"You bought me a sweater after so many days of preparation? You really have... good intentions." This is a bit perfunctory, right?
Chang Shang began to think: "I didn't buy it, I knit it myself."
For a moment, the man who was comparing the sweaters on his body seemed to be stunned for a moment, as if he didn't believe that she could knit a sweater. He tilted his head and showed disbelief in his eyes: "You know how to knit a sweater?"
The corners of Chang Shang's mouth raised, "Of course, I spent more than a week knitting until my eyes were blurred. You...you don't like it, right?"
Chang Mian said nothing, holding the sweater in his hand and looking at it carefully for a while.
"You...you really don't like it?" It's over? She thought that Chang Mian would not dislike the things she knitted because of her sincerity.
Chang Mian remained silent. He looked at the sweater in his hand for a while, and then put it on directly on his head. Not to mention, although I didn't compare it, it fit very well, not tight or loose, and was warm and very comfortable.
"Actually, it's quite beautiful. Just say you like it."
Chang Shang stared at his face, clasping her little hands tightly, her expression was very depressed and tangled. Chang Mian couldn't help but chuckle a little. He originally really disliked her and blamed her for being perfunctory, but he didn't expect that she was.
She knitted it herself, and the value and weight of the sweater immediately increased by several spaces, "I like it."
He didn't hesitate and looked in the mirror.
My thoughts drifted very far away in an instant...
In this world, he thought that his mother was the only woman in the world who would knit sweaters for him to wear. Unexpectedly, today he unexpectedly received another hand-knitted piece of clothing.
I still remember when I was a child, when the family of three was watching TV at night, my mother would sit on the sofa knitting sweaters stitch by stitch. In winter, the sweaters on him and his father were all mother's masterpieces.
At that time, he was young and ignorant. When he saw that the sweaters bought by Qin Cao and others looked better than his own, when he got home, he told his mother in disgust that he did not want to wear the ones she had knitted by herself. He wanted to wear the ones he bought and knitted by himself.
Not much, dressed like a country bumpkin.
After so many years, even if he wanted to wear the clothes that looked like a country bumpkin, no one would bother to sit under the lamp and knit for him stitch by stitch. Only then did he realize how rare and precious a hand-knitted sweater is.
My hands touched the warm fur of the sweater, thinking of my mother's love when I was a child. Yearnings rolled in, and tears rolled down unconsciously.
He hurriedly wiped it with the back of his hand. The man was crying and would not shed it easily.
Chang Shang was startled.
The whole person's expression opened in a surprised "O" shape, "Ah, Chang Mian, what's wrong with you? If you don't like it, just say it. I'll give you another birthday gift, so you don't have to cry to me."
She actually made Chang Mian cry, and she was immediately at a loss as to what to do.
"Who is crying?" Chang Mian concealed his emotions, grabbed her into his arms, kneaded her tightly on his chest, and hugged her soft body hard: "Which eye of yours saw me crying?"
"Hmm...Chang Mian, you hugged me too tight." The sudden hug almost made her die, and she almost couldn't breathe.
"Bear it!"
Although Chang Mian said this, the strength in his hand relaxed a bit, and he buried his head in her neck, close to her ear, his voice was obviously deliberately concealed, but he still choked: "Thank you for the birthday gift, I