Immo is gone.

After leaving the General's Mansion, he returned to the mountain overnight. The mountain forest with the Shen family courtyard was the lonely mountain where Shen Qingxuan buried his bones.

Standing in the only small courtyard in the mountain, the surrounding scenery is still the same, all kinds of flowers and trees bear fruit, and the mature and unripe fruits hang all over the branches. When Shen Qingxuan was still living here, he liked to ask people to pick the fruit from the tree to eat, but he didn't eat the ones that were washed and laid out. In his words, the soul of the fruit hasn't gone far. From time to time, he held some freshly picked peaches and plums in his arms, nibbling on the juices, or blinking sourly.

Later, Lishan returned to Shen's house. Every harvest season, he liked to hang out in the fruit forest. When he was tired from walking, he let Xiaobao ride on his shoulders and sent him up the tree to pick fruit. Xiaobao picked a bunch of them as soon as they were picked. All of them were ripe and sweet. He was carried off the tree by Shen Qingxuan and sat on the ground. Those fruits were eaten without washing them. At the end of the meal, he seemed to be drunk and his face was red. Yes, laying under the tree holding his stomach, sleeping soundly.

Yimo couldn't remember exactly how many times he carried these two people who could fall asleep drunk from eating fruit, back to the room from under the tree.

Now the Shen House has been annihilated. A fire many years ago turned it into ruins, and the pear, peach and fruit trees also disappeared without a trace in the fire. Now there is a new house on that land. It is a family surnamed Fang, and it is also a businessman's house, but it is much inferior to the Shen family back then. Imo never looked again.

Only this mountain is still the same as it was a hundred years ago, with rocks and green trees, lush and lush, and the hot springs on the top of the mountain are still smoky all year round. Even the small courtyard has not changed much, except that he has not come back for two years. The person sitting on the chair, sniffing the rose and smiling, also slumbered in the soil for a hundred years and turned into dead bones.

Yimo felt unwell, as if something was pressing in his heart, and it became difficult for him to breathe. He wanted to talk to people, but there were only birds and beasts around, busy preparing food for the winter.

Yimo went to Shen Qingxuan's grave, and the bluestone tombstone was a little white. After being washed by time, even such a stubborn stone lost a layer of color. don't know what else in this world can last forever. The loess on Shen Qingxuan's grave is still there, but there is not a single weed.

Yimo knows that people who come to this mountain will come to this grave to see, wipe the dust, pull up weeds, and on festivals and sacrifices, they will come to this grave to burn some paper and offer sacrifices. It seems that this little Shen Qingxuan has become the land master of Yongcheng.

After thinking about it, it was actually quite normal. More than a hundred years ago, the story of his relationship with Shen Qingxuan spread throughout the city. The more closed the information is, the more human beings crave for information, and trivial matters can be passed on by word of mouth, from one city to another. They are all unassuming temperaments, but this thing can't be suppressed from being spread out.

When Shen Qingxuan was alive, he despised so many people. Calling Master Shen face to face, you have to make a sound of Rabbit Master behind your back. Shen Qingxuan died, but these people turned to talk about his goodness, such as disaster relief and famine relief, donating money to build bridges, repairing academies, etc. The trend turned in unison, and they only talked about his goodness and kindness, and those things that ruined human relations. , then never mention it again. Even when the government office was revising the county annals, this incident was smeared into a romantic story and a local legend.

In the end, it is also the death of the human being. Moreover, on the tombstone of Young Master Shen, there is a mention of the demon in his own hand, claiming to be a surviving person.

Who dares to slander again? Is it too long to live? !

Later, there was another fire in the Shen family, which burned for a day and a night, but not a single corpse was found. The rumors changed again, saying that this Yongcheng was protected by an immortal, and that immortal was on the tombstone of Young Master Shen. the one.

Since then, Shen Qingxuan's grave has never been deserted again.

Yimo sat cross-legged in front of the tomb, rubbing his fingers against the tombstone, which was smooth and cold. After rubbing for a moment, don't know why, and feel a little sullen.

Unexplainable suffocation. But there is no solution.

The only person in the world who is by his side and who is considerate and considerate has already entered the earth. He just wanted to talk, but there was no one to talk to. He could only keep it in his heart. When he had nothing to do, he would say those things and words to himself in his heart. Like a ruminant animal.

Yimo thought for a while, turned into a snake, and did not linger on the tombstone, but slammed into the pile of loess. The loess on the tomb slid down, and a crack suddenly appeared, and Yimo followed the gap and got in.

