Mr. Landlord [Comprehensive Yingmei]

Wu Cong looked at Jingjun, and Jingjun also looked at him, his brows and eyes were warm, as if he was the pure and kind little painter who was almost stubborn when he first met.

It can't be said that he is small. When Wu Cong met him, he was already the most famous painter in the Qi Kingdom. His wonderful pens and flowers could be faked. Although he was famous all over the world, the social status of painters at that time was not high. They were called painters, and they were counted as workers in the civil society, agriculture, industry and commerce, but the people they dealt with were those who were at the top of the real pyramid at that time. The higher the painters, the more dangerous they were.

But Jingjun is a good painter, he doesn't have to work hard all day and all night like other painters, and he will collapse early, so he has some freedom.

Wu Cong didn't care much about the distinction between the poor family and the aristocratic family. He got to know him simply because of his respect for the emperor, his character and his painting skills. From time to time, he would bring a jar of wine to him for a few drinks.

If it wasn't for the limitations of his roots, maybe there would be another genius in the world who is a master of painting.

But even if the painting is almost perfect like respecting the king, after King Qi said a word, he still has to pack up his burden and go to the newly built Jiuzhongtai to paint.

Because King Qi is a person who strives for excellence and cannot tolerate any flaws, he is the only one who paints on the newly built nine-fold platform.

How many murals are there to be painted on Jiuzhongtai?Jingjun didn't go home for three years and didn't finish the painting. Every day, he was alone, holding a pen to the bare wall, and painting the colors that King Qi wanted little by little.

Immortals, gods, ghosts, ghosts and monsters are vivid on the walls.

Apart from the lack of freedom, his life in Jiuzhong Terrace was not too difficult. King Qi's subordinates didn't think highly of him as a painter, but they didn't treat him maliciously, and Wu Cong would avoid others to visit him from time to time. , bring him some fresh snacks and news from the outside world, and ask Wu Cong to look after his new wife before leaving, looking forward to the day when he will reunite with her.

Jingjun has no relatives, only his childhood sweetheart wife is the closest.

King Qi would sometimes come to see how his progress was, not frequently, only four to five times a year, and every time he came, he would bring hundreds of Xuanxuhe people here for a short stay for two days, that was not a very The difficult monarch has the usual arrogance of princes and nobles. Compared with those nobles who frequently kill and don't treat people as human beings, King Qi's temper is very good.

When looking at the murals, King Qi would occasionally say a few words to Jing Jun like alms, mostly related to paintings, his artistic attainments are very good, Jing Jun held him respectfully and carefully, and did not expect anything For the reward, I only hope that I can finish painting the murals and go home safely, instead of being decapitated like those painters who were called to paint for the princes.

Thinking of this, he dealt with it more cautiously.

Another two years have passed in a blink of an eye, and his painting is almost finished. The paint that was painted first has been polished over time to present a just right light color on the wall, and the paint that is painted later is set off to a particularly bright luster. , even as picky as King Qi, he couldn't find any faults.

Wu Cong still came to visit him often, the monk's tricks were unnoticed, thanks to this friend, he didn't suffer from any serious illness, and his wife at home was able to live a stable life, he was very grateful in his heart.

Life on Jiuzhongtai was lonely, and the longer he stayed, the more he missed his home. He drew his wife's appearance on the wall of his residence, with charming eyebrows and eyes, expressing all his thoughts in his pen, so as to express his lovesickness.

One day King Qi came, and the mural was coming to an end. He was very satisfied with Jingjun's work, and for the first time condescended to have a few drinks with the little painter, and personally sent the drunk painter back to his residence.

There, he saw pictures of ladies painted on the walls.

The eyes are downcast and smiling, shining brightly.

"Who is this?"

"This is... the wife of the grass people."

Even though he was still drunk, Jing Jun still instinctively felt a little ominous, he looked at Qi Wang's uncertain expression with trepidation, and his heart became more and more cloudy.

On the day when the mural was finished, King Qi summoned him and his wife. The two entered the palace, but he came back alone.

The right hand holding the pen was broken, and I could no longer hold the brush.

In that era when royal power was overwhelming, King Qi could freely get everything he wanted—it was just a painter’s wife, and it couldn’t even become the focus of the ministers’ remonstrance. Benevolence is exhausted.

At that time, Wu Cong was far away in the East China Sea, and when he came back, he was already overwhelmed.

Jingjun's wife is actually not that beautiful, but she looks extraordinarily beautiful in Jingjun's pen full of longing and love, but King Qi still keeps her, not wanting to lose face.

But not every woman wants to be the king's concubine. Jingjun's wife knew that she couldn't go back, so she committed suicide with a hairpin that day.

After Jingjun found out, he didn't say anything. He returned home with a pen in his left hand, and painted his wife crookedly all over the house, and burned himself and himself completely.

Then, the news of the ghost in the palace came out.

The ghosts and monsters on the Jiuchongtai mural almost burst out of the wall, but within a few days it collapsed into ruins.

