Chapter 182 I can't bear it

She looked at him infatuatedly, but she didn't know if he was surprised? Is it joy? Do you want to meet? Or do you want to escape?

Xiao Gao didn't let her choose.

He has rushed up, grabbed her, and grabbed her hands with both hands.

This is not a dream or an illusion.

The feeling in his hand is so warm and full, and the feeling in his heart is also so warm and full.

"Why did you leave that day? Where have you been? Why did you come here?"

Xiao Gao didn't ask these words.

As long as they can meet, nothing else matters.

"You're here. You're really here. I won't let you go again this time."

He grabbed her and stepped back to the ladder. His eyes could no longer leave her face.

Suddenly, there was a change on her face that no one could predict.

Her pupils suddenly contracted because of fear and suddenly spread, and her whole body seemed to have collapsed and collapsed.

What did she see?

Xiao Gao looked at her in surprise and wanted to immediately look back to find what she saw.

But there was a terrible change in his own face, as if he suddenly thought of an extremely terrible thing. After a long time, he dared to turn back.

He turned around and saw Zhu Meng.

The expression on Zhu Meng's face looks like a beast, a beast that has fallen into the hunter's trap, sad, angry and desperate. The person he was watching was the one who pulled up the stairs.

Butterfly dance.

Suddenly, Xiao Gao fully understood.

Butterfly dance.

This woman who will never forget his dreams is the butterfly dance that Zhu Meng's dreams will never forget.

Why is fate so cruel!

This is not fate, nor is it a coincidence, absolutely not.

Zhuo Qing looked at them, and the smile in his eyes was like an evil god looking at the sacrifices offered to him by fools.

The hands are cold.

Everyone's hands are cold.

Xiao Gao let go of the cold hand of the butterfly dance and began to retreat into a corner.

Zhu Meng's eyes are now staring at his face, and a pair of big bloody eyes seem to have turned into a long gun.

A bloody long gun.

Xiao Gao is dead.

Although his people are not dead, his heart has been stabbed to death under this bloody spear.

But death is not a relief.

What will Zhu Meng do to him? What should he do to Zhu Meng?

Xiao Gao didn't dare to think about it, and he couldn't think of it. He can't think at all.

The only thing he can do is to "go".

Unexpectedly, when he was about to leave, someone suddenly stopped him: "Wait a minute."

Xiao Gao was surprised to find that the butterfly dance had completely calmed down and was no longer afraid to face him.

"I know you're leaving, and I know you have to go." Butterfly dance said, "But you must wait before you leave."

Her attitude is calm and resolute, and there seems to be a power in her eyes that can make no one refuse her.

A person can only produce this power when he is not afraid of everything.

Butterfly Dance turned to face Zhu Meng again: "I remember you once said that no one can leave when I want to dance."

Zhu Meng clenched his fists, as if he wanted to crush the world in the palm of his hand and destroy everything.

Zhuo Qing smiled and asked the butterfly dance with a gloomy smile: "Can you still dance?"

"Have you ever seen the spring silkworm spitting silk?" Butterfly dance said, "As long as it is not dead, its silk will not run out."

She said, "So do I. As long as I'm alive, I can dance."

Zhuo Qing took his hand and said, "That's really great."

The fox fell, and the dance clothes floated up.

The white-headed musician who had been sitting silently in a corner suddenly stood up, and his haggard and tired old face looked like a crumpled yellow paper.

"I'm blind, old and blind. I haven't thought of anything that can make me happy for a long time, so I always play sad music for my uncles." He said slowly, "But today I'm going to make an exception."

"Play a happy tune for us as an exception?" Zhuo Qing asked.

"Yes."

"Do you remember anything happy today?"

"No."

"Since there is none, why make an exception?"

The white-headed musician stared at the darkness in the distance with a pair of blind eyes that could not be seen at all. His voice was hoarse and sad: "Although I am blind, old and blind, I can still feel that there are too many sad things here today."

With a "Yancong", the pipa sounded, and the old man's first sound was like a silk that attracted the pipa. A thread turned into countless roots, and the sound of the string of the pipa was like a jade plate.

Every silk and every bead is light and happy. What he plays today is no longer the helpless sadness in life.

What he plays is the joy of life.

The butterfly dance is dancing.

Her dance is also light and happy, as if she has forgotten all the hardships in her life.

Her life has been integrated with her dance, and she has integrated her life into her dance.

Because there is only dance left in her life.

Because she is a dancer.

At this moment, she is no longer the woman who has experienced vicissitudes and suffering, but a dancer, so noble, so pure and so beautiful.

She danced her joy and youth, and her youth and joy also faded away in the dance.

"The sword is ruthless, and Zhuang Sheng has no dream; dance for you and turn into a butterfly."

The old man who played the pipa suddenly burst into tears.

