Quick Travel: Samsara Boss and His Beautiful, Strong and Miserable Wife

After hearing this, Xie Xin's eyes darkened. Cheng Yu was telling the truth.

Brother Fu's worries are understandable.

Xie Xin suddenly stood up and went upstairs expressionlessly.

Cheng Yu looked at the empty living room, then at the cold drink in his hand, blinked, and then took a sip.

Then he narrowed his eyes happily.

In the bedroom upstairs, Xie Xin sat on a chair and stared at the white canvas in front of her for a long time.

His face was cold, as if he was looking at something terrible.

The interior decoration was dark in color, and the thick curtains were half drawn, blocking half of the sunlight.

The whole room seemed to be divided into two parts, one half gloomy and the other bright.

Xie Xin is in a dark part, but the sunlight is reflected on the canvas.

Time passed slowly, and the sunlight slowly licked the canvas, turning from strong to dim. He did not know how long he sat there.

Like a sculpture.

After a while, when the last sunlight was about to disappear on the canvas, Xie Xin moved.

He used a new box of paint, dipped some paint in his oil brush and started painting.

Time passed, and at night, the lights were turned on early.

Xie Xin looked at the finished product in front of him with a look of obsession in his eyes. He seemed to have really fallen in love with this person.

The person in the painting is Rong Yuan, and the clothes are the ones he is wearing today.

This is also the first time they meet.

Xie Xin carefully placed the oil painting on the bedside so that he could see A Yuan when he opened his eyes.

The lights went out.

The small table lamp beside the bed was on, illuminating the world. The warm yellow light scattered on the painting, giving people a warm feeling.

Xie Xin fell asleep.

It was the best sleep he'd had since he was born.

The evening breeze gently blew through the curtains, and a person suddenly broke into the undisturbed closed bedroom.

Under the moonlight, the man revealed his true face, it was Rong Yuan.

Rong Yuan saw the painting at first sight when he came in, and a smile flashed in his eyes.

He walked to the bed and watched the man sleeping on his side, facing the painting.

Rong Yuan knelt down and looked at his wife. She was so cute that people couldn't help but reach out and touch his face.

Then he squeezed it gently.

"Xinxin, why is this world so naughty?"

"There are so many peach blossoms, what do you think we should do?"

Rong Yuan said softly, his tone was particularly intimate.

But the sleeping man could not answer him, and Rong Yuan was not annoyed. He kissed his forehead, then turned around and glanced at one of the rooms by chance.

He paused before leaving, then walked in through the ajar door.

The room was pitch dark, and the pungent smell of turpentine hit his face. Rong Yuan turned on the light, and then his pupils shrank.

What catches the eye are many oil paintings, each with the same pattern.

The background is a vast expanse of black, and a strange Manzhushahua plant grows in a rusty cage, with iron chains tightly binding its rhizome.

Each one feels extremely depressing.

Paintings can reflect the painter's state of mind, and such identical depressive and forced paintings indicate to Xie Xin that his spirit is in danger.

Rong Yuan walked into the nearest one. The traces of paint on it were not yet dry, so it was obviously painted not long ago.

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(More tomorrow, my dears)