2980: C2980 Painting 3000 Meters

C2980 Painting 3000 Meters

Meng Fan followed the painter and moved to a mountain to the east of Sun City.

Every day, Meng Fan would go into the mountains to gather fruits, herbs, and medicine. Occasionally, he would catch some small animals and come back. Before dusk, Meng Fan would continue to paint.

Days, poverty, peace.

In the blink of an eye, another two to three months passed.

Meng Fan still dreamed every day, but he was no longer scared awake by the scene in the dream.

His painting was becoming more and more graceful.

Gradually, he also had the thought of starting his training again. Because he knew that his master was an expert in seclusion, he wanted to seek his master's advice. But now, his painter's body was too weak.

The painter could hardly get out of bed now.

His complexion became more and more unsightly, his complexion became very pale, his body became thinner and thinner, and his appetite became even worse.

Meng Fan was very nervous, and every day he was very nervous, so he slept very late and always watched the painter fall asleep. Meng Fan was very nervous, and every day he was very nervous, and every day he fell asleep very late, and always watched the painter fall asleep.

This fear kept pestering Meng Fan.

In contrast, the painter was very calm.

It was so plain that it was incomprehensible.

He seemed to be waiting for something, waiting for something.

On this day, Meng Fan went up the mountain and picked up a little fox.

The little fox seemed to have no parents, and it didn't really know how to walk. The fur on its body didn't grow any, but it looked very pitiful, but it was very smart. When it saw Meng Fan, it kept on calling out to him softly, so Meng Fan carried it back to the wooden house and quickly showed it to the painter, hoping to make him happy.

In front of his mother, Meng Fan was always a child. That was his nature, but in front of a painter, Meng Fan felt that he was more like a child. It was not his nature, but an inexplicable dependence.

The painter laid on the bed, looking at the little fox with a pale face. "So beautiful," he said with a smile.

"Yeah, she's so beautiful." Meng Fan said happily.

The painter replied, "It's been a long time since I've paid attention to the beauty of this little thing."

The painter said something Meng Fan didn't understand.

"Help me up, I want to see the scenery outside."

The painter said.

Meng Fan immediately put the little fox into a bamboo basket and helped the artist walk out of the wooden house. The little fox stumbled out of the bamboo basket and followed behind the painter and Meng Fan.

Outside the wooden house, the sun had just set, indicating that it was just past noon.

The painter sat on a rocking chair supported by Meng Fan. He looked at the sun in the distance and seemed to be deep in thought.

That afternoon, Meng Fan did not paint.

There was always a sense of uneasiness in his heart. It was an uneasiness that made him restless. It was the feeling of always being by the painter's side, watching the sun in the distance with him.

The little fox was also lying on the ground not far away, quietly accompanying them.

Before long, dusk arrived.

The painter smiled. "I should go."

Meng Fan was stunned for a moment and then understood what was going on. His eyes suddenly felt sore and he couldn't understand why. He reached out his hand to rub the water, but he couldn't stop the water from flowing down.

He cried very miserably.

However, there was no sound of sobbing.

He was crying silently.

Unable to stop the tears.

The painter didn't look at Meng Fan. He just looked at the sun in the distance and said with a smile, "It's so good, it's so good. I have already experienced countless life and death situations and have always thought, where will I die, what kind of person will I die from, and what kind of method will I use to die? "I never thought that I would die peacefully in my own hometown, right by my side. It's so good, so good …"

Meng Fan couldn't care less about what the painter said. He struggled to say: "Master …"

"Why are you crying?" The painter asked calmly.

Meng Fan rubbed his eyes, "I..." I'm afraid... I'll never see Master again … "

"What are you afraid of?" The painter smiled. "Oh, that's right." You said it before, if you only eat pickled vegetables and porridge for your entire life, you would be happy, but once, when you eat a delicacy for mountains and seas, and can't eat anymore, it will be very painful, and having it once was lost, and is even more painful than having it before, Master is wrong, Master should not have appeared by your side, truly should not. "

Meng Fan shook his head furiously: "No …" No... "If there's another time, I, I still want to meet Master. Even if I know, we will part ways eventually. I must see Master, I must see her again!"

His voice was no longer sobbing.

He no longer hesitated.

Suddenly, he became very determined.

"Even if we lose it in the end?" the painter asked.

Meng Fan nodded, "It's also better than never having it before!"

"If you think so, perhaps one day you will see me again." The painter laughed. "Do you believe it?"

Meng Fan was stunned.

"I do not know if a person is strong enough to reverse life and death. Before, I thought that as long as I was strong enough, life and death could be changed, but I never succeeded, but, you are different from me. As long as you think like this, even if I die, one day, you will definitely see me again, and at that moment, you will suddenly understand. At that moment, you will understand a lot of things."

Meng Fan stood dumbly on the spot.

The painter said, "I still want to accompany you. I'm still another three thousand meters away from you."

Meng Fan immediately stepped forward and held the painter's hand, "Master, you will be fine. You will accompany me in painting at a distance of 3000 meters."

The painter patted Meng Fan's head with a smile: "When you draw 3000 meters on your own, you will be able to … see me again."

As he spoke, the painter took out a small cloth bag from his bosom.

The cloth bag looked very old, Meng Fan could immediately tell that it belonged to WuTown. Because the cloth bag had some patterns of WuTown, he could even tell that the bag was made by some clever woman in WuTown.

It was obvious that the painter had brought this cloth bag from the WuTown to this place.

"Master doesn't have anything for you, take the contents of this cloth bag."

The painter passed the cloth bag to Meng Fan.

Meng Fan held the bag and looked up at his Master. The tears in his eyes could not be stopped.

The painter reached out to wipe away a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Meng Fan, don't cry."

This voice was so familiar.

Meng Fan was dazed for a moment.

In his nightmares, every time he was frightened, he would vaguely hear this voice!

At this moment!

The painter's hand drooped.

He closed his eyes.

It was as if he had fallen asleep.

Meng Fan's lips trembled and the bag in his hand fell to the ground. The contents of the bag also fell out, but Meng Fan was in no mood to look. He was just stunned for a long time.

Then he knelt down before the painter.

The sun had set.

A faint glow of sunset shone down on the hillside.

On the hillside, the handsome young painter lay in a rocking chair, serene as if he were asleep.

Meng Fan kneeled on the ground, tears constantly dripping onto the ground. He tried his best to hold it in.

Master said, don't cry.

So hold it in and don't cry.

Meng Fan forced himself to stand up. He felt something gently rubbing against his leg. It was that spirited little fox.

The little fox pushed the things that rolled out of the bag in front of Meng Fan.

It was a very ordinary looking object.

It looked like a pebble.

It was a black pearl.

Meng Fan stretched out his hand, picked up the bead and put it into his pocket.

He buried his master well and set up the stone tablet, but his master still didn't leave his name, so Meng Fan could only write his name as the number one painter in the world.

After seven days of mourning for his master, Meng Fan was finally done packing. Although he had hair, he was still a young fox. He patted his chest, touched the black pearl, and left the mountain.

He wanted to regain his WuTown.

He wanted to continue cultivating the martial way.

Because his Master had said that as long as he worked hard, he would one day meet his Master.

It was also because he finally understood.

He had never had such a thing before. It was a sad thing to hide one's identity and never go out of doors to hide one's ears.

Nothing is eternal. Once you have it, you are very happy.1

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