Do you really want to go again
Nanyang asked himself in his heart, but he was not sure. Of course, she hoped that Qing Huan could remember the good things that were between them, but at the same time, she was also afraid that she would remember the unbearable past. She killed Qing Huan's whole family, and almost killed Qing Huan, who was three years old at the time. What should Qing Huan think of her when she remembered this episode? Maybe she forgave herself back then, but after thousands of years, when she recalled the tragic scene, could she really be free from grudges
Qing Huan noticed that Nan Yang's mood was inexplicably lowered, so she shook her hand and tilted her head to look at her eyes that were covered by drooping eyelashes, "What's wrong, Master?"
As soon as she called Master, Nanyang's erratic heart fell, just like a person who fell from a high sky suddenly panicked and fell onto a big soft cushion.
The future is left to the future, no matter what, now she starts to call her master.
A single title is enough to make her happy for many days.
"It's okay, let's have breakfast." Nanyang adjusted his expression and reached for the chopsticks on the bedside table.
Her hands were wrapped in gauze, and her wrists were pricked with needles, so Qing Huan couldn't watch her eat it herself. Before she could touch the chopsticks, Qing Huan picked up the chopsticks first, picked up a sliced fried dough stick and handed it to her mouth.
"Master open your mouth."
Nanyang was still not used to her calling him Master, and he had heard it countless times three thousand years ago. Maybe it was really too long, and she still couldn't get used to it. Now every time she hears Qing Huan's cry like this, her heart seems to be out of control, thumping in her chest.
it turns out…
shy to be called.
She lowered her eyes, avoided Qing Huan's gaze, and focused on the fritters beside her mouth.
Not long after the fritters were fried, they were oily and crispy, and they creaked when bitten, and the corners of the lips and people were covered with oil stains. She chewed slowly with her mouth bulging, the fried dough sticks were too crisp, and a lot of small dregs stuck to her lower lip. As soon as she chewed, those small dregs fell on the pure white sheet, like rain.
Qing Huan took the paper, swept the little scum off the quilt, and held the paper under Nanyang's chin again, sighing, "Why are you still leaking food."
Nanyang shook his head with a mouthful of fried dough sticks in his mouth, and said vaguely, "I didn't..."
"Okay, don't shake it," Qing Huan chased after her while holding the napkin as she shook her head, "The more you shake it, the more it falls off."
So Nanyang stopped there meekly, and didn't move for a while, and Banban was eating fritters. Qing Huan helped her pick up the scum in one hand, and fed her with chopsticks in the other, just like taking care of a child, she was about to put a slobber on her.
"In ancient times, did Master live like this and couldn't take care of himself?" Qing Huan put a new mouthful of fried dough sticks into her mouth.
After chewing and swallowing carefully, Nanyang replied, "I have no life and can't take care of myself."
How can a dignified faction respect the Lord, how can it be described as "life can't take care of itself"
At most... It can be regarded as "non-human fireworks".
But in fact, for a respected lord like her who stretches out her hand for food and opens her mouth, the words "don't eat human fireworks" are basically equivalent to "life can't take care of yourself".
"Do you want to drink soy milk?" Qing Huan finished feeding a whole fried dough stick, picked up the disposable plastic cup with soy milk, stuck it in with a straw, and handed it to Nanyang's mouth.
"Um."
Nanyang grabbed the straw and took a sip unprepared.
The moment Qing Huan saw the white soy milk pouring into the transparent straw, she heard a "hiss" gasping for air. Immediately, Nan Yang quickly turned her head away, her brows were wrinkled, and her brows were reddened. Tongue sticks out a little, teeth dangling from lips.
"Is it hot?" Qing Huan hurriedly put down the soy milk, leaned over and pinched her chin and twisted it over to see.
It was really hot, and there was a very, very obvious blister on the tip of the tongue.
"you… "
Qing Huan just wanted to say a few words, but after thinking about it, she couldn't bear to say it again. In the past, when she fed Nanyang water or drinks, she had to blow it cold and test the temperature with her lips and tongue before passing it to her. It was she who developed the habit of not testing the temperature for her, so how could she blame her
She called a nurse, and the nurse helped to take a look. The burn was a little serious, and the blistering of the mucous membrane was not a trivial matter. The nurse brought some medicine over and instructed to spray every few hours on time, not to eat messy things, just drink some liquid food carefully in the past few days, and it will be much better when the bubbles disappear.
After the nurse left, Nanyang sat blankly with her tongue stuck out. Qing Huan took a magazine as a fan and fanned her tongue so that the medicine on it would dry up earlier.
His mouth was always open, and the corners of his lips were inevitably overflowing with saliva. Qing Huan went to get the paper, thinking to himself, it seems that he really needs to be a saliva pocket for Nanyang.
"How old is Master?" Qing Huan pressed the corner of Nan Yang's lips with a piece of paper and asked in a playful tone.
Nanyang pondered for a moment, then answered earnestly: "According to careful calculation, it should be more than 3,500 years old."
Light Huan fingertips.
More than three thousand five hundred years old? ?
