The protagonist chased the villain, and Tiandao screamed in anger

The rain washed the sky, and after the dark clouds dispersed, the sky became as clear as a pool of spring water.

The full moon hangs high in the sky, and its moonlight shines on the earth.

The roses that looked up towards the moonlight were covered with a layer of white frost. The branches swayed without wind, and made slight rustling sounds as they collided with each other.

Qin Jue shuttled through the rose bushes, picked the roses with a scimitar, and after careful comparison, found that the flower heads were still full, cut off the thorns, and held them in his hands.

The sea of ​​flowers is huge and there are many roses. He always wants to pick the best ones, so he is always too picky about his current choices.

He was originally going to go upstairs to see his wife, but when he stepped on the stairs, his eyes drifted across the sea of ​​roses outside the window, and he felt that it would be more meaningful to bring a bouquet of flowers upstairs.

Under the dark red soil, between the bulging land, dry ghost hands emerged. They shook the branches and the blooming petals, accumulating the light pollen, and then sent it to the castle by a gust of breeze.

The breeze, carrying pollen, penetrated through the cracks in the window frame and landed in the nostrils of the sleeping person.

Qiao Yi Zhong lying on the bed seemed to be dreaming, and he was mumbling some unclear words.

Suddenly, he rolled off the bed like a somersault, groped his way to open the door in his sleep, and staggered towards the direction of the sea of ​​flowers.

"Father...Father..."

Qiao Yi Zhong would never forget the figure in front of him, who seemed so close yet so far away.

He staggered across the ditches and obstacles under his feet to chase the figure. His body was somewhat out of control and every step he took was extremely heavy. Now in middle age, he seldom looked so anxious.

As he lowered his head and supported his knees to breathe, he saw his hands in the light of the fire. They were still slender and tender, like those of a teenager.

Looking up suddenly, the raging fire in the villa caught his eyes. Qiao Yi Zhong realized what was about to happen, and immediately turned around and stretched out his arms to intercept, but he could not stop the figure who was rushing towards the fire desperately.

"Xiao Zhong, wait for daddy here obediently."

"Your Aunt Qiao and Brother Xiao Cheng are in danger. Dad is going to rescue them now."

"You have to be obedient. Stand here and don't move!"

In his ears, there were admonitions with some reverberation and noise. Qiao Yizhong wanted to shake his head and desperately stop his father's actions, but he only heard his young self nodding and timidly responding:

"Xiao Zhong will be good, Dad, will you come back?"

A gentle palm brushed across his head, bringing a long-lost warmth that Qiao Yi Zhong never experienced again despite longing for in the years that followed.

"Will do."

A gentle yet firm answer, it was a father's promise to his child.

But the fire was too big and the man was trapped in the flames. After saving one person, he turned back to save another.

The sirens of the fire trucks became louder and louder, but he never waited for the tall figure to walk out of the fire.

Until fully armed firefighters carried a stretcher and brought out Aunt Qiao, who was still breathing, and the father, who was dead with a burnt back.

The child's crying, accompanied by severe tinnitus, separated Qiao Yi Zhong's adult consciousness from his young body.

He watched the fire in the villa being put out, and the people coming and going on the ruins, his fists clenched gradually.

"Yes... Dad will come back... Xiao Zhong is standing right here... Dad will come back..."

My father's voice was still echoing in my ears, repeating over and over again, and it seemed particularly ironic against his cold body lying on the stretcher.

"Liar! Liar! Liar!"

Tears flowed down the corners of his eyes, but Qiao Yi Zhong complained hysterically!

The sharp voice merged with the child's voice, and he opened his eyes again, his soul once again attached to his own body when he was young.

"Yes, your father is a liar. He didn't come back. Do you know why?"

"Your father is dead, so his assets are naturally yours, but you are still young, the Qiao family will take you in... Good brothers who started a business together could not resist the temptation of money and the desire to monopolize the company, don't you think? Poor child..."

The man in the baseball cap spoke words that he did not quite understand when he was young in the chaotic environment, and then quickly ran away amid the sound of sirens.

"why why……"

"Why is there so much blood, why..."

As the man left, the dream was pulled, extended and twisted, and the fire gradually moved away from Qiao Yi Zhong. He lowered his head and saw blood on his hand.

The white walls stood still all around him. He looked up with trembling eyes and saw his wife who was bleeding heavily during childbirth.

"Why, why do you want to leave me too... I have nothing... I finally have a family... Why..."

The pain is like the tip of a knife, scraping your heart and lungs.

The blood on his fingertips still retained his wife's body temperature. Qiao Yi Zhong cried until his eyes turned red, and he collapsed and fainted.

In a vast white land of consciousness, he heard someone calling him.

"Xiao Zhong..."

After opening his eyes and returning to the burning villa, Qiao Yi Zhong saw his father coming back and heard him say, "Xiao Zhong... Dad is back. You are right. Dad shouldn't have saved them... Let's go home..."

"Okay... Dad, let's go home..." Qiao Yi Zhong raised his hands in a daze and threw himself into his father's arms.

Qin Jue cut off a carefully selected rose, and when he raised his hand to pick it up, he lowered his head and saw a blank ghost face at the empty spot on the branch.

The man and the ghost remained in a strange stalemate for a few seconds.

Until the other ghost hand punched the ghost face on the head, grabbed the neck and pulled the ghost face back into the soil.

Qin Jue seemed to hear the conversation between the two ghosts hiding under the soil:

"Why... isn't he afraid of me?"

"Idiot! Can't you smell him? And you dare to scare him..."

"I don't have a nose..."

Feeling inexplicably funny, Qin Jue gathered the bouquet in his arms, looked around in the moonlight, and when he felt it was the right size, he walked back.

When passing by a patch of flowers, he heard some unusual noises. Looking up, he saw Qiao Yi Zhong, who was bound by flower vines and surrounded by a group of phantom ghost hands, and the other three who had been entangled like silkworm pupae.

...Turning around, Qin Jue stroked the flower petals and walked back to the castle in good spirits.

He still has to find a wife, as for the others?

Never mind them!

"The sea of ​​flowers will pry open their deepest obsessions and regrets, greed and ambitions, and thus weave a story that satisfies them..."

Sitting by the window, You Mu held the gauze curtain, looked at the people who were willing to be tightly entangled by the rose branches, and sighed softly.

There is very little innate, pure evil in this world. Most evil people may have had an unknown past before they became evil.

However, it is not advisable to harbor an unfair revengeful mentality and use one's own suffering to cause more suffering and tears to more innocent people.

Thinking of this, You Mu suddenly chuckled again.

This laughter was a little abrupt, causing Song Wanyu beside him to tilt his head and ask, "Sir?"

"Nothing, I just think it's a little ridiculous."

You Mu raised his hand, facing the clear light and looking at his palm, his knuckles...

Once upon a time, this hand was stained with the blood of relatives, and later, it was stained with the blood of enemies.

When will he be able to sit on this high platform and judge others?

With a sneer at himself, You Mu felt that he had little right to comment on the behavior of these people.

After all, he is also a villain.

The killings he has done are far greater than those of these people.

If he had not been imprisoned in the pagoda for five hundred years, perhaps he would have been no different from those people entangled by flower vines.

...He should go to the old monk's grave and burn some incense.