Paranoid

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Su Qingchen was puzzled, and said amusedly: "Just that violent girl just now? I'm afraid my cousin is joking."

"That's up to you, don't tell me your bitterness in the future."

Then, many years later, this sentence became a prophecy.

The peach blossoms in Lu County are still in full bloom, and even the simmering wine is very sweet and mellow.

Hearing the bickering outside the pavilion, Su Qing also shook his head, met Su Qingchen's helpless eyes, slowly filled the seven wine glasses in front of him, and gently fed a piece of maltose until he was sitting by his side the lips of those around you.

"Sweet?"

Gu Jinyang held the sugar in his mouth, licked the corner of his lips, brought it close to Su Qingye's lips, and asked with a smile, "Is it sweet?"

The author has something to say: I still want to say something about this article

At the beginning, I really wanted to write an essay about the end of the world, and then when writing an essay about the end of the world, where did the virus come from? Well, it came from the tomb, it was brought out of the coffin, so whose tomb?Why is there that virus?Then the thinking was biased, and this story came into being.

The source of everything is because I think too much, and then come out...

Roughly a cold and ill-fated person?assassin?And the story of His Royal Highness who is paranoid and infatuated.

And if all this is the best ending, it is to return to the original starting point, those bad things will not happen, and Su and His Highness will always be together.

I thought about the ending in a lot of ways, anyway, it was Su Jiancheng who shot the arrow in the end, but His Highness is paranoid, he will not be as attached to Mu Yunya as he is and cannot let it go, suicide is inevitable.Although I didn't say it clearly, someone should have guessed it, and it was almost full term. (Some people may think about this setting, so they didn’t mention it out for fear of causing discomfort, and didn’t write it out directly.)

Just like the inscription on the painting, half-drunk, half-awake, half-floating life, it is possible that all of this is just a dream; the dream after being stunned that year, like the silk and satin, was hung up in vain for the first time, and the dream for the second time The second time it was blown up again by the wind, the focus is on that re-up. . . . .

If you want to hit me, just think about it. Anyway, you can’t hit me ╮(￣⊿￣)╭