The villain of Kuai Chuan Jiao is paranoid and black-bellied

Chapter 322 [The Killer]

In the distance, there are two people walking down the gallery of painted boats decorated with water, both of whom are leaders.

The old man is kind and kind, and his body is so overwhelming that people dare not look directly at him, while the young man wears black clothes, but he looks like a dragon and a phoenix, and he walks with unparalleled dignity.

"Since you're back, go back and see your father when you have time. He misses you very much."

The young man smiled and said nothing, did not answer, but said to himself, "My lord resigns and returns to his hometown, the Holy Majesty must be sad and worried."

"The old man can't bear the grace of God. What the imperial court needs are young talents like you, and I should have retired long ago. This time, it's a big deal to get rid of the big worry of the leftist party forming a party for personal gain."

"The left minister is the emperor's most minister. It is inevitable that he will lose his clarity of mind because of being close. How can it be eradicated if the adults are not around? It is impossible to get rid of it at all. Without an adult to take care of him, the older the emperor is, the more he will listen."

Zou Zhenggang never thought that he would be so daring to speak out, and after he retired, he really did not find a suitable person to recommend to the Holy Majesty, and it was also because of this reason that he did not return to his hometown this time.

There are no courtiers in the court who dare to die and remonstrate. The old ministers only care about self-protection, while the new ministers have unstable foundations, and they dare not speak out.

The Holy Majesty is also a human being, even in the Qingming Dynasty, it is inevitable that he will be confused for a while. For a person in a high position, if he makes a small mistake, it is unbearable for the common people.

Zou Zhenggang looked at the young man in front of him calmly, seeing that he had an extraordinary demeanor and a calm expression, even those who were older than him might not be so calm, so he decided to leave more people to observe and observe, if he could be introduced It is also a joy to give to the Holy One.

"Where do you plan to go next?"

Xue An heard the words and looked at the lake. The beautiful scenery of the water and the sky in the distance made people linger. He cupped his hands slightly and replied slowly: "Since I have come to Hengzhou, I will naturally bother you for a few days."

Zou Zhenggang twitched his beard and smiled, "That's very good, Hengzhou opera has been famous for a long time, let's take a look together at night."

The water painting boat is huge, floating on the shore of the lake, surrounded by endless lakesides.

Zou Zhenggang kept a low profile, he only followed one person by his side, and the others were hiding in the dark.

The play is set up in the lobby of the painting boat, with a table and a table around it, and the bamboo curtain in the middle is half-drawn.

Zou Zhenggang worked hard all his life, even his only son died loyally for the imperial court, but when he reached the age of being fond of his grandchildren, he could only live alone, looking very desolate.

Seeing Zou Zhenggang's lonely expression, Xue Anduan could easily guess the reasons. The two talked and laughed happily, quite like a father and son.

As soon as the play started, a line of servants on the water painting boat came with tea.

Xue An was smiling, and when the servant put away the pot, he inadvertently saw the knuckles, and there was no thick callus on the hand of a servant.

He looked at it for a while, then retracted his gaze and casually glanced at the two servants at the table, with his expression unchanged, he stretched out his hand to slightly lift the teacup, closed his eyes and sniffed lightly, the white smoke on the tea gradually blurred his face.

After the first half of the play was sung, there was applause on the water-painted boat, Xue An waited for the applause to fade away, watched the play in the hall, put the teacup back on the table, and wondered, "What is this play about? "

Hearing the words, the old man who sang the opera subconsciously glanced at Jiang Zuilan beside him, a trace of panic flashed in his eyes.

If you talk about how the play is sung, he can tell a thing or two, but he doesn't know what it is about, and how can he expect someone to ask...

The person holding the tea stood motionless, but seemed stiff because he was too calm.

(End of this chapter)