[Ancient Style] The notorious minister turned out to be beautiful, strong and miserable

Fu Bao looked at Zhao Yan worriedly.

Zhao Yan didn't speak.

His fingers under the sleeves were clenched tightly.

Rumors are everywhere in this capital, and everyone's tongue is as sharp as a knife.

He was sinking into the inextricable pain, but his expression was indifferent as if nothing could shake him.

Zhao Yan did not have the habit of opening the wound for others to see.

Even he didn't think much of it himself.

When festering and purulent, just goug out the root.

Fu Bao drove the carriage and asked Zhao Yan, "Young Master, where are you going next?"

"Go to King Ning's tomb." Zhao Yan said word by word.

Fu Bao's whip-wielding hand trembled slightly, "Master?"

Zhao Yan said, "When I return to the capital, I should see my old friend."

Incense was burning in front of King Ning's tomb.

People from the vicinity often come to visit the grave.

It was already night when Zhao Yan and Fu Bao arrived.

The snow reflects the dead branches, and the moonlight falls on the wilderness.

Zhao Yan walked over step by step, and walked to the tomb of King Ning, looking at the incense burning in front of the tomb, looking at Lin Lang's tribute in front of the tomb, and looking at the stone sculpture standing on her knees.

He knew that there was a stone sculpture of himself in front of King Ning's tomb, but he had never seen it with his own eyes.

Now that I have seen it with my own eyes, it is not as painful as I imagined.

More like facing too much humiliation to be numb.

The elongated shadow under the gloomy night sky was split into distorted fragments.

In the dark night, he stopped before the grave.

The eyebrows and eyes of the stone carvings are lifelike, ferocious and funny.

He is a sinner who will be engraved in history.

He killed King Xian.

He was exposed to the wind and the sun, and poured by the wind and snow. He has long been damaged, and he has paid for his unnecessary sins for decades.

Zhao Yan's fingers landed on the stone carving's eyebrows and gently stroked. The stone carving was covered with knife carvings and scratches, and the vermilion lacquer was peeling off. It was crumbling but not collapsed.

An arm fell down at some point and was buried miserably in the snow. The aspen next to the stone sculpture was like a cracked ghost hand, exposing white wounds in the dark.

There were tears in Fu Bao's eyes, "Master, let's go back."

Zhao Yan stared at the stone sculpture in a trance, like looking in a mirror.He looked at himself in the mirror with frosty temples, bent over and knees, with the cold moonlight on his shoulders.

He had come here, and met his empty eyes in the mirror.

When King Ning was about to die, he asked him, "How many faces does Master Zhao have?"

Zhao Yan didn't answer him.

Now he said to his other face, "Zhao Changning, why are you so pitiful?"

How many years will you kneel here in the cold and summer?

The statue was silent.

Zhao Yan let out a burst of suppressed laughter in front of King Ning's tomb, "His Royal Highness, what you said back then is right, everyone in this world is blind."

King Ning may have already been reincarnated into the world now, and he will probably not enter the royal family again.

Back then, Zhao Yan said to King Ning, "I have no afterlife."

Zhao Yan's eyes were dry without tears.

He seldom weeps easily.

He has nothing but blood to shed.

I don't know how long it took, the moonlight disappeared in the sea of ​​clouds.

Zhao Yan bowed to King Ning's tomb.

King Ning's cemetery was repaired by him at the beginning, but no one remembers these.

When leaving, Fu Bao stumbled over the broken arm of the stone carving in the snow, so the skirt wrapped around the arm showed its embryonic form in the snow.

"what is this?"

Fu Bao picked it up, hesitantly asked.

Zhao Yan stretched out her hand to take the tattered and shapeless coat, which should have been draped over the statue.

Zhao Changning, who else would shelter you from the wind and rain in such a place?

A dusty jade pendant fell out from the coat. Zhao Yan picked it up in the icy snow, looked at it carefully, her fingers trembling slightly.

Distant memories came to mind.

That was when Zhao Yan was in Lu's house.

Lu Jinglan's birthday.

Zhao Yan was busy with everything and didn't have time to prepare a gift for him in the future, so Lu Jinglan smiled and picked a jade pendant from Zhao Yan's waist with the tip of the sapphire sword.

The sword point not only picked away Zhao Yan's jade pendant, but also cut Zhao Yan's belt that tightly bound her slender waist.

The skirt was half open from top to bottom, half of the chest was exposed in the air, and the shoulders were covered with peach blossom petals. Zhao Yan closed the clothes and became angry with embarrassment.

Lu Jinglan raised her eyebrows and smiled, "You haven't prepared a birthday gift for me, so I will get it myself."

Zhao Yan ignored Lu Jinglan for a long time, until later Lu Jinglan personally gave him a belt to make amends.

Zhao Yan liked that belt very much.

It was Lu Jinglan.

Zhao Yan's hand clenched the jade pendant, and she vaguely recalled the young boy's sunny smile when she picked the jade pendant under the peach tree.

When the carriage left, Fu Bao saw Zhao Yan hanging the jade pendant around his waist.

It wasn't until a long time later that Fu Bao figured out that the old man Zhao Yan said she wanted to see was not King Ning, but the sinful self kneeling in front of King Ning's tomb.

As the carriage drifted away, there was a stone sculpture in front of King Ning's tomb.

It was already in a state of distress, but it still stood silently on its knees.