My wife is number one in the world

Chapter 219 I Miss You Again

"Brother Liu naturally understands what I'm talking about next, so why put on an air? Dalong claims to be a gentleman, so he dare not admit it after sitting down?" Wan Yang was still a little unwilling, and began to resort to violent tactics.

This trick may have some effect on others, the ultimate reputation of the ancients, there are often people who sacrifice their lives for righteousness, such as Qin Bin who almost killed himself.

To protect the country's prestige and lose virtue, the only way to feel at ease is to die.

However, Young Master Liu is such an outlier, having experienced so many turmoil in the later generations, the mere reputation of a small aggressive method is not worth mentioning in Liu Mingzhi's view.

You say whatever you want, I live my own life.

"What Brother Wan said, Liu still doesn't understand that the chess duel is a game between Brother Qin and Brother Wan. All of us watched from the sidelines. Liu didn't point fingers or words to help. Brother Wan, please don't slander Liu. certain character."

"you"

"If you assert whether a person has misbehaved based on guesswork, Liu will have to say it. Brother Wan Anping Wan is pressing the black chess to strangle him step by step. How do you feel when Liu says that Brother Wan is secretly manipulating you?"

In terms of sophistry, Wan Yang is not Liu Mingzhi's opponent at all, and Wan Yang really has no evidence, otherwise he would not have these long-winded arguments with Liu Mingzhi here.

"People are doing it, and the sky is watching. Brother Liu, don't go astray."

"Hey, good people don't live long, and disasters last for thousands of years. Brother Wan doesn't need to worry about Liu's safety, just take care of yourself."

Wan Yang snorted coldly, waved his sleeves and sat on the ground without saying a word.

Liu Mingzhi smiled lightly and signaled to the guards on the side: "Thank you, brother."

"In the second round of the Eight Great Elegant Events, Liu Mingzhi, a scholar of the Great Dragon, won."

This time it was not a chess duel, after the guards announced, all the scholars of the Kingdom of Jin clapped their hands together, this time the victory was aboveboard and exciting.

On the high platform, Qi Run and Zhao Fengshou also laughed lightly. Winning two games in a row has greatly boosted morale. As one goes up and down, the face of the Jin Guo Mission is not so good.

Wen Renzheng let out a little surprise, and turned his head to look at the roof of the Gongyuan, revealing a slight curiosity.

Song Zhong, the coffin-bearer, watched the cheering crowd on the grounds of the tribute courtyard caressing the coffin beside him with a lonely expression: "Do you know how envious I am of other people's zither and singing?"

As the breeze came, one person and one coffin on the roof disappeared without a trace. The guard at the gate looked at the roof of the gate strangely: "Brother Zhou, I clearly heard a voice from above."

"It must be confused, don't guess."

A yamen servant touched his head suspiciously and muttered: "There is obviously the sound of rubble."

Outside Jinling City, there are three thousand miles of singing and dancing, three thousand small bridges and flowing water, and three thousand miles of flowers and willows, all over the banks of the Qinhuai River.

It’s a beautiful year, just like Liu Dashao said, autumn in Jinling is the most beautiful season, it’s a pity not to come and see it.

The hundred-mile Qinhuai River is shimmering under the shroud of the sun, fishing boats shuttle back and forth on the river, and the autumn water rains down. After a year of growth, the fish in this period are the fattest.

A large number of salmon were brought from the upper reaches, and the fishermen were gearing up for half a season to wait for the harvest season in the ten-month period.

A purple-robed man carried a sarcophagus on his shoulders and wandered on the bank of the Qinhuai River as if there was no one else around. Many people avoided it from a distance and looked at the sarcophagus on the purple-robed man with taboo.

Song Mo carried the sarcophagus and looked at the pleasure boats on the Qinhuai River. The sun was shining brightly, and red candles were burning in some of the boats.

Farewell to the singer's tears, bright and clean and tilian.

Qing Lian turned over the river bed, endlessly in love.

The wasted mountains have no intention of wandering between the rivers.

The moon has waxing and waning days, and people have gatherings and departures.

Life should go with you, death is also a dream.

After a sip of wine and a sentence of poetry, Song Mo looked at Huafang and smiled peacefully.No one could have imagined that the word quiet would be applied to a man carrying a coffin, but Song finally smiled very peacefully.

The small tune from the painting boat is beautiful and catchy, as if it is also infected by the beautiful scenery of the Qinhuai River, the singing voice of resentment, the hatred of parting is becoming more and more beautiful, the singing voice floats in the wind and disappears between heaven and earth.

"Good scenery, good singing, good tunes, to be able to get these two great beauties, it is worthy of being a native of Jiangnan."

In such a prosperous area of ​​Jinling, there are also many old people in remote mountains and quiet valleys that no one has ever set foot on.

On an unnamed mountain, the Qinhuai River flows around the mountain on all sides. From the top of the mountain, you can see the people on both sides of the mountain. The top of the mountain looks like a ghostly place.

People who have never been to the top of the mountain have never known that there is a deserted small house on the mountain. It is hard to think why there is such a small house on the top of such a steep mountain wall. The small house is antique and can be seen even if it has been abandoned How clean and pleasant this small house is.

The house is full of fragrant flowers, and the arrival of autumn seems to have no effect on them, and they are still in full bloom, dazzling and eye-catching.

With a bang, a sarcophagus floated over and landed gently on the silent mountain top, stirring up layers of dust.

The sarcophagus fell to the ground, and the lid slid open automatically.

Colorful, colorful, yes, colorful, a group of colorful butterflies flew out of the coffin representing death.

It's autumn now, and even though it's not very cold in the south of the Yangtze River, logically speaking, the butterflies should cocoon for the winter, and they will break out of their cocoons and turn into butterflies to show their beautiful appearance in April and May of the next year.

As if by nature, after the butterfly flew out of the coffin, it flew straight to dance among the flowers.

Song Mo's figure floated on top of the sarcophagus, looked at the butterflies dancing among the flowers and smiled softly, as satisfied as a child.

A solitary tomb stands among the flowers. Song Mo walked gently to the front with his hands behind his back and went to Beijing to stare at an inconspicuous stone tablet: "Song Mo resisted the coffin for ten years, carried it for ten years, and suffered for ten years. Butterfly , I miss you again."

(End of this chapter)