nashuaworldcup Chapter 105 An Unforgettable Afternoon
Chapter 105 An Unforgettable Afternoon
Hearing those heartfelt words, Song Huan's heart softened.
He sat up straight, picked up the hot water from the coffee table, took a sip, and placed it in front of her.
It's not that I don't want to hear it.
His tone became serious, no longer as cheeky as before, "It's because your exam score is useless."
Xiao Yunqing turned her head to look at him, her brows furrowed. "Why isn't it working anymore?"
Song Huan pushed the cup towards her, "Look, after the final exams, doesn't it mean winter break starts right away?"
Xiao Yunqing nodded.
"Everyone's on holiday, who cares what score you got?"
He leaned back on the sofa, counting on his fingers, "Did your parents ask about your grades?"
Xiao Yunqing paused for a moment, then thought about it.
My parents didn't seem to ask much.
The day she found out her results, she ran home excitedly and said, "Mom, I got fourth place in the class!" Xu Wan was cooking and didn't even turn her head, just said, "Okay, wash your hands and eat."
Xiao Haifeng was more direct. He was reading a newspaper on the sofa when he looked up at her, said "Not bad," and then continued reading.
She thought their reaction was too cold at the time, but now she thinks about it.
"Besides yourself, I reckon even the homeroom teacher is too lazy to care. Praising you is just a perfunctory thing to say," Song Huan added.
Xiao Yunqing sat there, her mouth slightly open, her expression changing from aggrieved to bewildered.
It seems she has never thought about this question.
She was excited all day after the exam, and couldn't sleep at night, tossing and turning in bed, thinking about telling him the next day.
She thought he would be happy, would praise her, and would say things like, "Xiao Yunqing, you're amazing!" or "We can sit together from now on, lalala!"
He replied that it was "useless".
She lowered her head and continued drawing circles on her knee with her fingers, a little faster than usual.
"That……"
She spoke, her voice muffled, "It'll be useful after school starts, right? I'll be able to change seats, won't I?"
Song was happy.
[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: 202ᴋᴋs.ᴄᴏᴍ]
He leaned back on the sofa, a smile playing on his lips, looking at her serious expression and finding it both amusing and somewhat adorable.
"I'll change seats after school starts, you idiot."
He reached out and flicked her forehead lightly, but the sound was crisp. "There's an entrance exam after school starts, and that's when the seating arrangement will be changed."
Xiao Yunqing covered her head, her eyes wide open.
The expression on his face changed from bewilderment to shock, and from shock to frustration, like a punctured balloon falling from the sky and crashing to the ground with a thud.
"Then what's the point of getting this score?" Her voice was soft, tinged with grievance, and the last syllable dropped, like a paper airplane soaked by rain, unable to fly anymore.
Seeing her like that, Song Huan reached out and patted her shoulder.
The pressure was light, like patting a dejected kitten.
"It's okay," he said earnestly. "It can still cheer me up."
Xiao Yunqing was stunned for a moment.
Then her face went from frustration to anger, and from anger to rage.
She suddenly turned around, reached out with both hands, and pinched his face.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner!" She pinched his cheeks and pulled them apart like she was stretching a piece of chewing gum. "You're wrong too! You're guilty too!"
Song Huan's face was stretched out of shape, her mouth gaping open to reveal two rows of teeth, like a golden retriever whose face had been pinched.
He wanted to speak, but his mouth wouldn't close; the words escaped through his teeth, muffled and indistinct, "I...I thought you knew..."
"What do I know? I know!" She pinched even harder. "I didn't even go to high school! How would I know!"
Song Huan felt like her face was about to be torn in two.
It wasn't pain, but the feeling of being stretched too far, almost beyond the limit of elasticity.
He reached out, grabbed her wrist, and tried to pry her off.
She wasn't very strong, but her angles were tricky, and I couldn't pry her open.
"Relax...let go!"
"Don't loosen it!"
"My face... my face is going to split open!"
"Serves it right that it cracked!"
The two of them twisted together and rolled around on the sofa.