She was in a trance, Nanyang's age had changed from 35 to 3500 in her cognition, and the impact was really not small. She had thought that Nanyang was really old, but she didn't expect it to be so old.
Doubling is not like this. Two zeros are added directly after the age of the ID card. Who can stand it
Nanyang looked at Qing Huan's wide-open eyes, with the tip of his tongue still sticking out, and said vaguely: "You... think I'm old?"
"No, I don't think you're old," Qing Huan looked very surprised, "I'm just surprised, you lived more than 3,500 years old, and you would still be scalded by a mere cup of soy milk. Is the Lord as stupid as you?"
Nanyang frowned: "Nonsense."
Because she kept sticking her tongue out, when she opened her mouth, the tip of her tongue was attached to the corner of her lips and there was a sticky saliva hook. Qing Huan wiped her with a paper and smiled helplessly: "Master, stop talking, you are drooling now."
Nanyang tightened his fingers on the quilt. She never imagined that her image would be ruined because of a small cup of soy milk.
It's really… unorthodox.
While the two were eating breakfast, a call came from the show crew to ask about Nanyang's situation.
When Nanyang was sent off the train, she looked very tragic, covered in blood, and at that time, Qing Huan and Sun Xuxue felt that she was really dying, and they cried more and more miserably. Everyone thought that she had really given birth. very serious illness. At that time, Nanyang's situation was really serious, and he was indeed on the edge of life and death, but he didn't know what was going on. Now it's almost better. Except for the blisters on his tongue, he seems to be a healthy and normal person. .
Now that she is normal, the program team is relieved, and the PD has the cheek to ask them when it is convenient for them to return to the car and continue recording.
Qi Yi and Ming Wancheng are still waiting for them in the car, and the journey continues.
Qing Huan meant to stop recording for now, she didn't want Nan Yang to run around outside at risk. Nanyang said that she was improving, and she still wanted to go abroad with Qinghuan.
Without the threat of death, she is now at ease, and there is nothing more fascinating than a trip with his wife and friends.
Qing Huan reluctantly agreed, and said to her, "Then you have to promise me, and if you feel any discomfort, you must tell me, don't endure it alone, secretly run away to smoke or something."
Nanyang stuck out his half-burned tongue and nodded meekly.
Looking at her like this, Qinghuan was pitiful and funny, and her voice softened a lot: "It's not impossible to smoke. If you really want to smoke, I will accompany you to smoke. But before your tongue recovers, don't smoke, okay?"
"Can."
Nanyang answered vaguely.
In fact, it's okay not to smoke, anyway, she didn't smoke any smell last time, she just felt choking and bitter.
Considering that Nanyang was seriously ill after all, the program team did not tell them to return immediately, saying that they should rest for half a day, take the high-speed train to Baoning Station in the afternoon, and meet them at Baoning Station when the train where the program team is located arrives.
The two were very tired, so they slept together on the hospital bed.
Nanyang, who was asleep, stuck his tongue out, and Qing Huan looked at her dimly, thinking that she was like a snow-white rabbit.
Closing her eyes, exhaustion swept over in an instant, arched her head, found a comfortable position in Nanyang's arms, and fell asleep.
Sleeping during the day is the easiest to dream.
Qing Huan had another dream here.
This time, in the dream, there is no previous fight and death and parting from life and death, only a quiet plum garden, scattered with the fragrance of plums in the garden.
In the dream, she did not seem to be very tall, her limbs were not drawn, her palms were small and soft, holding a small wooden sword, slashing back and forth greenly. Not far away, a woman in white sat idle, leaning on the curved trunk of a plum tree to read a book, occasionally raising her eyes to look at her who was practicing swordsmanship, but there was no emotion in her eyes.
After she stabbed her sword, she realized that she had made a wrong move and scratched her head in confusion. Nan Yang, who was reading the book, put down the book and waved to her: "Come here."
So she obediently walked over, buried her head, and dared not look at Nanyang.
"hand."
Nanyang picked up a ruler on the stone platform and motioned her to stretch out her hand.
Knowing that she would be beaten again, she cried out in grievance, and stretched out her hand tremblingly: "Master, Master, take it easy, it hurts."
Nanyang moved for a while, put the ruler down, and stared at the red and swollen little palm. After a while, her slender fingers came over, wrapped around the small hand, pulled it a little closer, and put the child on her knees.
Nanyang hugged her from behind, resting his chin on her tender shoulder, holding her small red hand with his thin white fingers, and gently massaged his thumb in the red scar on his palm. After a while, Xiao Qinghuan saw the woman on the shoulder pursing her lips slightly from the corner of her eyes, and then, cool air blew from her shoulder and stroked her hot palm lines.
"Does it still hurt?" A soft voice came from his ear.
"It hurts!" She nodded vigorously, "If you want master, it won't hurt."
This is the case with children, when they are in pain and tired, they need to be hugged by adults to get better.
Nanyang smiled, picked up the child in his arms and turned around, letting her sit facing him. Looking at those big eyes full of anticipation, her slender hands pinched the small palms, as if holding a rare treasure, lowered her head, her eyelashes swept across the fleshy wrist of the child, and gently kissed her palm.