The black crow beside the river beach cawed. It started from the fir forest and fluttered its wings around.
The wind filled with a strong smell of blood. Red slowly infiltrated from Murong Lian's wounds into the rubble under him.
The assassination began in a flash, and soon ended.
This group of people acted rapidly and received the most rigorous training. Gu Mang and Murong Lian stood so close, but those spiritual incantations only attacked Murong Lian, and did not hurt Gu Mang half a point.
Moreover, the arrow they assassinated him with was condensed by spiritual power, and burst in an instant when it entered the flesh and blood. Therefore, Murong Lian's body, though not carrying any arrowheads, had been blown out with more than ten blood holes.
At the beginning of his injury, he didn't fall down immediately, but the blood was flowing more and more, and the pain was deeper and deeper. Finally, he couldn't support himself. He suddenly fell on his knees and choked blood.
Gu Mang looked at him like this. There was a buzz in his head like something exploding.
"Mu, Murong..."
Murong Lian covered the deepest wound on his chest, gasping for breath. His thin lips lost their blood color and turned pale and blue at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Suddenly a man in the assassin group in the treetop said in a muffled voice, "Lord, someone is coming!"
"Get out!"
Several black shadows swished. The assassin quickly disappeared in the forest as he came.
Murong Lian cursed. "Fuck… Bitch... Don't run… Cough, cough, cough..."
With that, he spat out a mouthful of blood and fell on the sharp sand bank.
The bright moon was in the sky, and the blood was dispersing. There was only
Gu Mang and Murong Lian who were seriously injured on the edge of the river.
Although there were few good memories related to Murong Lian in Gu Mang's memory, when he really saw Murong Lian falling in front of him, the most secret nerve in his brain was stabbed.
His fingertips were cold. After standing there for a while, he suddenly got back to his senses and hurriedly went to check Murong Lian's injury. At this point of view, it is even more startling. What's more, that part of the chest had been bloodied by the arrow of spiritual energy.
Gu Mang instinctively wanted to cover it, but it didn't help. The sticky bright red soon touched his palm, but it couldn't stop Murong Lian's blood loss.
"Murong, Murong... "
Murong Lian was no longer able to hear at this time. His eyes began to lose light. He lay on the sand and stone ground. His chest suddenly fell up and down, and more blood flowed out every time he breathed.
He laboriously turned his glass eyes, looked at Gu Mang for a while, and whispered, "You..."
"..."
"You... Seriously... Those... Cough, it's about me, it's about me… You... Don't remember anything?"
If this interview was a month ahead of time, and the memories of Gu Mang's reunion had not disappeared, Gu Mang might tell him the truth.
It was too late.
Gu Mang looked at Murong Lian's peach blossom eyes, which were so beautiful. However, because of the glass eyes, he was born with a vicious look of white eyes.
"At least… At least... " Murong Lian took a breath and reached out his hand tremblingly, as if he wanted to do something. But his injury was so serious that he couldn't get any strength. He stared at Gu Mang's face, his eyes flashed with some extremely complex and unwilling luster. He opened his mouth, just wanted to continue to say something, but the outlet was not the voice, but only blood stasis.
There were voices and lights approaching in the dense forest in the distance. Murong Lian's pale face suddenly flashed a light.
He raised his bloody hand, gathered a thin layer of brilliance, touched Gu
Mang's chest and made a light spot, then pushed him away.
"Run."
Murong Lian was on the verge of dying. His eyes began to lose focus, but he was still hustling.
"... Run... Otherwise..."
There was another gush of blood. Murong Lian's voice was almost inaudible. His beautiful peach blossom eyes were wide open, and his eyes moved faintly from side to side, reflecting the stars and the worried face.
The last words like gibberish fell from the bloody lips and teeth. "Just... And... The explanation is unclear..."
"Murong Lian!"
"Gu Mang..." When his mind was dim, he said in a low voice, "Actually... I... I didn't..."
Before he had finished speaking, there was a gush of blood coming up. Murong Lian's hand moved. He seemed to want to do something more at last, but he had no more strength. His hand fell suddenly.
All this happened so suddenly that Gu Mang couldn't turn his head around.
What did Murong Lian want to say?
Almost at this moment, the northern border army patrol cultivators came out of the forest with wind lamps. When the lights flickered on them, the leader of the patrol team was silent for a moment, and the lights in his hands suddenly fell on the bank of the river.
