Seduce a shy loyal dog

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The sky had completely darkened, Song Yirong was so sleepy that her limbs were all sore, she was lying lazily on the bed looking at the ceiling.

But it was pitch black, with only a little light from a street lamp coming in through the window, and his vision was blurred.

dark night.

crowd.

Laughing.

Then there was deathly silence.

The suffocating feeling of being pinched came up again, Song Yirong's eyes were red, he took a few short breaths, and suddenly lifted the quilt and sat up, with one arm resting on the head of the bed, barely supporting his weak body.

His messy hair covered half of his face, and his pale lips did not show much color, like the water of Crescent Spring reflecting the cold moonlight, falling faintly on the white snow.

It seems that it is difficult for anything to cause him to change.

-

"How do you feel recently?" Qiu Min opened the file folder on the desktop with a gentle tone, "Has the situation improved?"

Song Yirong leaned on the back of the chair, his upper body looked very relaxed, and said: "It seems... not."

Qiu Min lowered his eyes and thought for a few seconds, then said again: "Here is a new treatment plan for you."

Song Yirong raised his eyelids and got up his spirits: "What."

Qiu Min smiled and said: "Although it may not be an absolutely feasible method, it should have a good effect on alleviating your depressed emotions."

Qiu Min continued: "Sometimes cities can bring people a heavy sense of suffocation, so it can easily lead to people's mood becoming dull and depressed."

"If..." Qiu Min paused, "If you are willing to go to a quiet place to relax, maybe you can get a good result."

"Let's relax?" Song Yirong sat up slightly, his brows furrowed, showing a slightly confused expression.

"Correct."

-

Rapeseed flowers in Banqiao Town are in full bloom, and cars fly past the flowers on the country road.

An abandoned broken bridge appeared in Song Yirong's line of sight, and not long after, the car stopped at a strange intersection.

Song Yirong looked down at the navigation on the phone, the green lines had obviously shrunk to the shortest.

The destination has arrived.

The house was rented in advance online, and under the premise of a cheap price, the landlord politely mailed him the key.

Pushing open the door and walking in, the furniture was covered with white cloth, and there was only a thin layer of dust on the floor, which seemed to be kept clean and tidy.

There is also a small yard outside, where two or three green trees cast large shadows and stand quietly in the breeze.

By the time Song Yirong finished packing all the luggage, the hour hand had quietly slipped past five o'clock in the afternoon.

The phone vibrated on the desktop, and the landlord happened to send a message at this time.

[Mr. Song, the neighbor next door is my friend. If you need help, you can go to him.I've said hello in advance. 】

Song Yirong didn't want to have too much involvement and contact with others, so he typed and replied.

【No thanks. 】

At the same time as the message was sent, there was a knock on the door.

There was one light knock on the door and two heavy knocks, with politeness in the interval between the voices.

"Who is it?" But Song Yirong didn't rush to open the door, and asked slowly leaning against the door.

"Neighbor." The voice was calm, unhurried, like an old record with a sense of age.

"Oh." Song Yirong responded lightly, but still stood still.

"What's the matter?" he asked again.

"The landlord asked me to come over." Zhou Lang was sweating a little on his forehead, and his ears were reddened by the sun, "see if you need any help."

Song Yirong stood up straighter, opened the door with one hand, looked at the ground with eyes half down, and said, "No."

The other side seemed to be quiet.

"That's fine," Zhou Lang replied after a while, "I'll go first."

Song Yirong nodded, then raised his eyelids to look at the other party, smiled, and said, "Go slowly."

Zhou Lang closed his jaw slightly, "Yes."

The man has a cropped head, and the lines of every muscle seem to be taut. He looks very energetic. He is tall and strong, standing there like a wall.

He turned and walked away, only then did Song Yirong feel that the light in front of him became much brighter.

Dinner was simply solved, just a piece of bread.

Song Yirong likes the feeling of nestling on the sofa after taking a bath, with a thin blanket covering her legs, typing on the keyboard with her fingers, letting the words form sentences and paragraphs.

