Chapter 56 Writing a story for Mao Mao
Mao Mao slept soundly until dawn.
The next day, she opened her eyes refreshed, raised her little hand, and lazily stretched. Just as she threw her little fist, it was caught, and someone gently bit her chubby hand.
Mao Mao cried out "Ouch!" and quickly withdrew her little hand, her eyes wide open: "Brother?"
Lou Hongjian lay on his side, propping his head up with one hand, and looked at her with a smile: "Mao Mao, you're awake. The sun is already high in the sky."
I danced all night yesterday, and it really exhausted me. I slept until noon.
Mao Mao patted her round little belly: "Brother, I'm hungry."
"Come on, let your brother take you to eat."
Downstairs, Lou Heming was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper. When he saw his younger brother come downstairs, he put down the newspaper and looked over with a cool gaze from behind his gold-rimmed glasses.
“Ah Hong, I never knew you had a talent for thievery.”
"Second Brother, what did you say?" Lou Hongjian looked at him in surprise: "How can you call it stealing when it's a family matter?"
Lou Heming: "..."
“Besides,” Lou Hongjian lifted his little sister in his arms and affectionately nuzzled her face with his nose, “Mao Mao likes Third Brother, doesn’t she? Doesn’t she? Mao Mao?”
Mao Mao was tickled by the rubbing and giggled non-stop. No matter how she tried to dodge, she couldn't escape, so she could only say, "I like it, I like Third Brother."
Lou Heming: "..."
Lou Yansui shook her head: "I told you long ago, Third Brother is the most shameless."
Lou Hongjian wasn't embarrassed at all. He hummed a cheerful tune and carried his hungry sister to the dining room for dinner.
Lou Heming got up from the sofa and pushed Lou Yansui's wheelchair to follow.
Today, the eldest wife went out to the orphanage to do charity work. Several wives of the family and Old Madam Lou went out with her. Only the three siblings were at the long table.
Mao Mao gripped her spoon, eating intently, her head almost buried in the bowl. The big white cat squatted beside her chair, also burying its head in its food bowl, munching away on its fresh cat food.
Lou Hongjian asked his younger sister, "Mao Mao, would you like to come to work with your brother this afternoon?"
Mao Mao looked up from her rice bowl, her face blank: "Work?"
Lou Heming: "What kind of work do you do?"
Lou Hongjian snorted, "Of course I have things to do."
He wasn't talking nonsense; he really had something important to say.
His gallery has been in preparation for a long time and is about to open. This is his career, and he puts his heart and soul into it.
"My gallery is scheduled to open in ten days. I have already contacted many well-known painters to display and sell their paintings in the gallery. I have sent out a lot of invitations, but I don't know how many people will come."
Lou Heming exclaimed in surprise: "Ten days later? So soon?"
"I specifically had someone calculate it, and ten days from now is an auspicious day."
As he spoke, Lou Hongjian couldn't help but squeeze his sister's little hand, as if he wanted to share in her good fortune, or as if he wanted to encourage himself: "Back in France, some foreigners appreciated my paintings, but I wonder how many people in Haicheng can appreciate them."
Mao Mao especially praised, "Brother's painting is beautiful!"
Lou Hongjian beamed: "Of course, our Mao Mao has the best taste and appreciates her brother the most."
Mao Mao raised her little hand and obediently said, "I'll help my brother with his work."
Lou Hongjian laughed even harder, but before he could agree, Lou Yansui spoke up from the other side: "Mao Mao, I've written a short story, would you like to hear it?"
Mao Mao's little head turned around in a flash.
Even Lou Heming looked over: "Ah Sui?"
Mao Mao's big, dark eyes widened as she sat up straight, holding onto the dining table. Her round little face was full of surprise and admiration: "Brother, you can write stories too?"
Lou Yansui said casually, "I finished reading all those fairy tale books, and there weren't any new ones in the bookstores, so I tried writing one myself. Mao Mao, would you like to hear it?"
Of course Mao Mao wants to!
Although I feel bad for my third brother, work sounds so boring, how can it be as fun as listening to stories?
Moreover, this was written by her older brother, a story that Mao Mao had never heard before!
She immediately forgot about her third brother and, with her short legs, followed her fourth brother's wheelchair, becoming his little shadow.
Lou Hongjian: "..."
Well, what can he do when all he can do is draw?
Lou Hongjian had no choice but to get into his convertible alone and go out to handle the trivial matters of the gallery's opening.
In the afternoon, in the garden.
Under a white parasol, tea and snacks were laid out on the table. Mao Mao and Lou Heming sat around the round table, their eyes both looking at Lou Yansui.
Lou Yansui flipped through the manuscript paper in front of him. The penmanship on the white paper was neat and smooth, and he had written a short story. He had written it when he was bored and was alone, and even Mao Mao, who was closest to his fourth brother, did not know about it.
Mao Mao sat up straight, her eyes sparkling, looking at him expectantly.
The story written by my fourth brother!
Stared at like that by her, Lou Yansui ran her fingertips along the edge of the paper, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed.
He looked at Lou Heming: "Second Brother..."
Lou Heming picked up his black tea and took a sip. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes smiled gently: "A-Sui, the stories you write can only be heard by Mao Mao. I can't hear them?"
Lou Yansui: "...Okay."
He cleared his throat, turned to the first page of the manuscript, suppressed his embarrassment, and began to read: "The protagonist of this story is a little boy named Mao Mao..."
Mao Mao exclaimed, "Cat?"
The big white cat lay on the chair next to me, its thin pink ears twitching. Hearing the sound, it opened its eyes and looked over: "Meow~~~"
“It’s neither Maomao nor Maomao.” Lou Yansui glanced at her and said, “It’s Maomao.”
He emphasized the name of the main character in the short story, making sure the little girl heard it clearly.
"Oh." Mao Mao suddenly realized.
Lou Yansui continued reading: "Maomao is seven years old this year..."
Mao Mao asked impatiently, "Does he have a mother?"
Lou Yansui: "No."
Mao Mao then asked, "Does he have an older brother?"
Lou Yansui: "No, not either."
"Does he have a father? Does he have a grandmother?"
"No, none of them."
Mao Mao's eyes drooped, wet and glistening. Her lips trembled, and she said pitifully, "He's so pitiful..."
Lou Heming couldn't help but ask, "Ah Sui, is he an orphan?"
Lou Yansui immediately picked up her pen and began to make corrections on the manuscript paper, changing her words as she did so: "But he has a cat."
Mao Mao's eyes lit up again: "Cat!"
Big white cat: "Meow~"
Mao Mao pointed at the big white cat and asked, "Is this a white cat?"
Old Madam Lou's big white cat with heterochromia is a Lion Cat, a precious breed, and it can't be a stray cat. Lou Yansui shook her head: "No, it's a mixed breed cat, um... yellow, I think, a tabby cat, it looks like a little tiger."
A yellow cat?
The yellow cat that looks like a little tiger is also quite nice~
Mao Mao rested her chubby chin on her hand, her little feet dangling in mid-air, swinging happily, and the little tuft of hair on her head also swayed back and forth with her cheerful mood.
"And then what?"
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