Chapter 872: Uninvited guests are not invited

Almost the same as that night, the sudden rush of horseshoes shattered the silence in Tallinn. At night, I only heard the continuous shouting of people in front of me, the clutter of horseshoes, and the frightened hissing horse.
The purity of the Buddha's door seemed to be completely broken.
All the people around me were staring with wide eyes, and looked at the chaos there inconceivably.
And Liu Qinghan seemed to feel something, and slowly walked out of the crowd, looking forward in amazement, the fire flared, shining on his face, and the half silver cold mask also seemed to be ignited Out of general.
However, surrounded by the fire, the mask still showed a strange, cold light.
By the time I looked back, a horseman had galloped from outside Tallinn.
A gust of wind slammed into my face.
I closed my eyes subconsciously and took a step back. By the time I opened my eyes again, the rider had stopped in front of me.
A tall, dark-brown horse with bright fur, every inch of bone is fit, and every muscle is full of strength. Under the light of fire, the oily black fur reflects the light of silk, it seems extremely restless, non-stop Hugging his forefoot, he almost rushed into the crowd.
The man on the horse tightened the reins with one hand, extended one hand, and patted the horse's neck gently.
"Stop."
Compared to this horse full of beauty, the voice was a little weak, and even a little out of breath, but the steed seemed to understand human speech, and soon calmed down.
And my attention was completely attracted by those hands.
It was a pair of very thin, almost like a woman's hand. When it was stretched out, it was almost white and dazzling. However, it was found that the hand used a white bandage from the small arm on the sleeve. Wrapped up to the tip of each finger, it was so rigorous that no one inch of skin was exposed.
The hand gently stroked the horse's neck again, and then I saw the man on the horse's back slowly straight up, a pair of bright and clear in the night, as if obsidian eyes looked at us.
"Lightness, light dust, long absence."
"..."
Yan Qingchen has been sitting in a wheelchair, watching him silently without saying a word.
I also slowly raised my head and looked at him.
The man on horseback was not young, he was standing by, nor was he handsome, because he was very thin, even with a pin-shaped shape, and the cheeks on both sides were deeply sunken. Large and bright outside; his skin is very white, but different from the whiteness of the jade-faced boy like Yan Qingchen, his white is a pathological pale, as if there is no blood, especially his eyes, The color is very light. It seems that a layer of translucent film floats on it, making those eyes look like a layer of cloud and mist.
So, when he looked at me, I even had the illusion of being in the clouds and fog.
There was a cyanosis in my throat, and I opened my mouth slightly, struggling for a long time, and finally made a noise—
"It's been a long time ... Qinghan."
...
The person in front of me actually hasn't seen me in a long time.
Sixteen years of time, such as the white horse passing through the gap, flashed off, the connection between me and these old people, as if washed away by the flow of time, faded and faded.
But some of them are still unforgettable, especially the connected blood.
Thinking of this, I glanced at him again.
But the man in front of him faintly opened his face, and the white satin-banded hand patted the horse's neck again, and the horse immediately turned his head and walked a few steps, and came to Liu Qinghan.
It seemed that Liu Qinghan couldn't get back, just looked up at him.
The two looked at each other for a moment, the man on the horse's back leaned down, looked at the half cold mask, and said gently, "Little brother, it's been a long time."
Liu Qinghan looked at him dreamily, and when he heard these words, his eyes widened in amazement.
"you--"
"I know something about you," the bandaged hand stretched out again, and patted Liu Qinghan's shoulder gently: "Relax, we have a lot of time to get familiar with it slowly. You will remember me Whose."
Liu Qinghan looked complicated for a while, looked at him for a while, and said, "I seem to know who you are."
"Is it?"
Looking at the two of them looking at each other so calmly, I don't know why.
Thinking back to the day when he and I found out that the examination room was fraudulent, Liu Qinghan held me in his arms and ran wildly. At that time, I only felt my heart beating like thunder. In order to cover myself, I asked him several times— —Who taught your equestrian.
And his answer, there was only one sentence over and over--
You do not know.
If he still has memory now, if he still has a little bit of impression of the past, he will probably laugh at his determination.
How can I not recognize this person?
Liu Qinghan, it turns out that sometimes you are not all right.
At this time, some people followed him from where he rushed in. In addition to the monks who were upstairs, there were also some people in the costume of the servants. When they came forward, they said carefully, "Master!"
