After a while the door opened, Song Yan leaned against the door frame and said out of focus, "Come in, nurse Zhang."

He seemed to have long expected Nursing Zhang to be waiting at the door.

Nurse Zhang replied, and when he was about to enter the house, Yan Zhuo grabbed the broom and dustpan from her and walked into the house.

"I'll go," he said.

Song Yan suddenly heard him speak, stunned for a second, then raised his eyebrows and said, "It's you again?"

It seemed that Song Yan was already very familiar with his voice, Yan Zhuo said, "What's wrong with me, I'll come over as long as you smash things in the future."

He thought to himself: have to meddle in own business again, and will not be able to eat instant noodles in the future.

Song Yan: "..."

He had never seen such a sticky humanoid candy.

"Whatever you want," he said. Then he went to the bathroom.

Yan Zhuo pouted and began to clean up the "smashed" objects seriously.

When he was hit in the morning, he was afraid that the lead in the pencil would break. Now it seems that he thinks too much, and the meaning of them being bought back by him is that they were smashed to pieces by Song Yan.

Yan Zhuoer suddenly thought of the two most joking words his former art teacher said————

First, you can't get into college by eating still life.

Second, love the paintbrush in your hand like a wife.

From this point of view, Song Yan deservedly came to the nursing home alone because he couldn't marry a daughter-in-law and no one would take care of him.

He complained about Song Yan while cleaning the ground, and accidentally found a trace of blood when he dumped the garbage into the dustpan.

Yan Zhuo took a closer look. The blood had dried and remained on the 2b pencil. It seemed that the mark was accidentally cut while sharpening the pencil.

He thought for a moment and glanced at the bathroom. Song Yan didn't know what he was doing, and kept the water running.

He put water on his head, but he didn't come out.

Yan Zhuo went to the windowsill to search for a while, and sure enough, he found a pencil sharpener in the corner. He pushed it away to see that there was blood on the blade.

Can't the eyes see and can't even sharpen a pen?

Yan Zhuo picked up a pencil from the ground, closed his eyes and tried the knife. It turns out that with him, there is no problem. don't know how Song Yan was injured.

He sighed.

This situation is quite sad. It's like a chef can't hold a kitchen knife, a mason can't hold a terracotta knife, and a boxer can't hold his arms, leaving only mutilated scars.

And painters... can't sharpen pencils well, can't draw anymore.

In the field that he is most familiar with, he can't even do the most basic things. This blow is no less than the explosion of a nuclear bomb.

After a while, Song Yan came out. He washed the wound with water, and now there was a dense pain in the wound.

Yan Zhuo carefully noticed that his left index finger was slightly raised, and asked, "Do you have a Band-Aid in your house?"

Song Yan was stunned, her index finger curled up, and she refused to answer the question directly: "No need."

Let's do it. Denied again.

Yan Zhuo really lost his temper.

He put the pencil sharpener down and continued cleaning the trash.

Song Yan groped to the side of the bed and sat down. He opened the cigarette case and lit a cigarette. The scarlet fire burned at his fingertips.

Yan Zhuo, who was working hard beside him, gave him a sideways glance, he knocked on the iron dustpan heavily, and made a long sound on the ground.

Song Yan turned his head slightly following the voice: "You don't have to."

"But that's what nurse Zhang does." Yan Zhuo raised his voice unconsciously.

Song Yan turned her head back, her voice flat and unwavering: "That's her job."

"Hmmmm, it's her job," Yan Zhuo said, "you even give her money, so she's not at a loss at all, right?"

He spoke a little rashly, and unconsciously brought a little temper.

Song Yan laughed "ha", maybe because he thought he was inexplicable, maybe because he was simply too lazy to care about him, and then he fell silent after laughing.

He didn't speak, and Yan Zhuo didn't know how to get off the donkey down the slope. Instead, he kicked his nose and said, "Don't you think your way of venting is morbid?"

The word "morbid" irritated Song Yan, and his hand on the side of the bed was slightly hideous because of the protruding blue veins.

Yan Zhuo was startled, and perhaps thought he had used the word incorrectly. He paused for a few seconds and continued, "If you want, you can change it."

"But I don't want to," Song Yan said, his face very ugly, "Don't meddle in your own business, you can go out."

This is the second time Yan Zhuo has been shoved by him, and he has even been able to accept it peacefully.

He put down what was in his hand and walked straight out the door.

He didn't see Nursing Zhang at the door, so he found another nurse to clean Song Yan's room.

Yan Zhuo walked to the hall and sat down, holding his forehead helplessly, as if he was always challenging Song Yan's temper.

But he couldn't explain why, so he felt that trying to provoke him was better than suddenly accumulating his temper with a dead fish face.

After all, Song Yan's anger points are irregular and uncontrollable, no one can guess when his next outburst will be.

Yan Zhuo waited tremblingly for a few days, and Song Yan didn't smash anything, which made him feel a little relieved.

Chapter 4 Violence itself

For several days, the sanatorium was calm.

But not long after the peaceful days, another little trouble followed.

At around nine in the morning, Yan Zhuo had just finished morning care with an old man and was about to leave for the inpatient department. As soon as I arrived at the door, I met with Nurse Qin who came down the stairs. The other party saw him as if he had seen a savior: "You hurry up to the physiotherapy room on the third floor, there are two old men fighting, and the two nurses can't help them. Stay. I'll go to the leader first."

Looking for a leader? so serious!

Yan Zhuo instantly made up for a fierce battle of swords, lights, swords and shadows, and he ran up to the third floor.

When Yan Zhuo arrived, they had already had a truce, and the two old men occupied one side of the sofa and remained silent. There was a nurse standing beside everyone, who seemed to have just been persuaded to be afraid of another conflict.

Yan Zhuo looked around the room, and was surprised to see Song Yan not far away. He was sitting on a chair with his legs crossed. For the first time, he had the expression of listening to a play on his face. He seemed to be smiling.