Cold Palace’s Abandoned Consort

In front of me are countless paintings!

This tower is smaller than the first tower, but it is still very spacious, but such a spacious place has almost no decoration, not even a decoration. But it's not empty here, it seems very crowded. Because countless paintings hang from the roof!

Hundreds of scrolls, snow-white scrolls, hang down in front of the eyes, and the windows are not closed. The wind that blows the copper bells under the beams is poured in, and the paintings in front of them are fluttering like countless white magpies. Waving in the wind.

The people in the painting seem to get life, happy, angry, sad, and happy, and they are so vividly present in front of them.

For a while, lost my eyes.

And when I reached out and caught the scroll of the closest painting in front of me, and saw the person on the painting clearly, I just felt that my breathing had stopped.

The picture is a girl of eleven or two years old, with a white face, **** and white eyes, and a pink mouth. It is not only beautiful, but also very aura. She was wearing a emerald green skirt, she looked particularly embarrassed; she had a pair of peach blossoms on her head, and pink ribbons dangled on both sides, making her look so pink.

A gust of wind blew through, and a picture next to it shook.

I turned my head and saw above, a girl in a goose-yellow skirt, kneeling in front of Guqin, playing the strings carefully. This time, she combed the hanging cricket, but there was nothing else to decorate. She lowered her face and could hardly see any expression on that quiet face, except for the dark, long eyelashes, which seemed to cast a haze on that face.

I looked at another painting, a girl holding a double fan and dancing.

A girl sitting in the pavilion and practicing knitting seriously ...

A girl sitting at the window, biting a pen and writing poems ...

...

I walked forward, stretched out my trembling hand, fiddled with the scrolls in front of me, and looked around. Each painting was a portrait of a man, with thousands of gestures and expressions.

It is the same person who painted.

The same girl, in her bright, or bright, or gloomy, or hazy years, every move, every smile, was recorded on the drawing paper.

At this moment, I have forgotten whether my mood is surprised or panicked, and it seems that I have lost those perceptions, just watching these paintings quietly, walking slowly in these scrolls, all the way to the other end of the tower , Go up the stairs.

The third floor tower is also full of paintings like the second floor.

This girl has grown up.

She was sent to the Hongyan Tower, where there were other girls the same size and the same beautiful appearance, but when they were together, they were not playing or quarreling, and there was no light-hearted fan. Joy.

They entered Hongyan Lou to go out alive.

Only one can go out alive.

Hongyan Tower, in fact, the name is not complete, in fact it should be-Hongyan withered building.

The girl in the painting is the only one who has gone out alive. Although she went out alive, her youth was already dead in Hongyan Tower.

I looked at the scrolls stupidly. I always saw that my eyes were a little hot and sour, and then I went up the stairs again.

Fourth floor tower.

This is the highest level of the sister return tower.

When I walked the last step, I saw countless paintings still hanging in this tower, but different from the two below, there are more oil lamps here, which are listed around the tower. When I went in, I felt like I was in Xinghe. In the center of the tower, there was a table faintly seen, and there seemed to be a painting on it.

I looked away from the scrolls that were blowing in the wind and walked slowly.

It was a book case, but there was no chair next to it. It seemed that the user did not need to sit on the chair. On the table, there is a picture that has not been painted yet.

On the picture is a woman.

She was long and thin, with long hair like soft black silk satin hanging behind her head, and the soft lines seemed to stretch to her body. She was wearing a plain white coat and the whole person was lined with white. Tasteful.

She raised her chin slightly, as if she was talking to someone, but she was painted alone.

The painting is not complicated, and the brushwork is very simple, but the people in the painting are so lifelike, they seem to live in front of people.

As soon as I saw the painting, I was surprised and speechless.

This is clearly what I am wearing after the bath today!

how come--

I looked at the painting blankly. Just at this time, another gust of wind was blowing, and the surrounding paintings moved swayingly. I hurriedly looked up to see it.

The picture on the left depicts me still wearing a wind chisel, with burnout and anxiety about seeing my daughter after a long journey on my face, with one hand raised to the side.

There was nothing wrong with this painting, but the movement of this hand made me feel a little awkward.

But immediately, I understood what was wrong.

That's how I just walked off the carriage. My hand was not lifted, but was held by Pei Yuanxiu, but Pei Yuanxiu was not drawn at all in this picture, and even his hand was not drawn, so it was solitary. When I raise my hand like this, it will look so awkward.

I looked away.

The painting over there is still me, but after bathing, my long hair still spreads behind my head with moist humidity. The sloping clothes made me look very relaxed. The sleeves and skirt corners were blown by the wind. I curled a strand of hair on my cheek. I stroked the strands of hair with one hand, raised the skirt corner with the other, and carefully stepped down the steps.

And this is exactly when I just finished bathing today and got out of the bathroom!

The paintings here are all today and they just happened to me!

As soon as I realized this, I suddenly sweated.

It ’s no secret that I returned to Xichuan. Anyone accompanying me may see me, see any scenes in those scrolls, but really, seeing myself portrayed in such a small way, but let me A chill rose from the bottom of my heart.

I'm being watched!

And the people who spied on me even painted everything that happened today so quickly. I walked back to the table again and saw the portrait on the side of me. I also understood it. This is how I look after talking to Pei Yuanxiu after bathing, but I still do n’t have him, only me!

This is just before less than an hour!

I reached out my hand and touched it, and my fingertips immediately felt that some ink was wet on the painting. I looked back, and my fingertips were blackened.

Those who paint these paintings have just put down their pens!

Just then, a hand stretched over and touched my palm.

"what--!"

I whispered in horror, and hurried to break the hand back, but the hand clasped my hand tightly. Not only did I fail to step back, but a puppet was pulled back.

A gust of wind poured in through the windows around the tower, blowing the paintings in a mess, and I was pulled by the hand, as if I had passed through the numerous scrolls of the painting, and also passed through the paintings. In the past years, I have laughed, cried, hurt, and hurt memories.

As soon as I looked up, I saw the back of those scrolls, and a figure suddenly appeared in my sight.

At this moment, my heartbeat almost stopped.

Because I know who I saw.

The man who appeared before me like a ghost was very young, although I knew that he had been standing for years, but his pale and almost transparent face still contained the handsomeness and mellowness of a young man. He is very similar to his mother, even handsome, with a bit of his mother's beauty, Liu Meifeng eyes, both beautiful, with a bit of sharpness. There was a little blood-red fine mark between his brows, and when he was expressionless, it was like the jade carving of Guanyin.

But I know that the fine marks were bruised by his mother.

Over the years, it has not subsided.

I looked at him, I couldn't feel whether my heartbeat was mad or stopped at all. I just listened to my breathing disordered. I also forgot to retract my stretched out hand, and was gently grasped by him. .

He stroked my cold palm, the same slightly cold fingers kept sliding over my hand, moved to the fingertips, and gently rubbed to remove the ink stains I had just smeared.

Then he looked up at me with a smile on his face.

"sister."

My fingertips trembled again in his palm.