A Thousand Mountains and Evening Snow: Searching for Love and Leaving Traces

I woke up just after dawn, I deliberately got up early in the morning, went downstairs in a hurry, stood outside the door of his room, just quietly listening to the movement on the other side of the door, but there was no sound No.

Could it be that he didn't come back last night?

When I was standing at the door hesitating whether to open the door and go in, the door was suddenly opened from the inside, and Shao Qian suddenly appeared in front of me. I was caught by him for eavesdropping, and his face instantly famous,

"Shao... Shaoqian, you're up!" After I finished speaking, I lowered my head and peeked at him quietly.

"En." It seemed that he had just woken up, and there was still a hint of hoarseness and laziness in his voice.He stood in front of me, didn't say anything else, just looked at me very carefully, even if I didn't see it, my body could feel his eyes looking up and down, the more and more fiery eyes, "Put on your coat .”

After he finished speaking, he went downstairs leisurely. Only then did I realize that I got out of bed in the morning without even putting on my coat. I was still wearing the nightdress with suspenders when I went to bed at night. Although the skirt was very long, it was designed with suspenders. . .So, when he opened the door just now, he saw me dressed like this?That's why he looked at me with such eyes, from head to toe, my mind went blank for an instant, and I fled back to the room with my feet crossed.

By the time I wrapped myself in a sweater and returned to the garden, he had almost finished his breakfast.Butler Ding brought me breakfast. I wanted to see his expression, but I couldn't see anything because it was blocked by the newspaper.

"Shaoqian, are you going out today?" I finally plucked up the courage to walk up to him and ask him.

He put down the newspaper, didn't say anything, just looked at me, I stretched out my hand, and brushed away a strand of wind-blown hair on his forehead, just about to withdraw my hand, but he pulled me to sit on his lap On my face, his lips came over without warning, with a hint of bitterness of coffee mixed with the taste of milk in my mouth. Through the sweater, I could feel the passing of his palm on my waist. to the temperature.I don't know if I should respond to him, at this moment, I don't know what he is thinking, I can see the fire in his eyes.

Hate suddenly rushed to his feet, and kept circling around our feet, he finally let go of me, picked up Hate who was crawling around at his feet, and left the stupid me alone in his chair middle,

"Try without a coat next time."

He left such a sentence with his back to me, and walked away with disgust.

I buried myself in the chair, and it turned out that he still remembered the scene in the morning.

"Shaoqian, have you eaten yet?"

"Shao Qian, drink less wine!"

"Shaoqian, I hate taking a shower! It splashed all over me..."

"Shao Qian, I have cleared the game!"

"Shaoqian..."

. . .

I started sending text messages to "harass" him, sometimes it was nonsense with no nutritional value, sometimes it was about the design idea of ​​the coffee shop, sometimes it was just a series of ellipsis, since he wanted to escape, I had no choice but to approach him he.

As a result, such a strange way of life was formed, we would meet every morning and have breakfast together, the so-called conversation was just me talking, but he only answered in single words.Then he would leave in a hurry, and while I was drawing pictures at home, I would send him some harassing text messages, and he would never reply, and only when it was close to lunch and dinner time, would two identical text messages appear on my phone—“Remember Have a meal".

I will go to the room early to rest, and not long after I enter the room, I will hear the sound of him coming back, only when I sleep with my eyes closed, he will appear in my room and stand in front of me, even With my eyes closed, I can clearly feel his presence, but every time I don't know when he left.

. . .