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The paper is the best Ningzhou snowflake rice paper, white and delicate, exuding the unique faint fragrance of rice paper.
?Dahuaishu Town under the jurisdiction of Ningzhou Prefecture is a famous hometown of Xuan paper, and it is customary to use the branches and leaves of pagoda trees as materials to make paper pulp. The locust tree has a very dark nature, and it has the word "ghost", so monks and magicians in the Taiqing mainland are used to using Ningzhou rice paper as a medium to communicate with the souls of the dead.
At this time, it is obvious that Chen Shangyun's soul has already visited.
On the originally white and flawless paper, there was a crooked "knife" written on it.
The handwriting was extremely distorted, piercing through the back of the paper, as if the author had exhausted all his strength. The last swipe left long and slanted, and seemed to be very flustered.
Everyone stared at the creepy word "knife" with different expressions.
Li Liangxiao rubbed his chin: "Knife? There are no more than three Nascent Soul stage masters who use swords in the Taiqing Continent. I have fought against them all. But this kind of killing method is not quite like a swordsman. Besides, None of these three master sword wielders are mutated ice spirit roots."
The implication of his words is naturally that the cause of Chen Shangyun's death was an ice pick melted by a piece of wine, which penetrated the entire head from the ear canal. To easily kill a Nascent Soul Stage Dzogchen monk with such weird techniques, if it weren't for the great power of the mutated ice spirit root, it would be really difficult to do so.
Si Mingxu frowned. He stared at the crooked word "knife" for a while, feeling an inexplicable strange feeling in his heart. It seems that there is something important floating faintly under this word, but I have no way to grasp it.
"Could it be that the murderer's surname is Dao? Although the surname Dao is rare, it is not uncommon." Zhao Qifang stroked his beard, also a little puzzled.
Xu Zhaolin shook his head: "In the entire Taiqing Continent, I have never heard of a master named Dao."
Xiao Heng also stared at that word.
Over the past year or so, in addition to learning Bixiao swordsmanship from Siming Xu, he also learned some calligraphy. When Si Mingxu was free, he and Simingyan would sometimes be asked to write a few words with him in the study.
In fact, Si Mingxu was in the real world. He was forced by his parents to learn calligraphy for several years since he was a child. It's just that he is different from Si Mingxu in the original book. In the original book, Si Mingxu wrote wild cursive, but he wrote it in official script.
As the saying goes, people are judged by words.
This is very reasonable. In the original book, Si Mingxu is a domineering man with wild cursive hand, and he has a great personality, and he is self-willed; while he himself writes a gentle and elegant official script, and he is also very kind and easy-going, he can be called a warm man. Female colleagues occasionally tease him, not only the central air conditioner, but also the complex commercial type, which has super power and warms the audience. But after all, no girl wants her boyfriend to be a central air conditioner, no wonder she is lonely.
Although since working, Si Mingxu has basically lost his calligraphy. But in this world of books, ever since he stayed up all night to write a secret book of simplified Chinese characters in dog planing style, Si Mingxu discovered that this calligraphy still needs to be practiced. Otherwise, what a shame!
He practiced for several months, writing for two hours every day, and felt that he had picked up the official script again. Every time I look at my strokes, strokes, horizontal strokes, and vertical strokes, I feel that they are full and powerful, but also subtle and mellow.
Since his handwriting was almost done, Si Mingxu thought about making up lessons for the two children. Although strength in the realm of comprehension is paramount, the future emperor of Taiqing and the successors of Bixiaocheng cannot be allowed to write a dog's body.
Therefore, over the past year or so, Xiao Heng and Simingyan's calligraphy has also improved a lot, and they can appreciate a few words.
For example, at this moment, Xiao Heng stared at the word "knife" and subconsciously felt that something was wrong.
There are two strokes in this knife character, the horizontal folding hook is one stroke, and the stroke is another stroke. But he always felt that there was a blunt and weird feeling between these two strokes It was like forcing the head of a beautiful woman on the neck of a strong man.
This first horizontal folding hook is really badly written, with no strokes at all; and this stroke, although it looks very scribbled, but when you look closely at the brushwork method, there is a subtle difference.
These two strokes should be written by two people.
Maybe Only the first stroke was written by Chen Shangyun; while the second stroke was made up in the chaos during the short half-cup of tea time after the oil lamp was extinguished.
What Chen Shangyun originally wanted to write was not the word knife, but a character whose first stroke was a horizontal folding hook.
Just as Xiao Heng wanted to express this conclusion, he suddenly stopped¡ª¡ª
manage.
He gave birth to a thrill.
Perhaps what Chen Shangyun wanted to write was the word "si". If this word is written out, then Si Mingxu will really never?? died not long ago. On his originally very delicate and smooth forehead, there was a large scar of blood and flesh. There was also a bloodstain in the corner.
Apparently the teenager hit a wall and died.
"Perhaps when the lights were turned off just now, he perjured himself in fear of being haunted by a ghost, and committed suicide in fright." Xu Zhaolin shook his head.
Han Yong murmured: "Could it be Brother Chen"
Zhao Qifang looked down at the corpse with an extremely ugly expression.
Si Mingxu tightened his eyebrows. This little boy really committed suicide? There was chaos in the darkness just now, no one paid attention to that corner of the wall. Or is it Chen Shangyun's ghost who found this lying boy just now?
"He is also a poor man." Simingyan sighed softly, and knelt down.
He stretched out a slender and slender hand, and gently closed the young man's dying eyes. His movements are extremely gentle and careful, as if treating an extremely precious and fragile porcelain.
The cold and slender fingers slid across the lifeless face of the beautiful boy, and the fingertips could still feel the residual warmth.
¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù¡ù
I have to go to work again tomorrow, crying.
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