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Chapter 1:Open the Coffin and Draw the Bones

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Twenty years, North Liang, Jinjiang.

In January, the day of January, said that it would change, only to be clear, and in an instant it would rain heavily, the lightning was thunderous, and the green stone path seemed to be engulfing a layer of silage and slippery.

Ji Yunshu held an umbrella, holding a beautifully carved sandalwood box in his hand, all the way from the Ji family to the door of Zhoufu.

In the first month, all the houses were beaming, but the doorway of Zhoufu was full of white satins and a few white lanterns.

Yesterday, Miss Zhou family suddenly had an accident and died!

Ji Yunshu collected the umbrella, brushed the rain on his shoulders, and carefully looked at the sandalwood box in his arms.

This is the baby she eats, and she can't be ruined!

If the county had not asked her, she would not have come.

Living in the first month is a bit confusing.

"Sir, you are coming."

The little boy in the house came running, carrying his waist, and calling anxiously.

Call her husband is not surprising, Ji Yunshu is a man's dress, elegant.

Ji Yunshu lit his head, and as Xiao Wei went to the backyard hall, the little girl in the house knelt on a field, bowing her head, and all tears were wiping.

In the hall, Master Zhou was in a purple ink and ribbon robe, high bun plate, the face was heavy, the lips were a line, and the eyes were covered with blood, and the state of fatigue was full.

On the side of Mrs. Zhou is crying, pain, yesterday learned that her daughter died violently, fainted on the spot, and now has not slowed down, if not by a few little girls to help, this will fall to the ground again.

In the past, Ji Yunshu lived, and naturally he was accustomed to such scenes.

Lord Zhou saw Ji Yunshu and looked at his wife, which pulled her aside.

"Mr. Ji, please, the little girl in front of the most pink dress, but also love to dress up, empty will go to the yard to enjoy plum blossoms, because the body is not good, do not often go out, just yesterday... fell from the attic, smashed on the fake mountain, face..."

"Don't worry, Master Zhou, I understand."

Ji Yun Shu answered the sound, put down the bow box he brought, opened, inside are some exquisite painting tools, the box is divided into three layers, the first layer, is seven or eight embroidered silver tender small ink pens, the second layer, is a concave sink, the third layer, is forty-eight small pigments, the color is authentic uniform.

The box is clean, but it’s dirty.

A few little girls looked in curiously, this painting of the place, they have not seen.

The little man took a roll of brocades and spread it on the table, leading Ji Yunshu to the coffin.

In the coffin, Miss Zhou Jia's face is festering, the skin is open, the blood is connected to the tibia, the two bumps are slightly exposed to the white bone, the eyeballs are bursting, the one-eyed hanging in the eye socket, although the lips are complete, but the bridge of the nose has been broken.

Who doesn’t look disgusting when they see this?

Falling down, it should look like this.

Then look at the bun dress, the pink upper embroidery forging, neat, hair like ink, and next to the funeral of gold and silver jewelry integration.

This week, it is really a big family, it is no wonder that the county master asked her to come here.

Ji Yunshu looked carefully, folded back to the table, began to adjust several pigments, selected a number of pens, ink on the brocade hook line, less than a moment to become shape, and then one by one color, slowly carved, dyeing, adjustment...

The people around him looked at me and looked at me.

It is said that Jinjiang came out of a famous painter Mr., subordinate to the gate, specifically to the dead to paint, whether it is flesh and blood blurred dead bodies, or charred and rotten corpses, or a pile of raw white bones, she can draw the appearance of the body before it was born.

A pair of clever hands, a sandalwood box, simply wonderful hands back spring.

Half an hour later, Ji Yun Shu collected the pen and played the dust on the sleeve of the body.

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