The warmth emanating from her skin felt like a tentative touch, and the sensation of her hair brushing against her face sent a tingling, itchy sensation through her.
Fu Xuanliao recalled Shi Meng's shoulder-length hair from the past, which he had cut without hesitation after hearing that Shi Meng liked short hair. Shi Meng cut his hair again a few days ago; besides liking the neatness and crispness of short hair, could it be that he retained something related to him?
He dared not presume to believe it, but secretly thought that Shi Meng might also feel sorry for him, or perhaps the word "pitiful" would be appropriate. In the end, Shi Meng couldn't bring herself to treat him as something dispensable.
However, Fu Xuanliao also knew very well that Shi Meng was just caught off guard.
He was about to get closer and press his face against that soft cheek when he was suddenly struck in the abdomen with an elbow strike.
The impact caused Fu Xuanliao to take two steps back. He covered his back with his hand, quickly straightened up, and looked relaxed as if he hadn't been hurt. He even smiled and praised Shi Meng: "You are very alert."
When Shi Meng saw his face turn deathly pale, she wondered if she had gone too far. But when she saw that he could still smile, she felt a sense of frustration at being fooled.
I clearly told him not to touch me, but he still managed to find a loophole.
"Since Mr. Fu has time, why don't you go to the hospital?" Shi Meng said coldly.
Fu Xuanliao was still smiling, raising his finger to his face: "Does your face look bad?"
Shi Meng didn't answer. You can tell just by looking in the mirror.
He simply stated his position: "I don't want even a second of your three minutes."
As Shi Meng turned around, she heard Fu Xuanliao say behind her, "Then I'll come back and ask again tomorrow."
It has a similar meaning to "Then I'll try harder".
The door was slammed shut with a loud bang. When she returned upstairs and closed her bedroom door, she lay down on the bed, picked up a pillow and covered her head, intending to block out the noise from the outside world, but unknowingly fell asleep again.
He was later woken up by the cat. Hungry and unable to find food, the cat's meows were mournful and long. Shi Meng groggily got up, opened a can of cat food and mixed it into the cat food. After eating and drinking to his heart's content, the cat stopped meowing and obediently lay down at Shi Meng's feet to keep him company while he drew, until it got dark.
I simply cooked a bowl of noodles for dinner. While eating, I received a photo from Pan Jiawei. When I opened it, I saw a hot pot with two separate broths, and the table was full of various dipping sauces and side dishes.
I didn't feel anything at first, but after seeing this photo and then looking at my own face, I felt a bit indifferent.
Pan Jiawei asked Shi Meng if she wanted to eat, and Shi Meng said she was okay.
“That means you want to eat it.” Pan Jiawei sent a voice message. “I’ve figured you out now. You only say one-tenth of what you mean. Luckily, it just means you really want to eat it.”
It was very noisy on his end, like he was having dinner with classmates. Shi Meng thought for a moment and then typed: No, that's not true.
Pan Jiawei chuckled: "Rebuttal invalid."
He asked Shi Meng if she was free on Saturday. Shi Meng asked what it was about, and he mumbled, "Nothing much, just want to treat you to hot pot. This place has a good broth and the vegetables are fresh."
When Shi Meng asked why he was treating everyone, Pan Jiawei gave a vague answer: "Well... well, thank you for listening to me sing. My mom doesn't like listening to me sing."
This reason is barely tenable.
Shi Meng didn't want to agree, but remembering that he had been followed from morning till night for the past few Saturdays, after some hesitation, he replied: I'll treat you.
Pan Jiawei replied quickly, his tone rising: "It doesn't matter who invites whom, right? It's settled then, Saturday night. If you're free in the afternoon, you can go for a stroll in Xuncheng. I'll be your guide!"
With four days to go before Saturday, Shi Meng had to mentally prepare herself every time she went out, as if she were going to war.
Fortunately, that guy has been a bit more restrained these days, and only occasionally did Shi Meng notice that someone was following him. If one didn't look closely, one wouldn't even see his face.
The autumn rain in Xuncheng came and went, drizzling on and off until late Friday night. When the sun came out on Saturday, the temperature not only did not rise, but dropped considerably. It was so cold that when Shi Meng opened the window and took a breath of fresh air, she felt a chill seep into her lungs.
In Li Bihan's letter, she reminded him to add clothes with the phrase "one autumn rain brings one chill." Shi Meng thought that since it had rained so many times, winter should be coming soon.
Pushing open the door, Shi Meng saw the thin clothing worn by the person squatting outside the courtyard and couldn't help but shiver again.
Fu Xuanliao, still wearing the same clothes, didn't seem to care. He looked up and greeted Shi Meng with a "Good morning," while deftly shoveling at the damp soil with his shovel and continuing his phone call.
Shi Meng came out to see the marigolds he had planted, worried that they wouldn't be able to adapt to the damp and cold weather in Xuncheng, and wanted to build them a shed.
He overheard a few sentences of the phone call, and it sounded like someone was urging Fu Xuanliao to go back. He was unwilling and said first, "Didn't I arrange things at the company before I left?"
He added, "You're allowed to leave a mess behind to go abroad with your wife, but I'm not allowed to take a leave of absence to handle something important?"
To reiterate: "Important, of course important."
His tone softened a bit later, perhaps because the other person had asked about his condition, although his words were still harsh: "It's just a fever, you won't die."