The unspeakable words turned into complicated stories, and some loss and disappointment came out slowly like this.

The light from the computer was flickering, and there were a few insects chirping outside the window.

His fingers typing on the keyboard suddenly stopped, and he didn't move for nearly half a minute.

When the computer automatically went black due to a long time of inactivity, Song Yirong saw himself with an expressionless face.

It's so ugly.

Song Yirong clenched his palms tightly, forcing himself to calm down.

He fixedly looked at himself who was no stranger to him, but the disgust in his heart was still multiplying.

"Fuck-"

Suddenly, all the light in the room disappeared in an instant, and darkness swept over.

Song Yirong was stunned for a while, and it took him a while to get used to the darkness in front of him. He touched the sofa for a while and found the cold case of the mobile phone. He fumbled to turn on the flashlight, and the short-lived light gave him some stability.

Putting on his slippers, he walked into the bedroom and turned on the incandescent lamp inside.

With the light on in the bedroom, Song Yirong looked up at the top of his head.

It's a light bulb.

He couldn't help frowning, and stood still for a moment, as if he was thinking about how to solve it, but he couldn't come up with an answer after a moment of thinking.

Song Yirong gave up thinking, picked up the computer on the sofa and went straight into the bedroom.

Then slam the door shut, shutting out the darkness.

The matcha green curtains fluttered slightly in the wind, the weather in late spring was just right, and Song Yirong woke up in the soft and thin quilt.

After getting up and tidying up briefly, as if he couldn't bear the temptation, he walked to the window and opened a corner of the curtain to see the rolling green hills and the yellow rapeseed everywhere.

They are at ease in the white mist of the morning, breathing slowly.

Qiu Min's phone call came suddenly, it seemed that he had calculated the time for him to wake up.

Song Yirong's eyebrows were light, and the silk pajamas rolled up the sleeves, loosely folded on the elbows, and he said: "Doctor Qiu, good morning."

"Morning," Qiu Min smiled lowly on the other end of the phone, "It seems to work well."

Song Yirong clasped the window eaves, rubbing the rough texture on it, and said, "Maybe."

"In view of some situations that have occurred during the previous treatment," Qiu Min said, "During the time you lived in Banqiao Town, try to maintain communication with me at least once a week. Can you do it?"

Song Yirong didn't answer right away.

Qiu Min listened carefully to the voice in the earpiece. Amid the subtle wind and birdsong, Song Yirong's breathing was steady, and it didn't sound like he was emotionally fluctuating much.

But he was still a little apprehensive. Although he was Song Yirong's psychiatrist in name, Qiu Min had a rare feeling of frustration during the two years of getting along.

In fact, his treatment helped Song Yirong almost pitifully.

During the five seconds of silence, Qiu Min almost let go and said "forget it".

But fortunately, before ending the call, Song Yirong said to the phone: "Okay."

After hanging up the phone, Song Yirong's gaze stayed on the page of the call log for half a second.

There are very few contacts that have been called above.

Qiu Mingang;

Landlord 4/17;

Qiu Min 4/15;

Xinmanxiang 1/3;

Oh, and a dozen or so blocked ad calls.

Enough fun.

After having breakfast in a restaurant run by a nearby farmer, Song Yirong asked by the way: "Boss, how do I get to the nearest shopping mall?"

The boss wiped his hands on the bib and replied enthusiastically that he was trying his best to speak Mandarin.

But Song Yirong still couldn't make out a complete meaning when the sentence mixed with local accent fell into Song Yirong's ears.

Song Yirong could only catch a few words with great difficulty.

"A bit far."

"There's no bus here..."

"You can... yourself..."

Song Yirong had a headache, thanked the boss, and stood at the door of the shop in trouble.

When I first picked a place, I just wanted to stay away from the big cities and just find a small town with a nice view.But never considered the convenience of transportation and life.

On the not-so-wide country road, a few cars passed by from time to time, but most of them seemed to be motorcycles that came and went freely, speeding past, bringing up a lot of dust.

Song Yirong didn't have much patience to continue waiting, when he was about to walk away.

