The day of loving each other

Hi, it turned out to be a hometown, or alumni of the university, I actually do not know. After a decent handshake and exchange of cell phone numbers, they began to exchange pleasantries. It is also three or four minutes, but the two people have nothing more to say, then separate again. Mostly, she was uncomfortable. She has picked herself up well today, plain and proper, but in the end she is not comfortable. This kind of reception is really too extravagant, too extravagant, so that she is always like a dream. In fact, she is a Cinderella, dabbling in the food to come. Friends are right, dilly-dallying is false, dilly-dallying opportunity is true, dilly-dallying, meet a bole, or catch a big money, are possible. This year is the lack of opportunity is not it. Friends have long said, like "our age" girls, the most important thing is actually two things: first, throw your head; second, show up - the opportunity is not installed with GPS long-range missiles, which can be aimed at your sky, don't get yourself Cost - Bin Laden.

But the meal is not good to rub which is no different from being a thief. These days, people have actually been divided into classes, three or five groups, five or six piles, they are laughing and joking together, which pile does not have her share. The hard to get together is not to get up. Occasionally someone and her a face, are uniform, polite and measured smile. She can only smile hastily, but her smile is always half a beat slower, just smiling, people have brushed past. This time her smile will lose its object, very hollow hanging on the face, a moment still can not take down. This is not a good feeling, very bad. She had to hold a glass of wine, smiling blankly, saying in her heart, "My God, your father!

But the phone rang. Only two rings, she sent the phone to the ear. The young people who have not found a job or life is not yet settled have a common feature, answer the phone especially fast. The ringing of the phone is their life - there is an imperceptible illusion here, as if every phone call is hiding a great opportunity, can not be neglected, a negligence will be delayed. "Hello one," she said, but the phone didn't return. She owed up and asked again, "- Hello?"

The phone said slowly, "It's me."

"Who's this?"

The voice on the phone was even slower and said, "--Good people forget things. You don't even recognize me. Lift your head, yes, look to the left, yes, the door of the bathroom. It's about eight or nine meters from you." She saw it, it was him. She had just met him a few minutes ago, her alumnus and hometown friend. At this moment, her alumni cum hometown was crooked at the door of the bathroom, head down, glass of wine in one hand, cell phone in the other, quite happy, looking like his beloved flirting, being in love.

"I envy you," he said, "not even a year and a half after graduation, and you're mixed up in this company. What's the saying? A gold-collar girl, yes, that's you."

She smiled, dropped her eyes, and said to the phone, "You're early in the company, and you need more care, buddy."

The phone laughed and said, "I'm here to rub it in. You have to take care of my little brother more."

She held the phone with one hand and clasped her other hand in front of her chest, which was her favorite action, or shape, with her small arm under her breasts, making her look plump and slender, a "beautiful person" look. She said to the phone, "I'm here for the dinner too."

Both men stopped talking, raised their heads at about the same time, and looked at each other, eight or nine meters apart. Their eyes went through a whole lot of senior or lucky heads, sizing each other up and having fun. They were no longer lonely and seemed to regain their confidence. He smiled, looked down at his toes, had a spare moment, and said, "Pretty good wine, isn't it?"

She put her eyes out the window and said, "I don't know anything about wine, just pick the good-looking ones and drink them."

"How can you pick a good-looking drink." He sounded like a man who had been there before, who had taken care of himself, and said slowly, "You have to taste all the colors. The first thing you need to do is to try them all, and then focus on one brand to drink. Let it go, ah, let it go. There is big brother." Then he added, "Don't hang up the phone, you hear?"

"Why?"

"To chat with big brother."

"Why can't you hang up?"

"Silly." He said, "Who do you talk to when you hang up? Who will pay attention to you, how hurt the self-esteem which - just typing, this can save us both vanity, we are also in the day to day. Do you know what is meant by "day-to-day"? Remember, it's having someone to talk crap with."

