Chapter 122: The Reflection of the Master

"Come, brother Mo, let me introduce you, this is a young sister of mine, Song Qiutong."

In the end, he sat down and let Nangong Si introduce him at the table. Song Qiutong Song Qiutong, who knew exactly where she had a mole on her back and a birthmark on the base of her leg, didn't need Nangong Si to tell him anything else.

But his face was still tense, and he nodded with restraint, " Aunt Song, Mother."

"This is Master Chu's own disciple, Mo Weiyu from the Top of the Dead. You should have seen him at Butterfly Town before, but there were so many people there that you probably don't remember."

Song Qiutong smiled warmly, rose and bowed, "My daughter Qiutong, I have met Mo Ran."

""

Mo Ran didn't get up, and his dark eyes looked at her for a long time before he said, "You're welcome."

Mo Ran was disgusted by his wife in his previous life. This disgust did not come after his reincarnation, but in his previous life, it was so deeply rooted in his bones that it was indelible.

On previous occasions, he had not met her directly, so although he resented her, he was not as unhappy as he was today.

She was a soft and delicate woman, always soft-spoken. She is like a green fruit on a tree in early autumn, hidden behind lush foliage, not as fragrant as the flowers and not as attractive in colour, but very attractive, with a slender, full body that is packed with endless greenness and tenderness, as if you could taste the sweetness of the juice with a gentle nibble.

It is only when you get deep inside that you find a rotting, smelly worm lying dead inside the kernel, its body dripping with pus and mouldy spots.

It is true that Song Qiutong did not seem to have done anything more evil than he did in his previous life. The only thing she did was to betray the Confucianism School, which saved her life. It was only when Mo Ran massacred the city that she tributed Ye Wangxi to save herself. She was overjoyed to be rewarded by Mo Ran when Linyi's corpse was in danger, and she dressed up in gold and silver to serve her new master with care.

After the massacre, she wept in front of Ye Wangxi's corpse, which would never speak again, to show her heart, saying that Ye Wangxi had treated her badly and had never given her a good day, and that if Mo Ran had not come, she would have been a cow and a horse for Ye for the rest of her life.

What's more.

Mo Ran thought in silence.

What else

Nangong Si is an impatient man and when a few dishes were delayed, he went to rush them. So only the former husband and wife were left in the compartment.

"Sir Mo, let me toast you." She poured wine for him, half her small arm peeking out from her water sleeve, a bit of sweet red vermilion on her wrist.

By some miracle, Mo Ran raised his hand and strangled her wrist.

She gave a soft yelp and raised her eyes, looking at him in fear and confusion, her gaze as soft as a green onion with water: "Sir Mo, what are you doing?"

Mo Ran stared at her face for a moment, his gaze dropping to rest on her delicate, jade-fingered, puffy hands.

"What a good pair of hands." Ryoko said softly, with a cold look, " Aunt Song can mother play chess"

"Slightly, slightly versed in one or two things."

"Such good hands, when they can also play a good game of chess." He said coldly. Outside came the sound of Nangong Si's footsteps and his tamed wolfhound, barking right at the door.

"Excuse me." Mo Ran loosened Song Qiutong's wrist, then took a handkerchief and carefully wiped his fingers clean.

Outside, the sun shines brightly and the dragon shines brightly, while here, a banquet is held on a spring night.

Mo Ran looked as normal as if nothing had happened. Song Qiutong was despised for no reason, but she had always been able to endure it and even got up to pour Mo Ran a drink.

He would not drink the wine she poured, so he never touched the glass again.

Nangong Si said, "Brother Mo, it won't be long before the Lingshan Mountain Conference, and you are at least Master Chu's disciple, so you can't let him lose face. Are you ready?"

"I'm not going."

"You can't be serious."

"Really." Mo Ran laughed, "It's enough for my cousin to go. All the sects in the world are rushing to Lingshan Mountain and I don't want to go because I'm afraid of the hustle and bustle."

Nangong Si didn't seem convinced at all, his brown eyes narrowed like a hawk's eye.

But Mo Ran's eyes looked at him openly and without reservation.

The eagle stared at the rocks for a while and found that they were really just rocks, hiding no cunning rabbits or slippery snakes.

He leaned back in his chair, twirled his chopsticks and suddenly grinned: "Something interesting, then I won't see you at the Lingshan Mountain Conference"

"Can't see me."

