The little bit of melancholy in his bones was carefully hidden behind him. Every time he faced Ruoxi, he smiled. Even after Ruoxi saw him receiving guests, he never cried once.
Ruoxi thought, that's not being strong. It's just showing off.
People who are scarred always hide their wounds well and show their only intact smile for others to appreciate. They hide all the pain behind themselves and comfort them alone every sleepless night.
Ruoxi didn't dare to think about how Rao Xuyao felt and how desperate he felt when he found out that he had contracted this nearly viral infectious disease.
Ruoxi didn't dare to think about how sad and desolate he felt when he faced death alone.
Ruoxi thought that he must not have shed tears when he closed his eyes, because his tears only stayed when he was happy.
Evil ghosts like them who sold their bodies to hell should have thought that they would be devoured by the fire of hell, but they never thought that it would be so violent.
In the past, Rao Xuyao often reminded me that I should always pay attention to my health, not risk my life for money, and accept any client.
Don't get dirty and catch bad germs.
Ruoxi always disagreed, but at this moment, when he was really taken away by the disease, when those invisible hands really pulled her dear friend into hell, Ruoxi realized that people are the most fragile animals.
Ruoxi closed her eyes tightly and breathed heavily, just like a drowning person's hunger and thirst for air.
Che asked the waiter for a glass of ice water and handed it to Ruoxi, then asked with concern: "Ruoxi, are you okay?"
Ruoxi's hands couldn't help but tremble. She looked at Che and said in a dry voice with an unpleasant hoarseness, "Do you have any cigarettes? Give me a cigarette."
The pain always comes later than the injury - the injured person doesn't feel much pain at the time, but the real pain will soon come.
Ruoxi, on the other hand, could only choose to chew the pain slowly by herself.
...
These days of patchwork and stumbling through absurdity, the so-called pain, decadence and helplessness seem to have faded away. To her, those days are just fragments without dialogue.
But thank God, everything has passed, time has diluted many deep-seated scars, and Ruoxi is still living well.
The days passed day by day.
Day after day, like an electronic clock hanging on the wall, it keeps spinning and repeating. But every day is different.
Just like sunrise and sunset. Flowers bloom and fall.
Ruoxi would obediently go to Tan Yuming for psychological counseling every day. Mu Shiqin would also stay with her.
The rest of the time I spent at home, doing nothing but being as lazy as a cat that had lost its soul, curling up into a ball, lying on the tatami, and sleeping lazily.
He slept from dawn to dusk, then woke up under Mu Shiqin's blue gaze, had dinner with him, and then fell asleep hugging each other.
Gradually, Ruoxi got used to this kind of plain life. There was no passion, no sadness, no ripples, just a light life, a light smile, a light breath, and a light enjoyment of the joy of living.
Ruoxi often feels that it takes a long, long time to shed a single tear. The older a person grows up, the more accustomed he is to suppressing the true feelings in his heart. He no longer cries loudly or laughs loudly, and just touches everything lightly. It seems that it is getting more and more...
Nothing can make people sad enough to cry immediately. In the end, we become children who cannot cry.