In autumn, everything is gradually withering away, and no matter where you go, you feel a sense of desolation. Different from previous years, this year God seems to be more sentimental than usual. He was infected by this desolation, and it actually started to rain continuously.
A burst of autumn rain and a burst of coolness, desolate and desolate, make people particularly homesick.
A stove has been lit in the thatched house - this is the first time that a stove has been lit in the thatched house. In the past, it had never been lit even in the cold winter months.
On the bed, the old man was tightly wrapped in quilt, his body was shivering constantly, tears flowed out of the corners of his eyes uncontrollably, and drool kept dripping from the corners of his mouth.
Wen Junchen kept wiping the old man's face with a wet cloth. The old man had been extremely clean all his life. At this moment, the only thing he could do was to try his best to preserve the last trace of dignity of the old man.
The old man had not taken in a drop of water or touched a grain of rice for a whole day. The poison was indeed extremely poisonous. Even if his cultivation was as deep as that of the old man, he had almost no power to fight back under its influence. The old man had a splitting headache, and his chest was like thousands of sharp knives piercing into his chest. The pain was as painful as cutting out his bones, which made his consciousness extremely blurred. But it was this pain that allowed him to retain the last trace of consciousness——
All the feelings are so clear, all the pain is so real.
Seeing that the old man who had been with him for many years was worse than death, Wen Junchen felt extremely pampered. He respects him, loves him, worships him, and applies every compliment imaginable to him. Seeing that the old man was in such pain, he secretly asked Zichun if there was any medicine in the world that could make people leave quietly. Zichun looked at the old man with tears in his eyes and nodded. Although the conversation between the two was inaudible, the old man seemed to be aware of it. He grabbed Wen Junchen's wrist hard and refused to let go. He shook his head with a painful expression. No matter how Wen Junchen asked, the old man's response He could only shake his head, and it wasn't until Wen Junchen finally agreed that he would never mention that medicine again that the old man dropped his hand heavily with relief.
The old man seemed to be insisting on something. He gave up the opportunity to 'leave gracefully' and lingered on until now for what purpose? At this moment, maybe he can't remember what he is insisting on, but he knows that he must insist on it. This thing seems to be very important, otherwise how could he forget everything but still remember this?
Yes, this thing is very important...and it has something to do with 'them'...but who are 'them'...? Why can't I remember anything...?
The old man struggled to open his eyes, his vision was hazy, and he vaguely saw a shadow beside him. The old man struggled to make a sound. His throat seemed to be affected, and his voice became extremely unpleasant, like a rooster that had its throat cut and bled but was still dying.
At this time, he was the only one in the thatched house. Ji Yang and He Qilang were standing outside the door. Zichun had already returned to the compound, because the junior brother was still unconscious and his condition was also unclear. Moreover, taking good care of the younger brother is the last line of instruction left by the teacher before he passed out.
The harsh sound reached Wen Junchen's ears, and he hurriedly walked to the bed. This was the first time the old man woke up after being in coma. Wen Junchen looked at his amiable and respectable teacher with concern.
The old man's eyes were distracted, and his eyes were wandering around without knowing where he was looking, like a newborn looking at the unknown world...
The old man's open lips refused to close, fearing that it would be difficult to open them again...
The old man kept making whining sounds from his mouth, which seemed to be because he couldn't hold his tongue straight...
Upon seeing this, Wen Junchen quickly turned his head and heard only a few scattered words coming into his ears.
"Are they...are they...coming...coming...?"
"Don't worry, 'they' haven't come yet."
Wen Junchen gently patted the old man's withered hand. After just one day and one night, the old man's hand was as withered as if it had been drained dry.
Wen Junchen felt some pity in his heart, and said to the old man: "The third and seventh children are guarding outside the house. Even if 'they' come, we are not afraid..."
The old man nodded vigorously, then squinted his eyes, trying to focus his scattered pupils. He looked around at the once very familiar thatched cottage, but his eyes were filled with confusion. Finally, he grabbed Wen Junchen's arm and asked in confusion: "Where...am I...am?"
"Teacher, we are in a shabby room, a shabby room in Qianniu Mountain."
"Oh...is it...by the...Chu River...by the Chu River...?"
Somehow, the old man suddenly mentioned the Chu River, and when he mentioned the Yangtze River that raised him, a patch of red seemed to appear in front of the old man's eyes. The red was so bright, like blood, like the setting sun. Seeing this red blur, the old man said excitedly——
"Look...look...that's...that's the red maple forest..."
The old man raised his hand tremblingly and pointed out the window.
Wen Junchen looked in the direction of the old man's finger. There was still peace outside the window, but the greenery faded and light yellow gradually covered the surface of the mountain.
"Red maple forest...beside the ancient road...I...my parents...are...buried there..." The old man actually laughed when he mentioned his parents who had been gone for a long time.
