水声幽幽,他在身侧。一如当年初见,他一身白衣,翩若惊鸿。那是多少年前的事了?文墨已经记不清了。记得那年盛夏的夜,文家沉寂了数年无人进入的云兰谷被人闯入了。那天夜里,文墨倚在云兰谷中那棵百年古树上,抱着怀中的两只松鼠逗着玩。忽而只听得谷中一阵喧哗,接着便是喝问声、应答声、掌风呼啸声……文墨歪着脑袋,想着那人是如何避开云兰谷外的数百暗兵, Water faint, he is on the side. As early as the beginning of the year, he was a white, Pina if scared. How many years ago was it? I remember that night in midsummer, the writer silent for several years no one entered the Valley of the Cloud was broken into. That night, the text ink leaning against the hundred-year-old tree in the valley of Yunlan, holding two squirrels in his arms to play. Suddenly only heard a burst of noises in the valley, then is asked to drink sound, answer the sound, the whistling sound of the palm ... ... Wen Mo tilted his head, thinking about how the man is to evade hundreds of secret forces outside the Valley,