There are very few people like Song Qianji. You see how he works in farm work, he is familiar and smooth, without any extra movements, and he feels that he should be busy in the fields and raises his life.

But if you have seen him compose music, play chess, and write poetry, you will feel that he is romantic and rich. He should be born to live alone in the cultivation world of immortals, and a gentleman who is not covered in dust.

It seems that he can do everything with ease and complacent, and can do everything well.

A smile appeared in He Qingqing's eyes.

Xianyinmen is located in Tiannanzhou, with high fairy mountains; Qianqu County is located in Tianxizhou, with remote areas in the mortal world.

One hundred and eight thousand miles, the sun changes, and the mountains and rivers are far away.

She is getting busier and busier, busy with many things other than cultivation and practice, making decisions that she has never done before and dared not think about.

Power was accompanied by responsibility on her shoulders, and she didn't feel heavy at all, because the feeling of controlling and commanding others made her addicted.

"I was born to give orders," she thought.

But no matter how busy he is, He Qingqing always sends people to collect information about Qianqu County.

She knew how many trees she planted here, how many rivers she dug, and how many trucks of silk and satin were pulled back.

This is the only corner in her heart that can be regarded as "relax and warm", like a lantern on a rainy night and a stove on a snowy side.

When she really set foot on the land of thousands of canals, she was a little nervous when she saw the person she was worried about.

She once wanted to wear a white dress and wear Mili again because of her face, dress and temperament. If Song Qianji met each other but didn't know him, she asked her back: "Where are you from? Do we know him?"

In that way, although she would not be sad, she would at least be embarrassed and lost.

Fortunately, Song Qianji did not.

The Song Qianji is still the Song Qianji of the past, whether holding a piano, holding a sword, or holding a sickle or swinging a hoe.

Seeing that He Qingqing didn't say anything, he put down his rolled-up sleeves and spoke out: "Sit in the room?"

He Qingqing turned around and ordered: "Wait for me outside."

The female cultivators behind her answered in unison.

Everyone in the fields watched the two go away side by side, still dazed.

"That beauty is Senior Brother Song's friend?" Ji Xing patted Zhou Xiaoyun on the shoulder.

Zhou Xiaoyun came back to her senses: "She is fellow Taoist He Qingqing, and now she is the senior sister of Xianyin Sect."

He Qingqing was very good because she was a song at the News Conference, because she refused Qin Xian and Midye Manjushri, and because of her ghostly face.

"So she is He Qingqing." Ji Xing said to himself, and suddenly became curious: "You know her? Her face is so good!"

Zhou Xiaoyun said: "I recognize those hands."

The evening wind blew across the red door of Songyuan in the evening. The masked woman wrapped in a white skirt, revealing only a pair of slender jade hands, which was as impressive as peeling the horns of water chestnuts.

Ji Xing sighed: "She is so majestic! What kind of person is she?"

Zhou Xiaoyun shook her head and looked hesitant: "I can't say it. She is very different from before."

Once upon a time, the outer sect of Huawei Sect was crowded with people, and the people came out to see her, but screamed and scattered because of her uglyness, as if they met a snake, scorpion, and devil.

Today, Qianqu County Tiancheng is still crowded with people watching the fun, but she lost her soul and lost her soul because of her beauty, and she met an immortal in a dream.

It is a ghost or an immortal, and the world is inverted. People in the world are arrogant at first and respectful at the end, but they are just for one face.

Zhou Xiaoyun sighed: "When I was sir, I shouldn't be afraid of her like that. After all, Senior Brother Song said a very aphorism."

"What sentence? 'Cross millets in autumn, and clothes when it rains'?" Ji Xing stood on tiptoe and looked around reluctantly.

He Qingqing's fluttering arms gradually became unable to see it. Everyone loves beauty, regardless of gender.

"Red Pink Skeleton, you're so beautiful."

"No, sister! This is also called an aphorism? It's better to 'harve millet in autumn'."

Zhou Xiaoyun's expression was slightly solemn: "If you judge a person by his appearance, you only look at superficial appearances, you will never see the truth, and you will not become a real person."

Everyone in Qianqu said that a real fairy came to Tiancheng.

Her skirt is decorated with flowers, her arms are made of clouds, her hair is stained with dew, and her eyes are hiding with stars.

The simple and honest Qianqu people exhausted their imaginations. After the Song Xianguan rode the silver dragon to draw water, they told the fairy down to earth to life.

