Chunyin

"I can. But Fu Huan can't."

Zhuang Heng looked at me with a determined expression, as if he was declaring something as natural as the sun rising and the moon setting, and the seasons changing.

His focus obviously falls on "Fu Huan can't do it".

My brows twitched involuntarily, and then I remembered——Zhuang Heng has such a magical ability, once such annoying nonsense like "I can, but you can't", will be inexplicably extremely persuasive.And another person I have seen with this ability was sitting on the Dragon Throne back then.

Extreme arrogance, like extreme humility, is a very rare thing in the world.Zhuang Heng is a commoner, he is neither rich nor noble, but he uses this kind of arrogance with perfect proficiency.

Think about it, Zhuang Heng's arrogance, I have learned it from the first time we met.

Counting the years, it was a hundred years ago, but the scenery of Liangzhou is as fresh as new in my memory.

It was around Lixia, when the yellow woods on both sides of the back gate of the Marquis Mansion were in full bloom, hanging upside down like a waterfall.The pomegranates in the durian orchard bloom sporadically, dotted with star white and bright red spots in the dark green.After the beginning of summer, the weather gradually became hotter and hotter. The tall pagoda trees and ancient willows in the capital were shaded. After the harsh winter and the warm and cold spring, the spring clothes were finally replaced with summer clothes, and everything in the world stretched out.

——I don’t know if it’s because the scenery in my memory is too cute, but when I recall the first meeting with Zhuang Heng, I don’t seem to be gnashing my teeth so much.

At that time, it was night, and the Dongxijier Lane in Liangzhou City was brightly lit.The dandies in Beijing and China gather here, playing and singing every night.

Zhuang Heng set up a stall under a certain building in Ji'er Lane, under a certain willow tree swaying through the night wind.What does this gentleman-looking, human-looking scholar go out to the market in Ji'er Lane at night?

Beauty figure.

The shy, half-covered kind.

When I first heard the girl from the brothel say "Mr. Zhuang is here again today", I thought it was some kind of spendthrift young master who came here recently. I heard this a few times, and when I asked, I realized that he was a low-level painter.

This painter sells art on the street, but what he sells is not finished paintings, but on-the-spot drawings of people. For a while, men and women in the capital who make a living by sex are flocking to it, and the good-looking and lively people are also flocking to it.The painter is calm and composed, painting on the street, with a letter and pen, and in just ten months, he has become famous.

The girls felt that the word "painter" was not worthy of his painting skills, nor his demeanor, and defended him: "Mr. Post that picture of a beauty, and now her worth in Beijing will be multiplied several times—Young Master will know it when he sees it."

The person who made the painting is praised highly, and the painting and the people in the painting will naturally benefit.Therefore, I don't take the protection of the prostitutes seriously, I just ask people to take a look at the paintings.

I gathered two or three paintings from around, took a look, I was a little stunned, this painter surnamed Zhuang was engrossed in his brushstrokes, even a mediocre beauty called him an unusual painting.Not to mention that it is half-covered and half-exposed, and it is very different from the illustrations in those Fengyue storybooks. The wind, style, and charm are indeed extremely beautiful.

However, looking at it, it tasted something different.

Finally, someone with sharp eyes looked at those paintings, then at me, and said with a joke, "No matter how I look at it, the beauties in these paintings are somewhat similar to our little lord."

In the painting, Qinlou Yingying and Chuguan Yanyan are indeed different beauties.But the demeanor between the brows and eyes is really similar to me, which I can't explain clearly.

"Perhaps Mr. Zhuang is the only one who likes brother Liang." Someone tried to explain, but laughed again in the middle of the sentence, and the description became darker and darker—who would be favored by him?

When I was young, I was informal, surrounded by friends, and joked endlessly. Seeing that I didn't respond, I continued to fight: "Why, Mr. Zhuang, it seems that I have seen Brother Liang's unrestrained appearance—— I have never seen Lan Wei like this before, but now I think about this painting, it is very interesting."

I pulled the painting and sneered, and said: "What's the use of thinking? Try it and you'll know—I don't know who will get the fun?"

In fact, not to mention anyone else, even when I saw the painting, I felt the same way in my heart—this person surnamed Zhuang, could it be possible that he has seen me?What's more, there are clues in the painting, but the clues are very secret, if it is not for three or four sets put together, and I am there, others will never know.

I smiled, looked at the inscription on the painting, and asked, "Where does he set up a stall?"

So he threw away the warm and fragrant nephrite, and went out in the starry night to find someone to settle the score.

It was easy to find.

The green willow shadows were reflected by the lights of the opera house. In the dusty and complicated light and shadow, she was wearing an old and whitish gray-green gown.No need to ask any more, I knew at a glance that this person was the one I was looking for.I pretended to be leisurely, and walked forward shaking my folding fan.He was packing up his pen and ink, he glanced up at me, then lowered his head to tidy up, without any intention of talking to me.

I got closer and stuck in front of him.

He still turned a blind eye.

Until he took down the bamboo pole supporting the cloth streamer, I asked aloud, "Do you know who I am?"

He looked up at me: "I don't know."

I said, "Then where have you seen me?"

He said, "Never."

I sneered, and pressed the scroll under his hand with the folding fan: "Don't you think I resemble the beauties in your writing?"

He was gathering a stack of cooked leaflets, flipping the straw rope between his fingers, and fastened a loose buckle deftly.Then he raised his head, his eyes reflected the lights of the opposite building, and looked at me quietly for a while.

I sneered, "Do you understand?"

He didn't speak, raised his hand to lift the lantern on the side, turned around the table in the middle, and came to me, with a warm light in his pupils, looked at me and whispered: "Let me see again. "

Zhuang Heng was born well, the kind that shines even when a pearl is dusty.He stood in front of me, very close, and the lantern was on, making his eyes even brighter.For some reason, the atmosphere suddenly became very subtle.

I thought he was describing me with the same gaze that he used to describe pictures of beauties. The situation was not right, but I didn't want to show timidity, so I raised my face, curled up one corner of my mouth, and sneered: "Look carefully. See clearly. "

He took another step forward and raised the lantern up to my face.The light and heat of the candlelight fainted on my face through a thin layer of bamboo tissue paper. Zhuang Heng was standing in front of me, with the light of the lantern, his eyelashes drooped, and his gaze was very focused on looking at my face inch by inch—— I was so irritable at that time that I couldn't bear it for a moment, but when I think about it now, what I saw in my eyes came out very clearly.

Later, I was pissed off by Zhuang Ziyu's mouth many times, and I forgave him many times because of his eyes that night.If people's eyes could speak, the words in Zhuang Heng's eyes probably sound much better than those in his mouth.There was also something misleading in his eyes at that moment.