and the line of the large calendar stayed on the New Year's Eve for sixteen years in the Chonghua calendar forever. The day they received the battle report.
"A Da ..." he said softly, "Our appointment is here. I can go to the palace."
After a while, no one answered him.
No one answered him again.
Mo Xi buried her head deeply and drew in front of the table, her shoulders moved slightly, after all, she could not cry.
"Dad ... we're not going to fight anymore, okay ... don't go ... you come back ..."
You come back ...
The word Yinglie is so cruel, I just want you to stand in the Mingtang, and watch the osmanthus bloom again with me in autumn.
You come back ...
When I grow up, will I go to the battlefield? I'm no longer for fame and fortune, and I no longer like to fight, I just want to protect you, I want to be by your side.
I want you to go home.
Dad ...
"... You will never understand me." Mo Xing, the lingering summit of Battle Spirit, opened his eyes slowly, and set his sight on Fuljun's jade, then turned to Gu Mang.
He said lightly to Gu Mang: "If you don't indulge in war for your own sake, I don't understand why you will join the enemy."
"..."
"Chonghua is sorry for you, we owe you. But there is more than one way in front of you, and you have more than one destination for treason. But you have chosen Laos." Mo Xihe's eyes were cold, "You think It is revenge, for your ambitions, for your comrades-in-arms, for your way out, you don't care if other people have more blood. "
"Ink goes out ..."
Mo Xi almost laughed at himself: "I'm sorry, it's useless to me. Even if I take my life as the quality, I haven't gotten back to you back then."
Gu Man looked at his eyes. Those eyes were too dark, too cold, too deep, and contained seven years of disappointment, so clear on the top of the battle soul mountain that the sky was bright. Gu Mang suddenly gave birth to a strong stir.
He didn't know what the mood was, he just knew that he didn't want to see Mo Xi's expression.
He didn't want Mo Xi to treat himself like this all the time.
After a lot of effort, a word came out, "Can you trust me again."
This sentence was like a cold arrow, both the speaker and the obedient person caught off guard.
Mo Xi widened her eyes slightly, and Zhang Junmei's face was surprised, there was also a very rare blankness, and she was even a little surprised: "What?"
Gu Mang bit his lip, stood up, and looked at him against the sky: "I don't know what I used to be. I have forgotten everything before. But now I think you are right. I also I don't like to kill, I don't like being betrayed. "
The icy cold wind blew his white robes, and a thick cloud was slowly moving from the day before, and the golden light was like a feather arrow passing through the forest, and shot behind Gu Mang.
Seems to kill someone yesterday.
It seems to be piercing someone's heart.
The beast of the old altar stood in front of Mo Xi, and Mo Xi couldn't see his face under the backlight, but the sound reaching his ear was as solid as before he lost his memory.
"I want to make atonement, and I don't want to let you down." Gu Mang said, the strength inherent in his voice thumped his heart, "Can you trust me again."
"..."
The sleeves fluttered.
Gu Meng knelt down in front of Mo Xi, and for the first time, he truly drew his head, respectful, guilty, bearing hope and heat, bearing blood and cold. He whispered, "Please, Lord, Taught me."
Mo Xi could not say anything for a while.
At this moment, two applause suddenly sounded, and a thin, smoky voice came from not far away: "Touching, where does this sing? The prodigal son does not change his gold? Oh, I really want to be Touched to death. "
-----------------------
The author has something to say: You are so long, so thin, it 's thinner than me. It 's from the episode of the Three Kingdoms of the Old Kingdom, and it 's from the episode of Starfall and Autumn Wind. It 's too deep when I look at it. I have n't forgotten this sentence after so many years. This is used for Laojun. It is not an original phrase. It is hung on the copy to avoid unnecessary misunderstanding ~
"The smoker was choked by fate. "
[System]: Due to your outstanding performance at the New Year's Eve Banquet, your hatred has been reduced by 30 points.
Alian: So happy! !! Finally lowered! !! A little lower, I don't need to do the reverse character! !!
[System]: Hello, I have received a new mission [Go to Battle Spirit Mountain for abusive protagonist]. This mission is a required mission. If you do n't complete Zhonghua, a smoking ban will be issued.
Alian: ... I will pick up rnm. Can't I pick it up? !! !!