Drunk King and Minister

Chen Qian joined the teacher at the age of five, practiced martial arts at the age of seven, joined the army at the age of 17, and became famous all over the world at the age of 25.In his current 30-year-old life, he never thought that one day, he would be so cowardly.

Maybe it's because my career has been more smooth than rough, maybe it's because I've never been trapped and embarrassed by isolation.

When she saw the blood dripping from the back of Han Zigao's hand, Chen Qian had never hated herself so much before.

But he didn't know what to do.

He was clearly full of guilt, but he couldn't say a word.

Han Zigao's expression was calm, a few strands of unraveled black hair stuck to the side of his face, his eyes were like the clearest spring water in the world, with slight ripples.

Chen Qian's heart calmed down inexplicably.

The ancients said, "When a white horse passes through the gap, one can see ten thousand years at a glance." Only now did Chen Qian know what kind of situation it was.

Those eyes seemed to contain thousands of pairs of eyes, which made Chen Qian invisible, and also made Chen Qian willing and sinking.

It was like a sudden storm that tore apart the sky and the earth suddenly disappeared, and the tension of the previous moment gradually dissipated in the two people's eyes.

Han Zigao moved lightly, and he pressed the bloody wound, and the wound, which was long but not deep, stopped bleeding quickly.

Chen Qian's heart skipped a beat.

He, it should be to prevent him from apologizing.

Zigao's movements were slow but orderly. He leaned down to pick up the scissors, and poured the spirits on Chen Qian's table.

Chen Qian didn't hide anymore.

The sound of the cloth being cracked was not ear-piercing, and with the flickering candlelight, it was like the scene of a peasant woman cutting clothes.

Han Zigao looked at the large new wound around Chen Qian's torn old wound, and gently turned his head away.

His heart was beating wildly, a little painfully.

That feeling made him more uncomfortable than the fiery knife wound on his right arm.

Chen Qian worked so hard, but he was extremely useless.

He can't do anything, can't do anything.

He paused for a moment, then continued with his actions in silence.

"I'll tell you a story." Chen Qian tilted her body slightly, her eyes floating on the silk hanging down from the curtain.

"There was a young man who never cried when he was injured. His relatives were proud of him, and everyone thought he was different." Chen Qian's voice was like the wind rustling in the bamboo forest, soft and sweet, "until the boy grew up Only then did he realize that he is different from others."

Chen Qian narrowed her eyes and slightly moved her head.

"He didn't feel the pain. The pain was extremely strange to him. He thought it was a blessing from God, until one day..." Chen Qian paused, "I didn't feel it at all when the sharp knife entered my body, until I was reminded by someone. Only then did he realize that this is not a gift, but a destruction."

Never senses danger, never reacts to stimuli, never feels pain in others.

It was never a gift.

Han Zigao's hand that sprayed the medicine stopped.

He remembered the last time when Chen Qian resolutely refused to bite the white scarf, and remembered Chen Qian's steady steps and calm expression after being seriously injured.

It turned out to be the case.

There is no pain, which is a strange thing he has never heard of.

In Han Zigao's mind, Chen Qian's sentence "a sharp knife enters the body, you don't feel it", that kind of uncertain danger and dullness.

He put the medicine bottle into his sleeve and tied the gauze in a knot.

"Does anyone know?" If anyone knew, it would be Chen Qian's fatal weakness.

Chen Qian withdrew her eyes from floating on the bed curtain, and fixed on Han Zigao's hair.

"Only you and me."

Han Zigao's neck was slender and white, and he froze slightly after hearing Chen Qian's words.

He raised his head and looked at Chen Qian.

Han Zigao leaned over, his raised head was as high as Chen Qian's chest.

From Chen Qian's point of view, Han Zigao's face was bright and dark, the blood stains did not affect his beauty at all, and his neck was as slender and moist as suet jade.

A strand of hair hung down his neck.

Chen Qian reached out to touch Han Zigao's hair as if she had been bewitched by something.

The texture of the hair was as soft and smooth as he had imagined many times, and some strands of hair were sticky with blood, which had dried up and made the ends of the hair slightly stiff, as if the best hair hadn't been wet Boiling water of the brush pen.

Han Zigao blinked, his peach blossom eyes seemed to be covered with a layer of mist, misty and seductive.

The fundus of the peach-blossom eyes was dyed crimson with peach blossoms, and there was a pair of plump silkworms lying under the eyelids, trembling like a weak and helpless child.

Chen Qian didn't know how he acted, his mind went blank and he couldn't help himself.

When Chen Qian realized it, his lips were already reflected in Han Zigao's eyes.

The heat and faint trembling of those eyes, like the most throbbing fine wine, passed along Chen Qian's lips and went straight to the bottom of his heart.

At that moment, Chen Qian thought that she was not in this world.

Time seemed to stand still.

Those swords, lights, swords and shadows, intriguing and deceitful, drifted away silently as if blown by a gentle wind.

Han Zigao's eyelashes trembled a few times suddenly. This slight movement made the two of them leave each other like lightning in a dream.

Han Zigao's heart beat as if it would jump out of his chest in the next moment. It was a throbbing that had never happened before, from head to toe, from every inch of skin to the deepest part of his body.

He staggered back a few steps, the medicine bottle in his sleeve fell to the ground with a bang, and rolled a few times.

Chen Qian recovered from her brief sluggishness, feeling annoyed and happy at the same time.

He just realized that kissing someone's eyes can also make people unable to extricate themselves.

And this person is Han Zigao, a secret he put somewhere that he dare not touch, the most deviant thought in his 30 years of vitality, the one he wants to protect, watch, and guard. that person.

It's the person in his heart.

Chen Qian knew from a long time ago that she never knew about her thoughts about this person. It turned out that these thoughts had spread unknowingly, causing him to lose all his composure and composure.

He had never been so nervous about a person before.

He looked at Han Zigao, his dark eyes under thick eyebrows remained motionless.

Zigao, he didn't hide just now...

This made Chen Qian feel joy and hope in her heart.

However, Han Zigao couldn't live with himself after all.

He fled.

Throwing away the unfaded spring light that filled the room.

In Chen Qian's room, there was only the smell of blood and the lingering sound of a creak.

Chen Qian looked at the medicine bottle whose handle fell on the green brick with an unpredictable expression.

This person is afraid that he will hide from him for a few days.

It's ok.

He became more and more aware of his own intentions, and he would always hold this person in his palm.

The corner of Chen Qian's mouth curled into a slight smile, and that smile deepened until it covered his entire bloody face.

The author has something to say:

Their progress is too slow, I am a little anxious for them