Ji Jiu woke up, the curtain fell, the wife's face was still the same, and she slept peacefully with her eyes closed. He blinked, thinking it was just a nightmare, he was slightly relieved, and was about to get up. As soon as he moved a little, there was severe pain behind him, his face suddenly turned pale, and his blood was gone.

Looking around for a while, it seems that people have gone wrong all night. He got up in a hurry, Ji Jiu fled away, asked someone to carry hot water and acacia in the study, and washed himself like crazy, holding the white towel with more and more force, as if he was about to be touched. Every inch it touched was gouged out as fiercely. But even if the skin was rubbed off and blood beads oozing out, the feeling of being humiliated at the end of the road would never go away, and it was unforgettable.

At this moment, he can even recall every movement, every posture of the other party, and when he reached the peak, the man bit his ear and whispered: I miss you.

I miss you. Ji Jiu was so frightened and angry at this time that he had no way of understanding behind these four words, the struggle of searching for a hundred years, and the struggle of soul, bones and blood on the way to search day after day. I know I shouldn't come, I still come, I know I shouldn't look, I still look for it. I knew I was going to be disappointed, but I still held out hope.

He was Ji Jiu in this life, drank Mengpo soup, stepped on Naihe Bridge, and returned to Samsara, without Shen Qingxuan.

It was after thinking clearly and seeing clearly that Yimo was in front of Ji Jiu, who had the same voice and smile, watching him lingering with another woman, and his heart was bitter. He thought about the scene of reunion many times, imagined countless possible situations, but he never expected that he would hold the sword, and the sword's edge would reach his heart.

Obviously not stabbed, but still painful.

Knowing that he shouldn't be looking for it, he still looked for it. Knowing that this should not be done before Shen Qingxuan's new life, Yimo knew that it was too late.

things he has already done.

With his face hidden, he stood by the screen and watched the man sitting in the bathtub, gritted his teeth and rubbing the flesh on his body. When the blood dripped from the rubbing, Yimo closed his eyes. He misses him. After being separated for more than a hundred years, on the same face when they met again, he still missed the person who held him to his heart in the winter. However, that person is no longer there.

The door was pushed open, the craftsman personally selected materials and drawings, and the door, which was carefully inlaid with polished wooden boards, opened silently, and the sunlight poured in from the outside. Ji Jiu shouted, "Who?!"

The woman outside the house was stunned, her voice was a little uneasy, and she said cautiously: "Husband?"

Ji Jiu didn't make a sound behind the screen, and the women outside the house didn't dare to come in. It was the first time she had encountered such a scene after all these years.

After a while, Ji Jiu's voice sounded again, regaining the softness that she only had with her, and said, "I'm a little tired, go and make me a bowl of soup."

The woman knew that if he wanted to free herself, he must be in a bad mood, so she didn't embarrass him, and replied, "I still have some chicken soup stewed yesterday, I'll add some more herbs, and I'll bring it to you later." Then she closed the door again. , hurried away.

Ji Jiu was still in the bathtub, and his body was already purple. He scrubbed all the places he could rub, and the flesh and blood after the skin was soaked in hot water was even more stinging, and every pore was immersed in a burning pain. inside. He didn't seem to notice it at all, and the flames of anger flashed in his eyes, scrubbing hard on himself.

If he could wash away the humiliation of the previous night, he would be willing to peel and eviscerate. But he also understands that this cannot be washed away. The man had been in and out of his body, in places he had never imagined, in a dog-crossing position, using him like a woman.

Thinking of this, his whole body trembled, his chest heaved violently, hatred was something he had never experienced this year, even if he fought on the battlefield, he was only hostile to the enemy generals.

He has learned hatred now.

Getting up suddenly, Ji Jiu grabbed the clothes and put it on, looked at the pale face of the man in the mirror, and carefully tied his hair. He wore a high crown with a blood jade red hairpin on it. He was used to being simple in the past, but the more he suffered today, the more he didn't want people to see his dejected expression. But I don't know that there is someone behind him, who has been watching quietly, watching his resentment when he was washing in the bucket, watching him try to keep himself from showing a trace of being knocked down, such a temper, just like that. Shen Qingxuan of the world. Never bow your head, let alone bow down. Except for him.

