Chapter 928

However, they are all elderly middle-aged men. Occasionally, there is a woman, who is also a middle-aged woman. As young and beautiful as Zheng Yan, there are few famous women in the market.

Nian Xiaomu takes a look and sits in his seat at ease.

Open the meeting flow chart in hand.

The first process of the opening ceremony is that the sponsor of this time will speak on stage.

Unfortunately, there is no sign on the flow chart who is Mohist speaking.

Is it ink dry? Or ink forever?

Nian Xiaomu was originally determined to be MOH Qian, but just now I heard Zheng Yan say that, and I thought it might be MOH eternity.

According to Zheng Yan, Mo Yongheng is the closest to the master of Mohism, but the successor of Mohism is mo Qian.

It doesn't make sense.

Nian Xiaomu can't find out the situation of Mohist school, so he can only watch it change.

The meeting will begin soon.

When hearing the host announce that the speaker of this meeting is mo Qian, Nian Xiaomu stood upright in his seat.

Clap with the people around you.

In the distance, I saw a great figure. After the host's words fell, I walked up from one side of the platform.

A firm face.

A well cut black suit.

Walking around, the whole body exudes a steady and noble atmosphere, and the wok suddenly catches everyone's eyes.

Nian Xiaomu looks at the scene in front of him.

Originally just curious about ink dry's appearance, I just saw his silhouette at the moment. In my mind, I suddenly came up with a lot of fragmentary pictures:

it was a winter.

When it's snowy.

Near dusk, the West sunset lazily hanging in the sky.

The vegetation in the yard is covered with white snow, and the orange light hits the snow, setting off everyone's face as orange.

A woman in a white down jacket stood in the snow, looking gently at the direction of the gate until she saw the familiar figure.

It seemed to be the same that day.

The man's step is firm and steady, step by step toward her.

It's just that there's a little bit more anxiety in the process of walking.

Just walked up, he asked calmly, "how can you come out and wait when it's so cold outside?"

"I want you to see me as soon as you get home." The woman replied with a smile.

The voice is gentle.

While talking, the man has gently carried her into his arms and lowered his head to kiss her on the top of her hair.

They went into the living room with each other.

The picture turns.

It's in the bedroom.

In the room, there was a low coughing voice from the woman. The voice was a little stuffy, like she wanted to cough, and tried to bear it.

Buried in the quilt, I curled up in a miserable mass.

Not long.

The man came into the room with a bowl of medicine.

Hearing her muffled cough, she went up to pick up the man and put her hand on her forehead.

"There is a low fever. It must have been too long standing in the snow yesterday." When the man frowns to say this, his eyes are full of heartache and self reproach.

"Don't wait for me outside next time."

The woman looked at him chagrined, didn't speak, just reached for comfort and touched his firm face, smiled at him.

This smile is as holy as snow lotus.

It's breathtaking.

The man stared at it for a long time, then he took the medicine from the cupboard and fed it to her one mouthful at a time.

The picture seems to freeze in the most warm and happy moment

In the past few years, when Xiaomu returned to God, Mohan had already stood in front of the speech platform.

The noble and narrow breath can reach everyone from a long distance.

Slightly drooping eyes, as he looked up, swept to everyone under the stage