Chapter 3:

third chapter
When the pain really hurts, the kind of pain can kill people, just like growing a large thorn in the bone, not relying on blood and blood. He Zhishu is actually very tolerable, but every time he hurts, he can't wait to lick himself.
He knows that the potted plant has been upstairs, and the cold sweat has soaked the forehead. He leaned against the wall and gasped for a rush, and his headache was dizzy.
The medicines of He Zhishu are poured into the glass bottles of different styles. When you look at them, you can't think of such a terrible disease. He liked the delicate bottles and jars during his school days, but now he has collected a lot, but it is used for medicine.
He was too lazy to boil water, took medicine in cold water, and when he lay down on the bed, he could hear the sound of the river in the abdomen. He knows that he is lying on his side, and his jaw is almost on his knees, and he is thin and into a small group.
This is the longest time for Jiang Wenxu to stay home. He knows that the book is particularly clear, nineteen days. Just nineteen days, He Zhishu did not know how he came over. He thought of going to the bone marrow puncture day, and he waited to be arranged for the test, listening to the sobbing and crying of other patients, and calmed down to say nothing extra. He Zhishu only asked one sentence: "Can you stand up after you finish? I still want to go home, but I am afraid that I can't help myself."
There is really no way for He Zhishu’s headache. His fingers are like drowning people who are desperate for the efforts of driftwood anyway. He frowned and got out of bed, opened the drawer of the desk in the small bedroom with a key, and carefully took out a book from it.
It’s a simple essay, for a few years. He knows that the book is indented into the sofa, gently flipping through the first page, and the eyes are getting tired and slowly with some gentle smiles.
The white pages of the year were already yellow, but the pens that were arrogant and proud were still standing in time. Jiang Wenxu's words are very beautiful, and meticulously swearing down the words -
"Where are you, the Cape of the World I have to miss."
Fourteen years ago, the tall, high-spirited boy with his eyebrows stopped He Zhishu, and he gave him a book with a red ear and a sigh of relief: "... Listen to others saying that you like Jane, I bought you her book. I hope you enjoy this book, by the way... like me too!"
He knows that he bites his lip and holds the book in his arms. He softened into the sofa, his eyes were covered with a heavy layer of things, no tears, but it was already dying.
In the evening, Jiang Wenxu went home, and the sound of the key-turning door was exceptionally clear.
He Zhishu was awake at the time and slowly sat up.
There was no light in the room. Jiang Wenxu thought that He Zhishu was asleep in the bedroom, but did not expect to see He Zhishu watching him as soon as he turned on the light, and his face was pale like a ghost.
Jiang Wenxu was shocked and screamed: "I don't turn on the lights at night, I am scared by the gods!"
Jiang Wenxu looked at He Zhishu's heart and couldn't help but feel a little annoyed. There were some strange emotions that were very strange and I didn't know what it was. He is playing hot with the boys in a beautiful school these days, but he just took the phone call of He Zhishu last night and he is inexplicably guilty. I really don't have to go home for a long time.
"After falling asleep, I didn't have time to turn on the lights. Is your company not busy?" He Zhishu was not annoyed, and he placed the book on the coffee table.
Jiang Wenxu’s eyes did not fall on the book at all, and he threw the coat on the sofa and pulled the tie. Lies that don't change color: "Busy and take time to go home. You don't know how to call me for a few days."
"Are you thin?" Jiang Wenxu’s eyes fell on He Zhishu’s face, and his brows were crumpled:
How many people don’t know how to take care of themselves, don’t you look down on the mirror?

The heart of He Zhishu seems to have been smashed by a sharp knife, and the painful and delicate rushing up. In fact, for Jiang Wenxu, his loss of weight is not worth mentioning, only the appetite is true. How does this look better than the wildflowers outside?
He knows how to laugh, how can he not want to take care of himself. But life has always been chosen by him. Today, Jiang Wenxu has only one such sentence. Why, He Zhishu still apologizes for his pale and bleak way? A proprietress who knows the stalls knows that she is distressed and asks, "Why are you busy and thin?" A doctor who is used to life and death can persuade him not to give up his life. And this man who has been together for more than ten years is only careless.
Jiang Wenxu knows this book, and his heart and tenderness will not be used on things that are not of interest. Therefore, the former thoughtful tenderness has become the current disdain in the weathering of the years.
There is no way for He Zhishu.