"She is the wife of the Immortal Song, no, Taoist?" Liu Carpenter was selected as the representative of the workers and peasants, and whispered to Xushan, Qiu Dacheng listened to the news, satisfying the vigorous curiosity of the workers and peasants in the thousand canals.

Xu Kanshan shook his head: "Brother Song does not distinguish between beauty and ugliness, does not get close to women, and does not make friends with Taoism. The realm of cultivation says that he is romantic and affectionate, and he is all slandering him!"

Qiu Dacheng smiled and said, "I guess, Brother Song looked at her face and saw the millet growing well in the fields, with thick roots and strong seedlings."

The two of them met Song Qianji, which originated from the night when the precepts hall asked Meng Heze, and took Song Qianji to Qiankun Hall.

I met Miaoyan halfway through, and they almost fell down the Shuishu Bridge when they saw Song Qianji passed by without expression, as if passing by a lamppost.

Today, He Qingqing fell from the sky, and Song Qianji was still calm, which made Xu and Qiu admire him even more.

...

"Drink tea."

He Qingqing held the teacup and looked around Songyuan.

Compared with the small courtyard at the outer door of Huawei Zong, the world is wider here, with flowers and plants competing for beauty, and there are more varieties of vegetables.

The small wooden sign engraved with the names of plants and trees sways lightly in the wind, making a pleasant sound like a wind chime. The flower stand is staggered, and the owner can be seen everywhere.

The wisteria fades away, and new flowers bloom again. The bright and charming pink begonia, the shy and timid blue cow, and clusters of fine yellow osmanthus.

The light fragrances mixed between Song Qian's sleeves, floating layer by layer, like a distant and complex dream.

He Qingqing tasted it lightly and the chrysanthemum tea tasted light and slightly astringent, and she seemed to be drunk in this dream.

"Senior Brother Song, is this the chrysanthemum you planted?"

After she asked, she raised her eyes and her eyes were swaying in the wind with several clusters of white chrysanthemums, exactly the same as the ones swirling in the teacup.

It seemed like she was laughing at her for asking questions knowingly and didn't dare to say what she wanted to say, so she had nothing to say.

He Qingqing's cheeks were slightly red.

Just now, the other party heard that it was someone from the Xianyin Sect coming, and his first reaction was about Fairy Miaoyan.

Miaoyan was looking for the composer of "The Song of Wind and Snow" everywhere, so she had a crack with her master Wangshu.

Outsiders don’t know, but the senior executives of Xianyin Sect say that she is in a hindrance.

She was looking for Song Qianji. Does Song Qianji want to see her too?

As I was thinking about it, my heart became anxious and the man replied: "I planted my own white chrysanthemums, made my own and drank it myself, I don't know if it suits your taste."

Be serious and peaceful.

He Qingqing drank it all in one sip, let out a breath, and relaxed all over:

"I know, no matter whether I am good or bad, Senior Brother Song will never laugh at me."

The topic became too fast, and Song Qianji was a little confused.

He had no choice but to measure He Qingqing and suddenly said "ah".

Just like an old father who was too slow to react, he suddenly realized:

"Your face-"

He Qingqing was stunned, and her habit of lowering her head and lowering her eyes had been abandoned by her. She subconsciously raised her face.

The warm autumn sun shines, and the girl's skin is as white as snow, with a layer of jade-like luster.

Unlike Miaoyan's unaggressive beauty, her red lips and ink hair are so beautiful that it is breathtaking.

The jewelry dressed up did not overshadow her glory, but instead made her look even more beautiful.

Song Qianji looked at this face carefully.

He Qingqing's heart suddenly beat faster.

She heard too many praises and was already a little tired and impatient.

Even if the disciples of the Xianyin Sect quoted scriptures and praised them in a gorgeous way, she only smiled faintly.

But even if it was the same praise, if she said it from Song Qianji, she would be happy to listen to it again, ten times, one hundred times.

Song Qianji, however, is different.

The autumn wind blew, the white chrysanthemums in the yard trembled, and the girl was covered in rings and jingling.

He Qingqing didn't dare to breathe, forgot to blink, and felt that this moment was infinitely stretched, and it seemed that he would never wait for the person to speak for a long time.

In fact, Song Qianji only saw it for a short moment.

He blinked, his eyes like the quiet and gentle lake water under the autumn moon.

Then he whispered: "It hurts very much, right?"

There was no admiration or surprise, his tone was as normal as he asked only one word.

He Qingqing's nose felt sore, and his eyes suddenly became blurred.
To be continued...