Back of Hand

Chapter 42

    Peng Lang followed behind Ji Changshan, he looked at the back of her head, the ponytail swayed with her quick steps, the tail of her hair brushed her white neck, and her hair was shining. If he gets closer, he can smell the quiet fragrance.

    The early autumn night was not very cold, and even the leaves were not frozen yellow, but Peng Lang retracted his big hands into his suit pockets to keep warm.

    He was not far or close to Ji Changshan, and he wanted to take two extra steps to catch up, but finally slowed down.

    On the last day of August, Peng Lang sent Ji Changshan back to Xiwatai, took a few orders for a special car, and turned to two or three o'clock in the morning on the main road.

    When he picked up and sent off the guests, he kept silent the whole time when the first three were there; from the fourth onwards, Peng Lang chatted with them for the first time, chatting all over the world.

    One customer was probably socially afraid, so he gave Peng Lang a bad review as soon as he got out of the car, criticizing him for talking too much at length.

    Peng Lang had read the guest's comments, and scrolled through a few more, and found Ji Changshan's bad comments, and looked at it quietly for a while, as if there was a paintbrush in front of his eyes, sketching her angrily when she wrote the comments.

    Her appearance is unexpected.

    Peng Lang locked the phone and threw it in the co-pilot, and drove back to Xiwatai. The car was parked under the apartment building, Peng Lang lit a cigarette, and fixed his eyes on one position, watching the smoke drift slowly over there.

    The countless windows upstairs are almost completely dark, and occasionally there are three or five windows with yellow and white light, none of which come from Ji Changshan's bedroom.

    Peng Lang didn't go back to Xiwatai's apartment, but found a random house to make ends meet.

    He went to work as usual during the day, and many coffee companies came together to attack Lang Yu. The problem was quite difficult. Peng Lang dealt with business affairs day after day, and he was so absorbed that he couldn't concentrate on thinking about Ji Changshan sleeping well at night.

    Rarely free at night, he ate two sandwiches, drove the domestic Changan as before, picked up and dropped off passengers all over the city, and saw where these busy people came from and where they were going.     When he returned to his residence in the early morning, Peng Lang often forgot to turn on the lights. He sat on the leather sofa, opened a pack of cigarettes, and smoked one after another, only the orange flame was flickering in the darkness.

    Peng Lang went to the window and looked out, the lights of the houses on the opposite floor were flickering, occasionally figures appeared, like a silhouette.

    This place is much quieter than Xiwatai. Any couple or husband and wife who quarrel know that family ugliness should not be publicized. They closed the soundproof door, smashed plates and bowls, never picked expensive damage, and threatened to kill each other. The quarrel became more and more intense. I don't know who shed tears first, and the other party yelled a few words, and gradually shut up because they lost the other party's response. The ground was in a mess, both sides were hurt, each side found a room to calm down for a long time, and in the middle of the night someone knocked on the door to make peace, and they hugged each other and kissed to death.

    Standing in front of the window, Peng Lang listened to the silence in the dark night, and the smoke rings kept rising. He took the last puff of the cigarette of the night, went back to the coffee table in the dark, and extinguished the cigarette butt in the ashtray.