Hibiscus Flower West Moon Splendid: Bodhi Casts a Mirror Heart

Chapter 229
I sighed with blood in my heart, he looks so similar to Feibai, but he is so different from Feibai in his bones.But his celestial face was gradually filled with hot tears, I couldn't hear what he was crying, but could vaguely say, "Have you ever loved me?"

Sima Yao was always so calm, as if he was used to seeing life and death, or maybe he had sailed on Zichuan for too long, so long that all his feelings were wiped out by Zichuan.

I don’t know how long it took, the figures of the chasing soldiers gradually faded away, and everything returned to calm. I vaguely remember that Sima Yao brought me in from this purple river. At that time, Sima Yao also said that he only carried the living in, and the dead go out.

Indeed, at this moment, there is no difference between living and dying for me.

How much hate, in the dream last night.

It's still like wandering in the garden in the old days,
The cars are like flowing water, the horses are like dragons, and the flowers and moon are spring breeze!
The cold white jade bottle in my arms reminds me that I am still alive, however, my heart has turned to ashes, and my thoughts have turned to dust.

I bent down, and a heartbroken woman was reflected on the deep surface of Zichuan.I suddenly remembered that in my previous life, I also passed away with such a broken heart.

The most filthy and viscous secrets of the Yuan family are buried in the Ziling Palace, which smells like abscesses and sludge, which is shocking, but unexpectedly a small flower blooms, becoming the only beautiful thing in the whole conspiracy.That is the human nature that has not been wiped out from generation to generation in the Yuan family. Unfortunately, they have always regarded them as beasts. I can still walk out alive because of Yuan Feibai's love and affection for me.

It's a pity that my friends, my relatives, my lover, my enemies, and even my enemies are all far away from me...

People struggle all their lives, but in the end they die alone.

I slowly scooped up a puddle of Zichuan water and drank it slowly with my tears.

Sima Yao's desolate voice sounded again:

Flowers are not flowers, fog is not fog,
Come midnight, go dawn,
Like this kind of true love is a fake, like that kind of fake but true,
Don't say that the flowers fall in Zichuan, but the lonely life will return,
It seems that flowers are not flowers, and the broken window and the moon are gone.

(End of this chapter)