The tomb was dark, and the five fingers could not be reached. The fishy smell of the soil was accompanied by the smell of decaying wood and the smell of bones, which mixed together and turned into a turbid smell, which was really unpleasant. However, Yimo seemed to be unaware and continued to move forward. He didn't stop when he touched the wooden coffin. He slammed into it again. He knocked out a hole in the coffin, and it was still pitch-black inside. thick.

Yimo followed the hole and dived directly into the bottom of the coffin. Feeling touching the corpse, he transformed into a human form and lay in the coffin.

As soon as lay down, felt that was pressing down on something, and hurriedly turned to the side, as if had encountered something again, what could encounter? In this coffin, besides Shen Qingxuan, who else will be. Repeatedly lying unsteadily, Yimo felt a little annoyed. With one hand, he pushed the skeletons away from under him, while shaking his fingertips, a green light floated up, shadowy, floating on the Above the narrow space, it gradually becomes larger and brighter.

He saw the thing that had just covered him, it was Shen Qingxuan's phalanx. Picking up the phalanx, Yimo murmured to himself: "It's not honest to look like this." What's wrong, it's very righteous.

Using the light above his head, Yimo lay on his side, rearranged the bones, and pulled the rotten rags. They were the clothes on Shen Qingxuan's body when he was buried. The rotten pile was too unsightly to look at, so he set a fire in the coffin, controlled it with his demon power, and destroyed all the pickled things. Fortunately, it never caused a fire, otherwise the coffin ignited spontaneously, and it should have been recorded in the county annals. Go to the anecdote.

After putting the bones in place, Yimo groped again and found the man's scalp, attached the hair, and put it on the skull, but it was too ugly to put it on, so he tucked the hair and scalp under the pillow.

After all this was done, there was nothing else to do, Yimo lay down again, lying on his side in this man's coffin, facing the white bone and closing his eyes, one hand resting on the white bone doing nothing, his fingertips slightly scratched Endless, as if the person in his arms is not a dead bone, but a living person. When the person is reading the accounts in his arms, he closes his eyes and puts his arms around him, gently scratching his fingers on his body. Scratching usually causes his arms to twist. After a few times, he got rid of the mischievous fingertips and continued to read the accounts, read a few pages, and twisted a few times... Obviously they were interfering with each other, but it seemed like this was the way it should be, and it was natural and leisurely.

Emer fell asleep like this.

The bones in his arms were scattered, and in a turn after he fell asleep, it was disturbed again, the ribs and arm bones ran into one place, and the skull was crooked, and slipped off the jade pillow. Yimo woke up, just held it, and hugged him into his arms.

He also murmured in a low voice, "Shen Qingxuan." Seeing you, you are restless to sleep.

After a moment of silence, he took out a brass-like gourd, opened the mouth of the gourd, and the bottom of the tomb was fragrant. Yimo shook the gourd, looked at the skull of the man in his arms, smiled slightly, and began to talk about the gourd, the wine in the gourd.

This is actually the wine he stole. There is no one else who can produce this "hundred-day drunkenness" except the Taoist priest who enlightened him back then. The wine made by Xianjia is naturally good wine. He went down the mountain to look for his reincarnation, but he couldn't find it, but he met this old immortal, who was red-faced and went to Kaifeng for the wine. It is said that it has been brewed for five hundred years. Mo followed.

This wine is called Hundred Days Drunkenness. That old man spent five hundred years brewing wine that could only last a hundred days of drunkenness, and he was very proud. Yimo paused when he said this, stroked the skull in his arms, and asked it, "Do you think he is stupid?" Then he replied, "It's very stupid."

Such stupid immortals should be rare in the fairyland. Yimo thought about it, and regardless of the howling of the Xianjia, he pulled the gourd around his waist, filled it up, and left. Just leave the immortal family jumping behind him, and scolding you, you big bug, is not very kind, not very kind!

Yimo lowered his eyes to look at the bones in his arms. There was no response from the skull. The white bones and the dark eye sockets were so beautiful? Yimo took a sip of wine, but he seemed to hear the man in the drapery raised by the breeze in the misty night of that year's drizzle, which seemed to be angered but not angered: You evil snake.

- You wicked snake.

Yimo closed his eyes and drank a full pot of wine at the mouth of the gourd. He was instantly confused, as if a white fog had enveloped him. Behind the white fog, it was the man who was lying on his chest, facing him. Eyebrows smiling.

Shen Qingxuan.

Yimo held the skull, pressed his lips on it, and kissed it gently, cautiously, and extremely precious.

You just go. Yimo thought drunkenly, and hugged the corpses beside him sadly.

Rubbing his lips against Bai Sensen's bones, he couldn't help but mumble and ask it, did I really bully you? You have to return it in this lifetime, so be careful.

He was really drunk, he hugged Shen Qingxuan's corpse tightly, wishing that he would not wake up for a long time.