Devil's Concubine

Chapter 45 General's Order

"Did I say that? I forgot all about it, so hurry up." Chu Yunshang became even more irritable.

Zhu'er shrank her neck, muttered, and quickly ran away with the food, thinking in her heart whether she should tell the prince about the fact that the princess did not eat, but when she thought of Mo Ranchen's stern and inhuman appearance, Zhu'er Er quickly dismissed this idea again, she didn't want to die.

Murphy was also depressed.

Mo Fei was also standing outside the study of King Ning's Mansion with the food at the moment. Under his feet, the floor was covered with food and broken dishes.

The servants came back and forth no less than ten times, but Mo Ranchen didn't intend to open the door at all. Not only that, Mo Ranchen even lost his temper several times. The leftovers are cold.

Mo Fei sighed softly, and finally decided to knock on the door. Just as he stretched out his hand, he heard Mo Ranchen's voice in the study: "Get lost!"

There was no sound of emotional fluctuations, and it was filled with boundless icy chill. Even though Mo Fei had been with Mo Ranchen for many years, he still felt like he was in an ice cave and dared not move.

He stretched out his hand, retracted it, let alone stretched it forward. With an embarrassed smile, he said in a low voice, "My lord, you are not in good health. The doctor said that you must have regular meals, otherwise..."

Before Mo Fei could finish his words, he felt an awe-inspiring murderous aura flying out of the study. It was a writing brush, and the fine fluff on the end of the writing brush was condensed into a ball, like a flying handle. The sharp arrow pierced the door of the study with the end of the pen in the air, and with a gust of cold wind, it stabbed at the food Mo Fei was holding in his hand.

"Dang...dang...dangdang..."

All the bowls and dishes in Mo Fei's hand fell to the ground and were smashed to pieces, while Mo Fei himself leaped back quickly, his figure vacated several times up and down, left and right, and retreated to the rockery behind him in embarrassment. Can avoid the surprise attack of that brush.

And the strength of the brush is unabated, the soft and thin hairs, like thousands of steel needles, burst open on the stones of the rockery like flowers scattered by a goddess, and the sharp sound of thunder and crackling can be heard endlessly, Mo Fei probed to look, Suddenly sucking in a breath of air, the wolf hair, together with the bamboo and wood pen holder, were all inserted into the rocks of the rockery, without the end.

With such momentum and force, if it hits a person, it will surely turn that person into a hedgehog and die on the spot.

Mo Fei almost forgot how long Mo Ranchen hadn't made a move in person, but forgetting doesn't mean he won't be afraid. With a wry smile, Mo Fei jumped off the rockery, never dared to approach the study, and left quickly .

In the study room, Mo Ranchen was sitting at the edge of the desk, holding a brush in his hand, spreading ink wantonly, rubbing the (General Order) of Taoist Baoshi.

Different from Boulder Taoist's mellow, vigorous, natural nature, the ink-dyed calligraphy reveals more of a kind of wanton flying, and the soft and thin wolf hair turns into a sharp sword in his hand, and the sharp sword falls on the ground. At the end of the paper, with a casual wave, force penetrates the back of the paper, under the silver hook of the iron painting, it is full of clanging and killing spirit.

But looking at Mo Ranchen's silent appearance like water, one would feel that this scene is so uncoordinated and so weird.

As the pen moved, rows of wild grass emerged on the rice paper.

Plug in the wind.

The sound of the flute is cold.

Desert sunset.

The waning moon is empty.

Listen to the camel bell day and night.

Follow the dream into the hometown.

The three-foot Qingfeng in his hand.

Six letters from home beside the pillow.

Definitely kill the enemy general's head.

After watching, tears withered.

Report to the court.

who listens.

As the thick ink on the pen brushed across, this ordinary rice paper seemed to have become a distant battlefield. Every word evolved into a soldier who charged into battle. The air, the temperature in the room also dropped several degrees suddenly.

However, the expression on Mo Ranchen's face was still neither sad nor happy. At this moment, no one could fathom his inner thoughts.

After finishing a song (Order of the General), Mo Ranchen flipped his wrist, and the paper flew up and stuck it on the screen not far away, fluttering with the wind, making a sound like a lonely and lonely branch blowing against the wind at dusk.

Mo Ranchen never raised his eyes, and with a shake of his hand, a drop of thick ink fell on the white rice paper.

The thick ink slowly smudged on the rice paper, like a plum blossom blooming in the ice and snow, Mo Ranchen stared at the plum blossom for a while, and then moved quickly with his hands.

Not long after, with just a few strokes, a sketch of a figure in light ink appeared in front of him. The woman in the painting had an ordinary appearance. The only thing that was surprising was her eyes, which were as bright as stars in this quiet and dark study room.

Mo Ranchen stared at the painting for a while, then sighed in a low voice, but his eyes never left, as if infatuated.

Mo Ranchen's painting is just like his own personality, free and unrestrained, freehand and freehand.

This painting, which was sketched in two or three strokes, is far from being a superior work, but the musculature and charm of the woman in the painting are vivid on the rice paper, especially the eyes, which are the finishing touch. In an instant, the woman in the painting came alive.

"Why, is it her?"

After a long time, Mo Ranchen sighed in a low voice, Gu Jing's unwavering eyes, after all, had a little more inexplicable flavor.

The writing brush in his hand seemed to be disobedient, Mo Ranchen's wrist moved again, this time, it was her lips that were drawn.

The elegant light ink is an understatement, and those lips are also extremely cold.

But Mo Ranchen knew very well how hot the lips tasted.Just once, it will make people linger and go back and forth, never forgetting.

Afterwards, a painting outlined in light ink gradually took shape under his hands, nose, eyebrows, ears, hair...

The last stroke was done, and the painting was perfect. Even Bai Yunzi, a national artist, couldn't pick out a single flaw in this painting.

Third-rate paintings have painted skin, second-rate paintings have bones, first-rate paintings, and painting spirits.

(End of this chapter)