He's been so humble and subservient these days that it's easy to forget he's always been a man of his word with a fiery temper.
Shi Meng also had a temper. Seeing that he was acting on his own again, he was too lazy to ask him what he wanted to do. He walked to the iron fence and stretched the shovel out to stir things up.
Fu Xuanliao hurriedly hung up the phone and reached out to protect it: "This is a rose. It will grow vines that climb up the railing, and the flowers are very beautiful."
Shi Meng seemed not to hear what he was saying, and quickly dug out the few flower stalks that had just been planted.
He was self-righteous and dared to take responsibility for his actions. Since he had damaged things, he was naturally prepared to be blamed and have his grievances vented on him.
He couldn't wait to see Fu Xuanliao fly into a rage, storm off, and return to a peaceful life.
Unexpectedly, Fu Xuanliao only tried to stop them a few times at first, then lowered his hands and gave up resisting, staring blankly at the few flower stems that had fallen to the side. His complexion was still not good, shrouded in the weakness of recovering from his injuries. His tall figure squatted there with his head down, exuding an indescribable loneliness.
He was no longer the Fu Xuanliao that Shi Meng knew, which made Shi Meng wonder who had turned him into this.
“You like flowers,” Fu Xuanliao said softly. “I know you like them.”
Otherwise, they wouldn't have painted flowers, planted flowers, and even sent me flowers.
He reached out, his long, slender fingers touching the wilted leaves, feeling only regret and pity, without any anger or dissatisfaction.
He said casually, "Autumn is not a good time to plant flowers anyway."
"I'll plant it when you want it."
Shi Meng could hardly fail to notice that the shell he used to maintain his calm and rationality was cracking, and that it was widening.
During his short lunch break, he closed his eyes, and the gears of time turned back, replaying many familiar scenes. He saw the lily of the valley engulfed in flames, and a bunch of fiery red roses falling to the ground, their petals withering and being trampled by passersby.
Upon waking, Shi Meng was overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions churning within her. She tried to deny these memories, but was repeatedly pulled back in the process.
Because the person who created these memories is right outside, every time he tries to escape, that person chases after him, no matter how many hurtful things they say or how many harmful things they do.
Shi Meng thought Fu Xuanliao had gone mad. He wasn't like this before. He should have been incredibly impatient with her, and if she bit him, he should have immediately retaliated, making her feel even more pain.
After some thought, Shi Meng suddenly thought, why not try Jiang Xue's suggestion and call the police?
Shi Meng is not one to trouble others. A few months ago, he was beaten up and was barely clinging to life in the pouring rain, but he never even thought of calling the police.
He was cornered, with solid walls on his sides and behind him, and had no other choice.
Just as Meng pressed 110, his thumb hovering over the dial button, there was an unexpected knock on the gate of the courtyard downstairs.
The newcomer was a middle-aged man with a dignified appearance, dressed formally, and exuding a calm and composed aura as someone who had long held a high position.
Because someone was watching intently from less than three meters away, Shi Meng didn't open the door immediately. Instead, he asked through the door, "Who are you looking for?"
The middle-aged man handed over a business card: "My surname is Wei. I greatly admire Mr. Shi's paintings. I hope Mr. Shi will forgive my intrusion."
It wasn't until the person was invited inside that Shi Meng remembered seeing this face somewhere before. Jiang Xue had done information gathering on people who had bought his paintings, and once sent it to Shi Meng, saying that they were all rich and powerful, including many eligible bachelors, jokingly suggesting that Shi Meng should find a partner among them, since none of them were any better than the man surnamed Fu.
The name on the business card further confirms the person's identity. This Mr. Wei's real name is Wei Liangji. He is the CEO of a listed company in Fengcheng and once won a painting by Shi Meng at a high price at an auction.
As for how many photos were taken, given Shi Meng's indifferent attitude towards his surroundings, it's likely that quite a few people would remember his name.
Shi Meng invited the guests to sit on the sofa in the living room, then went to the kitchen and found the flower tea that Li Bihan had sent last time. She sprinkled a handful at the bottom of the cup, brewed it with hot water, and served it to the guests.
Back when she was still painting, Jiang Xue handled all these matters of dealing with outsiders. Now that she's personally taking charge, her embarrassment and anxiety go without saying.
Mr. Wei, on the other hand, was very generous and didn't beat around the bush. He took the tea, took a small sip, and got straight to the point: "Mr. Shi, are you no longer painting?"
A single question caused the wound on Shi Meng's palm to twitch.
He said, "I'm painting." After a brief pause, he added, "I'm injured, so I can't paint well."
Wei Liangji's gaze followed, making a very light, fleeting gesture.
"I also heard about Mr. Shi's injury to his right hand from Ms. Jiang, which is really a pity. However, seeing that Mr. Shi is still persisting in creating, my trip has been worthwhile."
His voice was steady and his tone was calm, which calmed Shi Meng's restless heart.
"As for whether it's good or bad," Wei Liangji looked at the easel on the balcony, where a sketch was hanging, which was actually a few oranges scattered on the table. "It's always a matter of the heart. Everyone's heart is different, and it would be unfair to use any standard to measure and judge it."
"Mr. Shi, just keep painting. As long as you keep painting, I will always be your loyal fan."
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