Chapter 42:

Day1712:02
Songran slept three rods in the day, and woke up to find that he had become a dummy that had failed to assemble-the bones and muscles were sour, the legs were trembling, the back acupoints were swollen, he turned over and grinned, and the joints creaked and trembles badly. It can be broken into parts.
Mr. He was not by his side, he was lying alone on the big sunny bed, recalling the unsightly night.
Beasts.
The bone scum was eaten up.
Having been hungry for more than five years, dare to wait to eat him?
Before going to bed with Mr. He, the little virgin Songran had many wonderful reveries. When he officially went to bed, he realized that he had seriously underestimated Mr. He’s appetite and physical ability, and mistakenly regarded the jackal as a gentleman, so that he used a tragic Saying goodbye to the virgin body in the same way-in the middle of the night, he was fainted in the bathroom alive.
But to be honest, it feels very good.
Mr. He is the kind of perfect partner who coexists with fierceness and considerateness. He makes people scream when he finishes the geese crossing without leaving any marks. Such big things go in and out all night, except for the inevitable soreness, Song Ran Frozen was not hurt at all, but there was a long aftertaste of satisfaction.
It is as if the muscles and bones were gently opened, cleaned of dirt, removed filth, and then reassembled into a light whole.
Carefree.
very happy.
No wonder he often hears people say that high-quality is the glue between partners. One day he gets tired and he doesn’t need to say anything. As long as Mr. He is taken into his arms and spoiled, he will soon relax. Come down.
Songran smelled the smell of Mr. He on the pillow, and remembered his muscles and temperature. His skin was a little thirsty and prickly, looking forward to being touched. He wrapped the quilt and rubbed it, but the itch became stronger.
Mr. He, where have you been? We just finished it. Come back and let me give you a hug.
He acted like a baby in his heart.
Click.
The bedroom door opened.
"Well!"
Songran stunned, and he retracted into the bed.
He Zhiyuan pushed the door into the dinner plate, just in time to see a strand of black hair on the pillow slipping into the quilt, and then a large ball of quilt stopped moving. He smiled, bent over to put the bowls and chopsticks, sat on the bed, and peeled Songran out layer by layer.
"Waist, waist!" Songran took a breath, "It hurts!"
"Don't move if it hurts." He Zhiyuan stabilized him, touched his psoas muscles, exerted a little effort with his fingers, "Does it hurt?"
"pain……"
Songran looked wronged.
So he enjoyed the treatment of lying on Mr. He’s lap and fed by Mr. He himself-the porridge and side dishes, all vegetarian and meatless, just to take care of his intestines." Early night breakfast".
So moved, so miserable.
Songran was lazy, with an appetite close to zero: "Where is Boob? Did you get up?"
He Zhiyuan scooped up a spoonful of porridge: "It has been sent to kindergarten."
"what?"
Songran turned his head and noticed that He Zhiyuan was wearing a shirt, not a nightgown. He was obviously out of the house, and suddenly became glum: "Boy, I have a father and forgot my brother. I don’t even remember to say good morning to me. ."
He Zhiyuan smiled softly: "When he said good morning, you did not respond at all when you slept, half of your face was saliva, or I wiped you clean... pickled mustard or tofu?"
"Squeezed, pickled mustard."
Songran was a little embarrassed. He opened his mouth to take a sip of porridge and took away a piece of mustard pickled mustard. After glancing at the time on He Zhiyuan's watch, he almost vomited out of surprise: "It's twelve o'clock? I slept all morning. ?!"
"Eat well, don't talk, be careful of choking." He Zhiyuan patted his bulging cheek as a warning, but his tone was very gentle, "It's rare to sleep in, it's okay... You worked hard last night Up."
That's really hard.
Songran blushed and swallowed the porridge in her mouth. After thinking about it, she didn't know what to pick up. She said solemnly and modestly: "No, no, I don't work hard at all. Anyway, I didn't work hard, so I just lay down. Now, let you... uh, let you move on it alone... Mr. He, you have to work hard and feel good about yourself, don't feel so sorry for me, I'm not tired."
"..."
Song Ran, this person, occasionally overlived, not paying attention to words, can always do a word of irritating things. He Zhiyuan took a short breath and moved his eyes to his straight buttocks, his thigh muscles immediately tensed.
Songran hadn't noticed anything wrong, and opened her mouth to wait for him to feed the second spoonful of porridge. The porridge didn't wait, and suddenly the sky turned around. He Zhiyuan took him to the head of the bed and sat upright, with a bowl and a spoon in his hand.
"I'll make a call, you can eat yourself."
He Zhiyuan's voice was slightly sandy, his expression was unnatural and he threw out a word, got up and left the bedroom.
When Songran dullly figured out something wrong, He Zhiyuan had recovered his composure and sat calmly on the sofa watching TV. Songran helped her sore and crisp waist and walked to the sofa, sat down slowly, and bumped He Zhiyuan's shoulder: "Well, did you... just harden?"
He Zhiyuan stared at the TV screen: "Yeah."
"Then you tell me directly, why are you leaving? You have done it." Songran leaned forward and reached out to hook his neck, making waves softly, "You have a reaction, I am also very happy... I want it too."
