Clive said: "You can make it your own." Add these personal styles. How about a picture of you and your wife? Why don't you sit in a chair? Even the chair is the most advanced, three thousand dollars. sit. sit down. "
Bruce walked around the table and sat down, "Ah, yes. You said three thousand dollars? I feel comforted at least worth $4,000."
Clive didn't realize that Bruce was taunting him. He smiled proudly and said, "I also have the same one...".
"Speaking of madam—how about the wedding?"
"It's perfect," Bruce said.
Clive is still waiting for more news, but Bruce only said so much.
"Dr. Harvey's thing is really regrettable. The grief has changed."
"Thank you," Bruce said.
"how so?"
The least important question that everyone wants to know. Bruce glared at Dr. Hawthorne. "He fell off the stairs."
"Oh, my goodness, it's horrible. It's horrible. It's tragic. It's tragic."
"Yes, all of this," Bruce said.
"Is this an accident?"
Bruce's head jerked to one side. No one has ever hinted that this was just an accident. "Of course."
"Of course, of course," Clive shook with his little feet. "I want you to know that I have reservations about everything Dr. Harvey said about you. No one understands the complexity of the teacher-student relationship better than I do."
"What did he say about me?" Bruce asked. He never thought that Clive Hawthorne would call Harvey, or Harvey would say something unacceptable about him.
"It's actually nothing," Clive stammered. He realized that he had said something that shouldn't be said," he hinted that, needless to say, you may become arrogant and arrogant. You may be too focused on one thing and lose your foresight."
"What did he say?"
"Look, Bruce," Clive said, biting his lower lip. "I admire your talent. Smart people may be opinionated, arrogant, and opinionated. Note that you are not any of these things, but these things are not so far away from your expectations of a person of superior intelligence. However, unlike Dr. Harvey, I can see the advantages and value of your previous research. Maybe, just maybe, once this project comes to an end, we may be able to provide you with a little money and let you pursue a face-saving project. . I have the ability to control these things."
"When did Dr. Harvey say these things to you?" Bruce asked.
"The week he passed away," Clive shook his head, exclaiming. "It's a pity. I understand that losing a mentor like Dr. Harvey will leave a blank in your life. Maybe a blank I can fill for you humbly. I'm here to provide all the support you need."
Bruce sat on a leather chair worth three thousand dollars and measured Clive. Although the short man hadn't survived his stomach, he straightened his chest proudly. Dr. Clive Hawthorne is a baby compared to Dr. Harvey’s intellectual giantism.
"Thank you for your support," Bruce said. "Now, let us meet the staff. There is still work to be done."
"Are you here again?"
Sarah was sitting at a table in the bookstore. She came here directly after Teacher Chen. Bruce has a date with Akio Toyoda tonight. After the incident, he has been meeting regularly with Akio Toyoda, and they mentioned that Bruce was screaming hysterical after waking up that night-if they did mention it.
Even before she looked up, she knew that the voice belonged to Adam.
"This is my favorite bookstore," she said simply. His eyes were as blue as she remembered. She did not exaggerate them in her memory.
"Can you?" he said, pointing to another empty chair on the table.
Sarah hesitated, "Of course."
"I'm so glad I met you again," he said. "You look beautiful and your skin is very dark."
"Hawaii," she said.
He took off his jacket and sat on the empty chair. He took out a book and a notebook. "On vacation?"
"Forget it," she said. "I am married."
"Are you married?" he said. floor. "Wow."
Sarah saw disappointment in his face, and heard disappointment in his voice. This makes her very happy. She enjoys it. Then realizing what she was doing, she lowered her eyes, with gusto, and returned to her book. The words black sè appeared on the white paper. It took her a while to concentrate.
"Congratulations," Adam said.
"thanks."
"He is a lucky bastard."
Sarah raised her head. Adam did not open his book or notebook. He stared at her boldly, almost aggressively.
"I am the lucky one," Sarah said. Her cheeks flushed. Damn it. "Well, I should go now." She stood up, almost knocked over the chair, and hurriedly stuffed things into the backpack.
"Wait," Adam said. He also stood up, "Don't leave because of me."
"I am not," she lied.
"I'm sorry," he said. He placed his hand gently on hers. She was stunned. "I can't deny that you also have something I like, but I would rather be your friend than nothing."
