Zhou Mingli's feelings were extremely complicated.
"Got the money?"
The woman on the bed suddenly spoke.
Zhou Mingli composed himself, walked over, and asked softly, "You're not asleep?"
Jiang Ci rolled over, lying on her back, and said with a look of utter despair, "Do you know how awful this room smells?"
Zhou Mingli: "..."
"It's hard to change this living situation in a short period of time." Zhou Mingli took out the 150 yuan from his pocket and said, "I got it from Boss Zhou. 150 yuan."
"I'll tidy up this place tomorrow, buy what needs to be bought, and paint what needs to be painted. Leave all that to me, you don't need to worry."
One hundred and fifty might not sound like much, but in the context of the 1970s, it was quite a lot; it could buy a lot of things.
With the money in hand, Jiang Ci did some calculations and had a clear idea of what to expect.
Jiang Ci turned to look at him, and after a long while, she sighed, "Although I feel bad for saying this, I still have to say it. I'm so glad you came."
Zhou Mingli smiled and echoed in a low voice, "I'm also very glad I came."
"Mr. Jiang, you can't even cook, right?"
Jiang Ci was not convinced. "Tonight I boiled the eggs myself, heated up the cornbread, and even cut up some cucumbers."
Zhou Mingli couldn't help it and his chest shook.
Jiang Ci: "..."
She was rather embarrassed and annoyed, "Go to sleep!"
Zhou Mingli wanted to see if there was a straw mat here so he could sleep on the floor.
Jiang Ci said, "If you don't get better soon, I can't do so much work by myself while you're lying in bed."
Zhou Mingli thought for a moment, then lay down next to Jiang Ci without saying anything.
Just a few hours earlier, the couple, who had just divorced, fell silent and didn't know what to say.
Jiang Ci didn't care, but Zhou Mingli had a thousand words to ask Jiang Ci.
But he didn't ask.
I didn't dare to ask.
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