Against the light, a black motorcycle stopped in front of him. The owner was wearing a black helmet, with broad shoulders and legs straddling casually, looking straight and slender.

Song Yirong took a glance and looked away.

"Hey." The man suddenly said.

"Huh?" Song Yirong narrowed his eyes, "Are you calling me?"

The other party raised his hand to take off the helmet, raised his strong forearm, and hugged the helmet casually with one hand, "Yes, I'm calling you."

It was him.

Song Yirong didn't speak, waiting for the other party to speak.

"Where are you going?" Zhou Lang spoke slowly, but the words were clear, and Song Yirong could understand them very well. He thought for a while and replied, "Go to the shopping mall, any one will do."

"I can give it to you." Zhou Lang took out a white helmet from under the seat and handed it to him, "You wear this."

Song Yirong raised his eyebrows, but didn't answer, and said, "So kind?"

Zhou Lang avoided his gaze, and said stiffly, "The traffic here is not very convenient."

While talking, the sky suddenly became dark, and after a while, it began to rain.

The sound of crackling rain surrounded him from all directions, Zhou Lang paused, "It's raining."

Song Yirong had just put on the helmet, and the voice was not very real, and asked, "What?"

Zhou Lang's Adam's apple rolled, and he said with difficulty: "I'll take you there in the afternoon, okay? It's raining too much."

Song Yirong heard the words, raised his mask to look at the sky, and muttered: "Okay."

Zhou Lang: "The weather has been a bit changeable recently. If you have something you need urgently, you can borrow it from my house first."

The voice was deep and muffled, sounding extremely dull.Song Yirong looked at the man's face, and suddenly found something interesting, "Are you afraid of rain?"

Zhou Lang turned his head, leaving him with only a side face, his lips moved, and he said in a low voice, "No."

When he was speaking, he still couldn't help but tilt his head, and his eyes lightly passed over the person in front of him.

Song Yirong was dressed thinly, with light blue long sleeves on his upper body and a pair of black trousers. He was thin and white, and he seemed unable to withstand the wind and rain.

But after saying the word "no", Zhou Lang didn't speak anymore, just pursed his lips, without any intention of expanding it.

Because of the unexpected rain, Song Yirong's plan was temporarily delayed. While waiting for the rain to stop, he stood on the balcony boredly to enjoy the rain.

The rain was thin and dense, making a rustling sound.

The houses are sparsely arranged, and Song Yirong saw the green pond and neat fields.

He closed his eyes, and the rain blew on his face, like a wet kiss left by a lover.

As soon as he opened his eyes, a man wearing a bamboo hat and a black vest suddenly appeared in his field of vision. Song Yirong saw him carrying a hoe, walking with ease, put his hands on the balcony, leaned over and asked, "Neighbor, is it raining?" going out."

Zhou Lang raised his head and saw the thin figure on the balcony on the second floor. He slowed down his pace and said, "I'm worried about flooding in the fields. Let's go down and have a look."

Song Yirong said "Oh" and waved to him, "Then you are busy."

After blowing the wind for a long time, his forehead felt cold to the touch. Song Yirong didn't stay on the balcony for too long, and when Zhou Lang left, he went back to the bedroom by himself.

The room was a little dark, Song Yirong reached out to touch the switch subconsciously, and only after he pressed it did he realize that the problem with the light bulb had not been resolved.

Frustrated, Song Yirong picked up his phone and clicked on Weibo.

There were hundreds of private messages accumulated, but he didn't read them one by one. Among the compliments, there would be a few paragraphs of abuse mixed in from time to time, and there were long speeches.

He has accumulated enough negative energy himself.

[Song Rong: The light bulb at home is burnt out. T^T]

I don't want to burden others anymore.

He managed the tone of Weibo very well, the comments came out quickly, and those lovely people appeared like magic.

-Honey, I'm coming with my big light bulb!Send me your address quickly.

-It's so cute, how can you be so cute in just one sentence, is it made of peaches;

-Baby are you acting like a baby! &#%

...

At this time, Song Yirong's mood will become very good.

