The president of the rebirth of the movie queen lives next door

Chapter 1666 The Evil Propaganda Film

The sound of Guqin resounded, and the camera jumped into the boundless night sky.

The stars are few and far between, and the moon is bright and clear. The camera flies past the brightly lit painting boats on the river, the wide and lively streets, and finally winds its way into the luxurious and quiet palace city like a snake.

Passing by countless lively or quiet palaces all the way, finally sinking into the red-painted white paper windows from the treetops.

The main hall is dark, and the glimmer of light outside the window casts dim shadows.

Someone is sitting on the ground in the shadow, leaning against the large and mighty mountain and river screen, but the figure is lazy and decadent like every romantic boy who is intoxicated in a song and dance workshop.

The camera silently brushed over the hem of his red robe embroidered with golden dragons, wrapping around his fingertips resting on his knees.

That point of fingertips fell in the faint light and shadow, holding a jar of wine in an extremely casual posture, revealing a very cold drunkenness.

The camera is up, but the dim light only highlights his smooth and exquisite jawline, and his face cannot be seen clearly.

His whole body was half-sunken in the dim shadow, like a decadent and extremely touching twig growing in the night.

The sound of Guqin was silent for a while.

Then his muttering voice sounded in the darkness.

"I can't die here,"

He raised his head and took a sip of the wine, the crystal liquid slid down the corner of his lips to his chin, and finally dripped down like tears.

His Adam's apple moved, he swallowed the wine, and repeated in a low voice,
"I can't die here."

This hoarse and clear voice with a natural cold feeling disappeared in a blink of an eye.

In the sudden tense drumbeat, the camera suddenly reflected a large number of armored soldiers walking through the streets late at night.

They held torches, buried in the shadows with gloomy expressions, and stepped on the deserted streets in the middle of the night, making people's vests numb like ghosts walking at night.

A leisurely male voice sounded out of nowhere,

"Jinliang is about to rise, and the Eighth Century is coming back. Who is the god of war we need most at this time? Of course, it is the emperor who defeated Gumo and killed the nomads."

"So, if you can't invite the emperor back completely, you don't have to come back alive."

This male voice is mature and born with a superior taste.

Soldiers in black iron armor lined up and went deep into every street and alley, and disappeared into the night as soon as the flowing water merged into a river.

The tense drum beat suddenly disappeared, and when the sky gradually became clear, only the clear and curling piano sound remained in the background music.

With the sound of the piano, the camera leaped into the sky, winding thousands of miles, and finally saw the undulating Lin Tao.

There is a mountain top above Lin Tao.

On the top of the mountain, there are remnants of chess in the tomb.

On the broad stone platform where the wind and snow have not yet melted, someone is dancing with a sword.

She is dressed in a white robe, her black hair is like a waterfall, and the light of her sword is like snow as she spins and jumps, and the ground can whip up strong winds. Large tracts of fallen leaves swirl with her sword blade, and gradually dance into a soaring and winding dragon.

When the snow light rang, a pair of pitch-black eyes were clearly reflected on the blade.

Like the clearest and most ardent mirror of time, when it reflects the blade, it has a careless and sharp taste.

Finally, the long sword was sheathed, she stopped following the sound coming from the mountain, and turned her head to look.

Someone was walking slowly along the winding mountain road.

With fluttering black hair hanging behind her, the girl held her sword and leaned against the tree trunk on the top of the mountain, waiting casually.

The camera turned to the bottom of the mountain, truly bringing the artistic conception of "seeing all the mountains and small mountains" into the audience's sight.

When the wind rises and falls again, the person who is walking is already close at hand.

(End of this chapter)