"Master, my disciple is like this right now..."
After a while, the poinsettia raised its head. Thinking about another reason for coming this time, he spoke very smoothly.
Soon, Han Chan understood the other purpose of Poinsettia's visit this time.
His kind face gradually became more serious. After a while, he sat up and stood up, with the poinsettia following him and walking deeper into the house.
Every corner of the snow-covered garden is dimly lit with light. Walking to the inner room, Han Chan stopped in front of a row of shelves similar to square drawer medicine cabinets.
The shiny wood paint glowed slightly under the light of the lamp. Han Chan opened one of the grids and took out a small porcelain jar.
Poinsettia's eyes shifted at every moment of Han Chan's movements. When he saw the jar, he felt a chill in his heart.
"According to what you said, if that child is really the main Yunliu True Yuan, the Snow Cloud Pill in it will indeed be of great help to him." Han Chan paused for a moment, and then said, "It can even remove his excess. Tai Sui is really angry and can make up for the shortcomings.”
Poinsettia's pupils shrank and she looked at the jar hesitantly: "Master, I am not here to ask for pills. Xueyun Pill is extremely precious to Master, I just want to give the child some practice guidance."
Han Chan shook his head slightly. He seemed to have a lot of thoughts, his eyes stayed on the poinsettia for a moment, and then slowly moved towards nothingness.
"You should know that this thing will be more helpful to the child." He couldn't help but unseal the jar, poured out a blue and shining elixir, and handed it to Poinsettia. Then he put the jar back and walked outside.
Poinsettia stared at the lovely crystal clear elixir in her hand, hesitated for a moment, and then followed Han Chan.
The further you go outside, the brighter the lights become. The two of them walked slowly, each with their own thoughts in mind.
"...It's just a pill. Even if it's a gift in return for your visit this time." Han Chan suddenly said, "Besides, if you want this child to speed up his practice without squeezing the seedlings, you have to let him practice more."
Poinsettia smiled bitterly and sighed: "I still feel ashamed. I thanked the master on behalf of the child."
"No need." Unexpectedly, Han Chan waved his hand, "Era of hardship is coming again, and having another child like this will also preserve more hope for this world."
Poinsettia nodded.
The two of them walked out of the inner room and came to the front of the hall. They saw a large table with a scroll of rice paper spread out, and Su Sheng, the painter of Mad Meng Meng, was splashing ink on his own.
There is a hint of ink fragrance in the cold air, but looking at Meng Susheng's rather unbearable painting posture, it can be said that it is difficult to see any artistic atmosphere.
However, looking at his paintings, compared to his personal image, one can't help but be surprised.
I saw a big pen as big as a rafter, filled with thick ink as thick as hair, and quickly laid out a row of turbulent waves. The free and easy ink dots are like foam in the sea, stirring back and forth, generous and magnificent, and also awe-inspiring.
At the top of the painting, the sky has been repeatedly painted into a gloomy dark gray. The painting fanatic's eyes seemed a little excited. A pen was bitten between his teeth, and deep tooth marks were left.
"This is..." Poinsettia looked behind him, considering the artistic conception of the painting.
But Han Chan is even more keen. He saw six irregularly shaped stones placed next to the table, but arranged in a certain order.
"Hmm..." he mused. Silently watching the crazy figure of the painter, waiting for the final stroke.
The painting maniac flew with his hands, holding three or four pens between his fingers, and kept painting with "swish".
Soon, on a long piece of rice paper, a magnificent and shocking picture of the gloomy sea was created.
He seemed pleased with his work. "Bang la la" he threw away the extra pen, leaving only the thinnest one. He touched the ink on the inkstone and quickly wrote the four words "Only the pen is full of clouds" on the side.
"Only written clouds..." Poinsettia read out in sequence.
Han Chan whispered: "This was his nickname at the Autumn Curtain Painting Banquet. Hmm..."
While the two were talking, he had finished all the work. Finally, he dropped the fine pen, looked as if he was crazy and crying, flapped his slender sleeves, laughed and walked away.
"The waves are rising...the big ship is coming...it's scary, so get away quickly..."
In the end, only this unexplained song was left in the snow-covered courtyard.
Poinsettia and Han Chan both walked to the painting where the ink was still wet. Looking at the thick and depressing patches of ink in front of me, it seems to indicate that something is coming.
Han Chan's eyes finally fixed on those rocks.
He thought for a moment, then straightened up quickly and looked at the poinsettia plum next to him:
"What are your plans for the future?"
Although Poinsettia has not yet understood the intention of the painting, she has already vaguely felt the compelling aura of this vast sea, as if coming through the painting, rising into the sky with huge waves.
"I wanted to retire and return to Pinmei Villa. But now it seems that it's not time yet."
Hearing Poinsettia, he already understood most of it, and Han Chan stopped beating around the bush. He had no choice but to remain calm and chuckled: "It seems...this matter needs your attention..."
…………
The river is cold and crows are flying around.
The wormwood in Jiangping is withered and white, and a boat comes slowly. The boat lantern only has a little illuminating effect in the snowy morning. The sky has not stopped snowing yet, and the sky is already gray and gray.
On the snowy boat, a familiar figure walked down. He glanced at the lonely building standing on the top of the hill, sneered, and walked up quickly.
The snowy roads in the mountains are slippery, and several moments had passed when the plain branches knocked on the door of Xueyu Xiaozhu.
But no one opened the door for him at first. From time to time, there was a clanking sound in the house, and the sound was so loud that it easily swallowed up the knocking on the door.
Subiezhi knocked several times in succession, but everyone in the house turned a deaf ear. Seeing that the snow was falling heavier and heavier, and he was about to turn into a snowman, he had no choice but to shout loudly: "Zhuo Yulang! There is someone outside your door!"
This time, the knocking in the room stopped. Soon the door opened, revealing a man similar to Sobeie's age wearing a white sweater.
"Oh, the ancients said that a crying child will be fed by milk. It's true." Subiezhi was already extremely cold outside. As the door was opened, a warm air flow enveloped him like a pair of big hands. He quickly raised his feet and walked inside.
"It's such a snowy day, what do you want from me?" Zhuo Yulang didn't hide his doubts, closed the door, turned around and walked back.
The snow jade building has an exquisite appearance, and its bricks and tiles are as pure as ice and snow. However, after entering, it looks like an old small workshop.
There was a stove covered in black ash in the corner of the room, with blazing fire rods rolling inside. Because of this, the room is so warm and you can't feel the cold outside at all.
"Are you trying to imitate any of your brother's ethnic groups with your look?" After Subiezhi entered the room, he looked at the white scarf on Zhuo Yulang's head and couldn't help but sneer.