He played happy music, but he shed tears in his empty blind eyes.

He couldn't see the people in the room, but he could feel it.

- What a sad person, how dark.

The happy music he played only made the sadness look more sad, and the happy music he played seemed to have become not music, but a kind of irony.

It was a "pop" again, and the pipa string was broken.

The dance is also broken.

The butterfly dance fell under Zhuo Qing's feet like a fallen leaf, and suddenly pulled out a knife from his boot barrel.

A gem-like dazzling short knife.

She raised her head, looked at Zhu Meng, then turned her head and looked at Xiao Gao.

The knife in her hand has fallen on her knee.

Blood splashed.

As soon as the blade falls, the blood splashes.

Her legs became like two pieces of rotten wood under the blade of this knife.

As soon as the blade fell, she was no longer a dancer. There will never be a dancer with broken legs in the world.

Such beautiful legs, so light, so dexterous, so beautiful.

Zhu Meng didn't shed tears.

When he saw the spikes die for him and put them in his arms, he did not shed tears.

At that time, he was bleeding.

Although it flows from the eyes, it is also blood.

Butterfly Dance must be still bleeding. No one in the world can stop her blood.

Because it is no longer blood flowing out of her wound, but the soul of the dancer.

And the dancer's soul has turned into a butterfly.

Who has ever seen a butterfly bleed? Does anyone know what color butterfly blood is?

Bleeding, why do people always bleed, why do they always not know how ugly it is? But the butterfly knows.

Because her life is so beautiful and short that no one can see her ugly side again.

"Cover me with a quilt and my legs. I don't want others to see my legs."

This is the last sentence said before the butterfly dance fainted for the fourth time.

In fact, she no longer has legs.

It is because she no longer has legs that she does not want to be seen. If anyone has the heart to say that this is also a kind of irony and one of human weaknesses, then this person's heart must have been refined into a stone by ghost fire. The thick and heavy quilt covered the butterfly dance, as if a dark cloud before the storm suddenly covered the sun.

There is no luster and blood on the butterfly dance's face, just like the dim lamp oil on the wooden table in the hut that will burn out.

"Zhu Meng."

Zhu Meng suddenly heard someone shouting, and his voice seemed to be so far away.

But the person who calls him is by his side, a woman who can ask him to die for her at any time.

A person he can't forget in his dream.

Those who have gone have gone, and this situation is endless.

Dance for you and turn into a butterfly.

Zhu Meng did not look back.

His knife is in his hand, his sworn enemy is in front of his blade, and his brothers are looking at him. He can't look back. He has no hesitation.

"Zhu Meng," the call sounded again, "Zhu Meng."

Such a distant call, so close.

The voice is so close, and so far away, as far as the destination in the dream of the prodigal son.

The fate of the prodigal son is far away in deep pain.

Zhu Meng turned around.

It was another "dang" sound. Zhu Meng turned around. When he turned around, the knife had fallen. When he turned around, the butterfly dance was looking at him.

All she saw was him, and all he saw was her.

At this moment, all people no longer exist, and everything no longer exists.

All the resentment, hatred, anger and sadness have turned into butterflies.

The butterfly flies away.

Butterflies fly away and come, is it coming? Is it going? Is it a person? Is it a butterfly?

"Zhu Meng, Zhu Meng, are you there?"

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm always here."

He is here.

The sword is not there, the lion is not there, and the powerful hero is no longer there.

But he is here.

As long as she is there, he will be there.

"Zhu Meng, I'm wrong, and you're wrong."

"Yes, I was wrong."

"Zhu Meng, why don't I always understand what you think of me? Why don't you always let me know? Butterfly dance said, "Why don't you always let me know how much you like me? Why don't I always let me know how much I need someone who likes me?

There is no answer, and some things are always unanswered, because there is no answer at all.

"Zhu Meng, I'm going to die. Don't die." Butterfly dance said, "I can die, but you can't die."

Her voice is like a hairline in the fog.

"I can't dance for you anymore, but I can still sing for you." Butterfly dance said, "I sing, you listen, I must sing, you must listen."

"Okay, you sing, I'll listen."

No more.

There is no one, no resentment, no hatred, nothing but the song she wants to sing.

So she sang. The bun is combed, and the lead is light makeup; the blue smoke and purple fog cover is light, and the flying catkins are not fixed. It's better not to see each other than to see each other. How can it be ruthless to have feelings? After Shengge's dispersed, the wine woke up, and the moon in the deep courtyard was quiet.

Yousi gradually walks farther and further and stops.

She sang, and she has already sung.

She stopped.

Everything between heaven and earth has stopped, at least at this moment.

There is no more dance and no more songs in the world, and there is nothing in the world.

There are no more tears.

Only blood.

Zhu Meng stood there crazily, looked at her crazily, and suddenly spit out a mouthful of blood.