He Zhiyuan smiled helplessly.
He grabbed the remote control and turned off the TV, took Songran into his arms comfortably, and leaned on the sofa together: "Baby, let me tell the truth, don't tell me, you can't even afford a finger now Up."
"..."
What is the feeling of this landlord?
The corner of Song Ran's mouth twitched.
In fact, he also knew that the work was too intense last night, and the wonton shop was badly injured. It was temporarily unable to open for business. At best, he could only provide some marginal services, which could not satisfy his beloved Mr. He.
It shouldn't be messy.
He admitted wrong.
Songran is like a little white dragon on the shore, stopped making waves, and slept on He Zhiyuan's chest obediently. He was clasped with five fingers and held it intimately.
In the afternoon, the daylight is bright, covering most of the area of ​​the living room.
Budou, who was invited to stay at the hotel, slept on a thick cushion all around, and accompany with the charging little Q. The mini hydroponic plant grows a thin vine, climbs outward along the glass wall of the small fish tank, and begins to explore new worlds, with a constant rhythm of heartbeat and breathing.
Songran felt that all this was unreal.
"Mr. He, are you real?" Songran raised his eyes and looked at He Zhiyuan, and asked softly, "Will I sleep and you will be gone?"
He Zhiyuan smiled: "Of course not."
Songran frowned, still worried: "Will you stay in this house forever?"
"That's not necessarily true." He Zhiyuan scratched the tip of his nose. "The future is still very long. We may change communities and cities, but I will always live in the same house with you."
Songran blinked twice and said with a smile, "I'm lucky."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because my Mr. He is so good, if I come one step late, three or five days later, and now lying here listening to your love talk, maybe someone else will be the one."
He Zhiyuan smiled gently: "No. Before I met you, I never thought of starting a family."
Songran looked at him with a look of unbelief.
It's no wonder that Songran didn't believe it. For him, this is probably a more touching love sentence than "I love you"-too touching, and it's not easy to connect and feel.
He Zhiyuan put his arms around him, combed his hair with his fingers, and said slowly: "When I was young, my parents were always arguing. It's strange that they obviously have love and are not very violent, but they live together. Under one roof, quarrels can’t be stopped. I have never loved going home since I was a child. The house is too depressive and full of gunpowder. I don’t know at which moment a frightening war will erupt—the opportunity may be a spoonful of salt or a thread. , A nail clipper, or just who was one second late when talking. I don’t know what other people’s families are like, but my own native family... hardly any stability at all."
"None of my parents are bad guys, but the fate is not enough. The pinpoints are against the wheat, and they cross over and accumulate hatred. Finally they divorced and vowed to stay together forever. At that time, I hadn't been on the table at home for nearly two years. It's been delicious."
"I went abroad by myself. I have eaten in the school cafeteria, street fast food trucks, cheap fast food restaurants, and frozen food in supermarkets... Each of them is safer than the table at home, at least not in the process of eating. Someone will take my food, throw it on the ground, step on two feet, and then lift my table."
"Songran, what kind of atmosphere should a family gather for dinner? Such a simple thing, I was on the phone that day, and Boob happily told me which dishes you cooked for him... Feel it."
"You make me want to go home, live under the same roof with you, sleep on the same bed, eat at the same table, and raise the same child. This home is not for you, but you created it for me. I understand. ?"
Songran nodded, her eyes moist: "Understood."
"So, have a little confidence in yourself and a little confidence in me, okay?"
"it is good."
Songran climbed He Zhiyuan's shoulders, raised his chin, and kissed his soft lips.
That afternoon, Songran put on a plaid apron, emptied the 8012A refrigerator, filled the 8012B refrigerator, and said that he would cook a table full of a sumptuous dinner for Mr. He.
He Zhiyuan accompanies him to handle the ingredients together, washing, cutting, cutting, and chopping, taking turns in every process. The prepared ham is shredded like crumbs, the tofu is as thin as hair, red pepper shreds and green pepper shreds are matched with a bright dish, and the scallops are opened in boiling water one by one...
Busy till 3:30, Songran glanced at the clock and urged Mr. He to go to the kindergarten to pick up the cloth, and promised that when the father and son returned home, dinner would have been beautifully arranged.
Mr. He picked up the car key, pushed Songran to the side of the table before leaving, and asked for a long kiss that almost overflowed the pot.
At four ten ten, Songran took out a sea bowl and prepared to contain the cooked borscht—this was the last dish of the day. In the dark, he did not know where the impulse came from, put down the sea bowl halfway, and opened the kitchen window.
Just as he looked down, a silver-gray Infiniti slowly drove into the field of view and parked in the canopy parking space downstairs.
Mr. He came back with Bobo.
The setting sun was as red as blood, shining on a lonely wooden bridge on shallow water with no one on it.
Song Ran smiled faintly.
He thought, I am no longer there-I am here, with them.
He filled a large bowl of borscht and placed it in the center of the table. Then he placed three bowls of rice, three glasses of juice and three pairs of chopsticks.
As he finished all this, he heard a crisp and sweet doorbell.
—End of text —