As dusk deepened, the glass door of the Haicheng City Bureau was pushed open. Zhong Yanhua walked out with a work bag, rubbing her brows with a slightly tired look.
"Thank you for your hard work." A familiar voice sounded in my ears.
She looked up and saw Lin An standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding a cup of hot milk tea and smiling at her.
"Why are you here again?" She complained, but a smile appeared in her eyes.
"I'm worried you're too tired from working overtime." He naturally took her hand, gently caressing her slightly cold fingertips with his fingertips: "How many did you persuade to come back today?"
"Two." She sighed, then quickly raised her face: "But they both promised to live well."
"Well, that's amazing." He chuckled and stuffed the warm milk tea into her hand: "This is a reward for you."
She lowered her head and took a sip; the sweetness was just right.
The afterglow of the setting sun fell on the two of them, and their shadows were stretched out and overlapped.
They held hands and walked slowly home, occasionally chatting about work, and sometimes just listening quietly to the hustle and bustle of the city.
This is Lin An’s daily routine, and it is also the moment when Zhong Yanhua feels most at ease.
…
…
"Sister Jingwei, the show starts in thirty minutes." The agent knocked on the dressing room door, his tone filled with familiar helplessness: "You're starting again, aren't you?"
Chen Jingwei slumped in the chair in front of the makeup mirror, the sequins on her performance costume dimmed a little.
She stared at the photo of her and Lin An on her phone screensaver and muttered weakly, "I'm totally out of energy today..."
The agent sighed: "The last time you were like this was during the Osaka tour, right?"
"That time was because..." Chen Jingwei suddenly fell silent, his ears slightly red.
The door was suddenly pushed open, and Chen Jingwei jumped up as if she had been electrocuted, and her cell phone fell to the ground with a thud.
Lin An bent down to pick it up, and the photo of the two of them on the screen was facing her.
"I heard that a certain big star is throwing a tantrum again." He smiled and opened his arms.
Chen Jingwei threw herself into his arms like a chick returning to its nest, and her high heels almost stepped on his foot.
"Why are you here!" The voice was muffled in his chest, and he completely lost the aura of a queen.
Lin An held her face in his hands and placed a kiss on her forehead: "Come and charge my power bank."
The makeup artist tactfully turned her face away, but the agent flipped through the schedule as if nothing had happened: "Here we go again..."
This is not the big star who shines on the stage, but an ordinary girl who wants to act coquettishly with her boyfriend.
Three minutes later, Chen Jingwei checked her makeup in the mirror one last time, her eyes and eyebrows sparkling with energy.
Lin An leaned against the door frame and watched her walk to the stage. His agent walked by and shook his head: "It's the same trick every time."
"Because it works." He smiled and shook his phone. On the lock screen was a photo of Chen Jingwei making a heart shape with her hands to him during the encore of the concert.
This is Lin An’s daily routine and also Chen Jingwei’s most effective stimulant.
…
…
The afternoon sun shines through the bookstore's floor-to-ceiling windows, casting mottled shadows on the wooden floor.
Song Chan stood on tiptoe to take the "Shakespeare Sonnets" on the top shelf. As her fingertips touched the spine of the book, another hand had already taken it down for her.
"Sonnet 18?" Lin An opened the yellowed pages and handed them to Song Chan gently.
Song Chan took the book and her fingers accidentally rubbed his palm: "Do you remember that I like this song?"
"Of course." He leaned against the bookshelf and looked at her hair falling when she lowered her head. "Last time you said you wanted to translate 'Shall I pare thee to a summer's day' into Chinese poetry."
She smiled sweetly: "Can I compare you to a summer day? You are more gentle than it-"
"Brighter." Lin An naturally continued the second half of the sentence, gently brushing away the dust on her shoulders with his fingers.
The old record player in the corner of the bookstore was playing the soundtrack of "A Midsummer Night's Dream".
Song Chan suddenly closed the book and blinked her beautiful eyes: "Actually, I changed the last two sentences."
Lin An leaned in to read the small words she wrote on the title page -
"So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."
Below, a line of beautiful Chinese characters was added in pencil:
"As long as the bookstore bell rings, as long as you still come to listen to my poetry readings."
At this moment, the wind chimes dinged, and the two looked at each other and smiled.
Outside the window, the sycamore leaves in early summer rustled, as if responding to a poem written four hundred years ago.
This is Lin An’s daily routine, and also the afternoon that Song Chan cherishes most.
…
…
The automatic door of the operating room slowly opened, and Li Huiyue walked out with heavy steps, the smell of disinfectant still lingering in her hair.
She leaned against the wall in the corridor and closed her eyes. Her fingertips were still trembling slightly from three consecutive heart operations.
"Thanks for your hard work."
The familiar voice made Li Huiyue open her eyes. Lin An was standing in front of her without her knowing when, holding her favorite honey grapefruit tea in his hand. The water droplets condensed on the wall of the cup were sliding down his knuckles.
"Why are you here..." Her voice was hoarse, and she realized that she didn't even have the strength to speak completely.
Lin An gently brushed away the sweat-soaked hair on her forehead, and his warm fingertips caressed her red eyelids. Without any extra words, he turned around and squatted down: "Come up."
Li Huiyue subconsciously put her arms around his neck, and only when she lay on his back did she truly relax.
The sweet aroma of grapefruit tea, the faint smell of detergent on his body, and the body temperature coming through his shirt gradually dispelled the cold fatigue brought by the operating room.
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