Chapter 1099: NO．4：Ling You Chong Tu

NO. 4: Let there be a repeated figure.

The meal was not very filling, and the wine was not enough.

Aomo, who had originally planned to go to the kitchen to wash dishes and utensils, was pushed out of the kitchen by Shu.

Although most people with culinary skills tend to have their own preferences, the girl with hair like oil paint monopolizing the 'dishwashing segment' more closely resembles a common mindset among East Yan housewives.

Aomo did not insist on this, after all, there is a dishwasher at home.

After simply confirming that Shu could operate that model, he returned to the hallway leading to the living room, but did not fully enter it, instead turning toward the staircase on the side.

This action can be said to be his foresight of the surging undercurrent atmosphere in the living room at present, or it can be said that he shamefully yielded to a friend's 'coercion'.

Without a doubt, although no clearer instruction had been given, that 'feint thrust' that had recently given him heartburn was precisely the most direct kind of warning.

And when the other person, after the meal, was not in the living room but had not stepped into those rooms that would shield perception, but instead stood on the balcony where opening the door would allow one to scan the source energy and see everything at a glance.

Aomo had no choice but to sigh at his own perceptiveness, treading his usual silent footsteps that are hard to detect, to seek the blue-haired side profile beside the balcony.

The flowing long hair naturally has a smooth transition from sky blue to deep blue, and at the end, its color is so deep it is nearly black, almost deserving to be called black.

That long hair certainly draws attention, but the slender dragon tail extending from the hole in the tailoring of the clothing after it is even more striking, displaying a sense of grace, and moving slightly in sync with the wind-tossed long hair, both following the night breeze.

Throughout history, smooth long hair has always been a choice to highlight the quality of 'gentleness and beauty', regardless of gender.

This is not some conventionally accepted culture, but rather a pure visual impact.

Rippling like water waves, moving like a curtain, it naturally possesses a yin beauty.

Everyone in this world is a visual creature, even if one has the consciousness of 'not judging by appearance', but the subconscious feedback on appearance is always unavoidable.

To this day, female images with the so-called 'tomboy' attribute basically all feature a healthy short hairstyle as their outward characteristic, and when paired with masculine behavior and conduct, they can naturally interpret the definition of that attribute.

From this perspective, Aomo viewing Ling as a buddy is actually contrary to common sense.

After all, the other party not only has a head of smooth long hair, but at this moment, with elbows resting on the slightly inclined balcony, they also display a quite obvious female physique, graceful and elegant, and their voice is far from neutral, making it hard to ignore their gender difference no matter how one looks.

It is undeniable that Aomo initially did indeed not regard Ling as a female brother-like existence.

But the more they interacted, the more he could feel that overly strong and distinct personality.

Sorrowful long dreams, drunk and lighting lamps.

In later years, the long wind still remains, old iron armor treads on new sounds.

Where did I hear such words? Aomo's crystal core has no record of them.

Perhaps it was in a dream.

He has always felt that his impressions of Ling for the vast majority come from those dreams he mostly cannot recall clearly.

Those dreams are dark and unclear, like drifting smoke clouds, occasionally producing a few phrases, occasionally flashing with gold and iron, and once surging with boiling copper juice and the howling long wind.

There is also singing.

It is absolutely not the electronic music, rock music, piano sounds, and the like that he is used to in daily life.

It is a passionate and vigorous song, possessing a vividness so striking that it leaves him at a loss.

Often making him think he should do something, yet unable to figure out what to do.

But he is also by no means a useless person who cannot act without a physical form, just as he now realizes more and more that he can roughly guess the content of his absurd grand dreams that he cannot remember.

As long as there is an outline, he will eventually be able to depict form and shape.

Rhodes Island's employee data has permission differences; visitors can only see the superficial layer, but Rhodes Island's forum is a treasure trove.

Only needing a plugin to assist in information extraction, one can dig out countless fragments from that ocean of information.

And as a Berkede person who spent half of their childhood and adolescence in East Yan-style schools and East Yan territory.

Aomo's understanding of East Yan culture has already surpassed that of many locals who are indifferent to it; just from those phrases, just from those smoke-cloud-like images, he can already delineate the stage type of those fragments.

Thus, smoothing out that vortex which he often feels is strange and discordant.

When did it start? When did I change from addressing her as 'Miss Ling' to simply 'Ling'?

When did it start? When I have nothing to delay, do I naturally take over the wine cup she offers?

And when did it start? When did my impression of Ling shift from 'a beautiful older sister who seems to seek happiness with me' to 'a female brother with whom many things need not be avoided'?

Many, many, many such questions have, in the form of a ladder, piled up one level after another in his heart with the passage of time.

But his habitual way of obtaining answers in his own manner, without leaving a trace, has made him almost never actively ask the other party, nor discuss it with anyone.

The final fact also proved that he indeed did not need to do so.

He can always find the answer himself, then, in a manner that seems able to calmly follow the other's pace, walk slowly to her side, and then listen as she suddenly says:

"At that time I stayed in Jiangnan, and that place and your side's East Yan border are no different."

