Xuanyin of the Third Generation, Painting the Broken String Qin

The mist and rain on the green mountains fall into people's arms, and the cold water leads to winding paths. Nowhere to see the desolate maple forest, only the autumn leaves are stained with dust. "Master, you still remember Zixuan," Zixuan murmured in his arms, "Master, didn't you say you would never leave Zixuan?" She was still smiling, but tears welled up in her eyes. "Master, are you really not leaving anymore?" Wu Xian didn't answer and asked, "When did you find out?" He frowned, his voice still indifferent. Zixuan looked at Wuxian with a wry smile on his lips: "How could Zixuan not be able to taste the things the master made? How could Zixuan not be able to see the paintings the master made? I have never used the Wuxian Qin in front of Zihan, how could he know?" Zixuan raised his eyes and looked at Wuxian, pointing his finger. Stroking along his eyebrows, "Besides, Zihan is Zihan, Wuxian is Wuxian. Xuan'er loves Wuxian, how can he admit it just because they have the same appearance?" She blinked, but could not hide the sadness in her eyes, "Master, why are you here?" Wuxian smiled softly, and he called her: "Xuan'er." -------------------------------------------