Southerners

Chapter 129 Bustard Feather 5

When the porcelain piece scratched her wrist, the pain was severe, and the blood flowed out from the opening, bright red and glaring, but not enough to kill her, so Song Zhi mended herself tremblingly.

I don't know which blood vessel was cut, a lot of blood rushed out, eyes were bright red, Song Zhi gritted her teeth, and closed her eyes forcefully, tears filled her eye sockets and slid down from the corners of her eyes at unknown times and reasons , but silently, it dripped onto the poor-quality material of the prison uniform, leaving a round ball of water stains.

"Crack!" The tile fell to the ground.

The nose was filled with the smell of blood. When Song Zhi fell down, she made a dull sound, her wrists drooped, and the blood flowed down her skin, soaking the dry straw.

In the corner of the prison, rats were gnawing on the corpses of the same kind that died. Their eyeballs rolled around, wondering why the human beings in front of them suddenly fell down.

"He's dead, he's dead!" The guard yelled at the top of his voice when he found out.

"Who died?"

"Over there, that prisoner named Song Zilan committed suicide!"

"what?"

"What's the rush? Didn't you just kill yourself a prisoner? It's not the first time I've seen you? Just write about committing suicide in fear of crime."

"Why commit suicide in fear of crime?" Accompanied by a calm male voice, a middle-aged man, about forty years old, walked in from the door. He is a third-rank member.

"Master Zhongcheng, this way please." The prison secretary of the general manager's mansion on Dadu Road is a small official of the eighth rank, wearing a green robe and a black rhinoceros horn belt, but in front of these jailers who have no rank, he still offends Great man.

Seeing him nodding and bowing like this, everyone was startled, straightened their posture quickly, saluted respectfully, and said in unison: "I have seen Mr. Zhongcheng!"

Zhongcheng?Censor Zhongcheng?From the senior members of the third rank, what are you doing here?

"The official just heard that a prisoner committed suicide?" Yushi Zhongcheng stroked his beard, raised his eyelids and glanced at the jailers in front of him, and asked, "Who is it?"

Yu Shitai is in charge of the picket officials, he wants to know, they really have to say it.

"My lord." Seeing that the following ones are useless, the head guard had no choice but to stand up and say, "It's a prisoner named Song Zilan."

"What crime did you commit?" Censor Zhongcheng paused his hand and asked again.

"My lord, this person wrote apocryphal scriptures privately. There are a lot of disrespectful words in his poems and essays. He is suspected of treason."

"Suspected of treason?" Censor Zhongcheng's beard twitched, "Bring the document to me for a look."

"Yes." Immediately, someone went to fetch the file of Song Zhi's case and presented it to Yu Shi Zhongcheng.

The facts of this case are simple, listing the poems written by Song Zhi, etc., as well as some other facts of the case that Song Zhi himself confessed. Yushi Zhongcheng glanced at it, and then looked at the poems written by Song Zhi. He knew little about Confucianism. Nothing came out, so I kept my heart and wrote down the poem.

"Is the person dead?" Yu Shi Zhongcheng asked.

"I'm still alive." A jailer replied.

Yushi Zhongcheng Fuxu murmured: "Since he is still alive, why don't you send someone for diagnosis and treatment soon? His crime may not end in death, so go quickly."

When Yu Shi Zhongcheng spoke, the jailer dared not listen, he agreed, turned his head and gave these useless subordinates a wink, smiled again, turned to Yu Shi Zhongcheng, nodded and said: "My lord, it's cold in this big prison." It's damp and dirty, so you don't get your feet dirty, go out quickly."

Yu Shi Zhongcheng glanced at him, said nothing, and walked out slowly with his clothes hem up.Yushitai has to picket large and small cases in the General Manager's Mansion every year, and this year happened to be at this time, so he was ordered to come here.

However, after Censor Zhongcheng left, the guards did not go to ask for a doctor for Song Zhi. Those who beat people just now knew why Song Zhi wanted to die. The censor Zhongcheng filed a complaint, not to mention their jailers, the jailer will also suffer.

"What are you still doing in a daze, quickly drag people out and throw them into the mass grave!"

"But, this... I asked my lord later..."

"Just say that the treatment is ineffective, and he died. Do you need to say more about such a simple matter? Go!"

"Yes!"

Immediately, someone took orders, packed Song Zhi in a sack, and sent her out that night in the dark, and threw her at the mass grave.

"It's really unlucky, I just caught up with the person from Yushitai!"

The two jailers who threw the corpse cursed, kicked the unconscious Song Zhi, turned around and left.

……

Song Zhi seemed to have had a dream. In the dream, there were strange lights and grotesques, and her consciousness was ups and downs, flickering and fading.

He thought: Am I dead?

However, he neither entered hell, nor did he enter the Paradise of Ultimate Bliss mentioned by Buddhism.

It was foggy in front of his eyes, and he saw a mountain hidden in the clouds. There was a small river in the mountain, and willow trees were planted on the bank of the river. a book.

Who is that?Song Zhi thought.

The man's figure was so familiar that Song Zhi felt his heart tremble just by looking at it, like pain, like joy, he resisted instinctively, and couldn't help but want to step up to take a look.

So he leaned over, stopped in front of the man, stretched out his hand, and reached for the book covering the man's face.

"Zi Lan..."

He seemed to hear a man's low, magnetic voice calling him.

The man under the willow tree opened his eyes, and a pair of amber eyes looked at him with a smile.

No... He wasn't looking at him. Song Zhi's heart skipped a beat. She followed his line of sight and saw another person sitting by the river. A frame was set up in front, with a paintbrush in his hand, he was obviously painting the scenery in the mountains, but what stood out on the paper was a man dozing off under the willow tree.