Ji Jiu went out the door and sat in a soft sedan chair. The sedan bearer carried him all the way north, out of the North Gate, and went straight to the forest road. Yimo knew that in the middle of the road, there was a small road leading directly to the mountain road. , At the end of the mountain road, is a long-established temple. Xianguang Temple.

He's about to exorcise.

Yimo didn't keep up, but went back to Ji Jiu's study, sitting on the chair he used to sit on, looking at the papers. Several official documents, some white paper that has never been written on, and some scrolls tucked in the corners.

When Yimo unfolded it, it was a painting made by Ji Jiu when he had nothing to do. The writing style is sharp and the style is arrogant. The mountains and rocks, the bamboo knots are dense, and there is no longer the slightest softness, which is completely different from the moonlight of the lotus pond and the peach blossoms that I liked in my previous life. Sign a "Nine" character, and nothing else.

Nine, ink jade also. Yimo's fingertips gently rubbed the inscription, as if caressing a lover's cheek. The tentacles are still cold.

Yimo thought, you are going to get rid of me after all.

But in this world, it is not your turn to turn the clouds over the rain.

The Confucian scholar in the past life and the Confucian general in this life are just a speck of dust in this vast world. Except for his people, there is no way it can be his turn. He was Yimo, not a fox girl, or died, and he had to be willing to do it himself. If he was beaten to death by random sticks, that would not be his end.

Yimo withdrew his hand, cast a spell to restore the scroll to its original state, appeared, sat on the chair, and waited peacefully. Waiting to see how disappointed and unwilling that person is. Just like myself.

Ji Jiu hurried away and hurried back, full of discomfort, and returned with a monk. Madam rushed to the door upon hearing the news, was stunned when she saw the monk, and asked Ji Jiu, "Do you want to do something at home?"

Ji Jiu smiled and said, "I've been fighting all year round, and there was a person who said that I was too murderous and easy to attract evil winds. Since it's a rare trip home, find a mage to come home. There is nothing wrong with protecting you. You go to the house and rest, and I will call you when the ritual is over."

The lady listened and felt that there was nothing wrong with it. Besides, she suddenly fell asleep last night for some unknown reason. When she woke up, her husband was violent and strangely bathed during the day. Now that the mage is invited, it must have really recruited Feng Xie. He quickly ordered two sentences and stepped aside. When Ji Jiu saw her going to the bedroom, she quickly called to stop and said, "The room needs to be cleaned up too. You take the girls and servants to the side hall and wait."

The family members all left. Ji Jiu stood in the courtyard, looking at the house last night. The monks also watched. After watching for a while, he sighed and said, "The monks don't slander. The poor monk this time."

Ji Jiu turned his face, Qing Jun's face was bluish and white in the sunlight, he lowered the volume, he still didn't believe it: "You can't stop him?"

"The donor can't see it, that demonic aura is golden, it is a demon who wants to become an immortal, and he has been cultivating for a thousand years or more. Even if the little monk has some mana, how can he control him? Besides, he is about to ascend to immortality, and he has a strong foundation of merit and deeds. , it is impossible to cause harm to the world, how can the poor monk go to him?"

"Nonsense!" Ji Jiu denied his claim that he never did harm to the world, and said, "I'm being persecuted by him, how can it not be a scourge?"

The monk looked at him carefully and saw him from head to toe. Although he couldn't guess how the demon was persecuting him, he also felt that there was a reason for the incident. He thought about it and said, "What did the donor bring with him when he was born?"

"What?" Ji Jiu frowned and thought about it, "Never."

"Is there a mark?" the monk asked again.

Ji Jiu's mind flashed the snake's kiss on her wrist, her heart skipped a beat, and she lied: "Never."

"That's weird. If the donor had entangled with him in the past life, it is common to find him in this life. It's better for the poor monk to ask. If there is a reason for the matter, the poor monk can also mediate in the middle. What does the donor think?"

"He was never there." Ji Jiu said, "How do you ask him."

"He's here," the monk stretched out his hand, pointed his index finger forward, pointed to the study on the west side of the bedroom and said, "There, the demonic aura is strong there, otherwise the little monk won't be able to see it."