The cultivator lost his voice and said, "Wangshu Jun!"
When the hunting wind blew, the ring whistle pierced the sky from the river and spread through the night——
"Come on!! Wangshu Jun was assassinated!!!"
"Catch the assassin!"
"Catch him!"
Gu Mang didn't plan to escape, but how would those cultivators manage it? Suddenly, a magic light came out of the oblique stab and hit Gu Mang's back severely.
Where the light came from, someone shouted. "Hit! He can't run!"
"Go back!"
Gu Mang fell down beside Murong Lian in a daze. He happened to be facing Murong Lian, the face that couldn't be seen…
This face was now completely bloodless, and those peach blossom eyes, always filled with mockery, were tightly closed.
What did Murong Lian want to say to him before… Murong Lian… What kind of person was he…
Without memory, Gu Mang thought in chaos, but he had no clue. Before he lost consciousness, the last scene he saw was being surrounded by a group of people from Chiling camp.
"You... Seriously... Those... Cough, it's about me, it's about me… You... Don't remember anything?"
"At least… At least..."
So what?
What should I remember?
Murong Lian's words before his coma were like nightmares, echoing in the depths of his dreams.
Gu Mang floated and sank in the vast darkness, and a beam of light suddenly penetrated from his chest. He sat up in a dream and touched his chest.
The place where the light was emitted is the place where Murong Lian finally pointed his finger.
The light was more and more bright. It flowed from his heart continuously. At last, it turned into a white butterfly in the dark.
Gu Mang seemed to be attracted by some indescribable lure. He got up from the ground and followed the white butterfly.
The dream was getting deeper and deeper.
With the white butterfly leading the way, he saw Madam Zhao's misty and twisted face. "You are so stubborn! How can you inherit your father's family property and add light to the lintel of Wangshu mansion?"
He saw that the housekeeper of Wangshu mansion came to him in the thick fog. "Little Lord, it's not early. You need to go back to the guqin room to practice quickly. If you are late, you will be punished by the madam."
He also saw in the misty fog deep, young Mo Xi was standing on the shooting range with his bow and arrow, and the broad robes with black and gold edge were fluttering in the wind. Around him were some school elders with dim faces who were praising him.
Murong Lian looked at him in the corner, holding a volume of Yue Xiu slips that he didn't like to read.
There were a lot of tidal sounds in the dream…
First of all, Madam Zhao's: "You can never compare with him."
Then there was the elder of Xue Gong: "You are always inferior to him."
At last, those voices grinned grimly and twisted into Murong Lian's self talk.
"Murong Lian, you can never compare with him."
"You are a jester, a dark jester… You can't do anything you like..."
"Are you Murong Lian? No, you are just a model of your father… A line puppet! Ha ha ha ha ha... "
It went all the way.
Slowly, these sounds faded away, and the light of white butterfly became more and more strong. The fluorescence that flickered when it fluttered its wings was constantly flying, and gradually dispelled the endless darkness. Gu Mang saw a sky light breaking in front of him not far away. At first, there was wind coming from the beam of light. Then, little by little, petals floated down and more spiritual butterflies flew out.
He walked forward - to the white center.
He heard Murong Lian's voice when he was a child. It gently came from the white depths. "Is it you..."
Gu Mang hadn't answered yet, and the butterfly dancing in front suddenly turned into a fuzzy shadow.
Little Murong Lian stood in the white light and looked back at him. "It's you..."
Almost as soon as he spoke his words, suddenly a brilliant light flashed by. Excited, Gu Mang closed his eyes. After a while, he heard the ding dong sound of the wind bell hanging from the eaves.
A flattering voice spoke.
"Murong Gongzi, please take a closer look at the snack box you want. If you are not satisfied with it, I will ask the pastry master to take it back and redo it immediately."
Gu Mang slowly opened his eyes.
The dream had changed.
In front of him was a gold and red building. The hall was full of camellias with big bowl-like openings. Most of the servants were simple and fat women in their forties and fifties. They were dressed in uniforms of coarse cloth with floral patterns. They were busy back and forth in the hall.
This was Linglongzhai13.
The most famous pastry shop in Chonghua capital.
Young Murong Lian stood in front of the tall fir counter, looked up and talked to the shopkeeper at his command.
At that time, he looked only four or five years old. He was a very young child. He was all dressed up from head to foot with expensive and intimidating accessories. He wished his fingernails were inlaid with jewels. But since he was so small, with all the gold, silver, emeralds, and pearls are all piled together, what others saw at first glance was not a living person, but a moving short legged treasure chest.
