Chapter 825

Ji Rao is lying on the bed, his hair is wet by cold sweat, stick on the cheek, neck, his pain is silent, at first is the stomach, and then slowly spread, he only know his pain, but don't know where it is.

He is clear that the pain is not conscious, but his eyes are clear, inch by inch feeling the pain.

It's too painful.

It's too painful.

Did anyone help him?

Ji Rao's tears burst out.

He cried very quietly, very sad, a smoke a smoke, grievance to the extreme.

"I don't want to do the task, let me go back, let me go back..." Ji Rao climbed a few steps forward and fell off the bed. "Yubajiang, I want to go back..."

"Xiao Rao, let me take you back."

Ji Rao stopped.

"If you are so slow, I won't wait for you."

A man was smiling at Ji Rao.

Blurred, can't see face, can't see people, in front of only a nothingness, but the voice, very familiar, but don't know how to remember.

"No..." Ji Rao Zheng Zheng, almost subconsciously on the way, "don't go."

His voice was so small that it was almost inaudible, but his voice was filled with supplication.

There are two words between his lips and teeth, but it seems that he has encountered some kind of prohibition. He rushes about in it, but he can't say anything.

That's his name.

In front of the scene, he was still in the dark side room.

No one spoke to him.

No one was in front of him.

Ji Rao's tears trickled down his face. He didn't sob any more. He just cried quietly. He was very sad.

He can't remember.

Clearly know what they forget, but how can not remember.

That is a very important person, how can he forget, how can he

Ji Rao clenched his fists. He climbed to the door, reached out and picked up the little jade bottle containing painless pill he had lost in the corner during the day.

Dignity?

That's too worthless.

Ji Rao trembled, opened the lid, poured out a pill, and almost couldn't wait to put it in his mouth.

Without water, Ji Rao had a hard time swallowing. It seemed that some sharp weapon was rowing his throat. He tried his best to swallow it. After a while, the pain finally dissipated.

Ji Rao put the lid on and lay on his back, his chest heaving with shortness of breath.

He closed his eyes gently and then held the bottle in his hand.

It would be hopeless to live like this every night.

The next day, Yan Jun got up early in the morning and practiced his sword in the yard for an hour. He didn't stop until the sun came out. He stood panting in the yard and almost subconsciously looked at the stone table not far away.

There should have been someone there.

The man should be wearing a plain robe in green clothes, with ink, paper and inkstone on the table and a freshly brewed tea on the side. His face is handsome and warm. When he looks up at him, he will show a faint smile. When he finishes dancing, he will put down his brush. Pinch up a look, it is for their own painting of the sword dance posture.

His painting skill is excellent, and his expression and rhyme are on the paper.

He would not wipe his sweat, but he would always prepare a handkerchief with the fragrance of bamboo on it.

The corners of Yan's mouth were slightly tilted and froze.

He saw the reality.

The stone table is still the original stone table.

But the person who should have been there is no longer there.