The sunset has passed, and the twilight is four.

As night approached, the town was completely shrouded in boundless twilight, and only a dead gray color remained between heaven and earth.

The ancient city walls, the attic on the wall, the faint sound of the piano in the attic, and the wine flag hanging on the Wutong Restaurant are like a faint ink painting.

The shops on both sides of the street have been hung with red lanterns hanging high, like stars in the dark night.

Under the lantern, he slowly walked through the city gate, slowly stepping on the scattered pebbles under his feet, and slowly walked from one end of the street to the other end of the street.

He walked slowly, lazily, and covered in wind and dust, as if he had just come here after a long journey, like an old horse that had reached its limit, and the slightest hint of wind could blow him to the ground.

However, he always had a very lazy smile on his face.

He smiled beautifully, like a ray of sunshine in the night.

He walked slowly, as if he were walking very fast, and was still wandering in the gloom of this street, but, in a moment, he was already on another street, and stopped in the faint light of the lantern.

The place where the lanterns are hung is the Wutong Restaurant.

At this moment, the restaurant has closed, and the hustle and bustle of the day seems to have been blocked by the vermilion gate in this boundless night, and the heavy snoring of the guys has been heard inside, like a group of old cattle who have just finished plowing 800 acres of land.

Hearing these happy or heavy or honest snoring, Xiang Fang smiled slightly, and then, put his hand on the corner of his mouth, coughed softly, and showed a look of envy.

How he wished he could be like these fellows, to find a place where he could sleep peacefully.

But he couldn't.

This is simply not an era where anyone can be quiet.

He's not one to be quiet either.

If the rivers and lakes are too quiet, then there seems to be no need for people like him to exist, so he has to keep killing and killing.

However, if you want to kill, you must be prepared to be killed at all times, so there is no absolute boundary between killing and being killed.

Thinking of this, Xiang Fang couldn't help but sigh, and this sigh suddenly hung on the top of his head, and the wine flag under the eaves was startled.

At this moment, he was standing under the wine flag.

The faint light projected by the bright red lantern was just sprinkled on his face.

It was a face full of fortitude, strength and laziness, the lines of the face were soft, resolute and heroic, and the expression between the brows was calm and dignified.

Although a smile often rises from the corner of his mouth, it is also too cold.

Xiang Fang suddenly sighed lazily, and then, sitting down on the steps in front of the dusty restaurant, lazily leaning against the mottled wall, as if he was about to fall asleep.

However, after closing his eyes for a long time, he still did not fall asleep, but pulled out a white jade flute from his waist, and the bell wrapped around one end of the jade flute made a crisp sound.

The flute is the immortal jade flute, and the bell is the flower protection bell.

The immortal jade flute brings death, but the flower bell does bring quiet and peace.

Xiang Fang's five fingers gently stroked the jade flute, like a violinist caressing this ancient qin, like a swordsman caressing a murderous sword.

After the crisp bell rang, he lazily put the jade flute to his mouth and blew it.

His expression was so lazy, but in the vast night as quiet as the abyss, the sound of the flute flowing from his mouth was as deep as this boundless night.

He was still so young, but there was boundless grief in the sound of the flute, as if the resentful woman in the boudoir was thinking about the distant recruit, and like a wounded lion hiding in a stone cave secretly licking the wound that was still bleeding.

But the sound of the flute is so beautiful, so moving, accompanied by the jingle of the bells, it is like fairy music quietly drifting down from the sky, like a spring breeze, like the murmuring of flowing water.

Although it was already the late autumn season, the people in the whole town who heard the sound of the flute seemed to feel that spring had suddenly returned.

The night worm in the mud crevice stopped croaking, and when it heard the sound of the flute, perhaps it would never want to call again, because the sound of the flute was enough to make the best musician in the world feel inferior.

The whole flag-planting town was enveloped by a wonderful sound of flute, and everyone poked out half of their heads from the window and the crack of the door, quietly admiring the wonderful sound of the flute, as if they had been foolish.

The town of Flag Planting fell into an unprecedented silence again, and only the boundless sound of the flute remained between heaven and earth.

Then, only to hear a "squeak" sound, the originally closed vermilion door in the Wutong Restaurant was suddenly opened, and a graceful and beautiful but slightly haggard woman walked out.

As if she couldn't believe her eyes, she stared at the man sitting at the door of the restaurant, and then, when she was sure that the person in front of her was the person she was waiting for, there was a very complicated expression on her face that she didn't know whether it was happiness or anger.

Her name is Sycamore.

Sycamore is the woman's name, and Sycamore is also the name of the restaurant.

Wutong is the proprietress of this Wutong restaurant.

The proprietress of Wutong Restaurant is a very beautiful woman, and this beautiful proprietress has been waiting here for a full year and 28 days.

The reason why she remembered him so clearly was because every time she thought of him, she would make a dagger mark on her arm.

Now, I've finally made her wait.

Seeing this person sitting on the steps in front of her at the moment, quietly blowing the flute, she suddenly had a feeling of intimacy in her heart that she had not seen for a long time.

It's a strange feeling, like a displaced child suddenly finding their parents, or like a soul that has left its body and suddenly becomes one with its physical body.

Her heart finally settled down with the sound of the flute.

The wind of the late autumn night was already boundlessly cool, but now, she shivered even more.

She gasped for air, her chest rising and falling under her tight purple robe, and her long-lost heart almost flew out of her chest like a dove.

Hearing the knock on the door, I saw a figure behind me slowly stretching on the steps, and the sound of the flute suddenly stopped.

Xiang Fang squinted his left eye, looked obliquely at the sycamore standing behind him, and then, inserted the flute into his waist, and smiled at her, this smile, like a ray of sunshine, immediately warmed her whole body.

However, Xiang Fang did not stand up as she imagined, greeted her with open arms, and then hugged her in his arms and kept saying to her that I miss you and I love you.

Xiang Fang just smiled at her in a slightly lazy tone, and then said: Boss, remember me, a year ago, I once went to your hotel to drink.

Sycamore suddenly felt a wave of dizziness.

She tried to open her mouth a few times, but she couldn't say anything, just stared at his hands, like staring at a lost treasure, greedily watching, watching, as if no matter how much she looked, she couldn't see enough.

Xiang Fang's hands are slender, delicate, round, and exude the brilliance of white jade from time to time, beautiful, really beautiful, beautiful, as beautiful as a poem, flowing slowly under the sleeves of the white long satin, like a poem chanted with the sound of the guqin, there is absolutely no flaw.

This is a pair of hands that women all over the world dream of having, but such beautiful, so perfect, almost spotless hands, but they grow on Xiang Fang's body.

And at this moment, these hands are holding a white jade flute.