"The wine is very sweet, and there are many exquisite items, moreover flowers, grasses, chirping insects, wind, scenery, and human feelings, all are very interesting, but year after year, people have changed several generations, things remain the same, beauty is beauty, but the small bridges and flowing waters, the departed are like this, always make me feel lost as if I have lost something."

She gazes at the distant night scenery, her purple eyes boundless, indeed appearing to recall the past in her words.

While Aomo stands beside her, turning his back and leaning against the railing that is still fairly high, he glances at the ceiling.

"Then you met Elder Brother Zhong Yue?" he asks.

"That's right," Ling said softly, "a coincidence, elder brother taught me swordsmanship, I spoke my thoughts, and then elder brother advised me to go to Yumen."

"A frontier fortress." He slightly closed his eyes, as if also able to imagine that scenery.

"Yes, myriad mountains distant, spring breeze does not reach."

"That frontier fortress, a solitary city, lies horizontal before the great desert, apart from it there is nothing else, only the invading enemies surging forth, engaging in slaughter with those soldiers of the Great Yan."

"The great desert rises with long smoke, the solitary city hears the war drums, I can no longer recall how many battles I have fought." Ling also slowly closed her eyes.

"Rough faces, warm blood, various accents, each of those soldiers in my heart is exactly that vivid, including how they were devoured by that cruel battle."

"... Who says the general has no will to die, the old fort's new willows year after year." Aomo opened his eyes, also lowering his head.

The balcony and the front passage have no lights on, all light sources come from outside the balcony.

They cannot illuminate beneath the balcony railing, but the demon's eyes can still discern the unconscious sway of that dark blue tail by the faint light.

Still seemingly responding to the bleak autumn night wind.

"That's right, I told you that back then, you don't remember those things, but you still remember this sentence," Ling smiled, opened her eyes, and looked once more at the waning crescent moon that appeared just as lonely beneath the bustling night scenery, "When I first left Jiangnan, I wandered for a hundred years across a land excessively similar to this Dongyan, feeling I had seen through worldly prosperity, that romantic figures were merely fleeting, yet this world still holds sights I have never seen and emotions I have never felt—this feeling, you can understand, can't you?"

"Meeting again, meeting again," Aomo said softly, raising his hand to lift the wine gourd hanging from the metal staff beside her, handing it to her, "There will always be differences, and there will always be traces left behind."

And she did not turn her head, yet she could raise her hand and steadily receive it, lifting it to drink a large gulp, then immediately speaking softly:

"I always recall that past event, that solitary city."

"It is precisely that solitary city that made you realize there are still many things left unfinished in this world."

Aomo said this, slightly lifting his foot, using the top of his foot to press against the naturally hanging end of the dragon's tail, which nearly functioned like a vacuum cleaner.

The latter seemed still completely unaware.

"Hmm, so I later came here, and after me came Xiaonian, Xiaoxi, and the elder brother sent over, as well as Shumi who came along to communicate."

"Actually, Shumi is the same."

When she said this, she finally turned her head to look at Aomo beside her, carrying the profound implication of finally revealing the truth after exhaustive inquiry.

"She once studied and lived with a farmer, being the one among our siblings most concerned with people's livelihood, and also the one most longing for peace."

"Before, she did not impose such strict rules on everyone, but after coming here, life became too stable, which instead made her longing for everyone's peaceful life even stronger than before."

"But you will not be like her, overly influenced by the heaven and earth of this place."

"The elder brother has always been clear about himself—though Nian is careless, it is precisely because of that carelessness that her change has never been great; and although Xi avoids too many things, those taboos mean nothing in this place's complex world."

"And I..."

Ling fell silent for a moment; she ought to have defined herself by carefree ease, but for some reason, at this moment, she could not say those words.

Instead, the other party spoke up, taking over her tentative words.

"And you, you know the vastness of heaven and earth."

Seeing the long tail rise again, Aomo silently shifted his foot back.

"In the past, it let you sing drunk to Tu Su with attached notes, and now it lets you, in your life's success, must fully enjoy pleasure."

"Ah, indeed so."

Ling happily smiled, then turned and handed the gourd to Aomo.

"Should not the golden cup face the moon in vain?" she raised the gourd, gesturing toward that lone moon in the sky.

"Then where is my golden cup?" her red eyes seemed dissatisfied.

"You don't have one?" her purple pupils smiled.

"I really do have one," her palm slightly trembled, the silver chain on her sleeve seeming to glow, and indeed a small wine cup appeared in her hand—Aomo, as if prepared long ago, extended it forward, "But I just didn't see you take out the time to hand it to me."

Yet Ling did not mind, merely lifting the gourd slightly.

"Whether you have it or not doesn't matter—come, fill it up."

"Alright." Aomo helplessly glanced at her, yet saw her arm slightly blocking the view, only able to make out those eyes, as always unrestrained and free-spirited, bold and heroic.

Indeed, romantic sentiments—nothing suits this brother, he thought.