Nangong Si added his hand to his forehead and snorted, " Master Chu's disciples are so good that they don't even bother to attend such an event."

""

Mo Ran said, "It's hard to say, how can I explain it?" He was a thirty-something year old fraud, and he had Fairy Tramper playing with a bunch of young kids who were just starting out, and he had a circle of palms on stage that he had killed and beaten up in his previous life, and they had to hold up little signs for him and score little points.

It's nonsense.

Coughing, he said, "It's not that I don't want to take part, but I'm not good at orthodox arts and I've not learnt them well, so if I go, I'm afraid I'll be a disgrace to my master. If I go, I am afraid I would be a disgrace to my master.

A naive young bird like Xue Meng would have been delighted to hear this, thinking that Mo Ran had got it right, but Nangong Si was at the Confucianism School, a school with a complex set of factions, and had lost his mother since he was a child. But Nangong Si, a young boy in a school of Confucianism with a complicated faction and without a mother, had not lived a simple life, so when he heard Mo Ran's compliments, he just laughed and did not feel unaware of them.

He took a few gulps of wine and rolled the knot in his throat, then wiped his sleeve and said, "Since Duke Mo is not competing and is a spectator, why don't you guess who the leader of this tournament will end up being"

"" Mo Ran thought to himself, "You're damn right you're asking the right person.

Who else knows better than him, except for the fake Gouchen, who may well have been reborn, and of course he, Mo Weiyu, is the only person in the world who knows the outcome of the Lingshan Mountain debate.

The winner is

" Nangong Si ."

Suddenly, the beaded curtain of the compartment was lifted and a face half shrouded in shadow sank into the wavering light. The two men in the room had not yet reacted, but Song Qiutong stood up as if he had been stabbed by a needle, his face full of pitying fear, and bowed his head in an apologetic voice: "Ye, Mr. Ye."

The visitor is straight, dressed in a black coat embroidered with dark gold trim, wearing wrist guards, and with an extremely thin waist. His eyebrows are three parts beauty and seven parts handsomeness, who else but Ye Wangxi?

"No call for you." Ye Wangxi didn't even look at her, stepped away from the beaded curtain and stepped inside, his gaze resting on the same person, looking cold but shining with some other fine stream of light, " Nangong Si, it's you I'm calling for. You're going to hear me, raise your head."

Instead of looking up, Nangong Si said to Song Qiutong, "Why are you standing up and sitting down?"

"No, Prince Nangong, I am of humble rank, so I will stand."

Nangong Si suddenly burst into a rage and bellowed, "Sit down."

Song Qiutong flinches a little, holding onto the edge of the table, hesitating.

Ye Wangxi, not wanting to be so standoffish, said coldly, "You listen to him."

"Many thanks, Sir Ye."

Ye Wangxi paid no more attention to Song Qiutong, but said, " Nangong Si, how much longer are you going to make a scene palmist are mad. Get up and come back with me."

"That's best. I'll just pretend he's crazy, he'll pretend I'm dead... there's no more talk about going back, and I won't set foot back in the School of Confucianism until he takes back his orders." Nangong Si said in one word, "Ye, Gong, Zi, please go back."

"You" Ye Wangxi's hands were clenched into fists and he was trembling slightly. Mo Ran looked on and felt as if he would kick over the banquet table at any moment and grab Nangong Si and drag him away.

"Nangong Si." He was silent for a few moments, and then he spoke, his voice was hoarse, with a weariness that ran counter to his upright face, "Do you really want to go this far?"

"So what if it is."

Ye Wangxi closes his eyes, sighs imperceptibly, and slowly opens them again. He was standing at the table when he finally turned his head to look at Mo Ran.

Mo Ran stood up, saluted Ye Wangxi and said, "I just remembered that I have an appointment to pick up my clothes from the garment shop in the evening, so I'll be late and keep the shopkeeper waiting.

Ye Wangxi nodded towards him, "Many thanks, Sir Mo."

"No thanks, no thanks, you guys have a good chat."

Mo Ran walked past Ye Wangxi, and when he crossed his shoulders with him, he glanced at him intentionally. Only when he got closer did he realise that although Ye Wangxi was still as sturdy as a pine and cypress, he had a slight redness at the end of his eyes, as if he had just cried before he arrived.

Mo Ran suddenly felt that Ye Wangxi's patience was somewhat similar to that of Chu Wanning.

