Zhao Rong buried Liu Sanbian under an unnamed green hill.

There are no eye-catching scenery or intriguing stories around.

This is just an ordinary green hill.

A low hill.

Just like this morning when Liu Sanbian was buried.

Just ordinary.

Zhao Rong originally wanted to bury Liu Sanbian next to his father's grave.

But that day, not long after Zhao Rong and Su Xiaoxiao razed the Qin Mansion in Liangjing to the ground.

The Wei officials and the remaining members of the Langxi Qin family began a massive hunt for the culprit.

Zhao Rong and Su Xiaoxiao had no choice but to take Liu Sanbian's body and flee in a hurry, traveling day and night without stopping.

There were some setbacks along the way, but they managed to escape to the border of the Wei Dynasty smoothly.

Now we have arrived at a safe place and are about to leave Wei.

Zhao Rong and Su Xiaoxiao only had time to let the deceased rest in peace, at least in Liu Sanbian's hometown.

He deliberately chose this remote and quiet place.

Facing south.

Facing the direction of Liangjing of the Great Wei Dynasty, it was also the direction when Liu Sanbian came, the direction he had been looking back at, the direction of home.

The woods were filled with misty morning fog.

Pale golden light leaked through the moist gaps between the leaves.

The morning air was still cold, but it carried the scent of earth.

In front of a newly built solitary grave.

Zhao Rong lit three incense sticks.

Take the yellow paper from Su Xiaoxiao.

Squat down.

Light a fire and burn paper with her.

The grave is lonely and remote.

There was no one around.

There were only the two of them, busy in this desolate wilderness.

A Confucian scholar and a fox demon.

Visiting the grave of a warrior.

Zhao Rong stood in front of the tomb.

Take out a jug of wine.

It was not some fine wine from the gods, but something he bought from an open-air tavern where he had briefly stopped when he was on his way to his death with Liu Sanbian that day.

Zhao Rong thought at that time that it would be useful.

He poured the wine across the grave.

Looking at this lonely tomb quietly.

There is a simple tombstone at the head.

Blank.

It’s not that Zhao Rong can’t write inscriptions. On the contrary, he knows many excellent inscriptions.

Either generous, or tragic, or philosophical, or open-minded.

At worst, he could also engrave Liu Sanbian's name.

But he still didn't write.

It is for the future, to be left to the child named Qingshan.

When Zhao Rong gives the relics to Liu Qingshan, he will tell him truthfully where his father's tomb is and why his father died.

Tell him that during the long journey, every night with bonfire and wine, the taciturn Liu Sanbian would always talk about him tirelessly.

Tell him that whenever he hears the word Qingshan, no matter when and where, that sinister and ferocious face will always bloom with the warmest and gentlest smile.

Tell him that Liu Sanbian doesn't not care about him, but as a son, he must fulfill his responsibility and ask "why" in person for the extremely unsatisfactory result.

Zhao Rong would point Liu Qingshan in that direction and let him engrave the inscription himself, because he is also the Son of Man.

The wine in the jug has been spilled.

Not a single drop fell.

Zhao Rong stood quietly.

Su Xiaoxiao squatted on the ground, looking at the blazing flames.

The two were silent.

When the flames burn out.

Zhao Rong turned around, picked up his book box, and left.

Su Xiaoxiao hurried to catch up, but as she walked, she couldn't help but look back a few times.

He was her and Zhao Rong's companion along the way. Not long ago, his voice and appearance were still in her mind, but now he was lying alone in a cold wooden coffin, sleeping forever.

Su Xiaoxiao hates separation, hates death, and hates all sad stories.

so.

She will cherish what she has.

The little fox demon secretly glanced at Zhao Rong's thin back.

The two of them walked away, leaving the lonely grave behind and embarking on their journey north again.

Zhao Rong didn't look back in the end.

He didn't actually feel sad.

He even witnessed Liu Sanbian's death behind a window on Suzaku Street that day. In addition to his last finger, he also gained an inexplicably shocking enlightenment about martial arts.

He is not sad.

A simple thought just came to my mind.

Oh, he's dead.

only.

On the way afterwards.

Sometimes when ordering wine from a tavern, he would habitually buy an extra pot, but after a slight pause, he would silently reach out and take half of the money.

