It has been about seventeen years since I guarded here? The fleeting time is fleeting, and the momentary youth, like the burning candles on the table, has long been reduced to ashes - and what is dying in the flames is only the past time, struggling to stay for a moment, but in the end, Swallowed inch by inch by the ruthless flames... Inch by inch, it was reduced to ashes. Chi Xiaotai, once such a beautiful and delicate girl... Now, she is just a dry moss on the elephant steps. You should pity the moss on the teeth of the clogs, and knock on the firewood for a long time. However, the clogs are still there, the sick and weak young man who stood on the steps and calmly knocked on the door in her heart, the amazingly talented Tingxue Louzhu, the person she once loved and hated so madly , but no longer...

It was she who betrayed him... However, she never regretted it.She knew that he would leave eventually—and she would only gradually become a piece of dry moss.There are clog marks left in the sky, but no one can wait for someone to knock on the door. She was afraid that he would leave without her knowing, so, simply, she did it herself to keep him forever. She agreed to the suggestion of Gao Mengfei, the owner of the second floor, and joined forces to betray. Even if he doesn't succeed, he will never forget her... If he can't fall in love with her, then let him kill her! The rebellion did not succeed, even though she had exhausted all her efforts - she had known for a long time that no one could defeat the elder brother... The only person who could kill him was perhaps that woman named Ah Jing.

But the senior brother didn't kill her, even though he tried every means to provoke him, hoping to get her death by his hands.However, he just flicked his sleeves lightly and said, "I don't want to see you again." She was under house arrest in a place where she couldn't see him.She never saw him again until he died—at the hands of that woman named Ah Jing.For her, that was the cruelest punishment... Now, seventeen years of ups and downs have passed, and there are only faint whispers in the rivers and lakes following the legend of the two of them... Now that he was dead, there was no point in begging for death—she didn't want to beg for death anymore, for fear that after drinking Meng Po soup, she would forget all her love and hatred.

And alive, at least you can have memories. After both senior brother and Ah Jing died, Tingxuelou built this Shenbing Pavilion to enshrine the knives and swords used by the dragon and phoenix among the pair - her house arrest address was also changed here, at her own request The reason is that I just want to look at the Xiying knife that he has never left his body for a moment like this every day... Later, with the continuous prosperity of Tingxuelou, various weapons and famous swords presented by various schools as spoils after conquering the Quartet gradually increased. The "Shenbing Pavilion" where the world's magic weapons are sharp.

In the past sixteen years, from being imprisoned to now, all that accompanied her were the dense swords on the walls of the Shenbing Pavilion, the many spears and sticks on the shelves, and all kinds of weird hidden weapons and poisons in boxes... Behind every weapon, there may have been an extraordinary past. Or shrill, or thick, or bright, or mottled... those silent weapons quietly looked at her on the walls and in the cabinets, with secret eyes—they no longer smelled of blood.Even though she has drunk the blood of many people in the past, in this quiet Shenbing Pavilion, all the sharp weapons are just pieces of still time, telling her those immortal legends in her own way...

Those things, she thought, could talk—if you listened. Few people come to the pavilion on weekdays, and she does not open the window, just in the faint light, looking at the weapons on the four walls, identifying their pros and cons, researching their history, recalling the legends in the world, and imagining them The master's appearance... Then, a strange smile appeared on the corner of his wrinkled mouth, he stroked the weapons, and muttered something to himself. That was almost the only pleasure for the rest of her life. Then, every time the sun sets in Tingxuelou, she spreads out the white silk and carefully writes down the legends in lower case according to the light of dust floating in the gaps in the windows—— In the strokes of true and false, is her heart as unpredictable as a cloud.