There was no expensive furniture in the house; all were cheap finds. However, the styles blended together and complemented each other, creating a homely, peaceful, and harmonious atmosphere. Li Zishan could tell that a lot of effort had gone into tidying up such a home. She asked, "Who usually does the housework?"
Chen Tinghan said, "My dear mother, that's a ruthless person. Look at how the floor reflects light. Isn't it amazing? It even gave off sparks."
She smiled sweetly, "To be able to achieve this, it takes a long time and careful care. It is really amazing."
"You can tell."
"Xiaoyu and I live together. She's good in every way, except for her lifestyle. She's a bit sloppy, so I'm the one who takes care of the housekeeping."
Li Zishan said, and suddenly said: "I'm not complaining?"
Chen Tinghan laughed and said, "I understand, I understand."
Then she began to demonstrate how she usually does housework. Her movements were quite skillful. She cleaned the dining table and kitchen as if it were her own home, searched out the dishes and chopsticks used by the guests, took out a disposable plastic table mat she had bought from the compartment of her schoolbag, and put a plastic bag on the bowl. She seriously introduced the benefits of doing this, which was cheap and labor-saving.
He stood there wanting to help, but she pushed him back and forth like a wooden stake, thinking he was in the way.
Chen Tinghan suddenly laughed.
This scene has been haunting me for many years.
Li Zishan set the table and looked at him strangely: "What are you laughing at?"
"You look like my mom."
The girl didn't understand the sadness and longing in his heart that transcended time and space, and rolled her eyes. She was young, only about 1.5 meters tall, and had a baby face, but in the eyes of others, she was already a mother.
Old Sister Zhang's cooking skills were impeccable, and the two of them soon filled up. This time, Chen Tinghan took over the task of cleaning up the dishes and refused to let her move: "You can go to my room first, it has air conditioning."
Li Zishan nodded, said "hmm" obediently, picked up her schoolbag and went into the room.
She sat on the chair where Chen Tinghan usually sat. All traces of the boy's life, his thoughts, and what he saw were gathered in this small room.
She was a little restless, leaning against the back of the chair, with a lazy posture and a dazed look in her eyes.
What was this, some cheesy anime love comedy? Was she supposed to blush or do something weird like the paper dolls?
While Fanxu was thinking, Li Zishan turned his gaze to Chen Tinghan's bookshelf.
The upper layer contained serious literature, while the lower layer contained a row of comic novels. Among them were two notebooks. One was the "Death Note" she gave him, and Li Zishan remembered that he had often written in the other one for a period of time, and soon filled up the entire notebook.
Chen Tinghan did not allow anyone to look at it or even touch it.
His secret may be hidden inside.
As if possessed by some mysterious force, Li Zishan slowly and solemnly stretched out his hand towards the two notebooks.
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