Song Yunhui had just hung up the phone when two more messages popped up on his mobile phone.
He just leaned against the railing and looked down at his phone. The cool night breeze blew his hair back and the light from the phone illuminated part of his face.
He's like a different person when he's not smiling.
There was no smile in those eyes, and there was a coldness in the corners of his eyes and eyebrows.
After putting away his phone, he turned around and went back into the house.
Song Yunhui picked up the small cake with a smile and sank back into the sofa.
The comic blogger he followed had just updated his novel about Big Eyes. Song Yunhui handed the phone to Qin Shu and sat on the sofa, laughing so hard that he couldn't straighten his back.
Qin Shu took the phone and looked down.
It is a four-grid comic strip, and the protagonist is a grass.
According to the comments below, the painting style is extremely simple and the content is extremely crude.
The assistant stood aside, looking at Song Zishu's exquisite dress, listening to his emotional and steady voice, remaining silent, and taking his words with reservations.
But Zhong Xu seemed not to notice these. He relaxed his expression and spoke slowly to Song Zishu.
There are not only four-grid grasses, but also many other gadgets.
He was holding some fruits tied with ribbons in his hands, which looked delicate and handsome against his white coat.
There are some musical instruments in his own recording studio, but he is proficient in only two or three of them. He doesn't use all of them fluently. He just knows how to operate them. If he doesn't have a soft sound source, he has to find someone to record.
Relaxation time is over.
A bit weird, not sure, take another look.
The laughter paused, Song Yunhui took a bite of the cake, then leaned over to look at the screen again and continued laughing.
"Song Zishu?"
After handing the fruit to his assistant, he sat down on the stool beside the bed, looked at the bandage on Zhong Xu's head, and asked with concern: "How do you feel now?"
The assistant said: "The previous number may not be Mr. Song's..."
Qin Shu didn't quite understand the meaning of Shengcao, but he agreed.
Zhong Xu raised his eyes, "Did you call him?"
Song Yunhui had not forgotten that he had work to do. He rummaged through the drawers and finally found a clip that he had used to clip papers. He pinned his hair behind his back so that it would not block his view.
The assistant was sensible enough to go out and close the door.
The recording studio is very spacious, with a carpet on the upper layer of the center floor, so Song Yunhui can sit cross-legged here when he wants to organize his thoughts.
He waved and closed the door.
Qin Shu's brows softened and he smiled.
At least he wasn't as anxious as he expressed himself.
A rare moment of warmth.
He strode forward and whispered at the right moment, "It's Mr. Song Zishu."
"Mr. Zhong."
The clip was made of wood, and there were traces of a black signing pen on it that had been accidentally left there before, but he didn't mind as long as it could be used.
The assistant said, "Mr. Song is here."
Zhong Xu smiled.
***
Hospital
In the quiet ward, the sound of typing on the keyboard disappeared, and the assistant just walked into the room.
Zhong Xu stared at the computer screen, then raised his head and said, "Yes."
He always finds a lot of interesting things.
Zhong Xu said: "It's just a scratch."
When I walked into the ward, Zhong Xu had already started looking at his notebook.
Song Zishu breathed a sigh of relief, "I was so scared, luckily everything is fine."
"That's his number."
We need to decide on the instruments we need tonight. As there is no suitable sound source for the string instruments, we need to make an appointment with the recording studio and the operations team. The time needs to be set within the next few days.
Very strange and eye-catching.
Finally, late at night, Song Yunhui stood at the door and watched Qin Shu go back.
A white figure appeared at the door.
There were a lot of white papers on the ground, with sparse or dense words and symbols on them. With his headphones pressing down on his black hair, Song Yunhui lowered his head, pushed aside the papers on the computer keyboard and started to debug again.
The other person's figure quickly disappeared around the corner.
After that, there was a period of time, or maybe not long after, when the assistant who was still explaining the current situation to all parties heard a noise, looked up and saw Song Zishu passing by him.
A lot of money was spent on soundproofing the recording studio, so Song Yunhui doesn't have to worry about the effect and can do whatever he wants.
It is indeed rare that a malicious rear-end collision ends with only scratches.
Before the assistant could reply, Zhong Xu said, "No need to contact him."
The other party must be venting his anger or busy with something.
We have known each other for such a long time, there won't be anything that can't be solved.
It’s hard to explain over the phone, but we can talk it out when we meet in person.
"… "
The assistant nodded, "Okay."
***
The first ray of sunlight in the early morning jumped out from one side of the window, picked up the cup of coffee, touched it, and then put it down again.
cold.
He stood up slowly, his brain beginning to become increasingly dizzy.
It’s easy to forget about time when you’re busy.
He walked up to the recording studio with a ribbon in his hand, lay down on the bed, and fell asleep.
It was already mid-afternoon when I woke up again, again because of a phone call.
Song Yun picked up his phone vaguely and clicked the connection button.
"Song Yunhui, come back here!"
The sound suddenly exploded in his ears, Song Yunhui sat up and moved the phone in his hand further away.
He rubbed his ears and slowly realized who was on the other side.
