Leng Xiao scrolled down quickly, his face gradually changing color.
The delicate and clean handwriting carries a slight scent of ink, as well as the desolation of old pages.
He was immersed in it, as if he was reliving everything she had experienced one by one. The first love they met five years ago, the hazy and ignorant love, five years later, they changed their appearance, but once they entered the royal family, they were deeply in love.
Like the sea.
It turns out that she often looks pale because she gave him her blood; it turns out that she likes to eat dates because they are good for replenishing blood, but he just thinks she is greedy; it turns out that she has a garden in the backyard; it turns out that she
Lan Xinhui has a pair of skillful hands; it turns out...she can endure all the humiliation and stay, just for him.
The light sentences are mixed with incomparable depression, disappointment in hope again and again, and despair in disappointment again and again.
He seemed to see the corners of her mouth that were always raised slowly lowering, and her eyes filled with deep black sadness.
Those words hit his back like an ice pick, penetrating into his skin and heart, freezing his blood and body inch by inch.
There seemed to be something surging violently in his chest, as if it was about to burst out through the ice-covered areas.
He couldn't help but clutch the clothes on his chest tightly, letting the pain swallow him up instantly.
He has never regretted so much. Even when he planned to harm Feng Zhixin and caused Feng Siya to go crazy, he never felt the slightest regret.
He has done so many wrong things and offended so many people, but he never said a word in his heart: What if...
But now, he just wants to turn the clock back to the day when he first met her. If he can get to know her again, he will start over, he will love her and love her...
But the truth was so cruel and heartless. He knew that it could never be undone. What he missed was missed after all. He finally lost her. He lost that woman who was as light as water and as fragrant as chrysanthemum. Even if he cherished her a little at the beginning, he still had a little.
The love, maybe, this is not the ending that was written.
At this moment, he finally understood everything he owed her. He no longer had the courage to read the diary in his hand, and he did not have the courage to recall everything about her.
"It's snowing." Someone screamed outside the window, and then a smaller voice was heard saying: "Keep your voice down, be careful not to disturb the young master, you are looking for death."
He woke up with a start, got up and strode to the window. The window was open, but he didn't even notice it.
At this time, a strong gust of wind came in, blowing away his hair, clothes, and the sound of his clothes.
There has been no snow in this city for several years, but at this time, snowflakes suddenly started to fall.
Several girls stood happily on the bluestone path in the backyard, looking up at the dark sky. Sometimes they stretched out their hands, sometimes they quietly played with each other.
He couldn't help but stretched his hand out of the window, and a snowflake danced like a dancer in Swan Lake, falling straight into his hand and turning into a drop of coolness.
Suddenly a voice full of hope sounded in my ears: "You know, I like snow the most."
He turned his head in surprise, thinking it was her sitting on the edge of the bed talking, but there was only nothingness in the empty room, and the white gauze curtains were flying in the wind.
"Carter, let's eat canned meat today." There was another soft moan, this time it seemed like he was on the sofa.
He raised his eyebrows with joy again, wanting to tell her Carter's favorite brand.
However, on the orange-red sofa, a pillow was lying alone, with no trace of anyone sitting on it.
The smile froze at the corner of his mouth, and he walked over slowly, stroking the cotton surface with his slender fingertips.
She used to like sitting here, because there was a medium-sized bookcase next to it. She never asked him to buy any books for her. Every time he saw her, she would hold her own book and read it.
, I can’t tell what style she likes, whether it’s finance, philosophy, or even computers, she just picks out a book and can get into it.
On the second shelf above the bookshelf, a bookmark was exposed. Leng Xiao opened the bookcase, took it out, and opened the page where the bookmark was.
A line of eye-catching small words fell into my eyes.
We are all right or wrong, we all love but forget, you cried when we left or something, I just hurt but still smiled.
A conspicuous drop of dried water wrinkled the words in the middle.
His heart also became very wet.
In front of her eyes, she seemed to see her sitting here holding a book. The sun outside was bright, but her heart was as wet as a heavy rain was coming.
Leng Xiao sat on the sofa holding the book.
The snow outside the window was getting bigger and bigger, and there was moisture on the window lattice. In the blink of an eye, it turned into a complete white.
He sat like that, motionless, until the first ray of sunlight in the morning shone on the thin layer of snow.
Axiu comes to clean the room as usual, which seems to have become her habit.
She opened the door and rubbed her eyes, which were red and swollen from crying.
When he saw the person sitting on the sofa, he suddenly let out a scream, but quickly covered his mouth.
Leng Xiao was leaning there, seemingly asleep. He looked quite embarrassed now, with green stubble growing on his chin, and dark shadows under his eyes. He was barefoot and had two long legs in front of him.
, the pants and clothes are still from last night.
Although he has no mysophobia, he is always clean and polished.
Axiu saw that he was still holding a book in his hand. The book was something that the young lady had read a while ago. It seemed to tell the legendary life of some important person. She also begged the young lady to tell her about it. The young lady just closed the book at that time, with something in her eyes.
A touch of melancholy: Axiu, please send this book back, I don’t want to read it.
Why is it in the hands of the young master now? Is he missing the young mistress?
Axiu walked over tiptoe, wondering if she should wake him up. It was already past the time to go to work. Master, wasn't he going to the company today?
After a fierce psychological struggle, Axiu finally plucked up the courage to gently push the sleeping man.
"Master, wake up, it's already nine o'clock."
She pushed twice, but the man on the sofa made no move.
She boldly raised her voice: "Master, you are late."
Still no sound.
Axiu finally realized something was wrong, and tentatively put her little hand on his forehead.
"Oh my god." She was so frightened that the tools in her hand fell to the floor.
It's so hot, how high should it be burned?
She suddenly remembered that when the young master came back last night, he was only wearing a shirt and had been freezing in the house with the window open all night. It was strange that he didn't catch a cold or have a fever.
She couldn't take care of it by herself, so she hurried downstairs to call Mother Liu.
The two of them hurriedly got him to the bed. Liu's mother wanted to take the book out of his book, but he held on tightly, so Liu's mother had no choice but to let him go.
Here Axiu was calling George. Nie Ronghua heard about it and asked the driver to drive over.
One morning, the cold house was in a state of chaos due to the sudden illness of the master. This was just because their eldest young master had never been ill before, but this time the illness came like a mountain.
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