Kuai Chuan: The cold Lord God always acts like a spoiled brat to me

So this is what late spring looks like.

"despair."

A very slight sound.

Is it the sound of wind? Is it the sound of tears? Is it the sound of human voice?
Is it a farewell? Or is it a request to stay?

Will there be any doubts?

You said that in your heart, there was a vast ocean, but there was also a day of silence.

The evening breeze was cool, ruffling her hair. The dusk was setting in the distance. Lin Zhian walked out of the door of the hospital's emergency passage and stood in front of the zebra crossing where there was a huge crowd of people.

As the color of the traffic lights changed, countless pedestrians hurriedly crossed the road. The wind was strong and it seemed like it was going to rain. The girl stood in the middle of the crowd, raised her hand to press down a few strands of flying hair, her fingertips trembled uncontrollably, and she shivered. Even the brightest smile faded.

When I looked up, my sight stopped and I saw the person standing opposite me.

Ten meters away, he stood at the curb with his neck lowered, his back against a faded white-painted electric pole, his jawline bitten by the zipper of his jacket, looking cold and sharp.

One hand hung at his side, holding something that could not be seen clearly. The edges blown by the wind looked like a medicine box. Pedestrians passed by him in a hurry, but he did not move, as if lifeless. The loosely hanging finger bones were slender, with distinct veins, but the cuffs of the black jacket set off the thin finger bones, and the fingertips were hooked with a few strands of orange sunset glow, which did not make them look alive, but rather tainted with the twilight. They just looked at him from neither close nor far away, like remains salvaged from some ashes.

At some point, he raised his head slightly. He had single eyelids, narrow eyes, and long eyelashes, which made his eyes look deep. His brows were slightly wrinkled, and he stared at her.

Eyes facing each other.

Lin Zhian's fingertips were still trembling, and he hastily put his hand down. His reaction was faster than his consciousness, and he managed a smile on his palm-sized face, which was too polite. Then his transparent amber eyes quickly looked away.

His sight slid down hastily, glancing at the trash can less than a meter away from Zhou Shu. The twilight completely dyed the "medical waste" sign on the trash can red, and shone obliquely on Zhou Shu's feet. For some reason, it looked like some kind of belated blood clot.

That dull, depressing bruise.

Didn’t Zhou Shu leave a long time ago?
How long has it been? Why are you still here?

Lin Zhian had a lot of questions in his mind at that moment, but then he felt very lucky and breathed a sigh of relief, and his body also rose and fell.

Fortunately, she and Wei Chengze had their quarrel inside the hospital gate, otherwise it would be very embarrassing if Zhou Shu heard it. At least when they meet in the future, they can be calm and treat each other as strangers if not friends, and not as enemies.

Thinking of this, the corners of Lin Zhian's lips remained upturned, looking relaxed.

A drop of something cold hits the top of the head first.

Lin Zhian raised his head in confusion and looked upwards.

The sky was soft and dim, and orange-red clouds in the distance were gradually coming over.

Oh no, it’s really going to rain. Let’s go home quickly.

She raised the back of her hand to wipe her eyes, her fingertips trembling slightly. Through her blurry vision, she only saw the man across the street raise his hand to hail a taxi.

An orange-yellow taxi stopped by the side of the road. Zhou Shu held the door with one hand and said a few words to the driver with his head slightly lowered. It was unclear what he said. His eyebrows and eyes were blurred but deep, and his profile was angular in the dusk light.

He should be leaving too.

Lin Zhian raised one hand to block the drizzle falling on his head, then turned and walked in the opposite direction.

"Lin Zhi'an."

It seemed like someone was calling from behind, but Lin Zhian couldn't hear it clearly and continued walking forward.

The voice became heavier, its tone deep and powerful, with its usual aloof magnetism.

"Lin Zhian——"

It came in the whistling wind, with a force that was seven parts wild and wild.

(End of this chapter)