Host, the villain's corruption level has exploded!

Chapter 794: Metamorphosis - The Transformed Form (36)

Song Zhishu was not polite and entered the main house without saying a word.

Everything felt strangely familiar, giving her the feeling that she had only been gone for an afternoon, or perhaps that someone had been thinking of her all along.

Four years later, she had finished her college entrance exams and this summer made a charitable investment in high school books in a small city that most people had never heard of. Wang Caicai, who had been promoted to mayor, was flattered and sincerely invited Song Zhishu to stay for a couple of days.

Song Zhishu refused, saying she would find a place to stay for three days.

She opened the house, which had been thoroughly looted by the people he had brought from the Song Dynasty the day he left.

The familiar scent of soapberry, only more refreshing than it was four years ago.

It looks much brighter here than before, but the facilities are still outdated. There is only one narrow window, and it is so stuffy that it traps people in a dense cocoon, forcing them to live by consuming memories.

Song Zhishu felt inexplicably heavy-hearted, so she put her suitcase in the room and came out to sit in the living room.

She didn't turn on the lights, but even in the height of summer, the living room, which was not in direct sunlight, was still unnaturally dark, always giving one the feeling of making a futile struggle within an inescapable childhood.

Her posture was more relaxed, not as stiff and formal as it had been four years ago, but it still exuded an indescribable air of elegance.

She knew that her grandfather should have just come out of the fields at this time, and Chang Qing should be cooking. Otherwise, she wouldn't have had the chance to come in and freeload a meal.

Chang Qing and her grandfather's lives were far too monotonous. There were never any exciting moments to stir their lives; their daily activities were simply for survival.

But it's okay, she's here.

As she was thinking this, she smelled the long-lost aroma of food, followed by steady footsteps and the creaking sound of the door opening.

Song Zhishu felt a slight nervousness, like being close to home, but it was not much, barely noticeable.

She sat with her eyelids lowered and arms crossed, without raising her eyes.

Instead, the person's footsteps slowed down, and Song Zhishu could hear hesitation and blankness in them. In the end, they walked very softly, as if afraid of disturbing her.

Song Zhishu raised her eyes, but did not look at his face; she only saw the steaming dishes he was holding.

She raised an eyebrow and said, "Not bad, I like shredded potatoes."

Hearing her voice, the boy gripped the bowl in his hand even tighter, then bent down and placed it on the blackened wooden table. A faint pang of sadness appeared between Song Zhishu's deliberately indifferent brows, but he never ignored her words, saying, "I didn't make any for you."

Four years later, upon hearing his voice, Song Zhishu remained stunned for a long time.

It was just as she had imagined, clear and crisp, like a hot spring emerging in winter, carrying the chill of snow, and not sealed away.

However, the amount of cold air in it is a bit excessive.

Or to put it simply, Song Zhishu 2.0.

His tone of voice, manner of speaking, and even volume were exactly the same as hers four years ago, and not much different from her now.

Give me your share.

Song Zhishu was not polite; her tone remained calm and even, just as it had been since they had become acquainted.

Chang Qing's hand finally trembled slightly, and the emotions that had been frozen deep within his pupils for countless days and nights finally burst forth with warm tears. Song Zhishu waited for a long time but did not receive a reply from Chang Qing. She thought that Chang Qing was unhappy, so she frowned and looked up at him, only to meet a pair of aggrieved and tearful eyes. The tears that kept overflowing and then swirling up again were like stained glass, dyeing his pupils bright, like new grass sprouting after being washed by the early spring rain.

He cried.

The words she had repeated so many times without any politeness now sounded so warm to my ears.

Only after she uttered those words could he confirm that the person sitting there with her chin raised, looking at him, was indeed Song Zhishu.

Song Zhishu is wearing a white tank top today. The style is simple, but like other clothes, it has a pocket.

She sighed inwardly, stood up, and each step felt like walking on the very tip of Chang Qingdi's heart.

She pulled out a tissue from her pocket, wanting to reach out and wipe away his hot tears, but found that she would have to look up if she wanted to touch his cheek.

The boy has grown tall and strong, cutting through layers of thorns and cleaving through countless white waves on the long, crooked, and steep road to survival. Finally, he silently turns to white in the eternity of time and space, forever waiting in silence.

Song Zhishu did not hesitate. She never needed to stand on tiptoe or look up to get anything or accomplish anything.

But if it were tears hanging from Chang Qing's head, she would be willing.

In those few seconds of her reaction, Chang Qing had already noticed her pause. Without hesitation, he bent down and held her outstretched hand tightly, pressing the tissue against her pale face. Tears streamed down her face, wetting the tissue and Song Zhishu's fingertips. The heat made her fingers curl, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she looked into Chang Qing's wide-open eyes and saw the shadow of time in his almost devout gaze.

His eyes, so sorrowful, yet entangled with countless emotions, were not merely those of simple love. With his eyes, he gently and tenderly placed a kiss on her cheek.

[Ding! Target's affection level increased by 20, current affection level is 108]

[The favorability assessment task has been completed; no further notification will be given.]

It's okay, none of it matters.

In such a long life, in a space so clearly divided by class, if you are willing to throw away your shoes and lift your skirt to pity him, and let him look at you one more time, he will be willing to abandon everything in the bright spring sunshine and throw it into the cold, ancient night.

Grandpa was overjoyed to see Song Zhishu, though the years had left countless scars on his face.

Grandpa is getting old.

No matter what, he has reached the twilight years of his life.

Song Zhishu explained her purpose; she would only stay for three days before returning to the capital. Chang Qing listened silently, constantly serving food to her and her grandfather, while barely eating anything himself. Song Zhishu knew that telling him wouldn't change his mind, so she let him be.

When Grandpa heard that she was donating books, he was overjoyed and praised Song Zhishu as a great person. Even though his family would not benefit, he was still happy for the children.

Grandpa then asked if all the high schools in the city had them.

Song Zhishu said yes.

Changing the subject, she mentioned another high school, saying that this school had more books.