Qiulan angrily ready to turn away, but Jingzhao an idea will his whole person imprisoned in place, can't move.

With Jingzhao's fingertip, Qiulan goes to Jingzhao's direction uncontrollably.

Finally, when he got to the bedside, Jing Zhao released his spiritual bondage.

"Is that a serious injury?" Qiulan gnashes her teeth.

Jing Zhao smiles innocently: "it's hand injury, not mental injury."

Come on, you can't run. It doesn't make sense.

Qiulan admits her life and reaches for Jingzhao's clothes belt. She is unwilling to do so, so her strength increases and she pulls at random.

Looking at his wrinkled inner garment, Jing Zhao sighed helplessly: "are you so interested in my clothes?"

Qiulan will not move.

When he pulls down Jing Zhao's clothes, he finds that at least just now Jing Zhao doesn't cheat him completely.

There is a sword wound on Jing Zhao's right arm. The wound is very deep. Jing Zhao drives his aura to stop the blood, but he can still see something tragic.

In addition to this wound, Jing Zhao's chest and back had several wounds of different depths, some of which even had bone.

It looks like there was a real fight.

Qiulan's brows are more and more wrinkled.

Jing Zhao saw that he didn't move all the time. He thought he was scared. Instead, he said in a soft voice, "it's OK. It just looks like he's infiltrating people."

He didn't cheat Qiulan, such injury for him, it's not worth mentioning.

In the hundreds of years since his practice, he has gone up and down in his life and death relationship several times. I don't know how many times he suffered more serious injuries than this, but he still survived.

And it's getting stronger every time.

Qiulan didn't speak, just took medicine to Jingzhao.

When he applied the medicine, his action was very serious, his face was quiet, and he was tinged with light and shadow by the yellow candle light.

He didn't speak, neither did Jing Zhao.

The room quieted down, as if only two people's breathing and heartbeat could be heard.

But Jing Zhao felt that he could not hear or see anything.

He could only see the person in front of him, with his pretty eyebrows slightly frowning and a pair of clear eyes falling on his wounds. His movements were extremely gentle and careful.

Somewhere in the bottom of my heart seems to be touched by a soft hand. Jingzhao's eyes are shimmering, and his lips overflow with a smile.

This made him think of many years ago.

There is also such a person, once so gentle to him.

Jingzhao raised his hand as if to touch the long hair of the person in front of him.

But he has not yet met, he saw Qiulan raised his head.

That handsome and weak face, and the memory of people do have 89 points similar. But similarity is only similarity after all. That person will never come back.

Qiulan is not him.

No one in the world can be him.

Thinking about this, the smile on Jingzhao's lips suddenly disappeared, and the wound on his body began to hurt again, and his heart began to ache.

"Well, you're in the way here," Jing Zhao suddenly flicks his sleeve, and a soft wind holds Qiu LAN to the door. "Go back and have a rest, scholar."

Qiulan doesn't care about his moodiness, just takes a look at his lack of interest, and then opens the door to leave without hesitation.

He walked so simply that Jing Zhao was stunned.

"One or two. They are like snakes and scorpions." Jing Zhao shook his head.

"Now," he said with a self mocking smile, "I'm alone again."

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