Dear Mr. Lu

Chapter 55

"I almost did that too."

When he hugged Luo Wencheng and when he kissed Luo Wencheng, he really thought about it that way. The warmth at hand was too tempting. The young man's eyes, words, body temperature, smile, everything was far more attractive to him than he had expected. This kind of predictable, palpable happiness could make the calmest person lose his mind.

Especially after he had been alone for so many years.

"Isn't it awful?

"After all, I have become what you hate the most."

Swinging from side to side, happy with the new and tired of the old, ungrateful...

Lu Chong smiled wryly and propped himself up on the table, his tall, upright body hunched down for the first time, as if he was already overwhelmed.

......

Luo Wencheng's life had become ordinary again.

He was waiting for Lu Chong to give him an answer, but it seemed difficult for the other party to respond.

Lu Chong even started not coming back at night.

He hadn't even stayed out at night after he politely rejected Luo Wencheng at the amusement park.

Luo Wencheng looked at his hands and asked himself in his heart, was he pushing too hard?

Should he have played dumb and stayed dumb? Once the window paper was pierced, the two of them couldn't maintain even a superficially calm and friendly relationship.

Downstairs, there was the sound of Lu Chong coming back. Luo Wencheng's dazed eyes slowly focused, and his expression became fierce a little bit.

It was either 1 or 0, either life or death. He didn't want to live a life where he didn't know the end, where he was guessing and waiting every day.

Everyone is a man, so why do you want to squirm like a woman? Just say one word, whether it works or not.

He opened the door of the room just as Lu Chong came up from downstairs. He paused when he saw Luo Wencheng: "Still awake."

Luo Wencheng walked over step by step and looked up at him quietly. The man was still calm, and his eyes were still filled with the familiar warmth. If you ignored the bloodshot eyes, ignored the tired look and the dodging gaze, nothing had changed.

"You haven't slept well for a few days, have you?" Luo Wencheng asked suddenly.

Lu Chong: "I have been... these days."

"Have I made it difficult for you?"

Lu Chong didn't say anything.

"Have I made you feel very painful?"

Lu Chong closed his eyes: "Wencheng, I have thought about it, I..."

Luo Wencheng suddenly took a step back. Just now, the bravado of either death or life, like a punctured balloon, disappeared without a trace. He avoided Lu Chong's gaze: "I'll make you something to eat."

Then he hurriedly went downstairs.

This was the longest time Luo Wencheng had ever spent making noodles.

He made them again and again, bowl after bowl, before he finally made a bowl that he was satisfied with.

The chef who got out of bed in the middle of the night to help him because Luo Wencheng was half-disabled was confused and distressed: "Aren't those bowls good? What a pity to throw them away."

Luo Wencheng murmured in a low voice: "For the last time, of course it must be the most perfect."

"What did you say?"