She cocked her head and was listening. Replaced a glass of wine and headed off into the distance in a modest manner. A subtle, busy smile all over her face. She has someone to smile for now, not here, a thousand miles away. The light at the reception was great, the music was great, and the wine was certainly better, but she just couldn't drink without worrying and couldn't say hello to anyone. It's busy. She kept nodding her head, occasionally taking a sip, her face lyrical with a smile. She is convinced that her smile is a thousand times more charming. Day your father's.

"Thank you, big brother."

"Where words, I want to thank you!"

"Better go, impostor." She said cheerfully.

"Can't go." He said, "What a nice drink, it doesn't cost anything."

Three hours later, they woke up, and so did the wine. They made love and then took a nap - for a while. His comforter and body smelled like a mixture of alcohol and semen. I can't say it was good or bad, it was the acceptable type. Apparently, neither the comforter nor the body he washed often. However, his body heat is moving, warm, vigorous, almost hot, with a strong dispersion. Because of the body heat, the smell has a good side again. She held him close, pressed against his back, and took a very deep, deep breath.

That's when he woke up, and as soon as he did, he turned around, looked at her, and froze for a moment. It was also the gaze that froze, which was actually not easily noticeable in the darkness, but still did not escape her eyes. "Wrong person, right?" She said with a smile. He laughed and said honestly, "Wrong person."

"Got a girlfriend?" She asked.

"No." He said.

"Have you?"

"Of course I have. What about you?"

She thought for a moment and said, "Been dumped once, dumped someone else twice. A couple of other minor fights. What about you?"

He sat up, put on his clothes, sighed, and said, "What's the point of talking about it. It's all for naught."

The two men just chatted, and he had turned the light on. The fluorescent light turned upside down twice, illuminating his bedroom all at once. It wasn't really accurate to say bedroom - his clothes, boxes, books, dishes and computer were all in there. His computer was dirty, no better than the cigarette holder. She squinted her eyes and roughly estimated that her "home" was two or three square feet larger than this one. When she could open her eyes, she was sure that it was not two or three square feet, but four. She had taken this course in her four years of college, and her vision was already as accurate as the drawings.

He suddenly felt a little hungry, and at the reception he drank and did not eat yet. He put on a cotton sweater and said, "Let's go out and eat something, my treat." She did not say "yes" or "no", but pulled the quilt tighter and tucked it under her chin, "Stay - a little longer." She said, "Let's do it again."

At eleven o'clock at night, it was freezing cold, and the roads were sparsely populated with pedestrians and vehicles. But it opened up and the lights were unusually bright. The streetlights on both sides pulled out a voluminous perspective, flashy and long, all the way to the sky. The cabs were so fast that they scurried past with a whimper.

They sat down at a roadside stall. It was her suggestion, she said she "likes big stalls". Of course he knew, just to save him a little. They sat near the fireplace and asked for two bowls of fried noodles, two grilled fish, and two bowls of tomato and egg soup. Although close to the fireplace, but in the end it is still cold, the nest of the hot air this moment has long been dissipated. He stood up the collar of his coat and copied both hands into the sleeves, staring at the fire in the stove. The soup came up, when she drank the soup, he seriously looked at her for the first time, her face has long faded red, a face of cold, some yellow, and some green around the eye sockets. Not to say good-looking, is the kind of extremely wide range of looks. However, during her lovemaking, her thin and strong waist was really attractive. Her waist where so buoyant.

A winter wind blew over. The "wall" of the stall is actually a plastic film, which is now bent by the winter wind and rose up, like a side of a balloon. The light bulbs overhead also swayed, and their figures swayed left and right on the ground, like a bed, fierce and tangled. He looked at the shadows on the ground, remembering all the details of the meeting with her, and suddenly came to a kiss, wanting to wrap her up and wrap her properly in the inside of the coat. There is an apology here, he should not have invited her to such a place at "such a time". Next time, next time, she must be invited to a decent place, at least, surrounded by real walls.

