Life: A Black and White Film

Chapter 39: Dreams and Sleeping People (2)

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The room is full of Moscow flavor.

Although this soup is so common that you can drink it in any poor family in Moscow, it is not worth introducing to a few unfamiliar "friends" around you.

But ten years after Cheng Muyun had been away from his homeland, being able to drink this soup cooked for him by a Moscow girl in this part of India still made his throat a little stiff. Love brings him not only concern and physical lingering, but also the danger of homesickness.

"Is this a rosemary leaf?" He glanced at her from under his eyelashes.

Wen Han responded, looking at some dark green leaves on the soup with some guilt.

She was looking for spices for cooking in the kitchen just now, and she saw this. When she saw Rosemary, she would think of how she felt about him when she first met him. No man's eyes have ever been so beautiful. Like Rosemary, just one look at you will make you feel hot.

There is also the love of loyalty and long loneliness in the language of rosemary.

She couldn't help but want to use this spice.

Cheng Muyun was silent and took her stainless steel bowl full of beetroot soup.

The four men and women who kept quiet all the time, under the warm enthusiasm, repeatedly refused. Only one person took a small half of the mouth, but after eating it, he spit it out apologetically. I can't stand it in English. Fragrant taste.

It was from here that Wen Han had a strange feeling for these four men and women.

It seemed that they didn't trust Cheng Muyun wholeheartedly, it was like... That day in the manor, when Cheng Muyun put a bag of mangoes in front of everyone, only himself and Zhuang Yan ate it without hesitation.

This is a kind of trust.

Wen Han cleans up the kitchen, no matter the details. The tableware here is really simple, all stainless steel, and it is easy to clean up. She quickly wiped off the water stains from the last small stainless steel bowl and closed the cabinet door. The next move is to look at the clock hanging on the wall in the living room.

Twenty-two hours left.

"Do you have any plans next...?" She asked very lightly, but she was like a thief.

Cheng Muyun narrowed his eyes, approached her, and pressed his tall body to her back, the back of her thigh, and her calf without gaps: "How about going upstairs with your sweetheart?"

In the living room, someone turned on the TV.

Indian song and dance shows are very noisy and fun.

She could even hear someone playing a musical instrument in the small building next door. The singing in reality and the singing on the TV were mixed together, giving her the illusion of returning to the world. She bowed her head, and the shattered hair on her forehead slid down, which was already very long.

For dozens of days, she didn't take good care of herself.

Fortunately, at a young age, it doesn't have much impact except that his face is not very good.

In this silence, someone knocked on the door.

The TV was immediately turned off by one of the men in the living room.

All the voices paused here, and the atmosphere became tense and strange. Wen Han didn't even dare to breathe, and looked at Cheng Muyun anxiously. Only the man in front of him, without any abnormality, passed through the frozen living room, put his hand on the handle, and opened the door with a click.

With the sunlight shining in, a strange Indian young man said: "I'm here to find the owner of this house." Cheng Muyun smiled and looked down at the foreign young man: "Unfortunately, they are not here, you should know Their father had a grand ordination ceremony in a nearby town?" The Indian young man was stunned, with a smile on his dark face: "I thought they would complete the Ganges ritual activities for the past few days. I was wrong."

After the young Indian finished speaking, he looked at the people in the room strangely.

"These are my friends," Cheng Muyun leaned against the door, letting the afternoon breeze blow his shirt, "Look, we are only here for one day, and we will rush to the ceremony tomorrow."

"Really?" the Indian young man laughed, "then wish you a pleasant night in Wananasi tonight."

"Thank you." Cheng Muyun also smiled.

Wen Han leaned against the kitchen door and saw the expressions of the four men and women who were waiting in battle, and became more and more certain of his thoughts. These four people must be used to monitor Cheng Muyun. No wonder, next to the sunflower field yesterday, they would express their helplessness too, this is all the arrangement above.

She was still thinking about this, Cheng Muyun had closed the door, turned around and returned to her indifferent expression.

"We..." Before she could say a complete sentence, he was hugged by him.

"What are we?" he chuckled softly.

"...It's nothing." Wen Han leaned against his chest and didn't say a word. Hearing the sound of his black boots stepping down the stairs, he secretly looked at those people. Now that you know what the two of you are going to do, will you follow

Her thoughts were confused, and she nervously paid attention to the people who followed behind the two and kept their distance. He quickly walked to the third floor. The door of the room where she once lived was open, and the wind blew directly into the corridor through the window, pulling the small curtains with intricate patterns on the corridor window.

While Wen Han was still peeking at the people behind him, Cheng Muyun had already stepped into the room and hooked the door with the toe of his boot.

The door slammed shut and Wen Han was put down.

She looked around for a week, turned around to say something, and found him unbuttoning his own shirt one by one. Wen Han leaned against the wall lightly and looked at him.

Daylight filtered through the glass and shone halfway through the room.

She was standing in a position with sunlight, and he happened to be in a dark place where the sunlight could not reach.

There is a wound on the broad shoulder. It's an old wound.

Down from the collarbone is the chest, and further down, from her angle, you can see the black belt that has been untied, hanging on his waist and crotch.

Cheng Muyun took off his heavy and hard black boots.

"I started ordination when I was fifteen, and you were born that year." He stepped on the floor with bare feet and leaned against the wall lightly, admiring the gently undulating curve of her chest, as well as her fingers curling slightly, squeezing lightly. Small motion of the wall, "Interesting?"

She said "um" and unconsciously rubbed the pulp of her fingers.