The pale boy raised his hand holding the whip and waved it twice, and the people immediately calmed down.
Several monks followed him and frowned, "This donor, Tianmu Temple cannot walk. No matter who you are, please dismount!"
He didn't say a word, turned over directly from the horseback, his movement was very smooth, but when he landed, he accidentally took two steps and almost fell, and the attendants he brought immediately supported him. : "My son!"
"Cough, cough, cough ..."
Before he could speak, he covered his mouth and coughed uncontrollably.
Moreover, the more he coughed, the more it sounded as if someone was hitting him hard with a hammer in his body. The muffled sound made me feel like he was coughing and dying. Seeing that he was almost unable to cough, the monks were stunned, and for a long while, carefully said, "Door, are you okay?"
At this time, the fearless monk came over, glanced at him, and waved at those people: "You all go down, you don't need to worry about it here."
"Uncle Fearless, but he—"
"He's not an outsider!" Fearlessly frowned, rudely, "He's the uncle's son!"
As soon as the words came out, the young monks around them immediately took a sigh of relief in shock.
Even Pei Yuanxiu couldn't believe his eyes widened and turned to look at me.
I looked at the man who had coughed down and was silent, and finally nodded.
Yes, the thin and weak man in front of him can even be said to be a sick monk, the child of my uncle, and the son of the Yan family, Yan Qinghan.
Yan, light, and Han.
I meditated on these three words in my heart. When I looked up, he had taken the handkerchief from the attendant and covered his mouth, and barely stopped the cough.
He looked up, facing the fearless monk, "Thank you."
The fearless monk glanced at him a few more times, after all, said nothing, and the old monks came slowly, looked at Yan Qinghan, and said, "The donor, you are here."
"I heard that my father died, and he came to see him off. He just offended and hopes to forgive him."
"Dare."
"Since the donor came to see off for the righteousness, that's fine."
After they had spoken, they waved. The two monks who had come to the stage before, and the torches holding the torches also came over. They both kept their heads down and looked very cautious. One of them did not wait for the order and handed the torch to Yan Qinghan Hands.
Yan Qinghan said lightly: "Thank you."
The two monks saluted, took a few steps back, and returned to the crowd.
At this moment, the entire Tianmu Temple and the entire Tallinn were all quiet.
All that left was the sudden heartbeat of my chest, and the torch in Yan Qinghan's hand, and the sound of sizzling sound when burning, he held the torch and walked slowly to the high platform.
The body of Zhengjue, sitting on the front end, looked down, as if the Buddha who had compassion on the world, was looking at the dwellers in the ten feet of red dust.
And his son, standing in the ten feet of red dust, looked up at him.
A gust of wind blew, and once again picked up the robe of the elder monk Dade sitting on the high platform.
Yan Qinghan was expressionless, and when he raised his hand, he put the torch into the woodpile under the high platform.
Just then, I stood next to him and reached out his hand, grabbed his wrist.
It was also at this moment that I felt that his wrist was so thin that he seemed to have only one bone left, almost thinner than the wrist of my woman. He was caught by me and turned to look at me, but he was very calm, and just asked, "Is there anything left?"
I thought for a while and said, "You haven't seen your second uncle for so long, and have nothing to tell him?"
He also thought about it, and said, "My heart is the same, so what's the matter?"
"What about the second uncle?"
"..."
"Is he still the same over the years?"
"..."
This time, Yan Qinghan turned slowly and faced me exactly, and his pale face was immutable and calm: "He naturally changes."
"Oh? What?"
Yan Qinghan turned his head and looked at his father on the high platform, and the faint soft rouge, half a moment, said lightly: "His sins are full today."
"...!"
With a sudden jump of my heart, I felt that the wrist was suddenly strained. I couldn't catch him at all, and was almost overturned by him. Yan Qinghan had already thrown the torch in his hand into the woodpile.
Suddenly, the fire rose into the sky.
A scorching heat wave that almost burned people to ashes struck. I almost stepped back subconsciously, but I saw Yan Qinghan standing on the high platform, only a short distance from the flame, like a sculpture. Well, motionless.
The blaze of fire lit up every corner of the Tallinn, as well as everyone's pale face. Only him, the pale face, from beginning to end, was so peaceful, as if it were frozen for thousands of years.
Opposite him, another light cold, eyes widened in horror, watching this sky-high fire.