Her hands held the bowl of soup, very involved, swallowed the last big mouthful, the last breath, exclaiming: "- good!"

He drew his arm out of the sleeve and caressed her gills with his hand. Her gills rubbed against his palm, completing the soft caress for him. "I'm so happy today!" She said.

"Yes," he said, "it's a good day." He slid his thumb over the corner of her eye. It's a funny thing, "happy", to leave when you say you will, and to come generously when you say you will.

The owner and chef of the stall seemed to be happy with the rendering, he lit a cigarette with a red poker and was whispering something to his female helper, most likely flirting, the look of the female helper was there. It also looked like a country girl, the fire in the hearth jumped on her open face. Apart from their "two pairs" of men and women, there was no one else in the stall. It was freezing cold. He spoke to the owner of the stall while he was happy: "It's so late and no one is there, why isn't it closed?"

"How can there be no one," said the owner, "the second driver of the cab is about to eat, there is still the last set of business."

After "dinner" they braved the cold wind and walked a little further down the road late at night, that is, 40 or 50 meters. Under a street lamp, he wrapped her in his coat and leaned against the pole. He pressed close to her and kissed her at the same time. The kiss was good, with the taste of fried noodles, grilled fish and tomato and egg soup. All for free. He released both of her lips and said, "-Yum!"

She laughed, suddenly a little embarrassed, and buried her head in his chest for a good long while. She tugged on his collar, lifted her head, and said, "That's nice. It's all like being in love."

There was another gust of wind. His eyes had to squint. When the gust passed, his eyes came free and he smiled, "No," he said, "it's all like being in love."

She kissed him back. He patted her on the buttocks and said, "Go back, I won't see you off, I have to go to work."

His "shift" was at the Tobe Street food court. In the absence of a counterpart, formal work, he has been in the Tobe Street vegetable market to do the pick-up. The so-called "pick-up", to put it bluntly, is also handling, the melon, fruit, vegetables, fish, meat, poultry, eggs from the big truck down, after weighing, and then sorted, sent to different stalls. These things used to be done by the stall owners themselves, but - outsiders often do not know - those gray-headed stall owners are actually rich people, which are rich people also do manual labor. The stallholders do not do, well, his chance can come. He said his idea and a few stall owners, but also let them feel his muscles. A few stallholders met, okay. The money is not high, spread out a calculation, very good value, each family is also three melons and two dates.

The amount of labor to receive the goods is not large, but difficult in the time. In the second half of the night. It can only be the second half of the night. First, the daytime truck can not enter the city; second, vegetables delicate, can not be "next day", a "next day" the quality is not right. Appearance is the lifeblood of vegetables, the price is all on this head. On the character of vegetables, the stall owner, Brother Hu had a very insightful discussion, Brother Hu said that vegetables are "Miss", a good price is twenty years old, once wilted, skin collapsed, wrinkled, the price do not want to go up!

Leaving aside the "Miss", compared to the next, he most like to "catch" is also vegetables. Not greasy, not greasy, "catch" finished, rinse hands, as soon as the morning can go to bed. The most fear is the damn poultry eggs, whether it is eggs, duck eggs or quail eggs, a slip of the hand, a clatter, a do not want to pick up. As long as the "clatter" once, his month of sweat is no longer sweat, but urine. Urine is not worth it.

At the beginning of the pickup he was a little squirmy and seemed very aggrieved. Now it is good again, quite like it. Physical work he is not afraid of, the head of the night to consume a good. A body of brute strength in the body to do what, every day when you get up in the crotch of the penis headless rack there, but also to make the appearance of aiming, and no target. Now much better, the penis is understandable, early in the morning has basically stopped.

