Marriage is long: Mr. Huo spoils his wife too much

Her voice came from the radio, distorted, not like her voice.

Huo Yan inadvertently stretched out his hand and pinched his earlobe, the dial glowed coldly in the sun.

Lu Qiao was stunned, knowing that he did it unintentionally and had no other intentions, but the familiar small movements aroused all emotions, and hallucinations appeared in his ears, as if he heard someone say: "Don't be afraid ,I am here."

Tears instantly blurred her vision, she hurriedly paused, and suppressed her choked sobs, not daring to let the microphone record the strangeness in her voice.

I have already missed it, I have already left, is she afraid, the young man back then will no longer be with her and give her strength.

After the speech, she left the stage in a hurry. She didn't even dare to go back to the class team led by the head teacher. She splashed a handful of cold water on her face in the bathroom, and the warm liquid fell into the sink along with the tap water from the faucet.

With water droplets all over her face, she couldn't tell that she had cried.

Lu Qiao looked at herself in the mirror and thought, luckily the makeup she put on today is waterproof, otherwise she might be in a mess.

She really didn't expect that she would lose control.

Expressions can be deceiving, actions can be deceiving, and even words can be deceiving, but only the heart cannot deceive oneself.

She can pretend that she doesn't care about Huo Yan, but she, at least for now, can't convince herself that Huo Yan's every move still affects her deeply.

This really echoed the sentence, "You didn't intend to be a draft, but you chose to lead the mountain torrents alone."

As soon as Huo Yan raised her hand, the psychological defense she had built up in a month collapsed. Really, it was a crushing defeat.

After calming down alone for a while, Lu Qiao went back again. The school celebration speech was coming to an end. The next step was to review the century-old history of Jincheng High School. The school shot a 10-minute video.

There is a typical feeling of watching the open air, and the students are very interested.

Lu Qiao didn't return to his seat, but stood behind the crowd and finished watching the movie.

The activities in the morning were almost over, and there would be performances by the students and teachers in the afternoon. Lu Qiao wanted to stay and take a look, so he didn't plan to go back at noon and stayed in school for dinner.

The food in their high school cafeteria tastes good, and more importantly, the atmosphere. The students next to them are discussing their homework.

It has been a long time since Lu Qiao heard anyone around her discuss such a topic. Lu Qiao really likes this feeling. Listening to these boys and girls discussing some trivial things in school, it seems that he has returned to the most carefree boyhood.

After chatting with the head teacher about the current situation, Lu Qiao walked around the campus by himself after eating and watching the children during their lunch break.

In high school, she often went to two places to relax after studying, one was the small garden in the school, and the other was the rooftop.

There is a door lock on the roof of the school, and few people go there. Lu Qiao asked the class teacher for the key before, but only to find that the door was unlocked, and it opened with a push.

Lu Qiao didn't think much about it, she pushed it away and went in directly.

Before the school celebration, the school should have been cleaned inside and out. The roof was very clean and there were no debris piled up, so there was nothing blocking the view, so I saw Huo Yan so unexpectedly.

The weather was so dazzling, Huo Yan stood there with the blue sky and white clouds as his background, showing half of his side face with exquisite and perfect lines.

He lowered his eyes slightly and looked down, not knowing what he was thinking. The afternoon wind gently brushed his brows and eyes, adding a touch of tenderness to him. He was tall and tall, as good-looking as a painting.