The Ten Years that I Loved You the Most ✔️

Chapter 03

When it really hurts, that kind of pain can grind to death, like a large thorn growing in the bone, reluctant to drink blood and gnaw meat. He Zhishu is actually very tolerant, but every time he feels pain, he can't wait to stab himself.

    He Zhishu went upstairs holding the pot of plants, his forehead soaked with cold sweat. He leaned against the wall and panted quickly, fainting with headaches.

    He Zhishu's medicines are all poured into different styles of glass wishing bottles. When you look at it, you can't think of such a tragic illness. When he was a student, he liked exquisite bottles and cans, and now he has collected a lot of them, but they are used for medicine.

    He was too lazy to boil water, so he took the medicine with cold water, and when he lay on the bed, he could hear the sound of tumbling in his abdominal cavity. He Zhishu lay on his side and curled up, his chin almost on his knees, wasting into a small mass.

    This was Jiang Wenxu's longest absence from home, and He Zhishu remembered it very clearly, nineteen days. It was only nineteen days, but He Zhishu didn't know how he got through it. He thought of the day he would go for a bone marrow puncture, and he was waiting to be scheduled for a test. Hearing the unbearable whimpers and pains of other patients, he was so calm that he didn't even say a single extra word. He Zhishu only asked: "Can I get up? I still want to go home, but I am afraid I can't help it."

    He Zhishu's headache is really helpless, his fingers curled up like a drowning person anyway. Can't reach the driftwood's efforts and despair. He frowned and got out of bed, opened the drawer of the desk in the small bedroom with the key, and carefully took out a book from it.

    It's Jane's prose, it's quite a few years. He Zhishu retracted into the sofa holding the book, and gently opened the first page, his eyes slowly filled with a gentle smile except for the exhaustion.

    The snow-white title page of the year has been yellowed, but the chic and arrogant pen writing is still stable in time. Jiang Wenxu's handwriting is very beautiful, and he meticulously transcribed Jian Ge's words-

    "Where you are, is the corner of the sea that I have to miss."

    Fourteen years ago, the tall boy with open eyebrows and scornful eyes stopped He Zhi. The book, blushing, stuffed him a book, his tone was stiff: "...I have heard someone say that you like Jian Zhen, I bought you her book. I hope you like this book, by the way... also like me!"

    He Zhishu Biting his lip, he held the book tightly in his arms. He softened into the sofa, his eyes thick and heavy with foggy eyes, no tears, but his heart was dead.

    Jiang Wenxu went home in the evening, and the sound of the key turning the door was exceptionally clear.

    He Zhishu was sober at that time and sat up slowly.

    There was no light in the room. Jiang Wenxu came to think that He Zhishu was asleep in the bedroom, but he didn't expect to see He Zhishu looking at him when the light was turned on, and his face was pale like a ghost.

    Jiang Wenxu was taken aback, and casually reprimanded: "Don't turn on the lights at night and pretend to be ghosts to scare people?!"

    Jiang Wenxu couldn't help being a little irritable when he looked at He Zhishu, and there were some strange things faintly. Complex emotions. These days, he is having a hot fight with a boy from the Academy of Fine Arts, but he has a guilty conscience after receiving a call from He Zhishu last night, always remembering something like having fun. Think about it, it's really been a long time since I went home.

    "You didn't have time to turn on the lights when you fell asleep. Your company is not busy anymore?" He Zhishu was not annoyed, and put the book on the coffee table.

    Jiang Wenxu's eyes didn't fall on the book, he threw his coat on the side of the sofa and pulled his tie. Without changing his face, he lied: "You have to take time to go home when you are busy. You don't even know to call me for a few days."

    "Are you losing weight?" Jiang Wenxu's eyes fell on He Zhishu's face, his brows frowned: "How old are you and you don't know how to take care of yourself, don't you hate looking in the mirror?"

    He Zhi Shu's heart seemed to have been severely slapped by a sharp knife, and pain came to him in a continuous stream. In fact, for Jiang Wenxu, his haggard and weight loss is not worth mentioning, only his disgusting appetite is true. How can this look compare to the wild flowers outside?

    He Zhishu laughed, how could he not want to take good care of himself. But life has never been for him to choose. Now Jiang Wenxu has only one sentence. Why, He Zhishu still apologizes for his paleness and bleakness? The proprietress of a wonton stall knows to ask distressedly, "Are you busy losing weight," and a doctor who is accustomed to life and death can persuade him not to give up life. And this man who has been together for more than ten years is only careless and impatient.

    Jiang Wenxu, He Zhishu, knows that his care and tenderness will not be used on things that are not of interest. Therefore, the thoughtful and tender feelings of the past have become dismissive of the present under the weathering and polishing of the years.

    He Zhishu has nothing to do.

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