The cushion fell over, the fruit plate on the coffee table wobbled, and the apple slices almost slipped out.
Xiao Yunqing straddled him, pinching his face with both hands, her expression fierce, like a cat with its fur standing on end.
Song Huan lay back on the sofa, her face pinched, her lips pouting, her eyes rolled upwards as she looked at the ceiling.
After arguing for about a minute, they were both exhausted.
Xiao Yunqing let go of him, got off him, and sat down beside him, panting.
Song Huan touched her face; there was a red mark on each cheek, hot as if she had been slapped twice.
"Are you really trying to murder your husband?" he whispered. "My handsome face is almost split in two. I know you want to have two women on either side of me, but you don't have to resort to this method."
Xiao Yunqing glared at him, didn't say anything, but the corners of her mouth curled up slightly.
The two sat on the sofa for a while.
The rain outside the window lessened, turning into a drizzle that pattered against the glass.
The hot water on the coffee table has cooled down, and the steam has disappeared.
The apples in the fruit bowl had all oxidized and turned brown.
Song Huan leaned back on the sofa, feeling a slight itch on her chin.
He reached out and touched it, his fingertips brushing against a hard, rough surface.
My beard has grown long again.
He's been too lazy to groom himself lately, and his beard has grown from his chin all the way to both sides of his cheeks, feeling like sandpaper to the touch.
He stood up, went to the bathroom, opened the cabinet, and took out a razor.
It's silver-white, electric, the blade is a bit dull, and the buzzing sound is louder than when it was new.
He looked at himself in the mirror.
The beard on his chin has indeed grown long, and it's uneven, with the left side being a little longer than the right. The longest tuft is at the tip of his chin, resembling a small hill.
He flicked it with his finger, and his mustache snapped against his fingertip; it was hard.
Xiao Yunqing had followed him here at some point, leaning against the bathroom door frame and tilting her head to look at him.
She watched him holding a razor, looking at himself in the mirror from left to right, for a while, before speaking.
"I'll shave it for you."
Song Huan glanced at her in the mirror. "You?"
"What's wrong? Is it not okay?" She walked over, took the razor from his hand, and examined it from all angles. "I often shave my dad at home."
Song Huan thought about Xiao Haifeng's face.
The deputy director of the Public Security Bureau was over 1.8 meters tall, with a angular face, a square chin, and a clean-shaven beard. Every morning when he left home, he looked like he had just come out of the factory.
Xiao Yunqing helped him shave?
He imagined the scene: Xiao Haifeng sitting in a chair, Xiao Yunqing shaving his chin with a razor.
Xiao Haifeng looked nervous, but dared not move, afraid that his daughter would scratch his face.
"Are you sure?" Song Huan looked at her, a hint of doubt in her eyes. "You're not planning to slit my throat, are you?"
Xiao Yunqing glared at him. "Say that again?"
Song Huan shut up.
He came out of the bathroom and lay down on the sofa.
His head was resting on the cushion, and his chin was pointing upwards.
Xiao Yunqing followed her out, sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of the sofa, raised the razor, and glanced at the blade in the light.
"Come on, let's sever all ties, let's end our feud." Song Huan lay on the sofa, looking like he was bravely facing death.
"You're crazy," Xiao Yunqing muttered.
"Don't move," she said, pressing a switch.
The razor buzzed, its sound echoing in the quiet living room.
She placed the blade against his chin gently, as if afraid of hurting him.
The blade made a soft rustling sound as it touched the beard, like the chirping of insects on a summer night.
Her hand moved across his chin, from left to right, from the tip of his chin to his cheek.
The movements were slow and careful. After each scrape, the blade was lifted, glanced at, and then put back down.
Song Huan lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.
But his attention wasn't on the ceiling; it was on his chin.
A slight vibration came from the blade, a tingling, itchy sensation.
Her hand occasionally touched his face; her fingertips were cool and gentle, like a feather brushing against his skin.
so comfy.
His eyelids started to feel heavy.
The cracks on the ceiling blurred, and the lamp base turned into a halo that slowly spread across the field of vision.
