950 Mom, He's Not My Ex-Husband, He's My Husband 6
"My neck is so sore that it's almost stiff. What does it matter if I just move it?"
Chang Shang finally stopped abusing herself, twisted her neck on the spot, and tilted her head: "When will you be able to finish painting? I don't care, I'm going to drink water, not be your model."
"Okay." Chang Mian took the last step.
Then he stood up and stretched his muscles twice.
Chang Shang immediately stepped over. "Show me."
Chang Mian refused and raised his hands high.
Due to her height advantage, she couldn't grab it even if she jumped up.
Chang Shang hummed: "I know your paintings are ugly and you don't dare to show them to others."
"After all, I took an art class when I was in kindergarten. How can I be an ugly painter?"
Moreover, when he was studying at the British Military School, he specialized in copying criminal portraits. As long as he took a look at it, he would definitely be able to draw it. Chang Mian hid his hand and whistled, "Aren't you going to drink?"
water?"
"Have you ever taken an art class in kindergarten?" Chang Shang slapped her forehead: "Oh my God, I must have lost my mind to let you torture me like this so early in the morning, standing there stupidly for half an hour."
She didn't know what excellent works Chang Mian could draw, so she ran out of the bedroom to pour a glass of water and then came back.
As a result, as soon as she took a sip, Chang Mian snatched it away from her, drank it all in one gulp, and then threw it to her: "Go and pour me another glass."
"Chang Mian, you've finished all the water I wanted to drink, how dare you ask me to pour it for you again?"
"for you."
Seeing that she couldn't get anyone to do anything, Chang Mian put the drawing board into her hand and took the water glass to pour the water himself.
He walked to the kitchen and saw the old French servant squeezing lemon juice. He simply waited until she was done squeezing it before leaving. He mixed the honey, returned to the room, brought it to her mouth and fed it to her himself.
The woman was holding the portrait and couldn't bear to let it go.
"Chang Mian, you are a good painter. The paintings look really like them."
Chang Mian put the cup aside, put his arms around her waist, and pressed her head against hers: "Who said I was a poor painter just now?"
"Who told you to hide it from me, but you are really good. I would never believe that you just went to art class in kindergarten and you knew how to lie to me."
"I draw so well, do you want to reward me with one?"
Chang Chang tilted her head and raised her head, "What reward do you want? Give you a kiss?"
Chang Mian shrugged lazily, obviously not very satisfied with this reward. He lowered his head slightly and looked at the woman he loved deeply in front of him with a cynical expression: "Marry me."
"Tch, you want me to marry you just because of a painting. Didn't you wake up from the dream last night?" Chang Chang rolled her eyes at him and suddenly burst into laughter: "This is your 60th time to propose."
"Then how many times are you ready to promise me?" Chang Mian didn't seem serious, as if he was used to her rejection, and asked her with a half-smile: "100 times?"
"It depends on your sincerity."
Damn it, damn sincerity again.
Chang Mian gritted his teeth: "Just do it!"
"I'm happy." Changshang responded.
"Be careful to kill you." Chang Mian snorted softly, with resentment rising to the sky.
Chang Shang leaned forward and took a sip: "I'd better give you a kiss, my favorite Mr. Chang Mian."
"I don't care about you, my favorite Ms. Chang Shang."
Chang Shang muttered. "Well, if you don't care, I won't give you sweet kisses anymore. Don't ask me for...um..."
Before he could finish speaking, his lips were suddenly blocked by someone.