Volume Three Yinjiang Chapter Fifty-Fourth I Don’t Know Old People
Following the candlelight in the young man's hand, I didn't know where the library extended. I saw that the folded pages nearby were yellowed and curled, and several inches of dust could be faintly seen on the books high up. Moving forward,
, there are even ancient bamboo slips, neatly arranged on rickety shelves.
The young man's slender fingers brushed through the spines of the books that were about to fall apart, and finally stopped at the middle one. He carefully pulled it out, only to see a small burst of dust rising up, and the other books next to it fell over.
Qingqing took a few steps forward, tilted the outermost thick page to the other side, stabilized the shelf, and asked the young man:
"It's not a good place to stay for a long time, what else are you looking for?"
"I went away to seek revenge today, and I don't know when I will come back... It's useless for me to bring too advanced classics. This one is a low-level music book. I can just find another copy of "Spring River View"."
"It's also an old book?"
Jimo Xing shook his head: "Bamboo slips."
Without saying anything else, Qingqing ran to where the rows of bamboo slips were rolled up and started to rummage through them one by one. Seeing that her fingers, which were yellowed by the wind and sand, were covered with scars and calluses, she couldn't help but look at the young man's hand inadvertently.
Slender and white, even onions and jade bamboo shoots in the new rain may not be as weak and slender as this.
It wasn't until he coughed out due to the filthy dust in the air that he quickly retracted his thoughts and stared at the rows of bamboo slips and old books at his fingertips again. Fang took a few steps forward, suddenly remembered something, and stepped back.
As if being pulled by something, Qingqing's hand involuntarily stopped at an inconspicuous volume.
At a rough glance, this bamboo slip is no different from the others. It's just that the corner of the bamboo piece vaguely exposed on the side of the bamboo has a few crooked outlines.
It doesn't look like ordinary words or clefs, but rather like a shallow painting with a brush.
Remembering that this was the secret collection of books in the palace of the Second Princess of the North Desert, Qing Qing couldn't help but hesitate for a moment, wondering whether he should turn over the records of other sects' spells without authorization. Jimo Xing glanced at her from the corner of his eye: "If you like
, But it doesn’t matter, it’s not some secret book of the world.” Qingqing heard what he said and didn’t refuse. He pulled out the bamboo slip with force.
When I unfolded it, I saw that it was indeed a few ancient paintings, with only two figures showing.
Looking at these two figures, a man and a woman, Qingqing felt an inexplicable familiarity in his heart. He raised his head and asked Jimo Xing:
"There are also old records of painters notating scores in the Northern Desert?"
"Yes." Jimo Xing buried his head in looking for a book and nodded, "There is only the volume in your hand. Unfortunately, the front is missing, and the back is incomplete. In addition, most of the people in Yiyamo are rough people who are not good at fine painting - so as long as I can remember,
No one has ever touched that bamboo slip."
Qingqing lowered his head and looked at each piece along the direction of the bamboo slips:
The man held a thin silk thread in his hand, and the woman held a long sword, with their respective magic weapons guarded in front of them, as if they were about to compete with each other. His eyes widened suddenly, and Qingqing suddenly raised his head to look at the young man:
"Do you know where this bamboo slip came from?"
"I heard he is an old man from Broken Qionglin, his name is... Nanshuo, right?"
The imitation paintings on Nan Gongzi Jianing's handkerchief, the fragments of the bronze mirror on the top of the Ruixin Pagoda, the ancient genealogy engraved on the strange rocks in the deep water of Xuantan... Memories of scenes before the Mid-Autumn Festival flashed through Qingqing's mind. Jimo Xing saw her thinking deeply.
Confused, he asked casually: "Qing Qing, can you understand?"
Qingqing sighed: "I just saw similar painting techniques when I was in Nanlin."
Having said that, he lowered his head and immersed himself in the painting, and couldn't help but ponder. A man and a woman, with thin silk swords, were indeed almost exactly the same as the handkerchief Jianing gave him. Qingqing carefully covered the bamboo slip with his hand:
Is the trick on this painting really Master Zi Shu's "bone-carving silver hook"?
Caressing the traces of dried ink lines, the question that had almost been forgotten by Qingqing resurfaced in his mind. Unlike the two people on the Nan family's handkerchief who had reached the critical blow, the bamboo slips moved very slowly, and the two weapons were not in contact. It seems that it has just started.
The long sword casts gentle force, bypassing the edge, and looks like it is trying to wrap up the missing filament from within. However, the filament keeps shaking in the air, and the flying shadows scatter in all directions, as if forming a long and distant cloth. A big net...
Qingqing closed her eyes and tried to raise the shadowless net in the sky secretly, and a few indifferent and quiet sounds began to echo in her mind.
"Found it!" Jimo Xing shouted excitedly, which scared Qingqing and almost jumped up. Unfortunately, this was not the perfect time to indulge in ancient paintings, so Qingqing stopped thinking, rolled up the bamboo slips, and prepared to put it back on the bookshelf. .
I rolled it up, but the bamboo piece got stuck halfway, and I don't know what blocked the way.
Qingqing rolled the bamboo piece back along its original direction and rolled it back again, but it was still stuck in the same place.
"Huh?" Qingqing couldn't help but feel strange. She stretched out her fingers tentatively and touched the invisible obstacle in the air little by little. After just touching it for a moment, she couldn't help but inhale a cold breath.
He took his hand back, and sure enough, a shallow cut was made, with blood oozing out.
It's a hidden thread! Qingqing came to her senses in an instant, but unexpectedly, Jimo Xing had been waiting aside for a long time. Seeing that the bamboo slips couldn't be closed for some reason, she became impatient, stepped forward, and yanked the bamboo slips outwards. ——
Only the sound of piercing the sky cut through the darkness, and there was a "swish" sound, and a silver light flashed in front of Qingqing's eyes!