"We don't even know each other," Sarah hissed. "If we are attracted to each other, it is a pure relationship without any basis. Nothing."
"So, you mean you are also attracted to me?" He said with a sly smile.
Sarah shook her head and shook his hand off again.
"I'm just kidding," he said. "Our friendship is developing too fast?"
"We are not friends," Sara said, in a louder voice than she wanted to say. It seems too mean to say that. Normally, Sarah would never say such harsh words to anyone. These words were like fire in her mouth.
The two girls sitting at the table next to them glanced at them with interest. The boring night they spent in the bookstore became more interesting.
"Really," he said. "I want to be friends with you, but this is your decision." He pretended to surrender, raised his hands, picked up his luggage, and walked to an empty table on the other side of the room.
"He's so fucking handsome," Sarah heard one of the girls say to the other. "He can do better."
The other girl snickered.
Sarah glared at her, and the girl looked at her pretending to be sympathetic. She didn't want Sarah to hear it, but she didn't really care what she said, "It's not that you are not beautiful, but that you have seen him? He is handsome. Seriously, let's be anonymous.** ,Beauty."
"Bitch," Sarah hissed.
She hung the backpack on her shoulders, and then left, tears rolling down her cheeks. She did her best to not slap the big-speaking bitch. She is not proud of herself, not at all. What kind of person has she become? Ugly, hateful.
The girl's surprised laugh continued to accompany her, piercing her all the way to the door.
"Oh my god," said the other. "Can you believe that she just called you a girl?"
"How is it?" Sarah asked Bruce, and he walked in the door on Saturday morning after the last meeting.
"What are you doing?" he asked, although what Sarah did was obvious. She is drawing.
She was depressed when she left the bookstore. Her association with Adam Beaumont disturbed her. She was upset that she couldn't concentrate on studying, so she went to the home improvement store and bought a gallon of paint. It's time to paint the living room. The black scribble handwriting constantly reminded Bruce that he had completely lost control of himself that night. Sarah knew this was a constant reminder to her. She has never been so scared. She just wanted to forget that night. Pretend that nothing happened.
Bruce is too busy to take care of it because of the wedding, Hawaii, cleaning his old laboratory and starting his new job. She wanted to surprise him. She thought he would be happy.
She moved all the furniture to the Zhōng Yāng of the room and covered them with a waterproof cloth. All night she was painting the living room and dyed the sunlight yellow.
She is now finished, with three coats of paint, and then a gallon of paint.
She sits cross-legged on the ground drinking soda. Their three fans are plugged in, and each fan blows on a different wall. The window was opened, and the cold wind swirled around her. The paint confuses her hair. A yellow stain contaminated her cheekbones. She is proud of herself and has exhausted the truth, but she has turned all the bad feelings into meaningful things. She was over just before Bruce walked in.
She didn't expect an expression of astonishment on his face.
"What did you do?" he said. He opened his mouth. He moved his eyes from the wall to the wall. Everything is gone. From the floor to the ceiling are shiny, wet yellow paint.
"Are you angry?" she said.
He clenched his teeth and hands, letting go again and clenching again.
"I think you will like it. I did this for you. Then you don't have to do it," she said, getting up.
He knew he should say thank you. He knew she did it out of kindness. He took a few deep breaths, then counted to ten.
"You should ask," he said.
Sarah’s face was sèyīn, "But isn’t it a must? I mean, we rent a house. We have to get sè, right?"
He pointed at her, pointed at her face. Some harsh words were ambushing there, and he tried his best to control them. She couldn't understand what she did.
"I need some time," he said at last. He turned his face and walked to the door.
"Wait!" she said.
He raised his hand. "Following me like a screaming dog will not help. It will only force me to say something I don't want to say. You should ask first, Sarah. I That's it. I'm going out for a walk."
When Bruce returned, Sarah was sleeping on the sofa covered in plastic canvas. She must be uncomfortable. She left the window open. The air inside is almost as cold as outside. She curled up under her old coat.
He pulled the hair away from her face, trying to be gentle, but at the same time selfishly hoped that she would wake up. She looked sad, thin, and cold. At least he can cure a cold. He closed the window, picked her up, and carried her to his wife. (To be continued) (End of this chapter)