It was Song Cheng, his father.
Turning down the volume of the call, he slowly got up and said, "Hello, I won't reply."
I can't tell how hurt I was by that word. The voice on the other side got louder instead of slower. "Look at what you've done! It's because of you that Zishu is being prejudiced against. You know what kind of life he led before, so why can't you think more about it..."
Throwing his cell phone casually on the sofa, Song Yun went back to the kitchen and poured a glass of water.
My head finally cleared up.
He initially estimated that the other party must have learned about the online events from someone else and felt that his bad reputation had implicated Song Zishu.
When he came back, the other person had probably just finished speaking and took a breath.
Song Yun replied with the same words, "No."
It didn't cause any trouble, but it is true that it did bring some traffic to Song Zishu.
The novel's positioning of him is very correct, that he is just a tool and cannon fodder.
Slowly curling up on the sofa, he listened to the other person talking.
The other party said that if he didn't go back this time, he would never be able to enter the Song family's gate again.
"Yeah, okay."
Song Yunhui's voice was very steady and natural, so natural that the other party was unable to react for a moment to what he had said.
"Your room... what did you say?"
"I said, OK."
call ended.
Putting down his phone, Song Yunhui randomly pulled a piece of clothing from the closet, put it on, put on a hat and mask, and went out.
It is almost evening now and more people are going out for a stroll after dinner. Children are jumping in front and their parents are holding their phones behind, laughing and taking pictures.
After walking around here several times, Song Yunhui roughly remembered the route.
It is getting dark now and the lights on both sides of the street have been turned on.
Song Yunhui walked into the bank.
When the bank staff saw his attire, they were stunned at first, then became alert.
Song Yunhui pulled down his mask and said, "Hello, I'm Song Yunhui who made the appointment for the transfer."
He obviously didn't put much effort into dressing up; his hair was messy because of the weight of his hat, and there was a faint dark spot under his eyes, showing obvious signs of staying up late.
He just stands here, still a natural luminous body.
They may have an impression of this person, either online or in real life.
The staff at the counter checked the ledger, and then the bank manager came over and took Song Yun back to the reception room.
Song Yunyang lowered his head and began to sign various documents.
He had no expression. The manager was a little nervous. He looked at the amount on the other party's paper and resisted the urge to rub his hands.
He is indeed a rich man.
When signing his name, Song Yunhui did not hesitate at all.
After the last stroke of the pen, he looked at the paper in his hand, the amount, and his signature.
The home I have owned for more than ten years and the father who was once gentle and steady.
Sometimes they wouldn't be in contact for months, and he hadn't heard the other party speak to him seriously and gently for a long time. He seemed to have almost forgotten how great his father was in his mind when he was very young.
All the previous memories and all my efforts have turned into a string of numbers.
After signing, the manager looked at them one by one, put them away, and Song Yunhui stood up and left.
There were more people on the street. He walked on the street. He hadn't eaten for almost a day, but he didn't feel hungry at all.
Let's go back.
Song Yun turned around.
"Wholesale store owner."
A recognizable voice came from the crowd.
Amid the hustle and bustle of traffic and the city lights, a figure walked towards this side through the crowd.
He is still that cool guy who looks handsome no matter from which angle.
Qin Shu approached, and Song Yunhui could see the other person's eyes by slightly raising his head from this perspective.
He said, "What a coincidence, you are here to do business as well."
Cool guy slightly side-glanced to avoid Song Yunhui's sight and said, "Have you eaten yet? Let's go have a meal together. Chengzi is still in the hospital. We can go pick him up after dinner."
Song Yun asked back: "What's the matter, Orange?"
"Check regularly." Qin Shu said, "It has been wanting you to play with it again for a long time."
After exhaling, his eyebrows slightly curved, Song Yun asked:
"Want to eat hot pot?"
Qin Shu's eyes swept over the other person's eyebrows and eyes, "Eat."
The two found a hot pot restaurant nearby.
The decoration here is not as high-end as many stores, but there are a lot of people, most of them are families, and some are friends having dinner together. You can feel the liveliness across the street.
The two went in together.
Those who come here to eat hotpot all choose to sit in the lobby. There is only one private room left, which is just enough for two people to sit in.
Although we had eaten hotpot at previous crew gatherings, the feeling was completely different from now.
Qin Shu has never eaten hotpot before.
The two of them gathered together to discuss ordering food, ordered a lot, and finally put down their pens with satisfaction.
The drinks were served first. The waiter entered the room carrying two bottles of strawberry milk, paused for a moment when opening the door, and then approached.
He hesitated for a moment, and Song Yunhui said at the right time: "It's ours, we're not in the wrong place."
The waiter put the strawberry milk on the table, and seeing that there was nothing unusual about the two people, he left with peace of mind.
Song Yunhui supported his chin and looked at Qin Shushu, who opened the strawberry milk without changing his expression.
He reached out his hand, and with his other hand he smoothly operated the phone to open the camera, and said:
"cheers!"
Qin Shu laughed and followed the order.
The two bottles of strawberry milk collided with each other in the air.
(End of this chapter)