For a moment, his heart swelled and he could not help but turn back to Nangong Si and say, " Mr. Nangong, although I do not know what is going on between you and Mr. Ye, I think he treats you very well. If you are willing, talk to him properly, don't hide what you have to say."

Nangong Si was ungrateful, and in his anger, he said coldly, regardless of his affinity, "It's none of your business."

""This short-lived ghost

Mo Ran was gone. Before he reaches the stairs, he hears Nangong Si's angry shout from the compartment, the wolf-dog youth tearing at Ye Wangxi's soul with his sharp teeth. He was questioning him

"Ye Wangxi, what have you put into my father's head to make him see you as more important than me?

The table fell over with a clang and the chairs crumpled, plates and cups fell to the ground.

All the maids standing in the aisles were frightened, and some guests poked their heads out of their compartments.

"What's wrong?"

"Ouch, who's so grumpy? Look at this, don't smash up the restaurant."

Mo Ran pursed her lips and glanced back at the end of the walkway again.

He heard Ye Wangxi's voice, dried and withered like a dead leaf in autumn, lifeless.

" Nangong, if I'm the one who's making you unhappy to stay at home. Then I'll go and never appear before your eyes again."

""

"You go back." Ye Wangxi said, "Please."

Mo Ran would never have believed that a man as straight as Ye Wangxi would say such a weak word as "beg" if he hadn't heard it himself.

In his mind, Ye Wangxi was a gentleman of the eight winds, a god of war who was invincible. Mo Ran could imagine him bleeding but not shedding tears, his death but not kneeling.

But today, in a restaurant, in front of Song Qiutong, he said to a man, "Please.

Mo Ran closes his eyes.

How much one lives one's life and how many things one does not know

No one is naked in front of people. People hide their bodies with their clothes, their emotions with their words and expressions. People wrapped themselves heavily, with their necks holding their heads out like flowering branches, and all of them gave the world a distinctive face, those who sang in Qing Yi sang in Qing Yi, those who sang in Xiao Sheng sang in Xiao Sheng, and the world was like a theatre, with distinctive roles for life, death, purity, end and clown.

After singing for a long time, who can accept that the water sleeves are pulled up and the phoenix eyes are hooked, and the song turns to Dan

But when the cymbals cease, the lutes are silent, and the night is late, everyone washes off their heavy grease, and the greasy water stains take away the angular faces of the day, revealing unfamiliar features.

It turns out that the flower girl is a heroic boy, while the wusheng has a pair of tender and loving eyes.

Mo Ran returned to his temporary cottage and wondered how much he had seen of all beings and how much he had seen of himself after living two lives

One Chu Wanning, and his heart is born and dies, and dies and comes back to life, Chu Wanning

He then remembered that today Nangong Si had mistaken him for Chu Wanning, which was a bit amusing, but how could it be wrong?

But when I washed up, I suddenly noticed the person in the bronze mirror, tied in a high ponytail and wearing a simple white warlock's robe.

The ponytail was tied randomly in the morning, and the warlock's robe was because the old clothes were smaller some days ago. He went to the shop to pick out clothes, and when he turned around he found a beautiful white dress, and without thinking much about why he thought it was beautiful, he bought it and put it on his body.

Looking in the mirror, it suddenly dawned on him.

It turns out that this white dress is so similar to the one Chu Wanning once wore.

Mo Ran looks at the man in the mirror, as if seeing pieces of Chu Wanning through the heavy colours of this dream, and sees his phantom.

The water from the wash had not been dried and ran down the line of the chin, which was hardening.

He stood in front of the mirror and more or less understood that, just as his nocturnal wanderer was clumsily imitating Chu Wanning's nocturnal wanderer, he himself was clumsily imitating his own master.

Mo Ran subconsciously searches for Chu Wanning in the red world, but when he cannot find him, he slowly becomes him.

The years have gone by. I'm overwhelmed by remorse, or otherwise.

I don't see you, and I think about what you would do if you were in a situation like this. What would you see that would make you smile, and what would annoy you.

I think of you before I do everything and want to make you happy when I do everything.

I thought, "If you were there and I did this, would you nod your head and would you be willing to compliment me a little bit and say I did the right thing?"

I thought this every day, every day, buried in the marrow of my bones, and it became a habit. So then, ah, even I didn't realize it.

It turns out that as time goes by, I have already lived the way I thought you would.