Chapter 65: White dew
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Late Night Tales Of The Capital
- Shi Gen Yuan Fang
- 1477 characters
- 2021-02-11 12:04:01
The aging roller rolled the jade flashing light, and the night wind was cold overnight. The sound of the wild geese is quiet, and the jujube is a little bit sweet.
The cool breeze has arrived, the white dew has fallen, the cold has not sung, the yin has become heavier, and the geese of the geese have passed through the north and south.
The generals were overnight, and the white cloth was entangled with the house. The light was burning, the incense burned the paper, and the cry was crying. Before the early morning, Ye Yunhai went to the palace with a filial piety, and soon a message spread throughout Luoyang City.
Ye Zhengru, the old general, is in the sky!
A stone stirs up a thousand waves!
Although I have heard that the old general has been in physical condition recently, I have been sick in bed, but someone else saw him out the door yesterday. How did this person leave today?
I sigh that the old generals have a lifetime of people. I regret that the old generals have suddenly passed away. There are many people who have doubts about this matter. But this cannot change the fact that the old general is indeed gone.
Especially for the palace and the palace, it is imperative that the old generals are not so sudden, but how to deal with the aftermath. The funeral is only a small aspect, the most important one is the 200,000 army.
Within half a day, over Luoyang City, the pigeons flew.
Also on this day, in the northwest direction of Luoyang City, there was a small earthquake. If you carefully investigate, you will find that the epicenter of this earthquake is the Dragon Emperor's Mausoleum in the Tang Dynasty.
There is only a slight earthquake in Luoyang City, and no one is injured or injured. The people naturally care about it. The earthquake is an earthquake. What else can it do? For some people, this is not an earthquake.
Soon after the earthquake.
Lushan, the mountain gate is wide open, a group of twenty-eight people, the sword is lined up north.
Wang Yan, Bai Yan of Da Yanguo, a young boy wearing a skin, barefoot, stepping on the grass, and going south.
The bones of the dry hills were smashed, and the swords fluttered. Then, the ten swords flew out and landed in front of the ten sword-stricken teenagers.
The Six Buddha Temples in Yinshan, the Tzu Chi Palace in Yangshan, the morning bells and drums sing, and a group of monks and priests come down the mountain.
There is also the sword of Nanyue, the rain geek, the ancestral court of Yunzhou, the Jingzhai of Huaxiang Valley, and even the five volcanic volcanoes of the Yaozu, including the Zongmen, which can be called the entire Qingqiu, all sent out. A disciple.
These sects are spread all over the country, and the starting points are different. However, the end points are surprisingly consistent, all of which are the Dragon Mausoleum.
The same day, when Qian Shuxiao sent everyone away and was about to close the gate of the pavilion, an old man suddenly came in. Walking, breathing shortness, pale face, Qian Shuxiao knows this person, is the old butler of the generals, and served Ye Zhengru for the rest of his life.
The old man seemed to be very painful. After seeing Qian Shuxiao, he slammed his arm and opened his mouth and seemed to say something.
"You are looking for a leaf shortage?" Qian Shuxiao guessed.
The old man nodded hard.
"He is retreating, I am afraid I can't see anyone." Qian Shu smiled and shrugged. "I wonder if you are not feeling well, or will I find a doctor for you?"
The old man refused to shake his head without thinking about it, and then his brow wrinkled, his chest began to rush, his face turned from white to red, then turned from red to purple, it seemed that he would not be able to see it, and finally he struggled out of his arms. A jade, "Call, tell Ye, river, river pawn..."
Holding the hand of Qian Shuxiao, the old man’s words were not finished. He only said five words. Suddenly, the chest position burned a flame, a black flame, and a black flame in a breathing time. Burn the old man into a fly ash.
There is no bone in the bones.
Even the cry for help is too late to be sent.
Qian Shuxiao stood on the spot. "This is a big living person in the last second. It turned out to be a fly ash in the next second!"
"Jade?"
"The river is?"
"What exactly is going on?"
A big living person disappears in front of himself. For Qian Shuxiao, it is impossible to touch it, but how to deal with it? Reporter? When Qian Shuxiao didn't think about it, he gave up. He is not an ordinary person. At present, Luoyang City is full of turmoil. If you are not careful, you may be ruined.
Ye Zhengru had just returned to heaven last night, and his personal butler died in front of him today.
How to explain this?
The mouth spit lotus is unclear.
Qian Shuxiao did not dare to take the initiative to be the master, can only hope that the leaf deficiency wake up as soon as possible.
The funeral of the generals was held step by step, and the entire Ye Jiajun went up to the school, and all of them took turns to return to Luoyang, only to send the old generals off.
The huge generals of the generals, these days are crowded, the night is like a white, the sorrowful music is long, and the yellow paper is full of days. The nickname of the emperor's Majesty, the word loyalty, is engraved in the center of the tablet, and ‘the memorial to the loyalty of the country’s generals Ye Zhengru’.
For the seven days of funeral, the generals handled the scenery, and the DPRK also gave a full face. The Prince and the Second Emperor personally represented the emperor and came to mourn. The entire funeral was specially approved by the Prince.
The super-degree of the first seven, even the Luoyang Qingyin Temple, the monks of half a temple were invited.
The Buddha's voice is always on the go.
The next morning.
On the 7th, the mourning period was full, and Luoyang City floated with drizzle.
Cried with the rain, and the white paper reflected the yellow paper. In the sorrowful sound of the military government, the team that went out of the way slowly departed and went to the Yejiazu grave of Xishan, outside Luoyang.
Ye Yunhai walked in front of the team, his eyes were red, his face was graceful, but he could not see any tears in his eyes. Behind him is Yu Huating, who holds the rope of the hearse in one hand and one hand on his face. It seems to have been crying into a tearful person, and his mouth is still humming and humming.
The whole team departed from the General's House, along Yong'an Avenue, over Changsheng Bridge, out of Ximen, and into the grave. The distance was not too short, but the team was even bigger. When Ye Yunhai went to Changsheng Bridge, the end of the team was just out of the house.
The old generals went out today, and the people in Luoyang City knew it long ago. Many people waited on both sides of the road early. The old general Hummer’s life was born and died in the Tang Dynasty, guarding the well-being of the prosperous Tang Dynasty. Everyone is watching in his eyes. Now that the people are gone, they have personally delivered it, and they have done their best.
The Tianmen Dao Pavilion is located on the side of Yong'an Avenue. When the sound of mourning is just coming over, Ye Xiaozhen just woke up.
For seven days and seven nights, Ye Xiaofan smashed out sixty-seven thousand and two hundred knives and smashed up to seventy-seven hundred and twenty-two essays. It was finally the end of this psychic road.
When the leaves are open, the aura bursts out.
In the corner of the house, there is a flower pot. The original money book is just thrown into the seeds of a silk flower. At this moment, the seeds in the flower pot grow rapidly, germinate, branch, and leaves at a speed visible to the naked eye. Mao, finally blooming, burst into brilliant brilliance.
A short-lived.
The leaf lacks a slight smile.
Close your eyes, the spiritual power of your body suddenly stagnate, and then open your eyes, the spiritual force of the body around the body is inwardly retracted into the body.
Inside the heart of the door, between the Linghai and the snow-capped mountains, a small Tianyuanling nuclear 噗 噗 的 的 , , , , , , , , , 似乎 似乎 似乎 似乎 似乎 似乎 似乎 似乎 似乎 似乎 似乎
Between the seven days, after the lack of leaves, the day entered the spirit.
(The first one today.)