He is like the old man, not the old man

Chapter 17

"Here, just help me once."

"Meow~"

Tai Heng pinched a formula, and derived a trace of spiritual breath from the ink.

"Find it for me, but there are still things with the same aura as this one."

Tayun Shanmao patted its paw on the wild ink, squinted its eyes and rubbed the corner of the page.

Taiheng patted its head helplessly, "I will prepare a basket of your favorite Xiyu after returning to Pengwu."

Tayun Shanmao got up slowly.

It walked slowly in the hall, and finally came to a coiling dragon pillar, and it took shape.

Taiheng approached, Tayun Shanmao raised its palm, and slowly poked forward, the space in front of the pillar seemed to be distorted, and the sharp claw tip slashed above, a crack was opened here, and the coldness inside leaked out. air.

Tayun Shanmao let out a deep cry.

Tai Heng's complexion was not so good anymore, he hugged the Tayun Shanmao that had returned to its original shape, and carefully entered it into the crack.

Inside the crack is a space nine feet square.

This place is like Fu Yin's own private collection room. There are wooden cabinets, tables and chairs, piano, chess, calligraphy and paintings, and some gadgets and books are neatly placed on the cabinets. In the wooden box, I found the Xihuajing that I hadn't finished copying last time.

Taiheng was in a complicated mood for a while.

There is a thick stack of papers on the top of the wooden cabinet, and different poems are copied. The first page is in the current cursive handwriting. From the top to the bottom, the handwriting becomes more and more ugly, and the words on the last page are almost let Taiheng couldn't tell which line of the poem it was.

It seems that it is a record kept by Fu Yin when he practiced calligraphy in the past.

Taiheng patiently rummaged through the cabinet again from top to bottom. There are many old things here, which more or less bear traces of Yingran, such as Yingran's paintings, or some Fu Yin doesn't know. Why is the thing put in like a snowflake that has never melted surrounded by aura in the corner.

Tayun Shanmao squatted on the top of the wooden cabinet, staring at Tai Heng with a pair of dark green eyes. Tai Heng checked the wooden cabinet and looked at the piano, chess, calligraphy and paintings hanging on the wall. When he turned around, he suddenly paused.

He carried Tayun Shanmao down, the cat was originally squatting on a pitch-black iron box, when Tai Heng carried it away, it stretched out its paws to grab the iron box.

Taiheng comforted Tayun Shanmao, took down the iron box, opened it, and found a paper flower and a wooden figurine in the iron box.

The wooden figurine is extremely exquisitely carved, and Tai Heng recognized Fu Yin with just one glance.

He picked up the wooden figurine, and the paper flowers flew up for some reason, floating in front of Tai Heng, just like the paper cranes sent by Chang Chu before, condensed into characters in the falling rays of sunlight.

Fu Yin.

You gave me life and my name, and I volunteered to fight for you, go through fire and water, exorcise demons, and kill evil monsters. Even if I die under your sword now, I will have no regrets.

But please use my five hundred years of company, in exchange for you to never forget me.

Ying Ran stayed.

The paper flowers fell into the box leisurely.

The wooden figurine in Tai Heng's hand also fell to the ground.