Song Yan tilted his head in his direction, "Really?"

His voice was hoarse and his face was not very good. Yan Zhuo guessed that he must have eaten nothing all morning.

Yan Zhuo said, "I'll help you get up to eat."

Song Yan: "I don't want to eat."

Yan Zhuo sighed: "Mr. Song, do you know that you have said that word the most for so many days that I have known you?" After speaking, he didn't give Song Yan time to answer, so he said bluntly, "No word!"

"Why do you like rejecting others so much?" Yan Zhuo asked.

"I didn't refuse."

"Isn't that called rejection?"

"Reasonable appeal."

Yan Zhuo: "..."

He wanted to say something else, but Song Yan took out a pack of cigarettes and walked to the window sill.

Yan Zhuo reminded: "It's not good to smoke when you are sick?"

Song Yan opened the window, and the cold wind roared in. He bit the cigarette butt and said vaguely, "What's wrong."

Yes, not only smoking, but also blowing the wind.

Yan Zhuo opened his mouth, but didn't speak. It didn't matter to him anyway, so he stopped meddling.

The smell of the cigarette Song Yan smoked was very light, not too strong, and a wisp of it lingered on the tip of the nose.

He sniffed.

Song Yan brushed off the cigarette and said, "Don't you want one?"

Yan Zhuo refused: "I don't smoke."

Song Yan said "ha": "You really think I didn't smell the smoke on you last night."

Yan Zhuo: "..."

He silently took one from the cigarette case.

It was a gray sky outside the window, and two people in the house were smoking, one standing and the other squatting. Yan Zhuo was afraid of the cold, so he squatted by the wall and glanced at the door from time to time, for fear that someone would break in.

As a staff member, he knowingly violated the prohibition against smoking indoors. Although it is said that he is the one who was instigated, he still feels guilty for no reason.

Sure enough, people can't do bad things. Halfway through, Yan Zhuo inhaled too quickly and took a sip. He covered his mouth and coughed.

When he recovered, Yan Zhuo said, "Have you seen it, I really don't smoke!"

Song Yan lowered his head and said coldly, "I can't see it."

Yan Zhuo was dumbfounded.

After a long time, he said, "I'm sorry."

Song Yan put out the cigarette and said indifferently, "It has nothing to do with you."

Chapter 7 "Are you wearing long johns today?"

Yan Zhuo changed the subject: "Hey...why do you have a fever?"

This sentence is simply nonsense, the two of them were drenched in snow together last night. At this moment, he seemed to have lost his memory, and kept saying, "What did you do last night, did you do something bad? Actually, I really can't understand your behavior of going to the back garden to enjoy the snow in the back garden in the middle of the night, it's so cold. —"

Song Yan interrupted him: "Shut up."

"Oh..." Yan Zhuo touched his nose and looked up at Song Yan. From his angle, he could see Song Yan's clear jawline and raised Adam's apple.

very sexy.

Yan Zhuo lowered his head again and touched his Adam's apple. "How old are you?" he asked dryly.

"how?"

"No—" Yan Zhuo said, "just ask."

Song Yan said, "Twenty-eight."

"Oh……"

Yan Zhuo thought: Older than me, no wonder he is more mature than me.

"Do you know how old I am?"

"do not know."

"Do you listen to my voice?

"I can't hear it." Song Yan turned around and leaned against the window sill, saying with little interest.

Yan Zhuo: "..."

Can you be more perfunctory?

He said in a muffled voice, "I am twenty-two this year."

Song Yan gave a cold "um", not intending to answer his words.

"..."

The clock hanging on the wall was walking tirelessly "tick-tock", making it seem abrupt in the quiet room.

Yan Zhuo moved his feet and prepared to stand up. As soon as he moved, he suddenly sucked in cold air and made a "hiss".

"Mr. Song." He patted Song Yan's hand.

Being suddenly touched, Song Yan felt uncomfortable and asked, "What's wrong?"

Yan Zhuo was embarrassed: "I... my legs are numb."

"..."

"Can't stand up."

"..."

"Can you pull me?"

Yan Zhuo looked up at Song Yan, his expression innocent and innocent. Too bad they can't see it.

After a while, Song Yan said with no emotion at all; "Let's squat again."

His expression was indifferent, as if to say: How can a mortal like you touch my hand.

Never guess how inhumane Song Yan will be, because he is not human at all when he is ruthless.

Yan Zhuo was afraid that his legs would be useless if he squatted down again, so he slowly stood up against the wall and stomped his feet. He stretched out his hand suddenly, grabbed the arm of the person next to him, and knocked his head on the other's shoulder blade because of inertia.

It hurts.

Yan Zhuo covered his forehead.

Song Yan stood by the window and was fished for a while, and before she could react, she was attacked by a hard object. He patted his shoulder and asked, "Does it hurt?"

Yan Zhuo: "It hurts..."

Song Yan said, "That's good."

Yan Zhuo: "?!"

"It hurts, just stand up next time."

Yan Zhuo whispered "Damn" and thought: If you help me, there will be so many things.

He pulled a long "ah" and said, "Concussion."

Song Yan was too lazy to pay attention to him touching the porcelain, closed the window and mocked: "Paste your head and spill it as soon as you touch it?"

Well mean bitch you've won again.

Yan Zhuo pouted, feeling that every time he talked to Song Yan, he thought that he didn't die fast enough.

He wants to live a few more years.

Yan Zhuo threw the cigarette butts into the trash can to destroy the corpse, and said, "I'm gone, too much paste has been spilled, and now my head is a little wet. I'll go and blow it with a hairdryer. Remember to eat lunch."

Song Yan's illness worsened that night after being baptized by cold wind and tobacco.