Seagulls are no longer attached to the sea and can fly farther (70)

Chu Yu climbed up from the sofa. He didn't know if it was because he slept for a long time. His head always felt groggy. He didn't eat at night, and his stomach felt like a needle prick all the time.

Rubbing his hair casually, Chu Yu half-closed his eyes and went downstairs to eat something in the refrigerator to fill his stomach, which made his stomach feel better.

Xing Zhuo lived on the third floor. There were no lights in the corridor, and it was dark, like an endless abyss.

Chu Yu pressed his sore and swollen neck, wondering if Xing Zhuo had come back?

Arriving at Xing Zhuo's bedroom door, Chu Yu knocked twice first and waited for half a minute. There was no movement inside. This not only made her wonder if Xing Zhuo was working overtime again and hadn't come back yet?

He subconsciously turned the door handle twice, but it didn't lock. It opened as soon as he turned it.

Chu Yu was stunned for a moment. The room was dark, with only the moon shining in the shallow light through the window.

The lights were not turned on, so the man probably didn't come back either.

Chu Yu just glanced briefly, and just about to close the door and leave, the surroundings were extremely quiet. Suddenly, Chu Yu paused halfway through closing the door.

In the extremely empty and dead surroundings, she heard the sound of running water.

It came from the bedroom.

Chu Yu didn't hesitate, walked in immediately and closed the door behind his back.

The light in the bathroom is on, and the door is frosted. The warm yellow light can be seen clearly through the frosting, and you can vaguely see the tall and strong figure of the man.

Xing Zhuo is taking a shower.

Chu Yu turned on the light in the bedroom and looked at the bedroom casually and boredly.

Chu Yu had not been to Xing Zhuo's room for several years. It seemed that she had never been there since that day when she found out that Xing Zhuo was talking bad about her behind her back.

Now that I have roughly looked at it, there is no difference from before. The colors are monotonous, the style is cold and European and American, and there is nothing interesting about it.

Chu Yu had just woken up. He was very energetic and couldn't take any time off. He looked left and right, and touched left and right.

Xing Zhuo's room was simply horribly monotonous, with no bright colors at all, just black, white and gray, and even the quilt was black.

Just like Xing Zhuo himself, he is frigid.

While Chu Yu was wandering around, he saw a crack in the drawer of the bedside table and saw a hint of color out of the corner of his eye.

This is the only different color in this room.

Out of curiosity, Chu Yu wanted to open the drawer and take a look, but felt that such behavior was very impolite.

After struggling for a long time, Chu Yu couldn't help but feel curious. Besides, maybe if he discovered Xing Zhuo's secret, he could threaten him and ask him to release Xia Jinghuai from the mental hospital.

Thinking like this, Chu Yu felt no more psychological burden.

He knelt down and opened the drawer.

There is a diary in the drawer and a beautiful purple box with strange and exquisite patterns on it, which looks gorgeous and luxurious.

It's very flashy and doesn't look like Xing Zhuo's style.

Chu Yu knew that it was not good to peek into other people's diaries, so he took out the purple box.

Opening the box and seeing the contents clearly, the next moment, the expression on Chu Yu's face froze, his amber eyes widened slightly, his eyelashes trembled, and he felt a chill rising from the bottom of his heart.

Her fingertips, as delicate as peach blossoms, clenched the box in her hand tightly, and her finger bones turned white.