The old abbot and his disciples had been chanting scriptures for three consecutive days, and there were countless doctors running around every day.
Yan fan could only look at them shaking his head and sighing. They said that his Highness's pulse was weakening day by day. At that time, the sword was only two centimeters away from the heart. They kept awake and tried their best to turn the tide. They robbed his Highness from the hell palace. But who would have thought that your highness would sleep for a long time.
One of the doctors accidentally let slip. She said that maybe your highness didn't want to wake up, or maybe she was hurt by something and didn't want to face it after waking up.
As soon as the doctor finished speaking, he was shut up by other doctors.
Everyone had a short rest. Yan fan secretly came to Shen Wanqing's bed.
The girl's eyes were closed, her pale lips were pursed, her face was bloodless, quiet and terrible.
He looked deeply at the girl's face and his eyes were nostalgic. Yan fan reached out and shook the girl's hand.
Her fingers were cold and terrible. Yan fan covered her hand in the palm of his hand in an attempt to warm her.
"Your Highness... Yan fan, please... Will you wake up?"
"Yan fan regrets, Yan fan... Yan fan wants to be with his highness. If he had known this, Yan fan would follow his highness that day..."
"As long as you wake up, Yan fan will listen to his highness..."
"Open your eyes and see if Yan fan is good... Good... Clear..."
I don't know why, Yan fan couldn't cover the girl's hand. He felt that her hand seemed colder than before.
Yan fan panicked. His slender eyelashes trembled. He looked at the unconscious girl lying in bed. He was confused like a child who couldn't find a home.
"Qingqing... Don't leave me, okay..."
"Please, look at me."
Yan fan holds Shen Wanqing's hand. He kisses the back of the girl's hand with piety and awe.
The peach blossom eyes of those evil spirits are already red, and the cinnabar mole in the center of the eyebrow is bright and burning red.
Yan fan closed his eyes and the thin and soft pale lip gently touched the girl's palm.
He murmured, "if your highness is gone, Yan fan has no meaning to live."
"... fool"
The voice is very light and weak. It seems that there is some helplessness.
Yan fan stopped. His long eyelashes trembled. When he raised his eyes, the dark blue pupils contracted tightly.
He saw the girl in bed looking at him gently. His brown eyes were still very clear, and Yan fan seemed dumb.
This scene is what he wants to see many times in his dreams these days, but when he really sees it, Yan fan's brain is blank.
His cheeks were cold, as if something had flowed out of his eyes.
Tears trickled down on Shen Wanqing's hand.
Looking at the little poor man crying like a tearful man, Shen Wanqing sighed.
She stretched out her hand hard and gently wiped away the tears from the corners of her poor eyes, "what are you crying about? Didn't I wake up?"
ââ"Yan fan, can you cry?"
ââ"Yes."
ââ"I think as a monk, you have seen it."
ââ"Looking open is a state of mind, tears are emotions, and so is crying with joy."
Can Yan fan cry?
No, he won't.
Because he didn't teach him what emotion it was to be sad. The Buddha said that all sentient beings could be saved. The Buddha said that there were no tears in great sorrow, no words in great enlightenment, and no laughter. Those were all Buddha's words. That was the feeling of the Buddha, not Yan fan's.
Shen Wanqing looked at the tearful man and smiled gently. His lips were pale. "So, this is crying with joy, isn't it?"