Even at noon, no sunlight shines into the backlit room. The bright sunlight shines across the house and outside the windows. The room becomes quieter and more eerie. The last breath left by Blake Jing also disappears as time goes by. Without a trace, Max, who was curled up in stomach pain, thought that what had just happened was a dream, and his heart, which was already immersed in the abyss, sank deeper and deeper, dragging his mind and body into chaos.
After an unknown amount of time, before Max almost fell into coma in the darkness with unabated pain, there was a sound of light footsteps outside the room. If the room he was in was not too quiet, any small sound would be heard in his ears. Amplified countless times, Max might not be able to hear the sound.
The unique steady footsteps stopped in front of the door, pressing the door handle with careful force, opening the door quietly and closing it gently.
The familiar scent came closer, carrying the warm fragrance of food, and even the room was warmed by this smell. Max, whose whole body was tense due to pain, slowly relaxed his body, and said with a hint of complaint and ridicule: "You have been away for so long, are you going to do it now?"
Blake Jing placed the tray on the clean and enviable desk. The porridge in the tray shook a little, releasing a squeezing aroma.
He glanced at the young man who was hugging him tightly under the quilt, and pretended to be surprised: "Hey? Could it be that you were peeking at me? How did you know that I cooked for you?"
The bulge on the bed paused for a moment while breathing up and down, and then slowly squirmed inside to reveal a black head. The already curly and messy hair became messy after such a roll, and the dark-colored eyes were mixed with complex emotions. Emotionally said slowly: "You can actually cook."
Looking at the eyes that were mixed with disbelief and accusation, Blake Jing was amused and said "Tsk, tsk" twice: "Master, your tone makes me wonder if you have never entered the kitchen. If you want to get up to eat, you should still be there." "Eat it under the quilt?"
Blake Jing has no attachment to those boring etiquette, and there is no rule that food must be served at the table. What's more, this kid is still sick, so he can do whatever he wants to feel comfortable.
Perhaps it was his leisurely childhood and his muddling-through experience in the military that created his looseness, which made Max's faults that many people couldn't bear to agree with.
He squirmed a few times on the bed, lowered his eyes, and said like a mosquito, "On the bed."
Blake Jing said generously: "Okay, no problem, young master." The young master said this in a slightly high-pitched tone, with a teasing tone, which made Max, who had not yet mastered the Eight Winds, blush a little and look unhappy. .
He sat on the bed, and the soft bed sank instantly, almost covering the boy. He half-armed the boy and helped him up. When his palms touched the cool quilt, he couldn't help but frown, and supported the boy. The hand on his waist also grasped the opponent's paw, which was half the size of his hand. The body temperature of a martial arts practitioner spread to it, making Max groan in comfort.
Blake Jing held the tray steadily with one hand, and Max groaned. For some unknown reason, his body was as soft as a bone and he leaned against Blake Jing. He lazily raised his eyelids to see clearly what was inside.
A bowl of vegetable porridge, with a small plate on the side, and refreshing green vegetables on top. Judging from the appearance, it matches the delicious fragrance in the air that makes your index fingers tickle.
"It's done well..." Max muttered, and before Blake Jing raised his eyebrows and tried to take back the tray, he quickly softened his voice and said coquettishly: "Feed me." "
Max, who has been able to understand people's hearts since he was a child, can find out from the short period of getting along with Blake Jing that this person is a delicate and gentle person. As long as you don't try to deceive him, he is still easy to talk to in ordinary trivial matters.
Maybe it was the weakness caused by the pain, or maybe he wanted to see Blake Jing's more helpless expression, Max threw away his useless shame in exchange for benefits.
As expected, Blake Jing twitched the corner of his mouth and said half-sighing: "Now he looks like a child." He picked up the spoon in his hand, scooped up a mouthful of porridge and blew on it twice before putting it down. On Max's lips.
The little guy opened his mouth and swallowed it without any psychological pressure. The porridge with the right temperature slid down the esophagus. The refreshing vegetables and the fragrance of rice grains warmed the stomach. The heat also spread to the limbs and bones, and the The chill that seeped into my bones was driven out.
One bite also brought out the hunger of the past two days, and his stomach finally made a growling sound. Max couldn't stop taking one bite, and the corners of his mouth were stained with white greasy porridge water.
Blake Jing was a little distracted when he saw this. He had resisted eating before, and even the expression of indifference and disgust that subconsciously showed on his face when he proposed to go to the restaurant to eat was completely gone.
After all, this was his first time entering the villa, and he didn't know the location of the kitchen. He was walking through the room like a ghost. He subconsciously felt that it would bring trouble to Max if anyone saw him, so he had to avoid the crowd.
Fortunately, it was dinner time, so he hid in the corner and watched the maids in maid uniforms file out and place the food on the dining table in the next room, confirming the location of the kitchen.
He rolled out of the window lightly and landed silently on the grass. Before leaving, he glanced at the restaurant and saw the family sitting at the dining table with similar expressions like dead trees. They were not satisfied with eating, nor were they happy. There was no anxiety about hunger, only indifference. It was more like visiting a grave than eating.
