She and Agassi walked the muddy streets, avoiding puddle after puddle.
Turn around the corner and come to the end.
Cheng Muyun took them to the first floor. The shopkeeper was watching an old small TV. When he saw them, he got up and exchanged a few sentences with Cheng Muyun in an unfamiliar language, and gave an order to the black curtain behind him. A young girl came out, put her palms together, said something in the local language, and then looked up at him with a blushing face. Wait for him to translate.
Cheng Mu raised his chin: "She told you to go upstairs."
After speaking, he pulled up a chair, reclined and sat on it, assuming a posture that would wait patiently.
The two walked upstairs and saw four small rooms tightly separated by heavy curtains.
There were people on the left and the right. When they went upstairs, a woman wearing a black mask happened to come out, holding paint.
Wen Han and Agassi each picked one. She opened the curtain and walked in. She stood on tiptoe again, closed the gap, and turned around to see that it was a simple bed covered with a blanket with Indian patterns.
This room and the next door are separated by a thick layer of cloth, and you can clearly hear the guests there smiling and asking, but they still don't understand the language.
She was still hesitating whether the bed was clean. Behind her, a figure lifted the curtain: "Take off your shirt and lie down." She turned around in surprise and saw a pair of familiar eyes, although she was wearing a black mask to cover her face. For the most part, it was still him.
She opened her mouth, and her heart began to beat rhythmically.
Cheng Muyun narrowed his eyes and used his index finger to put his index finger outside the black mask.
Obviously, she was warning her not to make a sound, there was a guest next door, and Agassi in another room was a few steps away.
"What are you... doing?" In a very soft voice, she was like a thief.
He put the plate of paint and hot towels on the low table and approached her.
She stepped back and hit the bed.
The hem of her shirt was pulled up by him, she held it down, staring at him at a loss.
He leaned over and whispered, "Look, there's a bed here, every guest does."
Wen Han hesitated, he was right, but—
He didn't give her another chance to hesitate, he took off his warm pure cotton long-sleeved T-shirt, pushed her onto the bed, held her lower abdomen and lower back, and turned her over. Then, she stood against the edge of the bed, kneeling on the edge of the bed with one leg, pressed her right wrist, and touched a tube of paint.
The paint settled on her fingertips.
It was cold, but her skin was hot.
At first, she was a little uncomfortable. After all, there was only underwear left on her upper body. Lying on the bed like this, in front of him, would make her feel uneasy. But over time, she began to appreciate his paintings. Cheng Muyun lowered her eyes, all eyes were only between her arms and the paint tube. The painting started from the fingertips to the back of the hand. At first, it was just a vine. Slowly, the end of the vine began to have lotus flowers.
Lotus tangled on vines.
Very weird combination.
"Wenhan?" Agassi was calling her in another room with two thick curtains.
She hummed and glanced at him guiltily.
"That man, I saw a woman in his room the day before yesterday who was also speaking Russian. He's really a romantic person," Agassi said in Russian, thinking that only she and Wen Han could understand, "he gave me Send a dry quilt, I hinted that he can stay in my room tonight, and he pretended not to understand."
There was a warm, rough mass on her shoulder, and he kissed her left shoulder through the black mask. She dared not move.
Agassi's laughter came over: "Why don't you talk? Oh my god, I can't laugh anymore, it will ruin the hand-painted, my handsome little master has started to warn me with his beautiful eyes." She" Hmm" he said.
The surroundings became quiet again.
Outside the window, the lights of the inn facing the street are ambiguous.
A new bar just opened, and the light and shadow cast through the large plants, casting colorful light, and falling on the ceiling through the glass.
In the silence, she became more and more helpless, supporting her arms to move around.
Wen Han bit his lower lip tightly, his body going numb because of the deliberate stalemate.
When she was in India, she saw people who finished painting their hands and had to sit there for an hour or two to make sure the paint was colored. An hour or two—
"You... why are you still vulgar?" She spoke Chinese softly, trying to end the weird silence.
A very soft sound, almost drifting away with the incense.
