Yanhuijiang

After escaping, the desperate widower invited me to be his guest? [Flowers fall to pray for lifelong memories, and old friends return home drunk with snow, frost and flute] Jiang Suoning remembered the young man who knelt under the sacred osmanthus tree and prayed for him devoutly. The red silk strips were fluttering, the remaining flowers turned into butterflies, and the young man turned his head and smiled innocently at him. Butterflies fluttered, and the boy scattered the pale yellow petals into the sky. The flowers fell slowly and exuded a faint fragrance. The young man who looked at Jiang Suoning affectionately among the falling flowers gradually reunited with the ruthless Yan An (yù)'an who had poison marks spreading to the corners of his eyes. Jiang Suoning trembled all over and wanted to step forward. Yan Xuan put on his mask again and said quietly: "Jiang Shenshi, the past is like a cloud of smoke. You and I are no longer what we used to be."... ………… Many years later, Yan Xuan'an stood on the same spot again. Yan Xiaoan found that the bell in his memory was still there, but it was covered with rust, and the light rain in the late spring in the south of the Yangtze River was still pattering. Yan Xiao'an remembered that when he first came to Lingcheng, the light rain from the south of the Yangtze River was blowing on him like this. But at that time, he was young and had no sense of sadness. Even if the drizzle stained my clothes, I just smiled at them and rode my horse through the long street. In the dusk rain cage street, there are only a few pedestrians walking in a hurry, eager to avoid the rain. They are the only ones wearing bright clothes and angry horses, showing off and wantonly. The flying clothes seemed to be able to sweep up the cool rain and mist on the ground, shaking away the laziness of late spring. The inside of the copper bell is dark green, and when it vibrates, it is clear and tinged with mottled hoarseness. It was the ringing of the bell that brought Yan Xuan'an back to his thoughts and stared blankly at the bell swaying in the wind and rain. The bell is still there, and it is difficult for people to return. Yan Xiao'an twitched the corner of his mouth bitterly, put on his bamboo hat, and did not dare to miss him at all. He did not look back and walked into the wind and rain alone. My old hometown in the south of the Yangtze River and the north of the Yangtze River has been a dream for thirty years... … Yan Xuan stood in the wind and snow, the collar of his white coat stained with solidified blood, like a red plum blooming in the snow. His black hair, tied high, was torn by the strong wind, and a few strands were stained with blood on his cheeks. Those deep purple eyes shone with the cold light reflected from the snow-capped mountains, with murderous intent and unyielding undertones. The twilight snow on thousands of mountains in front of him is the only way Yan Xian'an must pass... ……………… Jiang Suoning Yan Xuan (yù)an Group portrait, rivers and lakes, intrigue, growth, two-way rush, double strength Intention: I would rather meet each other and lock this peace in the end