Yanhong rinsed the burnt hair several times before peeling off the dry hair. She then found a pair of scissors and trimmed it back and forth. It finally had some appearance. It was short, upright, and uneven.
It's inevitable.
Yanhong wiped Zhihao's body dry and led him to the living room.
The thick curtains in the living room were closed, and all the lights in the living room were lit, as bright as day. Zhihao Chi was sitting on the chair, still with a dull expression, and Zhihao's dull eyes were not looking away.
Yan Hong dug out the medicine box, and fortunately, there was a burn ointment and a bottle of precious badger oil. This woman is always more careful than men, and she might find some unexpected treasures at home.
Yan Hong carefully applied the burn medicine on many red and swollen places on Zhihao's body. Yan Hong secretly felt distressed. Zhihao didn't even frown from the beginning to the end. Yan Hong knew that this cold young man must be enduring the pain. Maybe such pain would be far away.
It's very intolerable.
After taking care of the burn, Yanhong found a cotton pajamas for Zhihao to wear. Of course, these were the pajamas that Hu Baiqiang used to live in here. At this time, Zhihao didn't feel anything at all, and he didn't show any disgust at all.
A delicate woman, everything was carried out in such a delicate and orderly manner. During the warm meal, she took a quick shower, changed her wet underwear, put her pajamas back on, and Zhihao was taken to the dining table again.
Zhihao remained silent. He ate whatever Yanhong asked him to eat, and he ate as much as Yanhong asked him to eat. He completely lost his consciousness. It was not until Yanhong thought Zhihao was very full that he asked Zhihao to stop.
He took off the chopsticks in his hands, pulled Zhihao back and forth in the living room several times, and then led Zhihao to lie down in the bedroom.
Zhihao lay quietly on the bunk, staring blankly at the roof without saying a word.
Yan Hong let out a long sigh, and without asking the man who had suffered such a sudden shock, she silently cleared the dining table, wrapped the almost charred pieces of clothes in a plastic bag, returned to the bedroom, and lay down next to Zhihao.
The dim wall lamps in the bedroom, with warm colors, cannot arouse the romance, let alone passion, of the man around him. If he is sad, there will be no tears. If he is demented, there will be normal reactions, but there will be no emotions between men and women.
With complex reflections, Yan Hong was confused and at a loss for a moment.
After being silent for a long time, which in Yan Hong's opinion might have been an hour or two, Yan Hong sighed silently and said softly, "It's getting late, let's go to bed."
Zhihao didn't respond, so Yanhong lightly brushed Zhihao's face. Zhihao's wide-open eyes closed obediently, and Yanhong turned off the wall lamp.
Near dawn, Yanhong was awakened by Zhihao's shout.
A cheerful "Sister Ting" was followed by an extremely sad cry, which seemed to be carrying a pain that ordinary people could not bear. It hurt her heart. Yan Hong sat up in shock, but saw Zhihao falling into a deep sleep again. Yan Hong
She tentatively threw herself into Zhihao's arms, and Zhihao hugged her so tightly that Yan Hong couldn't breathe, and she was speechless with mixed feelings.
When Yan Hong woke up again, there was nothing around her.
Yan Hong hurriedly put on her pajamas and came out, and saw Zhihao sitting silently on the sofa in the living room. It was obviously a change of clothes in the exquisite suitcase that Zhihao had brought.
Yan Hong sat silently next to Zhihao.
After a while, Zhihao spoke.
Zhihao's first words were, "Yanhong, thank you."
Yanhong had a smile on her face, whether it was an excited smile or a sad smile, and she heard Zhihao say again, "Can you buy me a plane ticket?"
Yan Hong nodded happily, "I'll go right away. There's milk and bread in the refrigerator. You can eat it yourself first."
Yan Hong quickly put on her clothes and walked downstairs without even washing her face.
Zhihao stood up silently, walking back and forth in the living room with slow steps, like a trapped beast still fighting, but at this time he had no fighting spirit at all, his face was full of decadence, helplessness, with such a little bit of emotion that he had never felt before.
He was at a loss, and even his eyes, which were cold but passionate, no longer had any brilliance at this time.
Two hours later, Yan Hong came home with a few more things in her hands.
Zhihao sat dumbly on the sofa, still wearing his underwear. The bag of burned clothes might have been disposed of somewhere quietly when Yanhong went downstairs. Zhihao didn't pay attention, or maybe he didn't care at all.
Yan Hong sat silently next to Zhihao and handed a train ticket to Zhihao, "Zhang Zhihao, I'm sorry, I don't have any documents, so I can only buy a train ticket for the night."
"Thank you." Zhihao nodded, took the ticket, and looked at it carefully for a long time. His second sentence was, "Let's eat, I'll heat up the milk."
"Is it time to have lunch?" Yan Hong said softly, "I'm going to cook."
Seeing that Zhihao didn't say anything anymore, Yanhong smiled and said, "Yes, let's go and heat the milk for dinner."
