The candlelight flashed, illuminating the vicissitudes of Mrs. Yan's face. Wrinkles flowed like winding rivers, flowing from her closed eyes, scattered to her nose, ears, and corners of her mouth, filling her face.

The maids wiped the old lady Yan's face and put on a clean and breathable set of clothes, and then stepped down. Yan Qingcheng carefully combed her hair, then put down the curtain and walked to the outer room.

Zhao Zimai sat at the table, but the tea in front of him didn't move at all. Seeing Yan Qingcheng coming out, he hurriedly stood up and asked, "Auntie isn't a serious injury?"

Yan Qingcheng shook his head at him and said, "It's okay, the heat is hurting your body, and you are asleep now."

"Auntie saw it." Zhao Zimai turned to the topic and looked at Yan Qingcheng with a frown. "And, she said something in a mess, "What is him, not him." Although I don't understand it, I always feel that this matter may not be as simple as it seems on the surface."

Yan Qingcheng's eyes lit up, "Mother means, is it not Xiangzhen?"

"Who can she be? I can't figure it out after thinking about it." Zhao Zimai's grief became even more serious. "Qingcheng, the evil spirit killed Cuiyun. If it still had the host's mind, then isn't Xiang Zhen the one who hated Cuiyun the most in the world?"

Yan Qingcheng's voice suddenly trembled violently, "But Xiangzhen only realized that she had an affair with her elder brother after Cuiyun's death. Although Xiangzhen herself said it, it was confirmed by her elder brother in person today..."

Zhao Zimai was confused. He looked at Yan Qingcheng for a while and said, "Then why did it kill Cuijun?"

Yan Qingcheng slowly stood up, his face as white as porcelain pieces, as if it would break with a slight touch. He used his hands to stumble on the edge of the table, and his knuckles were stretched blue, "Zimai, there was a man who had broken the relationship between his elder brother and Cuijun."

***

"Lingshan Guards, Lingshan Guards, met in a few dreams. I never had the heart to put down my pen, and the paper was covered with blood and tears. Lingshan Guards, Lingshan Guards, every grass and tree were haggard. I heard that Lingshan Guards, Lingshan Guards, and it is hard to find a red rose. Lingshan Guards, Lingshan Guards, how much love does it matter to the end of the world? I see geese flying south every day, but my heart is broken when I see old friends. Lingshan Guards, Lingshan Guards, the cold star falls every year. Looking at the stars in the north last year, who is the cold star this year?"

Jiayan held a bouquet of flowers in his hand, humming the nursery rhyme taught by Xiang Zhenxin, and ran through the layers of courtyard gates. Several accompanying servants followed him, wiping sweat while calling his name, panting, chasing him. But he deliberately wanted to tease them, and the steps under his feet did not slow down, but faster.

"You are tired after just flying the kite for a while. It's really useless." He turned around and looked at the figures of several people getting farther and farther away, giggled and turned around, his eyes dripped, and he saw a villa where few people came, and "splashed" into it.

There was a opera troupe in the yard. Later, because a few guests who came to listen to the opera had a few conflicts over one of the corners, Yan Bailin was in trouble and dismissed the opera troupe. This yard was used to place some rarely used debris, and few people came in on weekdays.

Jiayan hid behind the pillar on the stage. While trying hard to hold back his laughter, he poked out half of his head and looked at the gate of the courtyard. He heard the footsteps of "da da da da da da" and hurriedly squatted down and kept his anger away. However, the servants chasing him did not expect that he would hide here, and they ran forward one after another through the gate of the courtyard. After a while, the footsteps could no longer be heard.

"These fools just ran away like that?" Jiayan's face showed a look of disappointment. He pouted his mouth and jumped off the stage, smashed the flowers in his hand, threw them on the ground casually, and sighed heavily. But the next moment, he suddenly became happy again, with joy all over the corners of his eyes and eyebrows, "By the way, I'll go and play with my uncle. He just came back from another province today, so he must have brought me a lot of novel things."

Thinking of this, he threw the broken branches on the ground, stepped over from above without any pity, and hummed the song in a row and walked straight towards the gate of the courtyard.

Unexpectedly, as the singing sounded, a crisp "bang" sound came from the room closest to the stage, as if something had been knocked to the ground. Jiayan was stunned and turned back to the room: the window was blocked tightly by a tall cabinet, and no gap was left.

He looked at the window that completely isolated the house from the outside world, and slowly crawled into his mind a ray of doubt: it would be hard to find something in the house because it was so tightly blocked. But this thought only flashed in his mind and quickly passed by. For a child, "playing" is far more important than anything, let alone such a trivial matter that has nothing to do with him.

So Jiayan quickly put aside the fleeting doubts and turned to leave, but at this moment, he heard a voice, a familiar voice. It ties his body and pulls his thoughts back from elsewhere.

The voice belongs to Yan Yuchi, Jiayan's father.

It was very sticky and had a strange tenderness, which made Jiayan's confusion in his heart deepened a little further.

He said, "Did you hurt?"

Jiayan blinked and once again turned his eyes to the window blocked by the cabinet: Why did his father hurt anyone? But if he hurt someone, why could he still speak in this tone? Although he felt guilty, he seemed to have a little inexplicable boast.

Jiayan couldn't figure it out, and while he was wandering, his feet were uncontrollably leading him to the house. His steps were very light, although he didn't know why he was doing this. He seemed to be commanded by something that was born but never broke through the ground, moving his footsteps like a thief, leaning towards the house little by little.

He stopped until another voice came, but at this time, he had already arrived at the door, his eyes less than half a foot from the crack of the door.

"Um."

Another voice did not answer Yan Yuchi's question clearly, and just said "um" vaguely.

Jiayan's body shook and almost blurted out the name: Cuijun, Sister Cuijun? Why did she be with her father in this dim room? Not only that, she was also injured by her father...

He looked at the crack in front of him, and couldn't help but lean forward again and pressed his eyes on him.

Cui Yun was tying the buttons, after tied her own, she went to help Yan Yuchi. Her fingers were very soft and she was very neat when serving Jiayan in dressing, but now she was joking and joking with Yan Yuchi, and the buttons seemed to be tied to never be tied.

Jiayan suddenly didn't want to look at him anymore. He felt his chest was stuffy and he felt like he wanted to vomit.

He covered his mouth, turned around and ran away, but his elbow accidentally hit the door panel and made a "bang".
Chapter completed!