Seduce a shy loyal dog

remember next time

Song Yirong jumped off the motorcycle, shook off his wrinkled pants, and brought back the ingredients he bought, "Thank you."

Zhou Lang turned the key of the car, turned off the engine, and one leg fell to the ground, with some mud on his trouser leg.

Song Yirong lowered his head, he was very annoyed, why he didn't dare to look at Zhou Lang all of a sudden.

"Should we still eat hot pot at night?" Zhou Lang asked after a long silence.

Song Yirong kicked the stone under his feet, and said "En".

When Song Yirong returned home, not long after, he heard the sound of the motorcycle starting. He leaned against the window and looked out, and Zhou Lang went out again.

The network was slow and happened to spit out a message.

Zhou Lang: I'll be back later.

Song Yirong turned over the cover of the phone, turned it around twice, and finally didn't reply, turned back to the kitchen and got busy.

One mushroom clear soup, one big bone spicy soup.

The big bone broth was stewed on the stove, and the mushrooms were cut into small pieces and placed on the chopping board.

Song Yirong looked at the time, more than 40 minutes had passed, and guessed that Zhou Lang would be back soon.

Just as she was thinking about it, the doorbell rang, and Song Yirong looked out through the cat's eyes, her eyes met the strong neck, her Adam's apple was raised, and she moved up and down lightly.

Zhou Lang waited for the door to open for quite a while, almost thinking that he was not at home and turned around to leave.

As he was about to leave, the door opened again.

"Here we come." Song Yirong stroked his bangs and moved away, "The hot pot is cooking."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Zhou Lang entered the door, still taking off his shoes and stepping on the floor with his socks, Song Yirong frowned and looked at him for a while, then tugged at the hem of his clothes, "Wait a minute."

Zhou Lang: "What?"

Song Yirong: "Change your shoes."

He pulled out a pair of men's oversized slippers from under the shoe cabinet, tore off the tags and threw them at Zhou Lang's feet.

"Is it yours?" Zhou Lang couldn't help but wonder.

Song Yirong said impatiently, "I bought it wrong."

Zhou Lang stepped into the slippers and couldn't help but said, "If the label isn't broken, the boss should be able to return it."

Song Yirong supported the door with one hand, pressed Zhou Lang's right shoulder with the other, and pushed him away, "If you don't want to come in, go back."

Zhou Lang stood where he was, his shoulder muscles tensed, as hard as a soldering iron.

Song Yirong felt his hands were hot, so he let go with a sullen face.

Zhou Lang's Adam's apple rolled and rolled, and it took a long time before he said a word: "You are a bit fierce."

The water splashed in the kitchen, and Zhou Lang broke off the leaves of the vegetables one by one to wash them. The washed vegetables were put in small baskets and placed on the low table.

Song Yirong set the dishes and chopsticks, and glanced at the kitchen, he was still working hard.

He asked, "How far is it?"

Hearing the question, Zhou Lang wiped his hands and turned around, "Hurry up, there is still a small handful of coriander."

"Okay," Song Yirong asked again, "Can you eat spicy food?"

Zhou Lang was quiet for a while, "Not really."

"Uh..." When everything was ready and sitting in front of the table, Zhou Lang found a bottle of orange slices in front of him.

He pried open the bottle cap with chopsticks, and handed over the opened orange slice consciously.

The corner of Song Yirong's mouth twitched, and after a long time of helplessness, he said, "You don't need to pry it, just twist it."

But even though he said so, he still took it with his hand, "Thank you."

"I will remember next time." Zhou Lang said in a deep voice.

The hot pot was bubbling, and the aroma filled the living room.

Zhou Lang didn't raise his head very much, and he seemed to have no other distractions when eating, and the speed was neither rush nor slow, but it didn't take long for a bowl of rice to bottom out.

When he came back after serving the meal, he had an extra pack of paper in his hand, handed it to Song Yirong, and said, "Do you want to use it?"

After a while of timely rain, Song Yirong pulled out a tissue and wiped it on his forehead.

Both hot and hot, even a thin layer of sweat oozes from the tip of the nose.

While eating, the phone that was set aside rang.

Song Yirong wiped his hands, picked up the phone, saw the note, did not answer the phone immediately, and said to Zhou Lang: "I'm going to the balcony."

Zhou Lang glanced at him, his eyes were like ink, "Yes."

Song Yirong's half-drunk orange slices were still on the table, the hot pot was boiling, but he didn't serve the dishes in time, so he yelled empty-handedly.

Zhou Lang picked up a piece of green vegetables and went down.

Through the glass door, Song Yirong's voice could not be heard clearly. His thin figure was slightly bent, leaning against the glass inner door, with a thin wrist, reflecting the faint light of the phone.

It's not clear how long we chatted, but when Zhou Lang brought up the vegetables again, Song Yirong just opened the door and entered.

"Your greens are all wilted." Song Yirong pointed at him while shaking his phone.

Zhou Lang looked at the wrinkled vegetables, and put them into the bowl without hesitation, "It's okay, I can still eat it."

Song Yirong smiled at him, picked up the fork again and poked a few pieces of orange flesh into his mouth.

There was a faint scent of oranges in the air, Zhou Lang glanced at him, then lowered his head to eat quietly.

Song Yirong didn't know what he was thinking, after making that phone call, he was a little absent-minded, as if he had lost his mind.

"Tell me," Song Yirong said suddenly, his voice seemed ethereal, "If I just jumped off the balcony, would I fly?"

Zhou Lang's cheek muscles tightened, he swallowed the food in his mouth, and said, "Maybe."

Song Yirong laughed "haha", "Idiot."

The oil on the hot pot is the most difficult to wash off. Song Yirong rubbed the dishwashing liquid several times before he managed to clean it off.

Zhou Lang wiped the table in the living room with a rag.

There is a beautiful sunset today, orange, like a small orange in a glass bottle, running in from the balcony, illuminating the whole living room in a warm yellow.

The shoes still don't seem to fit well, and the heel sticks out a bit, making them feel aggrieved to wear.

"Hey, don't be too busy," Song Yirong said, "Look at the sunset."

The slippers turned in a different direction, Zhou Lang turned around, with sweat still glistening on his forehead, "What?"

Song Yirong pouted out the window.

The brilliant sunset orange covered the whole living room.

Song Yirong was wearing a white T-shirt, standing lazily, but there was a very attractive temperament around her.

Zhou Lang looked at his face and met Song Yirong's eyes.

The two stalemate inexplicably for a while before Zhou Lang turned his head and looked out the window in a daze.

It happened that a lone bird passed by, leaving a faint black shadow in the clouds.

It's like seeing a beauty spot in the setting sun.

Song Yirong said something, approached, Zhou Lang turned his head, suddenly he couldn't hear what he said clearly.

The flying bird stopped suddenly, and landed on Song Yirong's small Adam's apple.

The clouds are whiter.

"Can I touch your eyelashes?"

"Huh?" Zhou Lang took a step back, looking down at the figure close at hand.

"Touch it," Song Yirong said, "your eyelashes."

Before Zhou Lang could dodge, that hand came up to him, and the cold palm brushed against his lower eyelid, and then his eyelashes were lightly scraped.

Song Yirong withdrew his hand and commented: "It's really hard."

Zhou Lang's eyelids were burning, "What."

"Eyelashes," Song Yirong said, "Seeing how dense your eyelashes are, I'm curious and want to touch them."

Zhou Lang was quiet for a long time before he let out a low "oh".