But then again, he still doesn't like it in the end, mainly because it's not safe. In order to make ends meet, in the Tobe Street vegetable market temporary transition, of course, no problem, but can not "pick up" a lifetime "Miss" it. Also twenty-four years old, always to get a wife, always to have a home. Once he thought of this, there was always an indescribable despondency in his heart, but also some self-pity. Especially afraid to look at the shelves. The shelves in the morning sun are full of a wide range of leeks, celery, lettuce, peppers, garlic, beef, lamb, wind wings, duck claws, pork loin, and smooth and round poultry eggs. These do not belong to him. It's not that he can't afford it, it's that "grocery shopping" is one of the most everyday lifestyles that doesn't belong to him. He longed for such a day, a Sunday morning, a very homely day, he woke up, holding "her" hand, walking in front of the shelves of the Tobe Street vegetable market, and then, together with "her" picking and choosing. Even if it's a piece of tofu, even if it's a handful of spinach - it would be nice to live like that. There will be. There will be.

As a "pick up", he never looked at the shelves at the end of the day, as soon as it was light, turned around and left, went back to "home", and fell asleep.

Tobe Street food court is some distance from his residence. He intended to rent a house nearby, because of the location, but the price is nearly double. It's not easy to make a living in the city. He has not moved the idea of going back home, but, no, can not go back. It is not a matter of face, when he did not get into college instead of good, the family to start a family, the part-time job - now, he is not even a palm-sized land in his hometown, and no capital, how can stand it? What can be done is to go out to work. Instead of going back and coming out again, it would be better to stay in the city. Alas, the pace of his life is chaotic, can not catch up with the trip to the city, but also can not catch up with the trip to the countryside. When the middle school classmates are fathers and mothers, he is a bachelor, the ability to go home for New Year's Eve, a "uncle" a hundred dollars, two "uncle" two hundred dollars, he is still worth money. How did he become a "dragon"? How did he get into college? A person cannot be talented to such an extent!

In the end, young, fire power, and she broke up only two or three days, his body acted up, the trouble. "Want" her, "want" her thin and strong waist, "want" her perseverance buoyancy. But, she still will not it? That day but drank a stomach of wine - he was not sure at all. Let's try, let's try. He picked up the phone with one hand, but the other hand went into his pants pocket and held himself down. She didn't answer. The phone finally said, "Sorry, the other party's phone is unanswered."

He closed the phone, ashamed. Such a thing was not supposed to happen again and again. He stood on the street, looking at the winter sunset, angry with himself, with an unexplainable chagrin, and a little bit of panic. He just stood there, cupping his phone in one hand and holding himself in the other. But he was not able to escape the compulsion of the flesh, and once again dialed the phone over. This time it went through, joyfully.

"Who is it?" She said.

"It's me." He said.

"Who are you?" She said. Her breath sounded very weak and her voice was extraordinarily husky, like she was a thousand miles away.

His heart sank. The problem wasn't that her breath was false, the problem was that she really didn't hear his voice. It was not like she was faking it.

"Your man is forgetful." He said, deliberately raising the tone of his voice to a high pitch. That high was actually full of care. "It's me..., classmate, and hometown, your big brother!"

He also heard himself, his accent greasy. This is a time when only a slick can preserve his weak decency. This phone call he said nothing should be called.

There was no sound on the phone. A long, long period of silence. He was so embarrassed that he wanted to throw the phone out, from Nanjing all the way back to his old home. This call should not have been made at all.

That's when the unexpected happened. After a long period of silence, the phone suddenly came from her crying, to be precise, sobbing. She called out "brother" and said, "Come and see me."

He held the phone to his ear until he walked into the basement, until he pushed open the door to her room. As they looked at each other, their phones were still pressed to their ears, and they were already hot. But her forehead was hotter than the phone. She was running a high fever, both pupils burning crystal clear, burning nice and pitiful.

"Get up," he said loudly, "I'll take you to the hospital."

She was crying a moment ago, and when he came she seemed to be well again, with a smile on her face. "No," she said hoarsely, "it won't kill me."

He looked at her head on the pillow, all alone, a large chunk already sunken into her eye sockets compared to that day. She must have stayed up too long, or she wouldn't look like this. He remembered the days he'd stayed up in bed last month, and suddenly there was a pang of sorrow. "- you've been lying here?" He said, knowingly.

