The next day, when Qin Feng woke up and moved a little, he could hear a girl's moans and groans in his ears.
He suddenly turned over and sat up, and then he noticed that his arm was pressing down on Wang Anruo's hair. The latter moved his neck and was pulled, and he opened his hazy eyes.
"You're awake." Qin Feng said apologetically, "Did it hurt you?"
Wang Anruo shrank down and pulled the quilt to cover his face, leaving only his eyes exposed. He shook his head and nodded.
"My hair doesn't hurt," she said with a blush, "but only my hair doesn't hurt."
Qin Feng's words made the dignified seven-foot-tall man feel a little embarrassed, and he didn't know what to say.
No matter how comfortable a man is among women, he is still shy in front of the woman he really likes, like Liu Ya in early spring.
Qin Feng has been able to stay away from the socialite circle in Guanhai City for several years. The key is not to lose his mind.
Regardless of whether they are men or women, they have always been able to deal with those who don't like them but stick to them.
As long as you can get over the hurdle of conscience,
"I'll make breakfast for you." He got up, got dressed, and went to the kitchen in despair.
Wang Anruo looked at his fleeing back and chuckled, feeling amused. When had he ever seen Qin Feng, who was so steady in everything, look like this?
While chatting, he had poems and books in his belly, and when he was working, Wang Anruo rested his head on his hands, listening to the sound of kissing knives and chopping boards coming from the kitchen, wondering how many aspects of this man he had never seen before?
She was not in a hurry.
It took decades to slowly explore.
It happened that Qin Feng also had this intention.
"Are you used to eating porridge?"
Qin Feng peeled an egg and put it in front of Wang Anruo.
"Well, it tastes much better than the ones bought outside." Wang Anruo blew on the hot porridge gently and sipped it like a kitten afraid of being burned: "It tastes better than the breakfast shop under the big willow tree."
She was talking about the breakfast shop on the way to school when she was a child. The couple, both in their forties, cooked breakfast for the children passing by.
She told Qin Feng about what happened when she was a child, saying that it was the most delicious breakfast in her memory, and it had the taste of childhood.
"We have a holiday the day after tomorrow, and I will go back to Jiangcheng that day." Qin Feng said: "When you have had enough fun in Jiangcheng and the holiday is over, I will talk to Uncle Wang about marriage when I go to your house again."
This matter came out of Qin Feng's mouth as casually as deciding what to eat in the morning, whether to take the bus or the subway when going out.
Wang Anruo just nodded slightly, hummed, and still lowered his head to drink the porridge.
It seems random, but they all know that this is something they must face in life.
Some people are open-minded and willing to enjoy themselves all their lives; some people are reluctant just to cope with their parents.
And more people like Qin Feng and Wang Anruo met people who were willing to grow old together.
One of them had celebrated his twenty-sixth birthday, and the other had turned twenty-seven last night.
Talking about marriage is a sure thing, not to mention that they don't hate it.
"I'm going back to my hometown in the south of the Yangtze River today." Wang Anruo suddenly seemed to have thought of something, his eyes twitching: "I will be very busy next time. When I can rarely go home to see my grandpa, I have to go back and see him... You must know that there are some things that my dad has said that don’t count, and you have to see him sooner or later."
Wang Anruo's grandfather.
Qin Feng has imagined this person in his mind countless times. He supported Wang Anruo's childhood, raised Uncle Wang's three children, and had the majesty of a general.
He lowered his head and picked up an egg. With just a slight squeeze, the eggshell cracked.
Some things are like this eggshell. After breaking, is it sticky egg liquid or a delicious hard-boiled egg?
Qin Feng stayed in Qingshan Community until almost noon, made lunch for Wang Anruo, and then left after she took a nap and lay down.
He finally drove the Hongqi H9 back to his rental house. Wang Anruo said it was a birthday gift for him.
The car that was left at Uncle Wang's place was parked downstairs and collecting dust. It was better to drive it by myself and send it for maintenance on time than to park it all the time.
"Driving to work is a bit arrogant."
Qin Feng stood by the bedroom window and watched the neighbors downstairs stop and wonder when they passed by the car. He thought that he might as well drive on the weekend to go on a date with Wang Anruo.
"You can drive back to Jiangcheng during the National Day holiday. Just find a parking lot in Jiangcheng and park there. You don't have to drive home." Qin Feng made a plan in his mind: "If An is really going to come, he can't take her by bus. Playing in Jiangcheng."
After a pause, he smiled and closed the curtains, "I think Anruo was afraid that her identity would be exposed. No wonder she always wore a mask before. I thought she had a strong sense of protection."
The light was cut off by the curtains, and the bedroom fell into darkness.
He turned on the bedside table lamp, and there was a little fluorescent light like a scholar studying at night in a temple who was rushing for exams.
In addition, the brush he took out as soon as he flipped his hand made it even more artistic.
But this brush is obviously not used for writing.
"Perhaps we can use this thing to help An Ruo." Qin Feng looked at the system props in his hand: "If the substitutes are those famous lyricists, and their lyrics skills are comparable to his own writing and thinking skills, I think it should be possible. "
After thinking about it, he turned on his computer, searched for the top lyricists in the Chinese music scene today, carefully analyzed their styles, and then selected one that suited Fang Nianwei.
[Recite his name silently in your mind, imagine his appearance, and you can think about what he thinks and see what he sees. 】
Qin Feng held the brush in his hand and slowly closed his eyes.
After taking a few deep breaths, he stood motionless in the room, as if he had fallen into trance.
After a few minutes like this, he suddenly raised his eyebrows, then frowned tightly, slowly raised his hand, and wrote the first stroke in mid-air with a brush.
A magical scene happened. The place where the brush stroked in mid-air left a bright blue ink mark. Then Qin Feng kept stopping and the writing speed accelerated, as if he had adapted to something. The writing was no longer sour and became smoother and smoother. .
After a while, the air in the room was filled with blue writing everywhere Qin Feng could reach it. A few words could be vaguely seen as lyrics, but they were not very coherent and the style was constantly changing.
It's like two people discussing literature together, and eventually a unity slowly formed.
Qin Feng stopped writing, opened his eyes and looked at the words around him, his eyes becoming clear and bright.
“Only after I joined the industry did I realize how far apart a newcomer is from a top professional, no matter what industry.”
He looked at the brush in his hand, the corner of his mouth raised slightly, and a book was already written in his mind.
One of the three shiny lines on the pen barrel has dimmed, indicating that it has been used less often.
Qin Feng turned over and put the brush back into the system backpack, and the surrounding words turned into flowing light and entered Qin Feng's forehead.
He took the time to sit in front of the computer, create a new document, and start composing a song for Wang Anruo that perfectly suited her.
"I hope I can help you during the game." Qin Feng murmured to himself, his fingers flying on the keyboard, as if he was writing normally, and came to his home court.
(End of chapter)
