The group pets the little fisherman, she has a lot of happy events

"Listening to the Yaoqin in the depths of falling flowers, hearing the singing of birds in the spring breeze of peaches and plums, and the appearance of old people in landscape paintings, the thoughts are so complicated that they cannot be found; the night is quiet and dreaming back to Luofu Temple, the moon is bright and the breeze sees off guests, sitting alone in the fairy garden with nothing to do, the sound of the piano is melodious. ghost."

The melodious and melodious sound of the piano, with a hint of sadness, swirls among the mountains.

A handsome figure of Fengshen followed Qinyin Yujian, landed gracefully, and hugged her tenderly from behind.

"What are you thinking about? I was so absorbed that I didn't notice anyone coming."

"An old friend from a previous life."

Ye Xiuyan looked up at the starry sky with sentimental eyes.

Lin Jingcheng frowned: "Gu Lingyue?"

"Do not."

Ye Xiuyan's eyes were filled with tears: "It's Huimin's mother, the wife of the owner of Fairy Sword Villa, Fairy Chixia, Xu Xiyao."

Lin Jingcheng glanced at the paper money that was burned to ashes and asked tentatively: "Today is her death anniversary?"

"No."

Ye Xiuyan shook her head sadly.

"Isn't it a death anniversary?"

Lin Jingcheng was puzzled: "Why do you suddenly want to worship her?"

"She gave me a dream."

Ye Xiuyan's eyes were filled with emotion: "In my previous life, I only had two friends. Ling Yue's revenge has been avenged. Only she died at a young age and her death was unknown. Song Zirui, the heartless and heartless man, is still living freely in the world. ."

Lin Jingcheng leaned down and leaned his forehead affectionately on her shoulder. His voice was soft and soft: "Did she tell you in her dream what exactly happened that year?"

"No."

Ye Xiuyan shook her head sadly: "She just cried and said that Song Zirui lied to her."

"Song Zirui?"

Lin Jingcheng frowned slightly: "The owner of Fairy Sword Villa? Xu Huimin's father?"

"Ah."

Ye Xiuyan snorted a light breath from the tip of her nose and took it as an answer.

"Leave this to me."

Lin Jingcheng comforted him softly: "Brother Lin sent someone to investigate. If there is really a hidden affair between him and his wife, even if many years have passed, as long as there is a little clue, Brother Qi can follow the clues and find out everything about him." Brother Qi?"

Ye Xiuyan looked surprised: "He is also your adopted brother?"

"Ah."

Lin Jingcheng didn't hide anything, his eyebrows became gentler.

Ye Xiuyan asked subconsciously: "How many adopted brothers do you have in total?"

"Four."

Lin Jingcheng responded with a smile: "Except for Brother Qi, Brother Li, Brother Mei, and Brother Bing, you have seen them all."

Ye Xiuyan suddenly said: "Brother Qi is responsible for commanding the secret guards?"

"clever."

Lin Jingcheng kissed her forehead gently and praised her without hesitation: "You can guess it without asking. My sister really has an exquisite heart with seven orifices."

Ye Xiuyan's heart skipped a beat when his lips touched the skin, and her earlobes were as red as blood.

"younger sister."

Lin Jingcheng used a little strength to hug him even tighter, and his melodious voice was slightly bewitching: "Brother Lin will help you find out the truth, is there any reward?"

Ye Xiuyan's heart trembled, and she asked with red ears: "What reward do you want?"

"My sister misses her old friend and composes a song to express her love."

Lin Jingcheng's eyes showed anticipation: "When will Brother Lin be treated like this and hear the music my sister specially composed for me?"

"Cough cough."

Ye Xiuyan thought that he would ask for a kiss, and she was already ready to respond to him eagerly.

Unexpectedly, a certain prince had such a strange brain circuit, and at such an ambiguous moment, he was thinking of a piece of music.

"younger sister."

Lin Jingcheng didn't hear her answer and felt a little resentful.

"You need inspiration to compose music."

Ye Xiuyan didn't know whether to laugh or cry: "When inspiration comes, the music is written overnight. There is no inspiration. I force myself to compose music, and the music I play has no soul."