Song Qingyou turned her head to 'look' at her, "Have we arrived?"
"No," Fu Wenzhou said in a low voice, his tone hoarse, as if he was trying to restrain himself.
Song Qingyou blinked gently, her eyelashes brushing against his palm. His hand froze for a moment, and she quickly stopped blinking.
After walking for a while, we stopped again.
Just as she was wondering what was going on, she heard Fu Wenzhou's laughter: "There's a cliff ahead. If you take another step forward, you'll fall off."
This statement seems both true and false, making it difficult to discern the truth.
If it were anyone else, Song Qingyou would definitely panic upon hearing these words, but Fu Wenzhou was beside her.
She suddenly realized that she had trusted Fu Wenzhou too much.
If it were anyone else, she would never allow herself to be blindfolded and led to an unknown place.
But this is Fu Wenzhou.
He is Fu Wenzhou.
Her heartbeat didn't even change, and she slightly curled the corners of her lips: "Hmm, I'll give it a try."
As she spoke, she actually started walking forward.
There was no sheer cliff as he described; instead, she stood on a soft meadow.
At the same time, his hand released her eyes.
The sudden burst of sunlight made her squint instinctively, and when she looked again, a burst of vibrant colors unexpectedly filled her entire field of vision.
Everywhere you look, there are roses blooming in the world.
She froze, her eyes slowly widening...
Few people know that she is allergic to roses, let alone that she prefers wild roses.
The rose season was over, and Song Qingyou couldn't imagine how he had managed to plant roses all over the mountainside after the season had ended.
How much time and effort was spent...
Behind her was Fu Wenzhou's voice, ethereal as if it came from a very, very far place, or like a weightless feather, gently falling into her heart.
Happy Winter Solstice, Youyou.
In that instant, the young boy she had drawn on the window in her dream yesterday gradually overlapped with Fu Wenzhou at this moment.
She glanced at him intently, her gaze unwavering.
The man's eyes were full of doting affection, all his sharpness vanished, and what was revealed before her was a Fu Wenzhou whose eyes only had her.
A gentle mountain breeze stirred her hair and the hem of his clothes, carrying with it a hint of rose fragrance.
The person in front of me stood under the azure sky, with layers of green mountains behind him. He was like a pine tree, standing in the gentle breeze, his eyes shining brightly.
Her image was reflected in those ink-black eyes, oblivious to the dazzling splendor of the world.
Yan Miao's phone rang at an inopportune moment.
She mechanically pressed the answer button, and Gu Miao on the other end asked excitedly, "Qingyou, are you really not coming to my house? I told my parents, and they really welcome you. Shall I come pick you up with the driver?"
"No need," Song Qingyou said softly.
Yan Miao: "Why not! You'd be so lonely spending the winter alone at home!"
Are you lonely?
Song Qingyou looked at Fu Wenzhou in front of her and inexplicably recalled what he had said to someone else in the car earlier.
Perhaps without guessing, she probably knew that the "she" in his saying, "Wherever she is, that is my home," referred to herself.
Gu Miao was still rambling on and on, but Song Qingyou felt impatient with her friend for the first time.
"I'm fine, I have someone with me," she said hastily before hanging up the phone.
Fu Wenzhou raised an eyebrow.
Song Qingyou sensed a hint of mockery in his half-smiling expression, and her ears suddenly burned with inexplicable heat, as did her heart.
She looked away somewhat flusteredly, trying to divert the other person's attention awkwardly and urgently: "How did you manage to get them to bloom this season?"
Fu Wenzhou, however, gave an irrelevant answer: "The first time I met you was on the winter solstice."
Song Qingyou's eyelashes trembled.
The man took her hand, noticing the trembling in her fingertips. He gently squeezed and rubbed it, seemingly with a soothing force, but unable to calm the ripples in her heart.
He led her into the flowerbed, speaking slowly and deliberately, "Back then, I thought, how could there be such a beautiful person in this world, like a little princess, with beautiful eyes, beautiful eyebrows, a beautiful nose, and a beautiful mouth..."
He chuckled briefly. "He's just a little pathetic."
Song Qingyou lowered her eyes: "That day, I held up my perfect test paper, hoping to get Song Yuan's praise, but I didn't expect to witness his malice. I disobeyed him, so he started hitting me. He humiliated his wife who died in childbirth and cursed his daughter."
Song Qingyou took a breath and said in a very calm tone, "Fu Wenzhou, I can't forgive him."
Fu Wenzhou paused, heartache spreading from his eyes to his heart. He reached out and hugged her, whispering, "Then don't forgive her."
The cold wind whistled past my ears, mingled with the fragrance of roses, and time seemed to stand still at that moment.
Song Qingyou raised her eyes, her gaze bright and clear: "Fu Wenzhou, do you want me?"
The very soft question startled Fu Wenzhou.
His voice was low and hoarse, trembling uncontrollably: "Youyou, say it again."
He was afraid he had misheard.
Song Qingyou said, "Should I take it or not?"
"want."
That's what he wants.
How could I not want it?
He was like a loyal dog facing the bait thrown by its master, his eyes burning with a raging fire, devout and fervent.
Her voice was clear, like melting snow from a high mountain, with a slight chill: "All Song Qingyou can give you is today."
On this one day, she wanted to live for herself.
Having lived in a cage for twenty-four years, let her have one last unbridled moment.
Fu Wenzhou didn't care whether it was today or tomorrow; he was like a stray dog that had caught the scent of a bone and pounced on it frantically.
He scooped up Song Qingyou in his arms, his movements swift and steady. If he hadn't been so reluctant to let her suffer, he would have taken her right there in the middle of nowhere.
The car sped along at breakneck speed.
No one knows who made the first move. Outside, the wind howled, the branches and leaves swayed incessantly on the treetops, and dewdrops flowed out, sliding down the veins and turning into spring water to irrigate the soil buried in the roots of the tree.
The lush green trees swayed gracefully to the rhythm. Snow began to fall from the sky, piling up on the flowering trees like a silver river falling into the water. Bathed in moonlight, the branches were knocked to pieces and soaked by the snowflakes.
Song Qingyou was pressed against the French windows, her face flushed and tiny beads of sweat appearing on the tip of her nose.
Heartbeats, voices, and breaths intertwined tenderly beside my ear.
Song Qingyou had never wanted Fu Wenzhou so much at this moment.
She burst into tears.
A wet touch came from the palm that was blocking her eyes. Fu Wenzhou hurriedly moved his hand away, and her eyes, wet with emotion, met his bloodshot eyes.
He was wicked; he leaned down and kissed Song Qingyou.
The snow outside was falling heavier and heavier, mingling with the damp night, washing over the branches and leaves that were about to freeze, and the rustling wind whispered in the darkness.
A tear slid down Song Qingyou's reddened eye.
4:15 a.m.
Song Qingyou, you've exceeded your time limit.
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