However, after waiting for a long time, the little figure was not seen - and no other sounds were heard. There was no that little man in the room, only Qiao Xiaomai.
Unwilling to give in, he stretched his neck and looked around, but there was still no movement, and there was not even any conversation in the room.
After a while, the lights went out and the windows were closed.
He suddenly realized - Qiao Xiaomai was the only one in this room!
Where is Xiaobai?
Where is the legendary Xiaobai??
At that moment, he was shocked and scared - where had Xiaobai gone?
He held a small photo in his hand, which was blurry and unreal. He looked at it over and over again, but he didn't know what the difference was between it and the real person.
Qiao Xiaomai’s sister—where did she hide this mysterious sister?
He was surprisingly anxious: No, I must take a look.
However, he couldn't wait for any chance. Qiao Xiaomai didn't give him any chance either.
The night dew has become thick, the rustling of fig leaves has slowly stopped, everything is quiet, and people are slowly falling asleep.
Yi Xiangxi leaned on a huge French plane tree. His legs seemed to be numb. Somehow, some parts of his body began to become active, as if they were completely out of control. This restlessness has disappeared for a long time.
One night, it suddenly reappeared.
In my mind, it was so clear, like a picture being shown one after another - it was a gentle and fragrant body, a woman wearing a big white shirt, legs exposed, pink cursor, angry, face rosy... in that
At night, she threw herself hard on him, breaking the jar desperately... That was his first time! That time, he actually felt a dull pain - until now, that subtle and joyful feeling of pain is still there
It is imprinted in my heart and will never be forgotten.
He felt thirsty, incredibly thirsty. It was like he was pressing firmly on the scarred place on his chest - two places, emitting completely opposite pains.
Just like the number he pressed firmly in his hand, it took a lot of strength to control himself from dialing the number.
As time passed by, he slowly lowered his waist and tiptoed, like a bad thief, quietly, quietly crossed the fig tree and walked to the railing.
It was the guardrail of the small courtyard on the ground floor, only a little over one meter high. This height was effortless for him, so he held it up with his hands and jumped over it.
When he landed, he disturbed a leaf. He was so nervous that his heart almost stopped beating and he didn't dare to move.
There was still no sound around. Slowly, his eyes became familiar with the darkness and he could already see a little bit of shadow inside the window. He held his breath and walked closer.
Finally, he pressed his body against the window.
He was so nervous that he couldn't help himself - the window seemed to be able to be pushed open in one go.
He really stretched out his hand, but when he pushed it, the window was closed tightly. He didn't use any force, he just leaned against the wall, and his violently beating heart slowly calmed down.
The night dew is getting thicker and thicker, and after midnight, it has become slightly cooler. It is surprisingly peaceful.
He has never felt so peaceful in many years.
Is it getting close to someone? Is it the end of everything in the past? Is it the heartbreak of that knife?
He didn't know, he just crossed his legs and sat down silently on the cold floor.
A gust of wind blew up, and a fig leaf slowly fell on his head and slid down his shoulders. He remained motionless and slowly closed his eyes.