Faced with a difficult situation, most people would panic.
And for some reason, Zhao Wujiang didn't feel nervous or worried, but more of a kind of peace, some silence, and a little calmness.
He seemed to have really grown into a strong man who could not change his expression even when the world collapsed before his eyes.
Under the hazy night, while drawing the talisman and looking up at the starry sky, he felt an indescribable sense of absurdity in his heart.
Who is Zhao Wujiang?
Isn't he a fake eunuch?
Aren't they supposed to be fake eunuchs who dominate the harem, dominate, and are complacent about guarding their own territory?
How did he get to where he is now?
It seems that since he began to gain power, began to practice martial arts, and began to understand more and broader things that he had never understood before, he has come step by step to where he is now.
In fact, what he thought at the beginning was very simple. He just wanted to climb to a high position step by step through maneuvering, and finally become the prime minister, win the queen, reach the pinnacle of life, and become a rich man with three or five wives and concubines, a group of children, and many disciples.
That's all.
But plans can't keep up with changes.
But things are unpredictable.
He could have been poor and happy, without much sorrow, and lived until the world collapsed.
Maybe he doesn't know anything. When the world really collapses, he will only think that the Great Summer is an unfavorable year with frequent natural disasters, and this disaster is just a little bigger.
Everything will be fine, everything will pass.
But now he knows the truth, and absurdity and cruelty are about to happen to him.
Unless they are valuable and can be taken away after the world collapses, everyone born and raised in this world will die from this destruction.
And he, Zhao Wujiang, was very valuable, and because he was too valuable, he had to die.
It sounds like fuck.
But very real.
Some people died innocently because they were affected, and some died because they were guilty of carrying a jade.
Who makes him so lucky?
"well."
Zhao Wujiang looked up at the starry sky, and when the stars came into his eyes, he let out a long sigh.
Just sighing, not dejected.
He finished drawing the last piece of Yunzhuan Powang Talisman, put it in his arms, and walked towards the palace.
Wearing clothes, holding a lamp, the pace is slow but determined.
His back gradually merged into the night, leaving only a hazy yellow light.
He seemed to have been overlooking something and forgetting something.
This matter was very important to him, but he was trapped in a predicament and the authorities were so confused that he never thought of it for a while.
Maybe by the time he wakes up, the world has collapsed.
————
Return to the inner room of the palace.
The empress heard the soft sound of the door opening and the approach of the dim light. She woke up from a light sleep, rubbed her hazy eyes, pursed her lips and stared at Zhao Wujiang with a slight smile.
There's a hint of coquettishness.
The way Zhao Wujiang smiled warmly at her made her like him more and more.
She rubbed her eyes again. Zhao Wujiang's figure looked hazy, as if there were layers of arc light all over his body, and it looked like he was a stack of paintings.
She remembered an interesting incident.
One day a long time ago, Zhao Wujiang shared with her some things about the Kyoto Chamber of Commerce auction.
Tell her that the Daxia traditional Chinese painting framer has a skill that can peel off three layers of a painting. Each layer is almost identical, with only subtle but extremely important differences.
She had asked, but Zhao Wujiang kept it secret and did not elaborate on it with her. Then there were many things going on, and both she and Zhao Wujiang forgot about it.
What she didn't know was that what Zhao Wujiang wanted to tell her at that time was Zhao Wujiang's heart-felt realization.
The painting uncovers three layers.
The outer surface is the first to be stained with ink, and it is bright and bright, just like a person's appearance.
The ink on the innermost picture is thin, but it has been stained by ink stains for many years, and has become as profound as a human soul.
It has been hidden in the outermost drawing paper and cannot be seen on weekdays. Even if you are lucky enough to see it, what you see is as light as water and seems to be a shadow, but the depth of the soul can penetrate the back of the paper.
People are like pictures, one layer of skin, one layer of flesh and blood, and one layer of soul.
And Zhao Wujiang is just Zhao Wujiang, not Zhao Wujiang, and not just Zhao Wujiang.
He is just like what the empress sees now in her hazy state, like paintings printed one after another.