Wen Junchen vaguely felt that the old man had hallucinated at this time, and his subconscious might have returned to his hometown. Under this situation, he could only keep nodding his head and agreeing with him. When people are about to die, white lies are the last discipleship he performs to the old man.
Suddenly, the old man grabbed Wen Junchen's sleeve with force and said solemnly: "Remember to bury me there too..."
The old man said this very coherently without any pause, as if it was a very important thing.
Wen Junchen nodded vigorously. He wanted to run to the side and cry happily, but he couldn't. He had to stay by the teacher's side and accompany him on the final journey.
After explaining this important matter, the old man returned to silence. He looked at the roof quietly, his eyes no longer darting around.
Seeing that the old man became quiet, Wen Junchen seemed to remember something. He walked to the side and poured a bowl of warm water. He carefully brought it to the bedside, stretched out his hand to help the old man up and feed him a sip of water.
The old man was helped up by Wen Junchen and leaned against the bed. At this time, he had no consciousness. I am afraid that if you feed him anything at this time, he will swallow it like a zombie.
The old man's lips touched the bowl weakly. Wen Junchen carefully poured the warm water into his mouth slowly, but no matter how careful he was, most of the water still flowed out of his mouth and fell on his clothes.
Wen Junchen wanted to help the old man wipe it clean. Suddenly, the old man let out a groan-like cry——
"Ouch...it hurts...it hurts..."
The old man's scream was slightly sad, which made people feel very distressed. Wen Junchen was so frightened that he quickly put the old man down.
"Ouch...Ouch..."
As the old man lay down, the pain gradually dissipated, and the old man's cries gradually subsided until finally disappearing completely.
Wen Junchen lowered his head and asked with concern: "Does it still hurt?"
The old man turned to look at Wen Junchen in a daze, and then shook his head.
Seeing his teacher shaking his head, Wen Junchen felt relieved. He wanted to turn around and take a cloth to wipe his body clean, but he saw the teacher staring directly at him, so he had to stay where he was, waiting for the teacher's question.
The old man looked at this familiar face, but he couldn't remember who this person was. He seemed to be someone very close to him, and he had been with him for a long time, but who was he? What's his name again? The old man's mind went blank. He tried his best to think, but there was still no result...
"Who...are you?" The old man finally chose to ask.
"I am the emperor! Teacher, don't you recognize me?"
"Oh...junchen..."
Hearing the word "lord and minister", a familiar and cordial feeling creeps into my heart——
Yes, Junchen is a person who is extremely close to me, a disciple that I kissed back then...but...but what about that person? Since the king and his ministers are all here, how come that person is not by my side? Where did he go? Thinking of this, the old man asked puzzledly——
"Junchen...where is he?"
"Teacher...who is he?"
"Qingbo! Where is Qingbo?"
Wen Junchen was speechless for a while and had mixed feelings in his heart.
"Qingbo, this kid likes to stay by my side the most... He likes to read... He also likes to practice swords... He is also quite talented in medicine... Once he doesn't understand something... Come and ask me..."
Seeing the old man mumbling to himself, Wen Junchen hesitated to speak.
"Qingbo likes to be by my side the most... Qingbo likes to be by my side the most... Where is he now... Why isn't he here...?"
After thinking for a moment, Wen Junchen chose to deceive again and said: "Bo Qing... senior brother... he went to find 'them'..."
"Oh... Qingbo has gone... OK... OK... OK... Qingbo has gone... Then I can feel relieved..."
The old man smiled again, finally feeling relieved after hearing the news.
The old man looked at Wen Junchen and kept nodding. Then he wanted to call the middle-aged man in front of him again, but within a moment he seemed to have forgotten his name.
The old man looked at Wen Junchen quietly. Suddenly, a butterfly flew in from the window. After the butterfly circled around the house several times, it gently landed on the old man's bamboo-like fingers. The old man stared at the butterfly and seemed to feel the breath he had been waiting for. He raised his head and looked outside the house and said to himself: "They are coming."
"What!?" Wen Junchen suddenly became nervous.
"They are finally here..." The old man's tone was extremely relaxed, as if the final mission had been completed. He said happily: "They are here... After finishing this work... I can finally sleep for a while. Well... in the future you... take care of yourself... don't forget... medicine... medicine..."
Wen Junchen took out a small medicine bottle from his arms, poured out the medicine inside, and fed it into the old man's mouth.
The old man chewed it hard for a few times and then swallowed it. Then, the old man fell on the bed with his head tilted, the corners of his mouth slightly raised, showing a happy smile.
This medicine was given to him by his close friend Qi Shimao. The medicine has the ability to quickly bring the dying person back to life. There are only three pills in the world.
Wen Junchen looked at the teacher with complicated emotions, then turned around and walked out of the room with a solemn expression.
This moment has finally arrived.