Zhihao silently entered the kitchen, and with a "pop" sound, the natural gas stove was ignited. The small pot that had already been filled with milk silently accepted the baptism of light and heat. Zhihao stood by the side silently, staring intently.
Yan Hong was stunned for a moment, then silently took off her coat and went into the bathroom to wash up.
After a breakfast of milk and bread, Yanhong made lunch again within a short while. Fortunately, Zhihao was not particular about it. When Yanhong was making new rice, Zhihao whispered, "Reheat the old rice."
The old rice was hot and still rich. Zhihao ate it with gusto just like last night. Yanhong completely played the role of accompanying the meal and picking up the food, until Yanhong thought that Zhihao was very full.
After lunch came the lunch break. Yan Hong seemed to be accompanying a mentally ill patient, more like coaxing an obedient child. At this time, if Zhihao had not had that unforgettable encounter with Ms. Yan Hong, he really would not have known.
Anyone who sees Zhihao will without hesitation regard him as a psychopath.
Zhihao Mu was lying on the bed blankly, with a thin summer quilt covering his body, only covering his stomach, leaving his legs and feet exposed. The redness and swelling seemed to have subsided a lot.
Yanhong suddenly pulled Zhihao to sit up and said, "Drink a glass of wine."
Zhihao nodded.
Yanhong poured two glasses of wine over. It was a transparent goblet, colorless and transparent wine. It looked like high-quality liquor. The wine glasses touched each other crisply, and the two of them made no other movements. Then they poured the wine into their mouths.
, Zhihao stared blankly at the wine glass and muttered, "Drink another glass."
After finishing the second cup, Zhihao still said the same thing, "Drink another cup."
Yanhong's eyes were full of love and affection, "Drink at most two glasses, otherwise you won't get inflammation."
Zhihao nodded silently, Yanhong put away the wine glass, and the two lay down silently.
After a long silence, Yan Hong said in a low voice with a rosy face, "If I guess correctly, you must go to ### to help the injured talent."
Seeing that Zhihao did not comment, Yanhong ignored Zhihao and continued, "The one who is saving is your close relative or loved one. You call her Sister Ting."
Hearing the word "Sister Ting", Zhihao's eyes seemed to flash with light, and then dimmed again. Instead of sighing, Yanhong let out a long sigh.
After sighing, Yan Hong said softly, "This may be the pain in your heart, because of the related ### gang, of course I am not qualified to say anything. I just want to say, what is there that you can't get over? If torturing yourself can slow down your pain
If you feel pain, then torture yourself to your heart’s content.”
Zhihao stared blankly at the roof and let out a long, graceful sigh.
Yan Hong lay silently next to Zhihao, turned sideways, and looked at Zhihao's gloomy eyes, which seemed to have shed tears before, but now they have dried up, and she was absent-minded, and the loss of consciousness was mixed with a distant feeling of helplessness.
"I don't know if my choice is right. Her figure keeps floating in front of my eyes, and I can't help but save her..." Zhihao said in a low and hoarse voice, and tears fell silently.
A bright red hand as tender as an onion root gently wiped Zhihao's eyes, but he saw that Zhihao's eyes were slightly red, lifeless, and there was no trace of moisture.
"No matter whether your choice is correct or not, you are helpless anyway. She can understand you and support you." Yan Hong expressed warm relief.
"Let's not talk about it anymore." Zhihao's absent-minded eyes suddenly showed a hint of indifference that suddenly appeared from last night, indifference in front of beautiful women, "I need to leave here, not to escape."
Yan Hong was stunned, not knowing what to say, so she could only say nothing, silently looking at the man in front of her who seemed to have known her before, but could not see through anything. Perhaps there could only be physical passion between her and this man, and then
Nothing else.
Thinking of this, Yan Hong slowly leaned closer to Zhihao and became stiff again. Yanhong saw Zhihao's cold eyes, full of hatred, hostility and all kinds of hatred. Hatred was brewing in silence, perhaps inadvertently.
suddenly broke out.
Zhihao's face was indifferent, still with that enigmatic expression, slightly a little bit unattainable and noble, dull and noble. Yanhong didn't know if her guess was correct, and she didn't want to think so much anyway.
Yan Hong slowly approached Zhihao and threw herself into Zhihao's arms.
Zhihao neither warmly accepted nor coldly rejected her. He looked at the beautiful woman in his arms with dull and demented eyes.
Yan Hong sighed sadly, gently and gracefully.
"If you have hatred in your heart, treat Yanhong as your enemy, and you can vent it on me to your heart's content; if you have love in your heart, treat Yanhong as your lover, and you can feel warmth from me."
The confession was almost like a hazy poem, perhaps with a bit of ambiguous straightforwardness in the artistic conception. An imperceptible strangeness flashed in Zhihao's eyes. It was just a small fluctuation, and Yan Hong accurately captured it. Yan Hong began to
action.
Zhihao remained indifferent.
Before Yan Hong could take any further action, she saw Zhihao knocking Yan Hong over...