-

In the afternoon, the temperature dropped a lot. Song Yirong found a denim jacket from the wardrobe and put it on. Because he was going out, he also carried a black messenger bag.

He has a good figure, is very conspicuous when worn, and exudes a youthful handsomeness.

The door of the neighbor's house was open, and Song Yirong stood at the door and asked twice. After a while, he heard a response from inside. The man's voice was naturally heavy, beating heavily on the drum: "Just come in."

Song Yirong didn't think too much about it. When he entered the door, he saw that the food was already set on the table in the living room. Zhou Lang was wearing a bib around his waist. He looked at him and explained, "I'm preparing to eat."

Song Yirong nodded, and was about to turn around and go out, "Then I'll go back first, and I'll come to you later..."

Before he finished speaking, he was interrupted by the enthusiastic voice of the woman. Fang Wenxiu smiled and said in a local accent: "Hey, I heard from Xiao Lang that there is a new tenant next door. You are the young man, right?"

Song Yirong's palms were hot and he didn't quite understand, but he still guessed and replied: "Yes."

Seeing that Song Yirong was going to be overwhelmed, "Have you eaten yet?" Zhou Lang straightened the bowls and chopsticks on the table and came over to ask him.

Song Yirong touched his nose, "Not yet."

"Then sit down and eat together." Zhou Lang said, "It's about adding another pair of bowls and chopsticks."

Song Yirong realized that he was very passive, and he didn't want to just eat someone else's meal for nothing, so he quickly waved his hands, "I'm not hungry yet, you can eat, thank you."

In the end, he still couldn't make it. Fang Wenxiu saw that he was very thin, so she couldn't help saying, "How can I do without eating?"

After saying it several times, I was almost impatient, "This child, why do you still admit that you are born?"

Song Yirong rarely blushed, obediently sat on the bamboo chair and ate a home-cooked side dish.

This is a simple but warm home, Fang Wenxiu, who talks the most, has been persuading Song Yirong to eat more vegetables, while the other father and son are unanimously taciturn.

Very strange.

Song Yirong didn't feel too uncomfortable, as if this atmosphere had already appeared in his life for a long time.

"Boom boom boom——"

A new guest has arrived.

It should be the cadres of Murakami. They are holding black pens and blue-shelled information books in their hands.

Song Yirong came to a conclusion after observation.

"Is Zhou Dahe here?" The visitor asked, "The village still needs to fill in some materials, you can look and get them."

Zhou Lang took a step forward, "I'll come, my dad's right hand is injured and he can't write."

Song Yirong knew how to measure, retreated silently, leaned against the door, took out his mobile phone and flipped through it randomly.

"It's finished?" After an unknown amount of time, Song Yirong raised his head and saw a person standing not far away.

"Not yet." Zhou Lang frowned, "Almost something."

"What?" Song Yirong asked.

"They said they wanted to write an article," Zhou Lang's brows were still frowning, "I'm used to rough stuff, and I'm not good at these things."

"Let me help you." Song Yirong stood with the backlight, his side face was hidden in the dim light, the mole on his Adam's apple was light in color, rolling up and down with the movement of speaking.

Zhou Lang was stunned for a moment, a little dazed, "I..."

"Add a WeChat." Song Yirong said proactively, "Send me the topic and requirements, and I'll go back and have a look."

Zhou Lang still didn't speak, his dense eyelashes circled a small shadow under his eyes.

"What's the matter?" Song Yirong saw him in a daze, and smiled, "You don't even have WeChat, do you?"

"Still, you want to find an excuse to reject me."

"Yes," Zhou Lang said hurriedly, his voice was very low, "no."

The two consecutive questions made Zhou Lang very uncomfortable. He could only try his best to maintain a wooden expression and said, "Let me sweep you."

His ears were slowly turning red, but it was a pity that his hair was too short to cover anything.

"Okay," Song Yirong looked at Zhou Lang's hot ears, and said slowly, "Handsome guy with an inch hair."

The author says:

Long time no see, I have a new article;

I hope everyone likes Xiao Song and Xiao Zhou——