Cheng Muyun drew seriously and said in a low voice, "I surrender in my heart. Anywhere, no matter what I do, it won't make any difference, even if I have sex with you." It is a small, meandering lotus flower, but a layer of large ones.
"Keeping the precepts is also a big precept," she said softly.
"Oh? Do you really think so?"
"Even if you don't believe in Buddhism, you know very well..."
"Even if the precept is broken, so what?" he leaned over and whispered.
Cheng Muyun put down the paint tube, and his fingers slid down the line of her spine. The line of her back was smooth, and the line of her spine was deep.
Paint began to fall on her legs.
Wen Han closed her eyes, the irregular heartbeat made her body heat up quickly.
"Don't move," he said softly. "Keep this position, and don't break the lotus behind you."
Wen Han bit his lower lip tightly, his arms going numb because of the deliberate stalemate.
There was sweat, and it began to pour out from her back. He put his face on it and softly induced her: "Is your hand numb?"
She was silent.
"There's a good time between abstinence and indulgence," he said softly, "don't you think?" Wen Han felt his breath behind her ears, and her fingers were struggling to stir the sheets, like a ball Fire stagnated in his throat.
Cheng Muyun whispered her name, in Chinese that only she and he could understand. The moment he called her lightly, she even had the illusion that he had fallen in love with her.
It's that kind of love at first sight.
This night, it lasted until two or three o'clock. Agassi on the opposite side was very sleepy and said through the curtain: "The boss just said that the Chinese man left a message and told them to wait an hour or two for the paint to be colored, and then go to bed first. For a while, wait until dawn and go back.
He finally told her when she was exhausted that she was almost free to move around. Wen Han still had the strength to move, and soon fell asleep.
Early in the morning, the two of them went downstairs.
Cheng Muyun leaned on the dilapidated single-seat sofa on the first floor, with his legs crossed on the low cabinet, as if he hadn't left that position all night, he stood up lazily and moved his arms: "I hope you two have a good time last night. very pleasant."
Holding his coat in his right hand, he opened the door first.
Back at the hotel, the proprietress leaned against the door of the room on the first floor and looked at them with a smile: "Boss Yun came back by coincidence, I have a long-distance call here, and I have left a number for you to call back as soon as possible."
He bid them farewell and walked into the door behind the proprietress.
He sat down on the sofa, and the proprietress quickly brought a cup of hot Nepalese milk tea. Cheng Muyun felt a little tired, he unbuttoned the two buttons he just fastened on the collar of his shirt, pinched the mouth of the cup with his two fingers, and took a sip. The proprietress looked at him: "How was last night?"
He put his arm on the back of the sofa and didn't answer.
"Aren't you afraid of her special status? You said that you saw her half a year ago."
"I have touched every inch of her skin and bones, and I know her body better than she herself. This body is very simple." There is no trace of training.
But I'm in good shape, should I like sports very much? he thinks.
Besides, the person who painted another Russian beauty last night also observed that body, and it was very ordinary.
"It's strange that the man traveled with a few ordinary people."
"It's a good trick." Cheng Muyun commented.
The proprietress thought for a while, walked to the window, and looked at the ghost sisters and ghosts walking on the road: "Before Wang Wenhao left, he was still asking me about rafting on the Cuisuri River."
"When he talked to me yesterday, he had already said that he would go rafting next," Cheng Muyun continued to moisten his throat with milk tea. The night of abstinence made his nerves more and more tense, and he finally began to admit that the desire he could not get was The most exciting and exhausting thing, "I don't like to spend the whole day sitting in rubber boats and listening to people screaming out of control to kill time."
Moreover, as "local bodyguards", he and Meng Liangchuan had to take Wang Wenhao's goods and follow them to drift.
What a frustrating itinerary.
"The shortest time for rafting is two days and one night. You said, will he choose the campsite for delivery on that night?"
"possible."
He frowned uncomfortably.
The screams of a bunch of women and even men have begun to emerge in my mind.
The Tibetan-style blanket hanging on the wall opposite Cheng Muyun.
The pattern above is a temple and rows of prayer barrels.
But he thought of the lotus on her body.