The Husky and His White Cat Shizun

Chapter 257: [Tian Yin Ge] Linjiang Fairy

"what?!!"

Full of color!

Only a person who burns a person closes his eyes and calms like water.

Everyone made a mess: "What the **** is going on?"

"What was the old case of Xiangtan that year?"

"Why is he killing..."

The wooden cigarettes left the road: "This is a long story, and because of the age, many people who know the inside are gone. But if you don't know, unless you have nothing to do, Tianyinge has found some evidence. ""

In this smoke, which is intertwined by human language and horror, the wooden smoke is calmly looking back: "The few witnesses Xiangtan found, have you brought it?"

With the door of the servant, he replied: "Returning to the lord, all waiting outside the hall."

"Then go and ask the first witness to come in."

The first witness entered the temple. He was a veteran artist. He was very old. He was carrying his back and squatting. He was only interested in Nono. He saw the full house of Xianjun. The first reaction was actually a slamming on the ground, and even the beheaded dagger. In the mouth, I was anxious: "By the singer, Grandpa Sinjun... I have been to you, Grandpa Sinjun..."

The wood smoke has slowed down from the tone: "The old gentleman has a hard time, and there is a lot of hard work along the way. You don't have to be nervous. I only ask some questions. One answer, one answer is two."

The old man couldn't stand, and the monk of the Temple of Nothing walked over and gave him a seat to help him sit up, but he was very scared. He only took a small half of his **** and tried to shrink himself to a minimum.

The wooden cigarette left the mouth: "The first two questions. Where is the gentleman? What to do?"

The old man’s teeth trembled, and when he opened his mouth, it was a thick accent: “I...I’m from Xiangtan, just paste the lantern on the street...”

Everyone was very curious to look at him, from sparse cranes to broken shoes. They don't know what the lanterns can shake and what they are going to do.

The wooden cigarette leaves the question: "How many years have you sold the lantern?"

"For most of my life... there are always fifty years, and I can’t remember it..."

"For a long time, I have to ask you something that is not as far as fifty years." The wooden cigarette said, and he showed him the ink. "Does this person, the husband do not recognize it?"

The old man looked up and looked at the ink, and saw that this person was tall and handsome, and he was so eager to look at it. He immediately turned his eyes away. After a while, he hesitated to steal him, and snorted and said: "I don't know."

The wooden cigarettes left the road: "I don't know how to be surprised. Then I will ask you again. When you were selling lanterns next to the drunken jade building in Xiangtan, did you always have a small child, and you would like to stand by your booth and watch your paste lanterns?"

"Ah..." The old man’s eyes were murky, but he was very clear about this matter. He sighed and nodded. "Yes, there is such a child, almost every night, he likes the lanterns I made, but poor. Ah, I can't afford it... I talked to him at that time, and he didn't like the snoring, the courage was very small."

"Do you remember his name?"

"Oh, it seems to be called... ink... ink burning?"

Everyone is still listening to the old man's words. At this time, the sights are all on the ink.

The old man sinks into the memories of the past and swears: "I don't know if I have this ‘children'. I only know that he is the one in the drunken building...”

Xue Zhengyu interrupted his face with a calm face: "The burning child was originally the son of the first brother and the Louzhong mother. The wooden cabinet owner asked the old gentleman to prove it again. What do you mean?"

"嬷娘?" The old man snorted and waved his hand. "Oh oh, no. The son of Sang Niang is also a surname of ink, but he is called Mo Nian. He was a famous bully at the end of the street." The old man said, Licking his head down, he pointed to an old scar on his head.

"I was still smashed by bricks, and the child was fierce, wild and skinny."

Xue Zhengxi’s face has changed: "Ink... read?"

Mrs. Wang anxiously said: "Is the old gentleman remembering the mistake? After all, it is also a word difference. Is the child of the mother-in-law called the ink burning, or the ink?"

"...is the ink." The old man thought for a moment and nodded again. "I can't go wrong. How can I remember it? It is called Mo Yan."

Xue Zhengyi’s own child leaned forward slightly, and he heard this sentence for a moment, then he was on the seat and his eyes were worried.

"Ink..."

The wood smoke continued to ask: "The child who came to see your light lamp, he is doing in the drunken building, do you know?"

"Hey, I don't know the specifics. I know it is the head of the house to help me with the cooking." The old man said, "The reputation is not so good. It is said that the hands and feet are not clean, and the guests are always stealing things." He tried hard and then seemed to think of it. What happened, his face changed a bit. "Ah, think of it, the little child can't do it. After growing up, it gets worse and worse. Later, he also insulted a yellow flower niece. The prostitute couldn't stand it and finally committed suicide."

