Fuxing Mengfei

Chapter 235
"Oh?"

Sometimes Uncle Lu would let the ducks raised in captivity come out to play in the water. Occasionally, when he passed by the Fenglin River, he could see a big duck with a duckling.

The big duck will take a sip of water and spray the yellow and fluffy little duck.

After being sprayed by the big duck, the little duck is very happy, and will spin around in the stream, dancing like a water surface.

This scene was so interesting, even if it was as cold as Xuanyuanchen, he would occasionally stop on the wooden bridge and couldn't help but look at this interesting scene in the stream.

I always feel that the fluffy little duck is like Mo Xiaowan, and the big duck that teases the little duck is very similar to him.

Little thing is just learning to paint, and drawing ducks is fun and easy to start with, so he guessed that this is what she drew.

But seeing her covering her mouth and laughing wildly, she said something about a big duck.

Could it be that she was thinking about the scene of the little duck growing up, playing in the stream with the big duck?
(Cough, Uncle Xuanyuan, you are thinking too much!)
Xuanyuanchen became interested for a while, and coldly curled his lips, signaling Mo Xiaowan to unfold the scroll.

The painting slowly unfolded, and a piece of red maple came into view. The creek, wooden bridge, and pebble path in the distance seemed to have been moved into the painting. With just one glance, Xuanyuanchen knew that these were Xie Wudi's painting style.

Looking all the way along the stream, I didn't see the imagined scene of ducks playing in the water.

Instead, a white shadow playing the piano attracted his attention.

"How about it?"

Mo Xiaowan looked terrified: "My master plays the piano gracefully, I drew it!"

Xuanyuanchen's face suddenly became dark.

Mo Xiaowan blinked his eyes to comfort him: "Don't worry, Dangdang, the next thing you want to see."

The scroll was fully unfolded, and a white shadow in Xifengting came into his eyes, and the image of him holding the scroll appeared vividly on the paper.

This scene felt so familiar to him that he couldn't be more familiar, because the movement of curling his lips and raising his eyebrows was the same as in the bronze mirror.

But, why does it look like he and Xie Wudi are accompanying each other?
Why does the little thing put them into the picture together?
"Be happy and silly!"

Seeing Xuanyuanchen's stunned look, Mo Xiaowan shook his head triumphantly: "I knew that you would definitely like this gift, we can hang it here, here..."

"It's the place next to the bronze mirror."

Mo Xiaowan shook the painting in his hand like offering a treasure: "In this way, you can see things and think about people every day. When you open your eyes, you can see the people you want to see at first glance."

"To shut up!"

Xuanyuanchen interrupted her with a gloomy expression, and took a step closer: "Did you draw it?"

what's wrong?

If the painting is not good, there is no need to be so angry.

And I haven't started writing for a long time, and I feel a little rusty in writing.

Mo Xiaowan nodded inexplicably: "I drew it."

Xuanyuanchen took another step closer and pinched her chin: "Why do you know how to draw?"

very painful!
If I had known that he was unstable and moody, he should have gone to a mental hospital.

Mo Xiaowan was angry, "My mother taught me."

Xuanyuanchen gritted his teeth: "Your mother also taught me to recite poems at the Mid-Autumn Festival?"

She has a stubborn temper, the more unfriendly Xuanyuan Chen is, the more determined she is to fight to the end.

There is a kind of digging up the grave to ask Feng Zimo?
Mo Xiaowan opened his mouth and bit a finger he was holding next to his mouth: "My mother taught me."

The painful touch, with a tingling numbness, shocked Xuanyuan Chen, and his hand loosened her forehead like an electric shock.

His face was cloudy and uncertain, and he was so angry that he was about to spurt out a mouthful of blood.

I wanted to explain the scene in the hot spring last time, but I couldn't explain it to a little girl.

Snatching the painting from her hand, she mobilized her internal energy, and instantly the painting turned into countless red or white fragments, flying like snowflakes under the dim light.

(End of this chapter)