Genius Poisonous Concubine: Fourth Miss Against Heaven

Chapter 302
The handsome young man in white clothes is more snowy, leading a tall horse on a short hill, and immediately there is a jade-faced, heroic woman with plain makeup, her feet are swinging, and she looks at ease.

The purple Buddha mulberry in the mountains is in full bloom, filling the grass-colored path, like a green silk brocade, embellished with double petals with the dexterous fingers of the embroiderer, so delicate and beautiful that she is reluctant to cut it, for fear of destroying the scene.

Walking to the halfway up the mountain, you can see the majestic mountain gate with Qizhu flying tower, and the five-color bead curtains are laid out from the corridor under the eaves, matching with Chen Hong's porch columns, creating a scene outside the square.

The breeze blows, and the five-color bead curtains knock against each other, jingle, jingle, jingle.

Yuchen brought Jian Yunling to a leisurely stop in front of the mountain gate, and the gatekeeper saw that his master was leading the horse for someone else, he was stunned for a moment, then stepped forward to take the reins respectfully with lowered eyebrows.

Jian Yunling jumped down lightly, and followed Yuchen into the long corridor, with ups and downs all the way, passing several gazebos and a lotus pond.A few unknown birds, standing on the lotus tip, chirped, clear and cheerful, and the hearts of those who listened were relaxed.

Soon, a section of long and mottled bluestone steps appeared in front of the eyes, shaded by thick shade, and blue moss grew on the corners of the steps, like a carpet covered with dark embroidered borders.

Climbing up the steps, there are two red-lacquered high doors that open wide at the end. The glazed bead curtains reflect dazzlingly in the mottled sunlight, and they all hit the heavy doors, adding a little color to the dull monotony.

Behind the door is a straight road with towering old trees, leading to a deep house compound hidden in the jungle, which is comparable in size to the royal palace.

When ordinary people come to such a place, they will always be amazed.Jian Yunling didn't look sideways, and walked into the mansion under the guidance of Yuchen.

The gate of the house is ajar, and there is no one in front of it. It is strange that the sound of the piano is flowing, playing a soft and long tune, as if overnight, a hurricane blows the green desert Gobi, and a warm stream flows slowly through the bottom of my heart.

However, before anyone can immerse themselves in it and appreciate it carefully, the ending turns and the palace merchants change. It is a sad song, like a wisp of ghost wrapped in haze, mist and rain, floating in the mountains, outlining an empty and prosperous scene. Looking through the mirror and watching the moon in the water, waiting lonely for the bosom friend to add the last stroke of ink to it.

Jian Yunling raised her head curiously, and wanted to ask who the piano player was, but she saw a tender feeling between Yuchen's brows, and her indifferent voice seemed to chant with him, and said, "How is it? Does it sound good?"

Jian Yunling pursed her lips and smiled lowly, she knew the relationship between the piano player and Yuchen in her heart, nodded and said: "It's very nice, this song should only exist in the sky. Mr. Yuchen's poisonous eyes, such an exquisite luthier, is hard to find in the world. Searching."

Yu Chen shook his head, his night-like eyes lit up with stars: "She is not my luthier, but my wife."

With the expected answer, Jian Yunling quickly followed Yuchen into the main hall, and in the hall, the piano player sat like an ice sculpture in the sunlight, his fingers still not resting.

This is a woman who is as poignant and unparalleled in the world as her piano sound.

Two curving eyebrows that seem to be frowning but not frowning, a pair of beautiful eyes full of water and affection, and a black waterfall with splashed ink and freehand hang down behind him, with pointed hair pointing to the ground.The two dimples and pear dimples are full of sorrow, and I feel pity for the figure of the weak willow and Fufeng.

I don't know if she was infected by the artistic conception of the song, the woman was tearing up at this moment, a sickly flush came to her cheeks, and she panted slightly.

People can't help but think of one of Cao Zhi's Luoshen Fu: as if, like the moon covered by light clouds; fluttering, like the snow returned by the flowing wind.

(End of this chapter)