Chapter 65

Yunmenglong wants to sleep. He has escaped for two days and nights. If you want to ask him the way home, he really doesn't know him. He knew he couldn't sleep. If he slept, he would be immortal. How can his will be described? He didn't give up and never gave up.

When he fled to the Luoshui River, he stopped walking nonstop for two days. He saw a man, a man he dreamed of, Su Qingyao, the saint of Cihang Jingzhai.

She stood on the bridge, dressed in blue, flying with the wind, and her hair was tied in a bun at will. Her peerless face was still indifferent, her pupils were deep, and buried the world deeply.

The independent floating like an immortal, the quiet and indifferent inaction. At this time, Su Qingyao was a God, a goddess who could not describe her in thousands of words. Even if Cao Zijian's "Luoshen Fu" is inferior to Du Shaoling's "beauty walk".

The fatigue of yunmenglong's body evaporated like water when he saw Su Qingyao.

Su Qingyao frowned lightly: "Menglong was badly hurt, and Qingyao felt heartache."

Yunmenglong was filled with tenderness and said, "I didn't expect Menglong to meet Qingyao here. I can see Menglong. There's no regret for Menglong's death..." yunmenglong fainted after saying that. He was too tired. He had always been supported by a strong will, but seeing Su Qingyao's spirit loose, huge fatigue swept in like waves, plus dozens of injuries on his body, So he fainted at ease.

Su Qingyao stroked yunmenglong's pale and handsome face. The first pearl in her life fell and the first tear shed for a man.

The wind blew up tears and rolled into yunmenglong's dream. In my dream, flowers bloom in spring, bees fly and butterflies dance.

Time is like a child running out secretly. It has come back beyond recognition.

I don't know how long, as if it had been ten thousand years, Yunmeng dragon woke up. The thousands of green waves turning around in the dream have a beautiful face like flowers. Apricot blue soft smiling face, the princess's silly entanglement, Chu Xiuer's blushing side face. Finally, Su Qingyao's deep and clear crystal eyes are calm.

Everything, like the tide, receded, unable to retain, unable to stay together.

There is no source at the end of the world, where is the way home. The autumn water you can't forget is like a dream, and you are constantly wandering. A tear that could not be held became a pearl in the wind.