"Near the Red Square are the Red Wall of the Kremlin, Lenin's Tomb, Vasily Brahn's Church, the History Museum, and the oldest department store in Moscow built at the end of the nineteenth century," he asked softly. "Is there any wrong?"

When he recalled these, he could imagine the cold girl walking in the white building, looking at the shop windows, full of longing and anticipation, that is the life of an ordinary woman in Moscow.

"No, you have a good memory." Even after ten years.

"Tell me about your past life in Moscow." Finally not satisfied with the flirtation of the two looking at each other, he slowly pulled her shirt and pulled her towards him with the thin layer of fabric.

"I used to..." Wen Han bumped into him and touched his chest with his fingers, "I was in an orphanage when I was young, but I don't remember it clearly. Later, I was adopted by adoptive parents from China because of my 1/4 Chinese descent. . They run a small hotel in an unremarkable street in Moscow, and my grades are not bad or bad."

Bland, this was the first twenty years of her life.

And the dozens of days with him have been worth countless twenty years.

Cheng Muyun's hand slid over her arm and wrist along her slender shoulder, and then grabbed her hand: "Apart from your shameless and timid friend, has anyone pursued you?"

"Yes, but... not too much."

Only some Chinese who have lived in small hotels will praise her as beautiful. In Moscow, her appearance is not outstanding. For those Moscow teenagers, she is no different from any Chinese girl, but only has an oriental face.

"No sweetheart?" Cheng Muyun's eyes already had uncontrollable sensuality.

Hot love is always aggressive.

What's more, it's his love.

"Yes..." Wen Han replied softly in a barely audible voice, "You."

"Really?" There was only her in those dark and dull eyes, "This is my honor."

Very soft voice, I don't know if outsiders can hear it.

She knew that there was someone outside the door, so she was very careful with every wording, even now, she was listening to the movement outside with her ears pricked up.

Cheng Muyun's waist and crotch suddenly moved forward, slamming her into the gray-white wall, she couldn't help but hesitate, the moment her lips were blocked.

The man in front of her blocked all her sight and all the light in her life. Only a small amount of residual light passed between the two of them, illuminating the dust floating in the surrounding air.

She forgot how long the two of them spent in that space, and there was nothing in the room to show the time.

She only remembered a few clips. There were many scratches on the floor, and her knees were ripped apart, and the burning sensation of his body pressing against her sweaty back. She remembered it very clearly for a long time later.

When the two went downstairs, everyone noticed that Wen Han was wearing Cheng Muyun's shirt.

It was barely tucked into the skirt, although it was a little loose, it was still visible. Cheng Muyun was much simpler, a mountaineering suit was pulled to the top and nothing was worn inside.

The four people who followed them finally opened their mouths and laughed: "We were just talking about whether someone will deliver food if you stay there all night. But who will deliver it is really a headache. The problem, you see, it's a delightful beauty to deliver food compared to sitting on the living room rug and watching boring Indian songs and dances."

This is a subtle joke between men.

Wen Han blushed.

She glanced at the clock on the wall, there were twenty hours left.

On a warm afternoon, you can't just spend time in your room.

They leave the building.

Wen Han was in the alley, avoiding a small puddle full of dirty mud, while looking at the man two steps ahead. Unexpectedly, Cheng Muyun was really interested in the small gift shop, walked up the cement steps, reached out to her, and the moment Wen Han grabbed his finger, he was dragged up.

The Indian uncle in white in the store was a little bored. In the corner of the gift shop, drinking milk tea, there was a woman with her hair in a wooden hairpin, with her back to them, she was picking postcards. "Is this Luye Garden above?" The woman turned her head and asked the Indian uncle.

is her

She is the proprietress of that small hotel in Nepal.

Wen Han was startled, but obviously, he lowered his head wisely to cover up the moment of surprise. Just behind her, the man who was watching over them also had their hands behind their backs, looking around in the store, pretending to be an ordinary tourist.

The Indian uncle laughed, muttered, and asked the woman in English, "How religious you are, you have lived here for half a month, and you have almost bought everything in my store."

The proprietress laughed: "I'm leaving here soon, maybe tonight."

The Indian uncle is strange: "Go back to Nepal?"

"No, no," the proprietress smiled, looking up at Cheng Muyun who was looking at the woodcarving, "I'm tired of living there, I'm going to live in another country. After all... Nepal is no longer attractive to me. "

The Indian uncle began to offer hospitality ambiguous and enthusiastic, trying to retain this female tourist from Nepal who buys things in his store every day. The proprietress smiled and avoided the provocation in the other party's words, and finally picked up a stack of postcards, all of which were postcards from famous Buddhist holy places in India, and pushed the door to leave. The wind chime at the door, the door that was hit again vibrated, making a pleasant sound.

Wen Han also picked up the stack of postcards she bought and flipped through them. There was nothing special about it.

She began to speculate aimlessly.

I don't know if the woman bought the stack of postcards because she believed in Buddhism or because she followed Cheng Muyun's belief. Wen Han still remembered that in the shisha and ambiguous noise that night, the proprietress once said: The reason why Cheng Muyun returned to the vulgarity was because this mortal woman couldn't bear him.

So, that woman stayed here for so many days, just wanted to say goodbye to Cheng Muyun.

Thinking of this, Wen Han glanced at Cheng Muyun uncontrollably.

Cheng Muyun was shaking a string of copper bells casually between his fingers. He was waiting for Wen Han to choose souvenirs, but found that Wen Han was looking at him, so he came over and flipped through the stack of things in her hand. Soon, he took out a banknote and handed it to the Indian uncle: "Just buy this postcard, my wife likes it very much, although I don't think they have any special features."