Sometimes during the day, when he was playing with Su Xiaoxiao, who had become happy again, or bullying the silly girl, he would turn his head and look around for no apparent reason. In his sight, there was no longer the silent man who would stand by and watch them have fun.

Sometimes when he was sitting quietly by the fire in the early morning, when he heard Su Xiaoxiao getting up to go to the bathroom, he would look in confusion, but then his brows would relax and he would calmly turn back to watch the happily dancing flames. Oh, it turned out that it was no longer that person who had taken over the night watch with him.

Zhao Rong was not sad, just a little missed.

Different from his longing for Qingjun and Qian'er, Liu Sanbian was the first person he missed in this world after he awakened his memories of his past life.

I miss the first time we met at Longquan Ferry because of a spirit stone.

And the repeated martial arts training, walking under the moon...

Zhao Rong understood a little.

It turns out that the line was not broken.

The string that pulled him, connecting his airy heart with the thick, solid earth.

There is no break at all.

Instead, it became more solid.

He no longer had the indifference and absurdity of a bystander towards the world.

Whether it was the first time I killed someone with my own hands not long ago, or the people and scenery I passed by while traveling today.

It's all real.

He is who he is.

He is Zhao Rong.

He is the Confucian scholar Zhao Ziyu, who grew up in Qianjing, the capital of the Great Chu Dynasty in Wangquezhou, Xuanhuang Realm, and married to Concubine Zhao Lingfei.

He is seventeen years old.

His "story" has just begun!

…

This day.

Zhao Rong and Su Xiaoxiao left a small border town with tough folk customs.

Stepped into a forest.

According to the route on the mountain and river map, this is the last country under the mountains.

Passing through it, you will reach Lidu.

noon.

The two of them quickly made a fire and ate, then hurried on their way.

Zhao Rong glanced at the sky, which was gradually becoming gloomy.

The bright sun in the morning has now hidden behind dark clouds.

The air was so hot and stuffy that it felt suffocating.

Su Xiaoxiao handed over a silk handkerchief, "Here, wipe the sweat off your face."

Zhao Rong took the neat silk handkerchief that exuded a girl's subtle fragrance, wiped it casually on his face, handed it back, and looked around.

"Let's walk faster and find a place to shelter from the rain. This rain is expected to last for a long time."

"oh."

Su Xiaoxiao lowered her head, carefully folded the silk handkerchief that was stained with his sweat, put it away, and responded in a cheerful tone.

soon.

A strong wind blew.

The sultry air suddenly cooled down.

But in this desolate wilderness, Zhao Rong and his companions could not find any place to shelter from the rain except the shade of trees.

Zhao Rong had no choice but to take out his umbrella.

Su Xiaoxiao, who was standing by, blinked when she saw this.

Zhao Rong took a look and said, "Why are you staring at me like an idiot? Take the umbrella."

Su Xiaoxiao said eagerly: "Well, I left in a hurry this morning and forgot my umbrella in the guest room..."

Zhao Rong slapped his forehead, "Why don't you forget yourself at the inn?"

Her fox eyes narrowed into crescents as she smiled, but she didn't respond.

"I'm convinced by you. Come here."

Zhao Rong put the small bookcase that Su Xiaoxiao liked to carry into the Xumi object and made room for it under the umbrella.

So the two of them stayed under the same umbrella.

“Boom——!”

“Huahua——”

A torrential rain that had been brewing for a long time finally fell.

There were thunder and lightning and heavy rain.

Zhao Rong and Su Xiaoxiao continued on their journey.

Under the umbrella.

The man is tall and slender, and the woman is petite.

One on the left and one on the right.

The umbrella was not big, so the two of them had to squeeze together with their bodies pressed together to just barely fit under it.

At some point.

Zhao Rong held the umbrella in his right hand and tilted it to the right.

at this time.

It was not yet night, but it was already dark.

For a moment, Zhao Rong's attention was all focused on the road ahead.

suddenly.

Zhao Rong felt a warm little hand covering his right hand holding the umbrella.

Palms are soft and smooth.

He is very familiar.

Because not long ago in the Wei Dynasty, he had had close contact with this hand.

But, it was just acting at the time.

On the way thereafter, the two of them maintained a tacit understanding and restored their original distance.

But now...