"what?!"

If it is said that the civet cat has changed the prince, then it is even more irritating to smear the girl before the smoldering.

There are a lot of parents who are parents, immediately angered and rushed to the crown, gnashing their teeth: "I don't think... the Tang Mozong master is such a beast with a human skin!"

"too disgusting!!!"

"Death is not enough!"

There was no snoring in the ink, only quietly watching the old artist.

In the past life, he was in the realm of repairing the **** hurricane, and Tianyin Pavilion tried to stop it. The old man was taken away by the wooden cigarette and he was identified.

How did he do it at the time?

Indulge in laughter and accept it.

And turning to look at Xue Zhengxi and Mrs. Wang, the smile twisted and ridiculed: "How? Resent me? Do you want to abandon me? Is it the same as my good teacher, say me - **** is bad, quality Hard?"

At that time, the matter of ink burning and stealing the chess game had already been almost the same, but Xue Zhengyi initially chose to believe him. Until this time, Xue Zhengxuan was angry and got up. He was mad at the gas, and the tiger screamed and said: "Hey animals! It is a scorpion!!"

The ink burned these two words, laughing and laughing, and laughing more and more pleasantly.

I laughed and my eyes were wet.

Insult girl?

Xue Zhengyi believes.

Xue Zhengyi actually believes.

Hahahaha - the smile of the smoldering is tightened, and it is self-defeating. The heart is handsome, and the handsome face is twisted like wax.

"Yeah, I did these sinful sins. I killed your nephew and killed the pitiful girl. How? The uncle is going to kill the heavens and kill me-"

If the words are not finished, the heart is a pain.

Xue Zhengyi's temperament was fierce. When he was finished with ink, he was already angry and screaming. There was hate and tears in his eyes. The fan tip pierced the ink-burning chest.

The ink burned for a moment, and then the corner of the mouth was slightly lightened. He lowered his head and looked at his chest and gradually shed blood, sighing:

"Uncle, I have called you uncle for so many years. But in the end, you still won't believe me."

"shut up!!"

The ink burned and smiled, and the shoulders shivered slightly: "Forget it, after all, the flow of our body is not the same blood. So, this false home, this life and death... What else is there, I can’t bear it. ?"

Blood splashes and splashes face.

He looked at Xue Zhengyi's fall in front of himself, his mind was slightly numb - he didn't want to kill him - it was his temper to rush to get started... it was his own death. The ink burned for a while, lifting up the blood-stained eyes, and Sensing the land, looking at the sorrowful Mrs. Wang, who licked his lips and walked over his uncle's body and walked to the aunt.

Xue Zhengyi still didn't breathe, and he kept his clothes tight, and he wouldn't let go.

This half-old man seems to be very angry, and it seems that the sorrow and heartache are greater than the anger.

At that time, the brain burned in madness, what the meaning of the uncle's eyes was, what the tears in his eyes were for, he did not understand, and did not want to understand.

The ink burned and heard Xue Zhengyi said: "Don't... don't hurt..."

"She saw it. So she is going to die." The ink burned very calmly and calmly. "However, Xue Meng is not there, so ... seeing that you have raised me for so many years, his life, my right and left."

Mrs. Wang’s struggle is in the eyes of ink, what is it?

Moreover, she was already unable to struggle. She just cried. She also said like her husband: "The beast...", but the knife plunged in, the blood rushed out, her consciousness gradually dissipated, she looked at him, but finally Mumbling again, "Fire, why are you..."

The ink-burning hand was actually shaking, trembling, and finally pulled out. He looked down at the palm of his hand, his palms were moist, and the scarlet dagger caught his palm, slippery and stinky.

heat.

But it will soon be cold.

Like his so-called home, he called his loved ones.

From the very beginning, he was embarrassed because he knew that Xue Meng was in fact, Xue Zhengyi, and Mrs. Wang.

They are not his loved ones at all.

Their biological scorpion has already died in his hands.

"absurd!"

A violent drink interrupted the memories of ink burning.

The ink burned almost a little uplifted, and patrolled the hall in the hall, and finally fell to Xue Zhengxuan.

It is Xue Zhengyi who is talking.

"I raise a child, I know for myself how he can bully an innocent girl, you have to be bloody!!"

"..."

The ink burned, and suddenly I felt that my heart was filled with some kind of sourness.

