Chapter 40: Phoenix Lily (Part 2)
They argued for more than half an hour. It had been so long that he couldn't remember exactly what they were arguing about. He only vaguely remembered his aunt saying something disgraceful and beastly, and then she angrily pulled him away.
He believed that his aunt must have had some kindness in her youth, but that was later worn away by her suspicion.
So when his aunt brought him back to her Shen'an Garden, she calmed his panic and he told her everything like a fool.
Seeing that he was staring at her intently, his aunt asked, "What are you looking at?"
Without a second thought, he said, "Aunt is different from them."
"where?"
He wanted to say the beating of his heart, but he was too anxious, too eager to please her, to embellish his words and actions, so he said, "Under the clothes—"
A slap hit him in the face, and he couldn't even finish the next sentence.
She was frightened.
Looking at Mu Jin, she didn't know whose shadow she was seeing in him, and she was so scared that she took a few steps back.
Xuanren comes in.
As they held him down, his aunt took the wooden ruler used by embroiderers to measure clothes and slapped his mouth. "You are so young and don't learn your lesson. I will beat you to death and make sure you never utter a single dirty word again."
A wooden ruler was stuffed into his mouth and stirred back and forth to cleanse him of his sins.
He thought of the men and women in the study.
The wooden ruler rubbed his soft tongue and lips, and blood dripped from the corners of his mouth.
She didn't even want to listen to his argument.
Until she had vented her anger.
His aunt sneered, not letting him speak. "You're as shameless as your parents. No wonder you're their offspring."
His injury had not yet healed, and a few days later his uncle called him again. This time his aunt did not interfere, and Chai Che never showed up again.
He seemed to have disappeared from this house.
Sometimes Mu Jin would feel that he was just a candy in his nightmare, which melted before he could finish eating it.
He put pen to paper without hesitation, looked up at the men and women who were no longer avoiding him, and his hot face gradually turned cool and expressionless.
He was looking, but seemed to see nothing at all.
The superficial love affairs between men and women are transformed into straightforward and vulgar ones in his writing.
Compared with his landscape paintings, my uncle's friends and colleagues preferred his erotic paintings and secret play paintings.
Like a tireless puppet, he followed his uncle's instructions and painted pictures whose contents he could not even remember.
In this chaos, he also learned to read and write, and even wrote poems for paintings.
He slept more and more uneasily at night, trapped in dark nightmares. Men and women laughed and pounced on him, tearing him apart. His hands and feet were torn off and his body was left exposed in the wilderness.
When he woke up from the dream, Xiaoju was watching him. He was so panicked that he immediately threw the hairpin he used for self-defense on his pillow at her, hurting her.
He thought Xiaoju would be angry and scared because of this.
Xiaoju was only three or four years older than him. She respectfully pulled the hairpin out of the wound and handed it back to him.
Her blood, her respect, her submission, all reminded him of himself.
He was a prisoner just as she was.
He began to hate her as well.
Who said she doesn't look like a human being!
He continued to poke her with the hairpin, causing her shoulder to bleed profusely. The more she remained silent, the harder he hit her.
Until the blood from her body flowed to his feet, he stepped on her blood with his bare feet and waved his hand, "You go down."
"yes."
Xiaoju's calmness made him realize his own meanness and cruelty.
Maybe what my aunt said was right. He was indeed a poisonous snake, with his tongue sticking out, ready to spray venom and kill people at any time.
The mountains and rivers are so far away that they are thought of in vain; the falling flowers and the wind and rain make spring even more sad.
The Governor's Mansion was built beside a mountain. He looked at the mountains from afar and felt that they were as small as a drop in the ocean. His thoughts gradually changed from wanting to burn out all his hatred to becoming stagnant.
He was finally immersed in this stagnant water and became a part of it.
No matter how vast the world in the books is or how profound the knowledge in his mind is, he can no longer get motivated.
It is conceivable that he will be trapped in this prison ten years later, twenty years later, or even a hundred years later.
The Chai family was the master of the Governor's Mansion, and although he was not a slave, he was imprisoned like a slave. Even the servants and maids in the mansion had a moment of freedom.
He could only linger in the narrow world of Yuyuan.
The youthful years of youth passed in the blink of an eye.
His uncle was still obsessed with martial arts and used his paintings to form cliques for personal gain. Later, Mu Jin realized that it was because of his paintings that his uncle was able to amass more troops and gain more power from the secret support of the court.
As a result, Chai Che became a hostage and was escorted to Beijing.
While his uncle was venting his anger on him, he continued to let him paint the boring mountains, bluestone springs.
He made friends with people from all walks of life and recruited them for his own use.
The instructor of the Liangzhou Military Governor's Office was passing by, perhaps at the invitation of his uncle to stop slaughtering.
As the seasons changed, he had learned to play the piano to entertain his uncle and his good friends.
Coach Liu also brought with him a young and promising man whose swordsmanship was said to be as powerful as a storm.
Indeed, each of his swords carried a fierce murderous aura, and his speed was so fast that it was difficult to catch.
He must be a martial artist in the underworld.
His uncle intended to humiliate him and asked him to go and fight this man.
Wherever his sword went, a chilling feeling was inflicted. From his swordsmanship, Mu Jin seemed to see a familiar shadow, Chai Che.
Like Chai Che, he attacked without mercy, and his sword was full of determination.
Mu Jin was defeated within twenty moves.
Mu Jin fell to the ground, his blood rushing to his head. He wanted to fight this man to the death. Even if he died in the confrontation, it was better than dying in the long and hopeless years.
As a man, a man who was defeated and killed, dying was the best ending he could imagine for himself.
But he put away his sword just before he was about to collide with the sword tip.
He glanced at Mu Jin.
My uncle tested this man's martial arts himself, and soon after, he appointed him as the Chief Secretary.
With the arrival of the Chief Secretary, the stagnant water finally began to flow again.
It seemed that he had been waiting for his arrival for so many years.
What he was waiting for was not Cha Che, nor his salvation and comfort, but a pair of hands that could tear apart the endless darkness with him.
The Chief Secretary brought a pot of withered lilies.
That night, he didn't know who put the withered flowers and plants in his room.
Xiaoju asked him, "Sir, do you want to throw it out?"
He waved his hand, thinking that a guest was coming, and this pot of withered flowers was his gift.
Late that night, the garden was very quiet, quieter than ever before. Everyone was sleeping like the dead, even Xiaoju, who was keeping watch.
Mu Jin's hands trembled slightly. He could sense that this person came for him. He understood the moment Changshi saw him for the first time.
This person will definitely tell him many hidden secrets. It just so happens that his life has been buried in secrets and he has lived in the fog until this age.
The flowerpot is covered with a thin layer of light-colored silk.
If it wasn't a carefully prepared gift, it wouldn't be so thoughtful.
Why wrap a pot of withered flowers like this?
In order to hide his panic, Mu Jin opened a book that he seldom read. He had to read it because he had heard the sound of light footsteps in the wind. The garden was too quiet, and if it was daytime, he might not be able to detect it at all.
He only took a quick look and turned the page twice before his face turned pale.
Under the solitary lamp, the light was as dim as a bean, and the tip of his index finger was scratched by a sharp weapon.
Definitely not a page.
So he said, "The sword strike by the Chief Secretary just now was really fast."
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