The tent was small but warm inside. The oily lanterns emitted a warm orange light in the bamboo cage, blocking out the wind and snow outside.
Fu Yunge opened the tent and entered, and the smell of stew soup came to his nostrils. I saw a small pot placed on a dead branch in the center of the tent. It was filled with a pot of broth and was still filled with hot steam.
The aroma was very strong, and it was so hot that it seemed to crisp up the felt of the tent.
Fu Yunge followed Lang Chenyan and sat down on the floor, listening to the sound of snowflakes hitting the tent outside, which was quite interesting.
Lang Chenyan silently found two bowls and threw one of them in front of Fu Yunge.
"Eat." He lowered his head and said.
Fu Yunge looked sideways at the mysterious swordsman in front of him. Although it was a bit strange, he felt that Lang Chenyan had the taste of a swordsman more than the chivalrous deeds. He has lived alone in this vast snowy desert for many years. He really doesn't know how he can bear it.
Lang Chenyan didn't care that Fu Yunge was spying on him, he just scooped up a bowl of broth, blew on the hot air and drank it slowly.
His hair was originally stained with many ice crystals, but after the steam evaporated, they all melted into crystal water droplets, hanging on the tips of his hair.
The sound of "gulu gulu" rolled in Lang Chenyan's throat, and Fu Yunge felt hungry in his belly when he listened to it. He then devoured it and drank two large bowls of broth without ceremony. Only then was he full and his body felt warm.
He stretched out, as if he had risen from the snow, and his body was full of energy.
Lang Chenyan had finished eating and was watching his movements. Seeing that he was full, he asked in a low voice, "What do you want from me?"
Fu Yunge was slightly startled, and then he remembered that he still had important matters to attend to. He suddenly thought that the letter was still in the snow outside, so he jumped up, opened the tent and went out to look for it.
Lang Chenyan watched him go out, his eyes seemed to be empty and complicated.
Not long after, Fu Yunge came back with a head full of snow flakes, and in his hand was the letter from the Moyu Sword Studio.
He sat back down and handed the letter in his hand to Lang Chenyan: "That's it, you can read this letter."
Lang Chenyan took it hesitantly and opened the envelope with some unfamiliarity. After unfolding it and seeing the long content inside, he immediately threw the letter to Fu Yunge: "Read it to me."
Fu Yunge was a little funny, but then he thought that after living in this deserted place for so many years, he would inevitably forget the words. So he unfolded the letter and read it word for word to Lang Chenyan.
The wind blew continuously outside, causing the felt to shake slightly. The oil lamp swayed their figures, and the flames under the small pot tended to go out.
After a while, Fu Yunge finished reading the letter.
When Lang Chenyan heard about Xia's whereabouts and death just now, a crack appeared in Lang Chenyan's indifferent expression. By the time he finished reciting Fu Yunge, he slowly returned to his original paralyzed expression.
"...That's it." Fu Yunge raised his head from between the letters and looked at Lang Chenyan, wondering what he was thinking.
Lang Chenyan didn't answer. He kept staring at the remaining soup at the bottom of the pot. Seeing that he was silent, Fu Yunge glanced sideways at him.
Lang Chen murmured something incomprehensible between his cigarette holder, his voice as thin as a mosquito. Fu Yunge couldn't hear clearly at all, so he tried to get closer.
Seeing that he was approaching, Lang Chenyan immediately came back to his senses and kept a certain distance from him.
"I...got it." After a while, he finally broke the silence and whispered.
His rough hands were caressing the broken knife on his waist, as quiet as death. The wind and snow outside the felt became increasingly intense, and their ears felt like drums rumbling.
"There is no more..." Lang Chenyan said slowly, his voice as dull as dead wood, "They are gone, only I can remember them."
Fu Yunge felt uncomfortable in his heart when he heard what he said.
"The Five Swordsmen of Tianjiang ended up like this, it's ridiculous, it's ridiculous."
Lang Chenyan was still sighing to himself, while Fu Yunge sat silently aside without saying a word.
"Do you know... Tianjiang Five Swordsmen?" Suddenly, Lang Chenyan looked at Fu Yunge with hazy eyes like a child and asked.
Fu Yunge was a little surprised by Lang Chenyan's question. However, looking at his sincere eyes, I had no choice but to recount what I remembered from Dongfang Shiming and Subiezhi's introduction to pouring beans through a bamboo tube:
"Well, you are the five masters of the 'Tiandian Ten Thousand Swords Pavilion' back then. You are unpredictable..." he said while thinking, "You are respectively, Crazy Sword Yichen and Xia Xingjing, and you Semo Wolf Sword ·Lang Chenyan, and..."
Other impressions were a little blurry at this time. He seemed to remember some kind of sword king and some kind of demon sword, but he couldn't remember them clearly.
Lang Chenyan looked at his embarrassed look and waited for a moment. Seeing that he really didn't seem to be able to think of anything else, he couldn't help but laugh bitterly.
"That's enough." He said quietly.
Fu Yunge looked at him with some apology in his eyes. I don’t know what Lang Chenyan wants to do, but I hope it won’t make things more difficult.
Lang Chenyan sighed to himself for a while, his eyes always wandering on the face of the letter and Fu Yunge.
Fu Yunge didn't dare to take a breath, and watched Lang Chenyan's every move nervously.
The two sat facing each other quietly, with only the fluttering old tent curtains blowing in a few wisps of cold wind from time to time.
After being silent for a long time, Fu Yunge felt that his legs were numb from sitting and his waist was extremely sore. He glanced at Lang Chenyan from time to time, and the atmosphere between the two was stiff and mysterious.