His eyelashes squinted and squinted.

Not the same.

For two lifetimes... many things have changed.

The old artist was scared to roll down from the seat and beheaded on the ground: "No, no, I didn't lie, I was angry, I was... I just... I really..." He was just a pity. The craftsman, who had never seen such a scene, was accused by the lord of one fact, and was so scared that he could not say a complete sentence.

Xue Zhengyi is drinking low, like a beast that is ready to go: "Get out."

"..."

"roll!"

The old artist immediately got up and rolled, but the people in Tianyin Pavilion stopped him. He couldn’t get in and out. He fell down and sat down on the ground. He shook like a sieve and said: "Mom, what are these things... ..."

The wood smoke said: "Xue Zhangmen must be angry and angry, and the old gentleman should not be afraid. What Tianyinge asks for is to make the world sorrowful and can not be planted and framed, and it will not hurt."

She paused and raised the old artist.

"Please ask Mr. to finish."

"I don't have anything to say..." The old man was really scared, and he said nothing more. "I beg your princes, and let me go. I really don't have any more." What can be said, my memory is not good, I have a bad memory."

In this stalemate, the silence that has been silent, suddenly looked at Xue Zhengxuan, and worshipped the dagger.

The meaning of this action is self-evident. Xue Zhengxuan and Xue Meng immediately said a word, even a word was blocked and could not be said. Mrs. Wang murmured incredulously: "...burning?"

Ink burning: "When I was in Lushan, I thought about coming back to be honest with my uncle. But I didn't expect this to happen."

"..."

The burning eyes are very quiet, because it is too quiet, and even seems to be dead: "The wooden cabinet owner came here today, and the evidence of the person must have been fully collected. There is nothing to say. Yes, I am not the second to die. Little Lord."

He paused, and a sigh of words fell into the temple, his voice as light as a feather, and his waves rising.

"I am the 72nd City of Confucianism, the son of the ninth city of the South Palace."

"What?!!" Everyone is ashamed.

"Don't you want to hear the story?" The ink burned his eyes closed and said, "...the fire that drunk the jade building was put by me, and dozens of lives were indeed destroyed by my hand."

Mrs. Wang said with tears: "Fire, how are you... how can you..."

"But in Xiangtan that year, the little girl of Tofu Square was murdered to death." He said here, a little silence.

In the last life, no one wants to hear him tell the truth.

They all accuse him in anger and insult him, so he does not want to explain it. Anyway, in the eyes of others, that is, such a heinous devil, it is no harm to add another blood.

In this life, he finally wants to say it.

"That girl, not me."

There was silence in the Danxin Hall. Everyone was staring at the ink, waiting for him to speak out the old dust-proof cases.

The wooden cigarette is rising from the eyebrows: "Oh? Is there another hidden case in the case?"

"Have."

"Please make a speech." The wooden cigarette left the road, "Listen to listen."

The ink burned and shook his head: "Before telling the girl who was killed in the Tofu Square, I want to talk about a more important person first."

"who?"

"A monk."

The ink burned, his eyes were evacuated, and he looked out into the distant sky through the open window.

"... At that time, Xiangtan had two young prostitutes, one surnamed, called the hurricane weak, and one...the surname, called Duan Yihan."

Many people present at the scene heard him mention these two names, and they all showed their sorrowful look.

"...the hurricane is weak... Duan Yihan... Ah! Is it the same two-digit music workshop in the past?"

"That's them, I remember that both of them are the music of Xiangtan, and they are called Linjiang Shuangxian."

"Yeah, the wind is weak and the song is spring, and the clothes are cold and full of flowers." Someone sighed. "I was only thirty years old at the time. The names of these two are just like the ears. But they It’s hard to find a song. I heard that every time I starred in the concert, the music house will be surrounded by water and the limelight will flourish."

Someone said: "They are two musicians. It seems that they still fight the song."

Ink ignited: "It’s a fight. The hurricane is weaker than the two-year-old Han Yi, and entered the music house two years later. At that time, she was very proud, and she was not convinced that she was the same as her, so she went down. Hua Tie, invited Duan Han to play three songs on the drunken floor, dance three songs, to determine the skill level."

"Who won in the end?"

"Pluge." Ink said, "But since then, the two have been sympathetic. Although Feng Yiru and Duan Yihan are not a monk in a music house, they often walk around each other and are sisters."

Someone is impatient: "There is so much nonsense in the squatting! Good end, what do two women do?"

Inkburn looked at him and said: "Die Yihan is my mother."