COLD RAIN

CHAPTER 27

After repeated confirmations, taking apart the radicals of each word and reorganizing them several times, Sailub had to admit that there was indeed the word “couldn’t” in front of “forgive”.

From unwilling to believe to being flustered in just a few seconds, he typed some words and deleted them, going back and forth several times, unable to organize his words to send them.

Instead, he received a third message from The Boyish Painter:

But everyone is different. I can’t stand deception the most. Maybe his bottom line is not there 😃

Sailub was stunned, his fingers that had just moved flexibly hung stiffly above the screen.

You are him, and his bottom line is your bottom line.

Really… can’t forgive me?

Lying on the bed, Pon held his mobile phone and waited.

There was no reply from Dora-hum-hum.

He was a little anxious. He returned to look through their chat just now and began to reflect on whether his tone was too heavy.

But he didn’t want to lie and deceive people, and he also emphasized that it was his own perspective.

It shouldn’t be too much of a blow to Dora-hum-hum, should it?

While he struggled to think about what to say, Dora-hum-hum finally sent a reply:

Then what if I promise to be nice to him in the future and not let him suffer any grievance?

Seeing this line of words, Pon came back to his senses.

This was the first time someone confided in him. He tried to be as comforting as possible, putting himself in the other person’s shoes, but he inevitably related the troubles they encountered to his own experiences.

Be nice to me? Don’t let me suffer any grievance?

After thinking for a while, he shook his head, rejecting it.

How can he be nice to me? I didn’t feel aggrieved at the time either, it was all done willingly.

After pondering again, Pon filled his reply with positive energy:

Give it a try, hope is always reserved for those who are prepared! 🤞

The next day was Benz’s birthday.

Pon got up early and took the bus to go to the city to buy ingredients.

He was afraid that they might not be fresh if he bought them in advance.

He bought fruit, milk, eggs and even the tools for making the cake from scratch.

On the way back, he carried a large bag with difficulty. He got off the bus and just transferred the bag with the tools to his shoulder, intending to reduce the burden on his hands.

When he walked to the exit of the station, he ran into a man dressed as a staff member. He presented a trolley to him and diligently helped him organize all his baggage in the trolley.

Pon was delighted to hear that this was a convenient service offered by the station, “This trolley is great, right? I will return it when I send the things home.”

The staff member waved his hand open-mindedly, “No need, keep the trolley.”

Surrounded by goodwill, Pon returned home dizzy as if treading on cotton.

He turned the trolley over and took a look and then went to a shopping website to search for the brand. It was not very expensive but it still made him feel strange.