"Yeah, not lying at the Golden Hotel." And she joked.

"Hurry to the hospital which-"

"No need."

"Go ah!"

"Can't die!" She finally snapped at him. In the end, once in bed, and too lonely, she took him as a family member for no reason, a "family" only tone, "nagging you to death!"

"--- still go ......"

"Can not die." She said, "Two more days will pass - why go to the hospital? A trip is four or five hundred."

He wanted to say "I'll pay for you", swallowed. These people have a common problem, in the issue of money has a morbid pride, and can turn against each other. He lost his smile and said, "Go ahead, I'm buying."

"I don't want you to treat me to be sick." She closed her eyes and turned away, "I can't die. I'll be fine in two more days."

He stopped insisting, but his hands and feet went numb, first boiling water and then, tending to her room. I don't know what she's like on a regular basis, but at this point her room is no longer a room, full of toilet paper to wipe her nose, paper cups, bags of Bananas, banana peels, socks, and two pairs of crumpled underwear. He complained while cleaning up, where still like a girl, how to get married, who will want you? Who will marry you back who the * stupid x!

After complaining, he also finished cleaning up. After cleaning, the water was also boiled. He poured her a glass of boiling water, told her it was "hot" and went downstairs. He bought cold medicine, thermometer, alcohol, cotton pads, bread, fast food noodles, toilet paper rolls, fruit, and a box of Dove chocolates. He took the things he bought out of the plastic pockets, neatly and tidily yarded all proper on the table, he sat down on the edge of her bed, took her half in his arms, picked up a cup to feed her medicine, and also fed her a lot of boiled water. As she drank her fill, she wrinkled her brow and turned her head sideways. He then began to feed the bread. He tore the bread into pieces and stuffed it into her mouth. When she was full, she wrinkled her brow again and her head turned sideways again. He then stuffed another pear. Not finding a fruit knife either, he nibbled around the surface of the pear with his teeth.

"Why didn't you call me yesterday?" She said, "Why didn't you call me the day before?" Having drunk and eaten enough, her spirits returned.

How is this to be answered, it's not good anymore. He just left her alone, took off his shoes and got under the covers at the other end of the bed. They just covered in the blanket, watching and not talking. She suddenly moved her body in and lifted a corner of the comforter, and she said, "Come here, lie down next to me." He smiled and said, "It's better to lie here. It's easy to think wrong when you're lying there - you're sick."

"Brother, don't you know how much your feet stink?" She kicked him, "Your feet stink to high heaven!"

By about early summer, his relationship with her was relatively stable, and by stable, I mean there was a rhythm that no longer changed. They saw each other once a week and made love twice a week. It was usually her who came over. Each time his performance was perfect, and twice she even gave him a hundred percent. They both like to rate each other afterwards, which is an important part of the afterplay. There is no foreplay, and there is no need for it. It always takes a few minutes from the time the call is made until she gets here. These few minutes are impatient, so to speak, fire and fury. Their foreplay is their waiting and imagination, waiting and imagination are on fire.

Without foreplay, afterplay in turn is extraordinarily important, otherwise, what for? Unless then do it again. Physically, neither party had a problem, but each time she was in control, "Next time, you have the night shift at the head of the night". Their afterplay is nothing more than scoring each other, adding up twice and dividing by two. They then carved the result of dividing by two on the wall, which was filled with Arabic numbers, and no one knew what a muddle it was.

After some days of playing, he stopped playing. On the issue of scoring men always lose out, men, however, have his hard indicators. In fact, it is because of this that she insisted on playing. She said, in the digital age, feelings do not count, everything depends on the numbers to speak.