This home is filled with dead life from beginning to end.
Even the smallest vividness has been thrown into the cold pool.
Max noticed Blake Jing's distraction, and gently poked the man's waist with displeasure of being ignored. He felt the skin under his hand tightened with satisfaction for a moment, and then looked back at himself: "My Mr. Thief is thinking what?"
The voice still had the laziness of being satisfied, and there was no hint of malice in the long voice.
Blake Jing suppressed the instinct to subdue the enemy that he had developed through years of fighting, and laughed and cursed: "Where did the thief come from?"
Max's eyes darkened, and he quickly pretended not to care and said, "Didn't my father cut off our food rations? Without permission, isn't this a thief?"
"Strong words." The corners of Blake Jing's mouth twitched, and he was also provoked to quarrel childishly: "Brother Blake Jing, who has been awarded the title of kidnapper and thief, wants to ask the young B@st@ard, if you don't get attention, you will become autistic. Delicate little flower? "
After saying that, he couldn't help but sigh: "You still looked so well-behaved when you were so sick and wilted just now."
Max bared his teeth, feeling subtly unhappy. He pushed the porridge in front of him and raised his hand to grab the young man's collar: "Then, does Brother Blake Jing like me now or the person I was just now?"
They are obviously the same person, but they insist on distinguishing the winner, which even makes me look childish.
The strength of his grip on the collar was too weak, and he could escape with a little struggle, but Blake Jing didn't do that.
He looked up at the ceiling, and the dangling red earrings in his ears swayed twice, making the young man's skin pale and almost dazzling.
He pretended to be embarrassed and said: "The way you were huddled under the quilt just now was so cute. I've known you for so many days and you still looked like a child. You were like a kitten..." He said with unfinished meaning. "Two times, adding an adjective: "cute." "
Max let go with an expressionless face: "Then go find him." The aura of resurrection in his body was suddenly drawn into the inescapable silence.
The change from before to after is so big that it makes people think that it is a child's arrogance and coquettishness.
Blake Jing chuckled and lowered his head. His back was to the window, blocking the light, leaving only those bright golden eyes shining in the small desolation.
The breathing of the two people echoed quietly in their chests. Blake Jing opened his thin lips and said in a voice that only the two of them could hear: "However, I prefer your true appearance now." He showed his emotions without concealing it. Fluctuating, with a joy that made him envious.
Max's eyes widened slightly, and he could clearly hear his heart trembling violently. He didn't understand what was brighter than the sun, but at this moment, he seemed to have discovered "something gentler than the moon."
Max pursed his lower lips, looked away in embarrassment, raised his hand to rub the broken hair in front of Blake Jing's forehead, messing up the gentle gaze, thinking: It's too dazzling.
Blake Jing smiled, grabbed the child's hand and stuffed it into the quilt, raised his hand, patted it and coaxed, "I'm going to send the things back, you go to bed early."
Max grumbled: "It doesn't matter where you put the tray, someone will come and clean it up."
Blake Jing: "That won't work. Brother Blake Jing doesn't want the name of the thief yet."
He rubbed the little guy's head, then stood up, picked up the tray, pushed open the window and was about to jump out.
A muffled voice came from the bed: "It doesn't matter even if you are discovered... you won't kill me." He didn't want him to leave.
Blake Jing's hand holding the window tightened, and Max's indifferent words seemed to unfold his father's past indifference and disregard before his eyes. Blake Jing, who had been pampered since childhood and could even act coquettishly to adults, felt like his heart was stabbed. The previous unhappiness of being tricked by the little B@st@ard disappeared instantly, and those memories were subtly beautified and a little hateful. The child gradually turned into a wet cat, and even felt distressed in his heart.
He changed his words and said calmly: "I'm right opposite you. If you need anything, go to me."
The soft sound of the windows being closed and the sounds of the grass could be heard in his ears. Max was smothered in the quilt, with a calm expression on his face, thinking casually: Blake Jing really has no resistance to "poorness".
Such a strange and fun human being made him explore and delight in "toys", and even used himself as a bargaining chip to let the other party stay.
He raised his hand and imitated Blake Jing's technique and rubbed his own head. The soft touch made him suddenly stunned for a moment, and an idea popped up to break the inhuman mood: What on earth was he in Blake Jing's eyes?
Cat?
Familiar with each other, this time Blake Jing looked for the kitchen and touched the structure of the villa. Then he stood under the corner of his room. He rushed forward two steps and stepped lightly. The wall and the window on the second floor were supported with his palms. When he landed on the floor, he subconsciously raised his eyes and looked around the room and found something on the bed.
He looked back out the window and then at the furnishings in the room. Although it was a "hotel-style room" similar to Max's room, it was indeed his room.
He walked over and lifted up the quilt. Max huddled under his quilt, revealing a pitiful and thin face: "Blake Jing, it's cold."
Blake Jing glanced at the sunny sky outside, and a series of dots flashed through his mind.
Login to comment
Be the first one to comment...