Businessmen couldn't wait to welcome the customers who had "I have money" written on their heads. In addition, Murong Lian was one of the richest young men in Chonghua. So even if he was a baby, the shopkeeper who was over half a hundred years old would like to kneel and cry for his father.
Murong Lian stretched out a short hand, took over the pastry box, opened it and saw that the yellow pastry was bright and crisp, the light pink lotus cake was well-organized, and there was a unique milk jelly in Linglongzhai, crystal clear with a spring peach in its bud.
Murong Lian stared at it for a while. He reached out and took one of them without politeness, then stuffed it into his mouth.
"I'll take this," he ordered vaguely. "You can redo one more box."
Although the shopkeeper thought his serious but greedy look was funny, he didn't dare to laugh, so he had to nod his head and bend his back to order the master to make cakes again. Murong Lian sat waiting in Linglongzhai. There was just a pot of rose tea, and he had eaten all the snacks without hesitation.
Gu Mang was puzzled by why the illusion left by Murong Lian was like this. He could see that the shopkeeper lifted the bamboo curtain and walked to Murong Lian with a box of packaged snacks.
"Master Murong, I made another one again. Would you like to have a look?" Murong Lian was very mean to some people. Learning from his mother's appearance, Murong Lian waved with great dignity, "No need, I will take it away. The money will be transferred from my monthly account."
The shopkeeper said, "Young master, you don't have an account. Only Madam
Zhao of your family has a fixed account… How about drawing it from Madam Zhao's account?"
"No way!" Murong Lian opened his eyes and immediately rejected him. Then he said, "Wait, I have money."
Then he began to take it out of his pocket.
That cloth pocket was the place where Murong Lian kept the spare money Madam Zhao usually gave him. Madam Zhao had strict control over it. In fact, there was not much money given to him, and most of it was loose money. So the shopkeeper looked at Master Murong who was dressed gold and silver and watched him take out out a handful of shabby white shell coins from his pocket.
He gathered them together and counted them one by one, three or four times. When he found that they were not enough, he took out more again.
But how much could a four or five-year-old have? After a while, they were all broken shell coins.
Murong Lian looked up. He was obviously a little guilty, but he still had to have some airs, so he said, "That's all. No need to look."
"........."
"In the future."
Then he took the pastry box. Five or six people looked in the shopkeeper's gaping eyes saw him wanting to cry without tears.
When he went back to Wangshu mansion, Murong Lian called in his closest servant. He first pretended to drink tea, then raised his eyes and asked, "Cough That... The little slave, who was pushed by me yesterday and broke his head, is still alive?"
Gu Mang was stunned for a moment, but he still had some memories, so he vaguely reflected --
It turned out that this memory happened when Murong Lian pushed him down from the swing and smashed his head. Gu Mang was held by Aunt Lin who treated him.
The servant, unable to understand Murong Lian, replied in fear, "Reporting back to the little Lord, he is still alive."
Murong Lian said "oh" unfathomably. His eyes were confused and he repeated, "He is still alive."
"Yes, yes, Aunt Lin took him to see the medicine practitioner in time. Now that kid is probably resting in Aunt Lin's house. What can I do for you, young Lord?"
"... Nothing," Murong Lian said. "Go down."
After waiting for the servant to leave, Murong Lian sat at the table for a while with his feet crossed. At last, he reached for an ancient coin from the storage bag, pinched it in his hand and said to himself, "Throw the front, and I will apologize. Throw the other side, I'll eat this box of snacks by myself."
After saying that, he tossed the coin and made it several circles on the table. At last, it faced up and stopped.
"All right." Murong Lian didn't take a good breath. "Anyway, I pushed you. Apologize, just apologize, and you won't lose any hair."
So he jumped off the chair, tiptoed from the table to pick up the Linglongzhai cake box, and walked towards Aunt Lin's room.
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The author has something to say: the remaining dirty manuscripts have been stored in the manuscripts storage box for a long time, so there is no way to use Jinjiang's automatic sorting and mine throwing system. Every day, they are manually sorted out, but today's work is too late to be sorted out tomorrow
In addition, today's residual pollution is also updated early. At 9 o'clock, it's 10 o'clock. In order to make the residual pollution better as possible, I'll sneak away to catch up with the manuscript bird QAQ after editing this passage