The temperature dropped at night, and the wind kept howling.
Ying Qian was reading under the desk lamp, the warm yellow light falling on her profile and casting a shadow on the table, serene and beautiful.
There were some rustling sounds outside the door. She paused, turned around, and knew who was outside. She pursed her lips slightly. What kind of expression would Meng Beiyan have outside the door?
Ying Qian seemed to have seen his complicated gaze through the door. She realized that people really do change a lot as time goes by.
She sighed, got up, and prepared to open the door. As she approached the door, she stopped, a playful smile playing on her lips.
Meng Beiyan didn't dare to knock on the door, so why should she open it?
So she turned back to her desk, leaned back in her chair, held a book in her left hand, and gently tapped the table with her reddened fingertips.
Outside the door.
Meng Beiyan's hand hovered in mid-air, maintaining a knocking posture, but he couldn't bring himself to place it on the solid wood door. His expression was calm and indifferent, but his heart was churning with turmoil.
He stood stiffly, expressionless, as if he were merely an empty shell, his soul a desolate wasteland, barren of life.
His Adam's apple bobbed slightly, half his face was shrouded in shadow, and his breathing was incredibly heavy.
After a while.
The lights in the room went out.
Meng Beiyan took a deep breath, walked away, and turned off the living room light, plunging the surroundings into a void of darkness.
He went to the balcony and lit a cigarette, the embers flickering.
The smoke rings exhaled from his thin lips appeared pale blue against the backdrop of the night.
He held the cigarette butt in his mouth, opened his arms and embraced the air, looking both angry and infatuated.
Her scent lingered in the air.
In the other room, she wasn't asleep; she was reading in bed with a flashlight on.
As I peeked out to breathe in the fresh air, my nose wrinkled slightly, and a faint smell of tobacco drifted in through a small crack in the window.
Meng Beiyan is going on a business trip tomorrow morning, right?
Ying Qian didn't know whether to be happy or sad. She turned off the flashlight and drifted into a dream.
In a daze, she heard sobbing. She thought it was a hallucination, but as she regained consciousness, the suppressed crying became clearer and clearer.
She could hardly believe it. Meng Beiyan was crying? The incredibly strong brother she remembered was crying? It all felt like a dream.
Her first instinct was to make a sarcastic remark, but she quickly dismissed the idea. People had kindly taken her in, and when she was emotionally distraught, it was best not to add fuel to the fire…
However, her body language was completely honest; she got out of bed, opened the door, and the whole sequence of movements was fluid and effortless.
Let's go and comfort Meng Beiyan!
After all, he had comforted me when I cried as a child.
This can be considered a way of repaying the debt.
She tiptoed into the living room, found a wall to hide behind, and quietly peeked out half her head. It was late at night, and she could only make out a blurry outline by the moonlight.
The 1.9-meter-tall man was curled up in a ball, an ashtray beside him, its embers flickering. His back twitched slightly, and his voice was muffled, which was quite pitiful.
Ying Qian bit her lip, hesitating whether to go out and comfort her. Her lip was red and swollen from being bitten, and looked like it was about to bleed.
She tugged at the hem of her clothes and slowly walked to the balcony.
She made quite a commotion, but the man was so grief-stricken that he didn't notice at all.
Ying Qian moved closer to him and said in a soft voice, "Brother, don't cry."
Upon hearing the sound, the man blankly raised his head, his expression as calm as ever, but a single tear fell straight down from his eye, his eyes incredibly clear.
Ying Qian knew that Meng Beiyan was just like that; perhaps he was expressionless, because no matter what his mood was, he always had the same expression.
He was feeling incredibly bad.
Meng Beiyan's tears do not lie.
"It's too cold, let's go back to sleep." Meng Beiyan's voice was hoarse as he helped Ying Qian up, his eyes glancing down with a hint of emotion.
Ying Qian tilted her head and awkwardly raised her hand to wipe away the tears on his face.
She didn't need to know what Meng Beiyan had recently encountered that annoyed him.
Anyway, Meng Beiyan wouldn't tell the truth.
“Brother, there’s no hurdle in life that can’t be overcome.” She said casually, then leaned close to his burning chest, wrapping her arms around him from behind. Her soft hair brushed against Meng Beiyan’s skin through his silk pajamas.
Before he could react to the sudden embrace, his pupils constricted sharply, and his blood seemed to boil instantly.
Ying Qian stroked his back, as if to comfort him, patting him rhythmically, her cheek pressed tightly against his burning chest.
His muscular physique was clearly outlined by the silk pajamas.
The night was completely silent.
His heartbeat pounded against her eardrums. Ying Qian looked up at him in surprise, "Brother, are you running a fever?"
The implication was that his body temperature was so high that he could practically fry an egg on it.
Meng Beiyan looked away in a panic, gently pushed her away, his breathing disordered, and said nonchalantly, "I'm fine, you go back to sleep... Goodnight!"
"thump"
By the time Ying Qian came to her senses, Meng Beiyan had already rushed into the room.
The world returned to peace.
Meng Beiyan was acting very strangely tonight.
He lay on the bed with his eyes closed, the sweat already dried and transformed into a cool sensation.
Despite how much he longed for her embrace, when the fantasy actually came true, he couldn't help but back down, her delicate fragrance lingering in every corner of his body.
Is it love, or guilt?
He wondered if Ying Qian would hate him one day when she found out everything, and knew that her mother's departure was the work of her dearest brother.
His mind was a jumble of chaotic thoughts; he hadn't felt this troubled in a long time.
All of this was his own delusion. Perhaps Ying Qian knew everything, but she never felt that it was his fault.
On the other side.
Ying Qian yawned, completely unconcerned about what had just happened, and instead thought about Chen Wenzhi.
I picture him drinking coffee, with cream smeared on his lips, and his gentle expression. It also brings to mind how we first met.
He must feel empty inside! Ying Qian was certain of that.
At the same time, he was unwilling to accept others.
What a contradictory person!
As I thought about it, I grew increasingly sleepy.
*
When Ying Qian got up in the morning, Meng Beiyan had already left, making the house much quieter.
Although it's usually quiet when he's around, at least there's someone to talk to.
Ying Qian sighed. The sky had cleared up, and the warm sunlight shone through the gauze window, casting a shadow. Time seemed to have turned back to the time when she was looking at houses in Qincheng.
...
After washing up, she ate while watching videos.
"Ding." A small red dot appeared in the Penguin software.
She chewed her bread, clicked on the link, and when she saw the person's name, she couldn't help but curl the corners of her lips into a smile.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
