After entering the other courtyard, looking at the guards on the third floor inside and the third floor outside, Mo Lingwei holds Xiuer and finally puts her heart back.

It's safe!

Mo Jinlan stands at the door, watching Mo Lingwei and Xiuer enter the hall, and then turns to leave.

Mo Lingwei takes Xiuer to tutor the lessons left in the camp.

Xiuer sat upright on the chair and wrote with a pen.

Mo Lingwei has been thinking about the explosion on the way in her mind. She can't calm down all the time. She stands in front of the bookcase bored, reading the books one by one.

The handwriting on the page seems to be beating under her eyes. Mo Lingwei puts the book back and looks for the picture album.

She stepped on the stool and took out an oil painting book from the bookcase on the top floor, but accidentally took out the book beside her.

The paper in the booklet is falling down, on the floor, on the table and on the bench.

Another one fell on the open book of Xiuer.

Xiuer put down his pen, picked up the drawing paper, looked at the carefully depicted face, turned to Mo Lingwei, and pointed to the sketch: "aunt, you."

Mo Lingwei smiles, nods her head, gets down from the chair and squats on the ground to pick up the scattered pictures.

Xiuer also jumped down from the chair and began to help pick up the drawing paper: "Auntie, so much for you."

Yeah, a lot of her.

Smiling, indifferent, calm.

The way she looked down at a book, the way she looked at people around her.

Vivid and meticulous.

Mo Lingwei stares at her baby fat face. Time seems to shuttle back and forth a few years ago. If it wasn't for these paintings, she would have forgotten that she had such longing eyes.

If a man's heart is old, he will know it by his eyes.

Sometimes she looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes full of vicissitudes, as if a thousand sails had passed.

Mo Lingwei folded the drawing paper one by one and put it away. Her eyes fell on the book.

She remembered that all the paper had been put in this book, which was placed randomly in the middle of the bookcase.

Maybe it's because no one is looking at it, so it's put on the top of the bookcase by Feng Shaojin.

If she hadn't looked at it casually today, she would not have seen it again.

Mo Lingwei picked up the pamphlet and opened the first page, leaving a poem on the blank title page:

...

just because of the feeling of your review, I think about your morning and evening.

Soul with you to the end do not regret, continuous Acacia for you bitter.

Acacia bitter, by whom to sue? I don't know where you are.

Help the door to think about the advice of the king, climb the mountain to see the end of the world.

The handwriting is vigorous and powerful, but it is soft, not like Feng Shaojin's majestic atmosphere when she wrote.

Words are like people.

At a glance, Mo Lingwei recognized that it was Feng Shaoqing's handwriting.

Think of Feng Shaojin once said, Feng Shaoqing has been looking for a girl who only met once, and then look at the sorrowful Acacia in this poem, you can understand what is written in this book.

Mo Lingwei doesn't like to pry into other people's privacy. Although she is curious, she still decides not to look inside.

It's just why are these drawings in this book?

Feng Shaojin doesn't know how to sketch. She just knows a little about oil painting. She learned a little bit because she can draw.

These paintings can't be painted without certain painting skills.

Xiuer turned over from the pile of paper, took out the two pictures that were pressed at the bottom, held them in front of Mo Lingwei, and asked, "aunt, who?"

When Mo Lingwei's eyes fell on the two paintings, she froze as if struck by lightning!

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