The brutality of numbers finally manifested itself that late afternoon, quite brutally. He had arranged to meet her at 1:00 pm at Drum Tower Square and said he had good news for her. I didn't expect him to wilt once we met, and he didn't say a word when asked. Back "home", he still did not say, what to do, or do it. He failed the first time. She had to be patient and wait for him. The second time he failed even faster. She laughed her ass off and said to him, "Zero plus zero divided by two is still zero!" She specially found a circle gauge from his drawer and made sure to draw the circle, which was nothing, on the wall for him intact. She did not notice how gloomy his face was at this moment, he grabbed the circle gauge from her hand and threw it out of the window with a "whoop", his face was blue and the atmosphere was immediately wrong.

Because his action is too fierce, her hand was cut by the circular gauge, the blood is not deep, but in the end there are three centimeters long, scary. For so long, sex aside, they actually got along like brother and sister, and she had come to see him as a brother in private. How could her face stand up when he turned his back on her like that. She covered the wound, the blood was already coming out and it hurt badly. She was the one who had to be coaxed at this time, of course. But she actually knew that her joke must have hurt his man's pride, and in turn coaxed him. I didn't expect him to be ungrateful, a slap pushed her away, blood splattered on the wall. This push really hurt her heart, you are doing brother, sister are so let you, coaxing you, you still want what you!

She no longer cared about the wound, picked up the clothes and put on. She wants to go, never want to see you again. It's a zero, and you're still throwing a tantrum!

Her going finally calmed him down and grabbed her from behind her in a hug. He picked up her hand, and he looked at her blood and suddenly burst into tears. He took her hand in his palm and licked it over and over again with his tongue. His expression was unbearably dejected, as if he was bleeding. Her heart softened, and in turn, she felt sorry for him and called out to him "brother". He ended up wrapping her wound with his lame tie and then took her hand over his face. He said in her palm: "Am I really useless? Was I born to be a zero?"

"It's a joke, how can you take this seriously. It's not our first time."

"I'm a useless thing." He said firmly, "I was born to be a zero."

"Good for you." She said, "You know, I like you in bed."

He laughed, but tears ran up at once. "Of course I know that. That's all I'm good for." He said, "I don't have any self-confidence left, and I can barely carry myself."

She understood. She actually already understood, just can not ask it. He went out for an interview early in the morning, "try" is "try" over, "face" but did not stay down.

"You, you are not as good as me." She coaxed him, "How many times have I been interviewed? You see, the more I 'wipe' my face, the more shiny."

"It's not a matter of interview or not!" He became agitated, "How could she look at me like that? That lady boss, how can she look at me like that? It's like I'm a pile of shit! A pee! A fart!"

She hugged him. She knew. She did know. To stay in NJ, she had met more eyes than she could count from her junior year to now. What is the scariest thing in the world to them all? What is the most relentless? Eyes. Some people's eyes can pick up skin, some people's eyes can ejaculate. The eyes that ejaculate are so terrible that if you're not careful, it will get all over your face, and it's too late to wipe it off. The head of the eyes of all kinds of taste, not the person can not understand.

She pulled him to the bed and lay on his back to comfort him. She stroked his chest, kissed his hair, she turned his head over and suddenly laughed, an extraordinarily evil laugh. She stared into his eyes and said incomparably playfully, "I'm the boss, and you're a pile of shit! What can you do with me? Hmm? What can you do with me?" It was at this point that his belly full of grief and despair broke down into a domineering sex. He pinned her back on the bed as soon as he could, and she screamed as unparalleled pleasure spread through every hair. She cried out, defiantly. She finally knew that he was so this great.

"Easy," she said as she lay back on the bed, on all fours. She rubbed her hand over her belly and sighed, "I'm not stressed about anything at this point, it's so relaxing - are you?"

"Yeah," he gasped, looking at the floorboards above him, "I'm much more relaxed too."

"Believe me, brother," she said, "as long as it's easy, the day will pass - we can carry on any way!"