On the day Wu Cong returned to the city, it happened that King Qi was going to attend the funeral. He saw his friend sitting on a tree watching, with a sinister expression full of karma.

He has become a ghost.

"If you don't kill me, I still can't help but hurt others." Jing Jun smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes, "Li Gui will gradually lose his memory and only resentment and killing will be left. It's up to you to tell me Isn't it?"

Wu Cong didn't kill him, but drew a picture and sealed him in. In the picture, the karmic fire burned away those memories and resentment little by little, and then sent him back into reincarnation.

Later, some new ghosts were added to the picture, expanding from a small portrait the size of a palm to a group portrait the size of a wall.

But Jingjun is still resentful, and he can't dispel that resentment even after thousands of years, resenting King Qi, resenting himself, even he doesn't know what he is resenting, it's like being trapped in a maze, he can't get out and he doesn't want to get out.

After he came out of the ghostly ghost picture, he hid in the picture album also made by Wu Cong, and followed the picture album across the ocean to England. He copied many paintings aimlessly. After losing everything for thousands of years, the only thing he could do was The only thing to do is to paint.

Then, in order to survive, he constructed this illusion to absorb the vitality of pedestrians.

What Wu Cong drew before was the appearance of Jingjun's wife. It should be said that all the women Jingjun painted in the illusion had the shadow of his wife on him. He couldn't go out, and he didn't want to go out.

Hotch silently listened to Wu Cong and Jing Jun... not just reminiscing about the old days, his eyes became more and more strange, he suddenly felt that what really needed to solve this matter was not him and Wu Cong, but a professional and reliable psychiatrist.

"Sir, aren't you willing to kill me?" Jing Jun asked with a smile, "I won't stop unless I die." In the raging fire, "These two." He pointed to Sherlock and Moran on the ground, "If Mister refuses to save, I will accept it."

"I didn't kill you back then, but it seems that I did harm you instead." Wu Cong sighed softly, and raised his pen to ink, "It doesn't matter if I give you a big dream."

"Maybe it's because I have too many dreams, so I can't wake up." Jing Jun smiled, and also raised his pen, his brows relaxed as if he had let go of something, "I can only report to you that a bosom friend is hard to find in the mountains and rivers."

The two of them wrote at the same time, layers of invisible ripples appeared, everything was torn apart, bright and light, the carved beams and painted buildings were intriguing, everything was torn apart, and suddenly there was a zither-like sound in the ear, clang Suddenly pierced the sky that was about to break dawn.

Torn pieces of paper floated in the air, as if a heavy snow had fallen.

Hotch reached out to catch a scrap of paper, and the colorful colors on it quickly faded, turning to ashes in the palm of his hand.

"I'm going back." Wu Cong patted him on the shoulder, he didn't seem to have any sad emotions, "I have to get up early to catch the plane tomorrow."

That's right, they will fly back to the United States tomorrow, and the next day will be Monday, and the director of BAU has to go to work as usual. Under the pressure of reality, there is actually very little time left for emotional fermentation.

Besides, this is what Jingjun himself asked, so why should he be sad.

Before leaving, Wu Cong and Hotch also helped the ex-military doctor transport his tall and burly cohabitant and the subordinate who consulted criminals. Mycroft and others took over his troublesome brother and Moran outside the cordon, and thanked Wu Cong and Hotch with a smile , The little black car took them back to the hotel.

Hotch took a change of clothes to take a bath, Wu Cong sat on the bed and counted the number. After Jingjun, he was short of a squid that ran into some river ditch. His mission to go abroad this time was considered complete, and he doubted this. The fish has long died outside due to lack of water or fishing. After all, no matter how famous it is, it is just a fish.

It was the fish that was almost eaten by gluttons back then.

It looks like the next thing is on the agenda.

If he remembered correctly, the Foreign Liaison Section of the Underworld seems to be short of staff.

When Hotch came out of the shower, he saw Wu Cong sitting on the bed rubbing his chin. He didn't know what he was thinking. Thinking that he had just sent away a friend with his own hands, his heart ached slightly, and he walked over and patted him on the shoulder lightly. .

"Huh? Have you finished washing?" Wu Cong blinked back to his senses, and smiled naturally, "Thank you for your hard work today."

As he spoke, he stood up and bit Hotch's lips, and the tip of his tongue lightly licked the corner of the other's lips.

Hotch deepened the kiss cooperatively.

then……

It was out of control.

Although on the surface both of them are serious settings, but to be honest, when you close the door and face a lover who is willing to fall in love with a red line, it is boring to maintain that serious face, let alone a man who is originally It is a creature driven by desire, kissing and kissing, the interest comes, and now the time and place are favorable, Wu Cong also found a can of lubricant and an unopened condom from the drawer, the only thing that can hold back is ED it.

"I just got out of the shower..." Hotch's voice was hoarse and panting, "Turn off the lights first..."

"Turn it off later." Wu Cong's voice was inevitably tinged with lust, and he half-closed his eyes and bit open the condom package, "You have to relax."

"Nonsense... um..."

The lights are off.