Wen Mingyin! !
The oil lamp in his hand trembled, and the whole room seemed to shake slightly.
Cen Ji composed himself and looked closely, only then realizing that although the woman in the painting resembled Wen Moyin in appearance, there were still differences. The woman's eyes were bright and sparkling, her spirit was high, her eyebrows and the corners of her eyes revealed a hint of coldness, and her smile had a touch of wickedness, which was completely different from Wen Moyin's calm and proud expression.
The more Cen Ji looked at her, the more he felt that this woman was not Wen Moyin. Although she looked about 70% like her, her demeanor and expression were completely different.
Cen Ji raised his hand and slowly stroked the roll of paper. He felt a faint dampness under his fingertips, probably because it had been left in this damp place for a long time. The originally dry paper had become somewhat soft and damp.
There was no inscription on the painting, and the silence was unrecognizable, so I had to move the oil lamp away and look at other paintings.
Cen Ji was not a person who appreciated refined tastes, and he knew nothing about appreciating paintings. At first glance, he only felt that the beautiful women on the paper each had a different expression, some with slight anger and resentment, others with sadness and sorrow, all of which were lifelike and vivid. After looking at them for a while, he felt as if something was blocking his heart, and he felt very sad.
He thought of Ban Lan.
He didn't know why, even though the woman in the painting was not the same person as Ban Lan at all, he began to miss Ban Lan uncontrollably.
That kind of longing is terrifying.
It seemed to be a sudden outburst after years of stagnation, without any warning, weighing him down so heavily that he could not bear it.
He didn't understand. He missed Ban Lan, but that longing and yearning was more like the gloomy weather before a thunderstorm, with a melancholic air in every breath. But the feeling that erupted now was like a sudden tsunami, instantly overwhelming him.
Cen Ji gripped the oil lamp tighter and tighter.
He stared blankly at the painting in front of him, then suddenly looked away, forcing himself to look elsewhere, only to catch a glimpse of a painting that had fallen to the ground in the corner.
He stepped forward, bent down, picked up the painting, and placed it under the oil lamp. To his surprise, he found several lines of writing in the lower left corner of the painting, the characters slender, elegant and unrestrained.
"A gathering and a parting, a joy and a sorrow. A bed to lie on, a lifetime in a dream."
Cen Ji stared blankly at those few lines of text, lost in thought.
Even someone with no knowledge of poetry could understand the meaning of this sentence.
The paintings covering the walls are nothing but expressions of longing.
But those longings, bit by bit, are transformed into ink, seeping into the back of the paper, and then dried little by little by the wind, intertwining with the alluring fragrance of ink, like a slow poison, unknowingly and imperceptibly invading the lonely heart.
One bed, one body lying down; a lifetime, a dream...
After a soft sigh, Cen Ji slowly stood up, glanced one last time at the countless beautiful figures on the wall, turned his head away, and refused to look at the wall again.
He picked up the painting from the ground, walked to the stone table inside the house, and placed it on the table. Suddenly, he noticed something on the corner of the table. The object was long and soft like a hair, but it had an eerie bluish-gray hue.
Cen Ji reached out and picked up the hair-like object when Rong Fu's voice suddenly came from behind him—
"I said, 'It's time to sleep.'"
Silence shivered.
At the beginning of the year of Xin Si, Rong Fu, the first of the secret guards, was the former leader of the Longmen Sect.
Upon hearing Rong Fu's voice, the first thing that came to Cen Ji's mind was this record.
He turned around and said slowly, "Fu Rong, the leader of the Dragon Gate Sect, is indeed skilled in lightness skill."
Rong Fu smiled faintly and said, "I remember there was a mark with the word 'former' in that booklet."
Cen Ji said, "Some things are better left unsaid than said."
Rong Fu raised an eyebrow and said, "Since you're so keen to emphasize this point, what do you want to know?"
Cen Ji said, "The Dragon Gate Cult and Kongshan Ridge have a long-standing feud, but it was resolved after the great battle ten years ago. It seems that this was probably because the cult leader went to Kongshan Ridge to become a secret guard."
Rong Fu's expression was somewhat dazed, as if recalling something, "That great battle? Hmm... Yes, the one where we fought for supremacy in the Central Plains, right?"
"Ah, that time... That time... It was so long ago, I can't remember." He lowered his eyes, concealing the color in them.
Cen Ji asked, "Is it that you can't remember, or that you don't want to remember?"
“Ha,” Rong Fu looked up and met his gaze, “Some things are better left unsaid than said, aren’t they?”
A brief smile flickered across Cen Ji's lips.
“I think the reason you’ve been unwilling to leave for ten years might be because of… her?” The word “for” was drawn out, and Cen Ji’s fingertips landed on the girl in the painting.
Rong Fu smiled wryly and said, "You're very capable."
Cen Ji shook his head and said, "It's just a guess."
Rong Fu said, "You have all the qualities a bodyguard should have."
Cen Ji said calmly, "Thank you."
Rong Fu said, "Your expression doesn't seem like you're expressing gratitude."
Cen Ji said, "Because I don't feel that being a bodyguard is any honorable thing for me."
Rong Fu raised an eyebrow and said, "Kongshan Ridge is not an unreasonable place. As long as you have not done anything to betray Kongshan Ridge, if you want to leave, Master Kongshan will not force you to stay."
“But… you served as a bodyguard for twelve years.” Rong Fu smacked his lips with interest.
Cen Ji said calmly, "Doing what you like always comes at a price in the end."
Rong Fu was taken aback.
Can I take this to mean... you're afraid of paying the price?