Ji Jiuming knew that he should not show any traces, but he couldn't help but take a step back. The fear could not be concealed.

Ordinarily, he is not afraid of anything.

Whether it is a demon or a demon, if it really exists, it will only die! He is a man who has been trained in the military camp. He has been taught by his father since he was a child, and he has fought countless times to kill the enemy. The dead bodies can be piled up into a mountain.

He had long known that death was his destiny. To die for the country, and to return the body of the horse leather before returning home, is the glory of the son, so what is there to be afraid of!

Only he faced, but not death. but a humiliation worse than death. He has no power to resist, and no chance to come back. Just because the other party is not human.

What he was afraid of was not demons, but his powerlessness in the face of demons. He resented the powerlessness, the futile struggle of knowing that it was irresistible but unable to obey, and it was the most destructive of people's hearts.

Ji Jiu stood up, and after a long silence, he whispered: "Master is tired from running all the way, I will settle down in the guest room, Master will rest here first, and then we will discuss in the long run, how about it?"

The monk asked suspiciously, "Don't you need to ask the little monk?"

"Since he is in the study, he must be waiting for me to go." Ji Jiu gritted his teeth and said, "I will inquire in person, and I will discuss with the master when the result is obtained. I just ask the master not to tell this matter. Others, the wife and children in the family are weak and can't be frightened."

The monk responded, and Ji Jiu called his servant and took him away.

As for Ji Jiu herself, standing in the sun, standing in the courtyard, looking at the closed study for a long time, she had the idea of ​​burning it clean with a fire. Burn him! Ruin him! Let all that last night be destroyed with a fire, and I will never think of it again for the rest of my life.

There is a monster in the house. Even if he has tens of thousands of means, he can't use it against such a high-level monster. In the battle of force last night, the high and low are immediately present.

He doesn't even have the qualifications to oppose him.

Even if Ji Jiu wanted to burn him to ashes, he couldn't do it.

But he really wanted to blow the man in the house to ashes in order to vent his hatred!

Ji Jiu stood outside the house until the closed door, as if waiting impatiently, opened it by herself. The meaning of the metaphor was self-evident, Ji Jiu's hand clenched into a fist, and although he was slow, he walked over without hesitation. Gradually approaching the dark door.

Ji Jiu thought that even if it was impossible, he had to figure it out.

It was just that this idea was quickly destroyed. The man in the house was not in the hall, but leaned against his wooden tower across the screen, and looked at him with his forehead in one hand, his eyes were deep and cold, like an abyss. It is meant to be addictive.

Looking at those eyes, what came to Ji Jiu's mind was the desperate scene of being crushed under him the night before. Thinking of the monk's words, was more than a little disheartened.

Ji Jiu said, "I can't let you down."

Ji Jiu said, "Whether you or I have a relationship in the past, I have never provoke you in this life, how about you let me go?"

Ji Jiu lowered his head and smiled bitterly: "I beg you, how?"

He lowered his head, never seeing the eyes of the man on the couch, not even the sadness in his eyes.

After a brief silence, Ji Jiu heard the man's voice and asked, "How to ask?"

Ji Jiu's heart sank, he hesitated for a moment, and finally he was ruthless, bent his knees, and knelt down extremely stiffly.

Ji Jiu said, "Please let me go."

Ji Jiu said, "Keep the kindness in my heart, and I will set up a card for you in the future, and burn incense day and night to make offerings."

Ji Jiu said, "Please let me go."

He said, kowtowing as he spoke.

His forehead hit the icy ground, making a muffled sound. Ji Jiu listened and counted, one, two, three, four... The number became more and more, and the number became heavier and heavier. , just mechanically kowtow, kowtow, one after another. Shrinking those dignity and humiliation into a small piece, in the end, my heart was blank.

Yimo listened and watched, the sound of kowtow was dull and heavy, one after another, smashing into his heart, as if he didn't think he was hurt enough, the muffled sound was gradually accompanied by blood splashes, and the man was already full of blood. Face.

Like the bloody heart in his chest.

Imo got up and walked over to him. Ji Jiu was still kneeling, but stopped kowtow.

Yimo said nothing, wiped his tense body, and left.