Qingqing hurriedly jumped back, but unexpectedly, the hidden weapon came much faster than he jumped back. Before he could react for a moment, he felt a throbbing pain in his calf, and he couldn't help but scream "Ah".
Looking down, he saw a light and delicate short knife piercing the flesh.
This hidden knife came with such urgency that the blade was bleeding, and even the small handle was halfway in. Qingqing bent down, gritted his teeth and grabbed the handle, and pulled out the short knife.
The sword was very similar to the scimitar used by the Han people, but it was light and small, so it must have come from the Northern Desert.
Turning his head and taking a closer look, he saw that his calf was bleeding profusely, his ankles were soaked, and his green robe was stained red. He wanted to pull off the skirt of his clothes and bandage it himself, only to realize that his palms had already been marked several times by the hidden line. There were irregular cuts. Perhaps because his legs had lost strength, Qingqing couldn't stand upright and almost fell to the ground.
Seeing this, Jimo Xing hurriedly stepped forward to support Qingqing, pulled off the corner of his clothes, and hurriedly wrapped the wound on Qingqing's leg. The young man's hands were covered with blood, and he whispered:
"Second sister has a weird temper. I just didn't let you climb over the wall easily because I was afraid of this..."
Qingqing felt a chill in her heart - if the master had really come here, could he have avoided such a mystery at this moment?
Before the two of them could react and turn around, they heard click, click, click sounds coming from the depths of the library.
Jimo Xing couldn't help but stop his movements and stood up slowly. The two of them looked at each other and stood still in place, not daring to breathe.
Hearing the shaking and trembling sounds, there was a person hiding in the depths of the library, constantly walking towards him. Qingqing felt his heart beating faster and faster, and tried his best to hold back his increasingly rapid breathing, and couldn't help but stretch out his hand——
A burst of warmth rushed into the palm of the hand, and the young man's palm hugged her wound and felt cold.
Looking forward again, I saw the scattered light and shadow of the candlestick in Jimo Xing's hand, and a vague figure appeared under the dim light and shadow.
Qingqing followed the direction of the sound and looked ahead. The figure was surrounded by the darkness in the depths. It turned out to be a woman's messy figure with a faint light on her back. Standing in front of the two of them, the woman's hair was disheveled, and her clothes were messy and torn, and even pieces of her body were exposed.
Irregular skin. Jimo Xing was stunned for a moment, then burst out with an exclamation:
"Sister Keyue!"
Hearing the cry of the stars, the woman first set her eyes on Jimo Xing. She stayed there for a long time, but her eyes were blurred, as if she didn't recognize her biological brother. Then she turned her eyes to the other side - when she saw Qingqing, she suddenly jumped up
Taking a step forward, he covered his eyes and shouted:
"White-skinned ghost! White-skinned ghost is here!"
Jimo Xing let go of Qingqing's hand and strode forward. He hugged Ke Yue's shoulders and held her tightly in his arms:
"Sister, it's a star!"
"It's a ghost, blue..." The woman kept mumbling, "White-skinned ghost..."
"Sister, the stars are here, where did the ghost come from?" Jimo Xing gently followed Ke Yue's withered grass-like hair, trying to comfort her in a low voice. Unexpectedly, the woman struggled up, broke away from Jimo Xing's arms, and pulled her brother into her arms.
Pushing out a few steps, he suddenly shouted hysterically: "It's a ghost! The ghost is coming! Cyan, white-skinned ghost in cyan clothes..."
After saying that, clear saliva flowed from the corner of his mouth and stuck to Jimo Xing's clothes. Ke Yue screamed hoarsely a few times, suddenly squinted his eyes and tilted his head, his throat tightened, and he fell heavily into his brother's arms.
The pupils dilated for a moment and immediately stopped moving.
The stars turned back, and Qing Qing was wearing a green robe, standing under the flickering candlelight.
Qingqing froze on the spot, the wounds on her legs and palms had long been numb to the point of numbness. She wanted to take a few steps forward, but her feet seemed to be filled with lead and she could not move even one step. The sound of sobbing quietly reached her ears.
, Jimo Xing leaned close to her sister's face, her shoulders trembled, she couldn't restrain herself for a moment, and started crying in a low voice.
Ke Yue's hands hung weakly on the ground. Jimo Xing's cries were heard getting louder and louder. The boy held his sister's cold hand, tears pouring from his eyes. As if he had made up his mind, Jimo Xing suddenly stood up.
The right hand touches the waist.
A short knife flashed in the young man's slender fingers.
Qingqing still stood there in a daze, motionless, even as Jimo Xing strode forward. The short knife flashed with cold light, almost cutting off Qingqing's eyelashes. Qingqing's eyes widened tightly, allowing the cold blade and the angry breath to resist.
On the neck. "Who is it!"
The pale lips moved, but Qing Qing remained silent.
The boy's facial features twisted together in pain: "Who is it? Tell me!"
Qing Qing closed her eyes and neither stepped back nor answered.
The blade pierced deeper and deeper, and through the thin skin, Jimo Xing could already see the beating blood under Qingqing's neck. The blade was lightly glowing red, the desert was silent, and only drop by drop of blood seeped onto the ground.
Qingqing's confused eyes seemed to have lost sight, and the light of the sword and the young man's figure in front of him gradually became blurred. It was not until the cold feeling of the sharp blade suddenly disappeared from the side of his neck that Qingqing raised his hand, and it seemed that there was something wrong.
Touched the scratched wound.
The door opened with a "squeak" sound behind him, but then it closed with a "bang" sound.
In front of him, the young man with thick eyebrows and big eyes and the woman with disheveled hair were gone.