The buzzing of the razor became background noise, like the distant buzzing of a bee, fading further and further away.
He closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking down, as if soaking in warm water.
He woke up after an unknown amount of time.
It's not the kind of waking up from being disturbed, but the kind of waking up slowly as you float to the surface from the bottom of the water.
My consciousness gradually returned, and the first thing I heard was the sound of rain outside the window, a soft pattering sound, louder than before.
Then came the sound of razors, and then nothing.
Then came the sound of breathing, very soft, very close, not one's own.
He opened his eyes.
The first thing you see is a white ceiling.
Then there was a face looking at him from above.
Xiao Yunqing lowered her head, her chin facing him, tilted her head, and was looking at him with a smile.
Her eyes curved into crescent moons, and the corners of her mouth turned up.
The expression on his face...
How to put it? It's like a little girl looking at a sleeping cat, thinking it's cute, but also afraid of waking it up.
Her hair fell down, brushing against his face, tickling him.
Song Huan was stunned for a moment, then realized what she was using as a pillow.
It's not a back cushion; a back cushion is placed behind the lower back.
The back of his head rested on something soft, warm, and undulating.
He moved slightly and heard her breathing change.
He rested his head on her lap!
She didn't know when, but she moved him from the cushion to her lap.
She probably didn't have the heart to wake him after he fell asleep, and she also felt that he was uncomfortable with his head on the cushion, so she moved him over to his side.
His head rested on her lap, and he could feel the warmth of her legs through her pants—warm and soft.
Her hand rested on his shoulder, unmoving, just there.
Light from outside leaked through the gaps in the curtains and fell on her face.
Sunlight?
He glanced out the window. The rain had stopped, and a crack had appeared in the clouds, letting in beams of light, like stage lights.
The light shone directly on her face, making her look radiant.
Her hair was black, her eyes were a bright black, and her skin was so white it was almost translucent, revealing fine veins below her temples.
She tilted her head to look at him, smiling, as if she were looking at something precious, something she liked very much, something she couldn't bear to part with.
Looking at her, Song Huan felt for a moment that she was like an angel.
Not the solemn, aloof angels depicted in church stained glass windows.
They are the kind of little angels who accidentally fell to earth and don't even know if they've folded their wings properly.
He was sitting on the sofa in a slightly awkward posture, with his legs crossed and his back a little bent. A few strands of his hair were messy, but the light on his face was real, and the light in his eyes was real too.
He looked at her for two seconds, and she looked at him for two seconds.
"Awake?" she asked softly, as if afraid of startling him.
"Hmm." His voice was a little hoarse, like he had just woken up.
"You slept for ages, you're such a pig," she said, gently patting his shoulder with her finger. "I stopped shaving a long time ago, but I saw you were asleep, so I didn't wake you."
Song Huan didn't move.
He rested his head on her lap, looking at her face.
She looked at him but didn't urge him to get up.
The living room was quiet. The light from the window moved from her face to his face, and then moved away from his face.
"Is it comfortable?" she asked.
"Um."
"Then lie down for a while longer," she said softly, as if coaxing a child to sleep.
Song Huan didn't speak and closed her eyes.
Her hand moved from his shoulder to his forehead, gently brushing aside his bangs and the few strands of hair that were obscuring his eyes.
The fingertips were cool as they brushed across his forehead, leaving a thin, cool mark.
He closed his eyes, feeling the mark slowly warm up, becoming the temperature of her palm.
The light from outside the window was moving, from the sofa to the coffee table, and from the coffee table to the floor.
The sunlight after the rain is not glaring, but soft, as if it has been washed by water.
He lay on her lap, listening to her breathing, listening to the raindrops outside the window dripping from the eaves and hitting the air conditioner unit, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong.
He remembered that afternoon for a long time.
It wasn't because she shaved his beard, nor because she let him rest his head on her lap.
It was because of that light. That light that shone through the crack in the clouds and fell right on her face.
Shine the light on her face, shine the light on her eyes, shine the light on her whole being.
She tilted her head and looked at him with a smile, like an angel.
I can never forget this scene.