The man in the blue shirt turned his head, and smiled at the man under the willow tree in a reproachful manner.

This face... was clearly his own.

Song Zhi suddenly remembered that this was a dream he had once had, and this was the scene in his dream.

However, in the next moment, more images came to mind.

Suddenly, an unspeakable soreness surged in Song Zhi's throat, and she spat out a mouthful of blood.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

There was a surprised voice in my ear.

Someone gently wiped the blood from his mouth with a handkerchief, and asked repeatedly: "Little brother, how are you?"

Song Zhi frowned and wanted to speak, but her voice was dry and hoarse. He opened his mouth and made a sound: "Water..."

"Quick, bring the water!"

Then water was fed to his mouth.

Song Zhi took a drink from the man's hand and felt a little better, then slowly opened her eyes, her consciousness was still not clear, and her eyes were also loose, and it took a while before she could focus.

Song Zhi rolled her eyes and saw the person in front of her.

It was an unfamiliar face, which belonged to a middle-aged woman, and it could be seen that it had been carefully maintained, with delicate makeup on her face.

"You are……?"

Hearing Song Zhi's question, the woman smiled cheerfully and said, "You can just call me San Niang. You don't need to ask so many questions. You are not in good health, so take care of it first."

"How do you feel now, are you hungry?"

Song Zhi moved her lips, looked around, and thought: Is he saved?The scene before the coma is still in prison, but when he wakes up, he is in a stranger's home.

It's not difficult to guess the process, most likely the jailer thought he was dead, sent someone to throw him in a mass grave, and was picked up later.

Song Zhi bent her lips, a little bit bitterly: He is really fateful, he can be saved like this, so his life shouldn't be lost?But what else does he have to live for?

"Little brother?" Seeing that Song Zhi didn't answer, the woman asked again, thinking she must be stupid, right?

Song Zhi nodded.

The woman was stunned for a moment before she realized, she quickly turned her head and said, "Suyu, hurry up and cook a bowl of porridge."

It was only then that Song Zhi noticed that there was a young man standing beside her. Hearing the words, she agreed, and cast her curious eyes on Song Zhi again, before jumping out.

There was a deep wound on Song Zhi's left wrist. Although the aorta was not injured, a lot of blood still flowed out. Excessive blood loss was the main reason for Song Zhi's coma.

The woman called Sanniang is a silk businessman with a little money at home. Her husband died early and she raised her son alone. It is said that a servant from the house came back from the silk business. In order to take a shortcut, she passed the mass grave and accidentally Found that Song Zhi was still alive, and brought him back.

The woman has a good heart. Seeing that Song Zhi is young, although she is wearing a prison uniform, she does not look like a treacherous person. She spends a lot of money to hire a doctor for Song Zhi and buy all kinds of qi and blood supplements. The medicine was poured into Song Zhi's stomach as if it didn't cost money. Song Zhi stepped into the gate of hell with half of her foot, and was pulled back abruptly.

In the days that followed, Song Zhi lived in the woman's house with peace of mind. The doctor said he wanted to rest. When Song Zhi was rescued, he not only lost a lot of blood, but also had a high fever, which took several days to subside.

If you don't take a good rest, I'm afraid you will suffer in the future with this body.

What the doctor said is right, Song Zhi is very afraid of the cold now, even though it is only mid-autumn, he has to wear two or three layers to not feel the cold.

The wound on the wrist healed day by day, and the flesh swelled day by day, itching badly, but the doctor ordered not to touch it.

Song Zhi seemed to be divorced from her former life.

He told Sanniang that his name was Song Zhi, a painter, and Sanniang heard about it, so she went to buy brushes, paints, and rice paper. Although they were not as good as those used in the Meng Mansion, Song Zhi could not buy them herself. started.

Song Zhi couldn't refuse, so she made a painting and asked the woman to sell it, maybe for a few taels of silver.

Days passed by, if it wasn't for one day in September, when someone knocked on the door of Sanniang's house, Song Zhi might have forgotten her past life.

Forget that he is still Meng Huan's male favorite, forget that he is still a prisoner waiting to be punished.

The person who came was Meng Huan's confidant. Ever since he learned that Song Zhi committed suicide in prison and was thrown into the mass grave, Meng Huan sent people to look for it, but they couldn't find the body. Everyone around him told him, Maybe wild dogs might eat it, but Meng Huan firmly believed that Song Zhi was not dead, so he sent his cronies to search for her from house to house.

After searching for more than a month, I finally got the news in Pingzaifang, Beicheng, saying that there was a man named Sanniang who had invited a trauma doctor to treat a young man.

Only then did he get him back.

When Song Zhi was brought back to the Meng Mansion, she was in a trance for a moment looking at the familiar scenery and buildings.

He thought he would never come back.

People who have died once have a different mood after all.

When I saw Meng Huan, Meng Huan was sitting in the study, Chuo Man was not there, neither was Qinuo, and there was no one else.

Song Zhi thought she could calm down, but when the servant opened the door for Song Zhi, Song Zhi was still so nervous that she almost stopped breathing.

"Master, Song Zilan has arrived."

After the boy said this, he tactfully closed the door for the two of them and retreated out.

Song Zhi lifted her feet and walked in. When she raised her eyes, she saw Meng Huan leaning on the grand teacher's chair, half leaning on it, with a lazy posture, holding a volume of books in his hand, and tied his black hair with a jade hairpin like a Han Chinese. Standing, hanging down like a waterfall, he lowered his head slightly, the lines of his side face were thin and firm.

Meng Huan heard the voice and turned to look at him.

The author has something to say:

This one made me cry, my heart hurts so much, I feel so sorry for Zilan and Meng Huan