And so it was. Except for her "inconvenient days," they saw each other once a week, twice a week. They did not live together, but the two are getting closer and closer, and occasionally talk about home or something. He did have the idea of asking her to move in, which would definitely be a big subsidy for her expenses. However, he didn't dare to say it when the words came to his mouth. Her expenses are down, but his expenses are up, with three meals a day. Can he hold up? If you can't carry it down, and then let people move out, two people will never be able to live together again. It's better not to move, it's better to stay the same.

But he is getting worried about her, how can she do it alone. It's better to live together, buy groceries together, and have sex conveniently. Sex is really a very strange thing, it is what kind of a drug, how to call people so easy it. Another thing is also very strange, do more, people become sticky, especially kiss, want to treat her well. But in the end how - a "treatment" to be considered good, and can not say. However, his so little mind in the time of sex still manifested. In the beginning, at the beginning, he was selfish, thinking only of solving his "problem". Now it's different, he's more like a brother, much more considerate. He is controlling himself as much as possible to make her happier. When she's better, he's better. He just hoped she would get better sooner.

After the autumn cool down she went back home. He actually wanted to go back with her, a thought, not. Leaving the Tobe Street vegetable farm for two weeks, the post is not possible to wait for him. How many people stronger than him are staring at his position. He was not polite, just bought her a few fruits on the way out, "eat on the way. This is how to nibble, all washed."

It is said that "a small farewell is better than a new marriage. They do not know what it is like to be a newlywed, however, "a small farewell" is how the victory, he and she together to enjoy. In fact, it is only two weeks apart, but this one is not ordinary. He is calling the wind, she can call the rain. Good to die. This time she didn't score him, she showed her arrogant, savage and careless side, asking for it over and over again. Then it was he who begged for mercy, saying pathetically, "I can't. There's the night shift."

"Whatever. You are the brother, you have to be nice to me."

Then be nice again. They went to bed in the afternoon, and by ten o'clock at night she had no intention of getting up. The two of them were naked, lying in his naked arms, talking and talking, and hooking her arms around his neck in turn. The two of them were infinitely delighted, infinitely entwined. She suddenly "Oh", remembered something, bowed her waist and pulled over her blouse, pulled out her cell phone from the pocket of her blouse. She held the phone and said, "Brother, let's discuss something, okay?" His hands held her breasts, his chin rested on her shoulders, his head lifted, and he said, "Go ahead." She pulled a photo of a man from her phone and said, "This guy's name is Zhao, he's single, and his annual income is about $160,000." She cracked a few buttons and pulled out another photo of another man, saying, "This one, surnamed Hao, divorced once, has a seven-year-old daughter, annual income of about 300,000, has a house and a car." After the introduction, she put the phone on her lap and held his hand, she nestled all five of her fingers in his, slowly rubbing them, "I just want to talk to you about it - you say, which one is better?"

He brought the phone over, repeatedly compared it, repeatedly looked at it, and finally said, "Or the one surnamed Hao." She thought about it and said, "Actually, that's what I thought." He said, "It's better to have more income to be stable." She said, "Actually, I think so too." The process of deliberation was so simple that the conclusion came out immediately. She then laid down in his arms with special determination and exhaustion, holding hands and rubbing them together over and over again. Later she said, "Brother, dress me, will you?" Pissed off. He then dressed her naked and tugged all the folds on her clothes and pants for her. He wanted to send her off, she said, or do not send it, or hurry up and eat something to go. She said, there is a night shift.

So he didn't send her off. After she left he sat down on the bed, lit a cigarette, and incidentally picked up her hair that had fallen on the bed. This crazy girl, like to shake her head when making love, the bed sheets are full of her hair. He picked one by one, there is no place to put it, so he wrapped it around the fingertips of his left index finger. After smoking a cigarette, put out the cigarette, he gave himself dressed. When his clothes were ready, he should go downstairs to eat. When walking down the aisle he suddenly felt a little pain in his left index finger, look, hey, all hair. He jerked off the hair and used a lighter to light it. The building was empty, but the air was full of her. She smells so good.