All The Male Leads Have Blackened

In the consultation room, the clocks on the wall have gone round, and the sound of the second hand moving can be clearly heard. Cen Simiao was sitting on the sofa, holding coffee in her hand, gently stirring with a spoon, taking a sip, and felt a bitterness on the tip of her tongue.

She looked up at Song Poyu, who was opposite.

Still motionless, his eyes stared at the roses in the bottle. His neck was long, his body was thin, and his lip color was sickly white, giving a sense of vulnerability. His chin was raised slightly, and his brows were born with pride.

At first Cen Simiao asked him a few questions, but he didn't say anything. Then she stopped talking, and the room was quiet.

Song Boyu didn't care about others at all, or did not realize that others were talking to him. Cen Simiao rubbed her neck, leaned on the sofa, and continued drinking coffee.

The bitter taste spread in the mouth, she couldn't help frowning, adding a little sugar, opened the drawer of the coffee table according to the memory, there were a few books, and a few packets of sugar beside it.

Cen Simiao's fingers were long and slender, and she tore a corner slightly, tilted the sugar bag, tapped her fingertips, and the white sugar granules fell into the coffee with white mist.

Wet and become transparent until it melts.

Almost poured the whole bag into it, Cen Simiao picked up a small spoon and stirred it, and put her lipstick on her lips near the cup and took a sip. She was particularly satisfied, and her lips involuntarily caught.

Song Boyu has shifted her eyes from the roses. His expression was cold, his eyebrows narrowed slightly, and there was a hint of dissatisfaction in his eyes.

Cen Simiao didn't find it at all, and was still drinking coffee comfortably. The bitterness of the coffee is intertwined with the sweetness, and the taste that is difficult to swallow finally disappears, but it evokes a strong aroma.

She didn't lower the cup until she saw the bottom of the cup.

Cen Simiao looked up, but instantly hit Song Boyu's eyes. He was just as straight as staring at the rose. Cen Simiao smiled politely, straightened her back, and kissed with a formula kiss: "If you want to chat now, you can talk about your interests."

Song Boyu didn't seem to hear it at all.

She raised her eyebrows, saw him still staring at her, and looked down at her clothes: "Is there anything wrong?"

The dissatisfaction in Song Boyu's eyes gradually became obvious, which could make Cen Simiao catch, she froze, began to think with her eyes down, and then fell on the coffee cup.

Cen Simiao touched the cup with her hand: "Do you want to drink?"

He glanced, then looked away, and the disgust flashed in his eyes. Cen Simiao's hand was a meal, he did not understand what he meant. When he wanted to speak, he saw him looking at the roses again.

She narrowed her eyes.

Another hour later, Cen Simiao talked to Song Boyu's parents. She was rigorous. She said professional terms that she had just heard from the system. She patiently talked about Song Poyu's illness to her father and mother.

She looked serious: "He can feel the communication with him, but he is unwilling to bother and immerse himself in his own world. And it seems that there is a way of doing things by himself. If others don't do things according to his rules, they will be disgusted. Emotions."

Song's father and mother were particularly worried, nodding his head again and again: "Isn't it? I don't know what he's thinking about, and he doesn't agree."

Cen Simiao said: "He is not particularly serious. In addition to taking drugs, he must find ways to intervene. It is best to have someone with him at all times."

Song's father and mother sighed: "We also know, but it's too busy, we can only let the aunt at home take care of him, but there is no effect."

Cen Simiao frowned: "The people who accompany him every day need to learn a little more about this, and he will always get better after treatment."

Father Song was in trouble: "But the doctors are too busy. How can there be time ..."

Cen Simiao interrupted: "I can go."

Song father Song mother froze for a moment.

She was righteous and willing to dedicate herself: "His condition is better now with a little help. Although I am busy here, I don't want to see a patient who can be cured. For some reason, the condition is aggravated.

Song ’s father, Song ’s mother, showed gratitude: “Thank you doctor, we will compensate for your loss.”

Cen Simiao sits tightly: "Okay, but I hope to get along with him alone these days. You better not stay with him."

The system snored and could really flicker. It has passed her the material of this world. The original owner was a psychological counselor who went smoothly and became a leader in the industry. It was only later that the mold had fallen, and the fiance ran away with others, something went wrong at work, and his reputation suddenly plummeted.

At the moment, the original owner is not engaged, and neither is his boyfriend. The two are still in contact. All Cen Simiao had to do was catch up with him and then dump him.

As for the male lead Song Boyu, his goal of life winner is to become a normal person.

Cen Simiao felt that this sentence was strange, and he said it would be impossible to cure him.

The system wanted to speak, paused again, and then couldn't help it: "I don't have a golden finger for healing. I still want to heal him based on your current ability, can you be awake."

Cen Simiao frowned: "What do you mean?"

The system sighed: "Being a normal person means that as long as he talks and looks like everything is normal, it doesn't matter what he thinks, this is a bright space, you don't know how to drill."

Cen Simiao felt even more weird. After going through so many worlds, how could there be such a good thing, I was afraid it was not a pit, just waiting for her to jump.

Two days later, Song ’s father and mother gave the keys to Cen Simiao, and they had moved to another house. Today, Song Boyu is the only one in the family.

Cen Simiao smiled, making people involuntarily trust her: "Relax, I will take good care of him."

Song's villa is not far from the city center, in a busy area, on the way Cen Simiao went, by the way to the supermarket to buy something. She went to Song's house in a large bag, and instead of directly holding the key to open the door, she rang the bell.

No one should.

Cen Simiao leaned patiently on the door and rang the doorbell for five minutes. She turned to open the door, took out the shopping bag from the front passenger seat, and opened the door to enter.

The living room was empty and nobody was there. Cen Simiao first found the kitchen and put things in the refrigerator. After I cleaned it up, I washed my hands and heard the footsteps on the stairs, looking up.

Song Boyu was wearing a thin top and a pair of gray slacks. His legs were straight, and Xu was too thin. He was originally loose against the leg pants.

Holding a cup in his hand, when he saw Cen Simiao, he looked away and looked at her. Cen Simiao raised his corner of the mouth to say hello, but he had already looked away to pick up the hot water.

Cen Simiao looked at his back: "I'm here temporarily to borrow and I will move out later. Uncles and aunts are busy, and I may not see them these days."

As if he didn't hear Song Boyu, he took the water and turned to leave. Cen Simiao stepped forward and followed the words. He didn't say anything slowly.

When she lifted her feet and was about to step on the stairs, he stopped suddenly, turned his frown, raised his chin, and looked at Cen Simiao: "Throw these slippers away."

She froze, surprised that he spoke, and looked down to see the slippers on his feet, which she had just bought: "It's clean."

Song Boyu's face was impatient: "Throw it away."

Cen Simao didn't talk to him, nodded, and then he looked back, straightened his back, and watched the stairs go up.

She glanced at the slippers worn on Song Boyu's feet, and walked to the shoe closet at the entrance. The slippers of the Song family were all soft bottoms, with a layer of fluff, different from the slippers she took at the supermarket.

Cen Simiao squinted and pondered for a while, then went to the staircase again, raised one foot, stepped on it without feeling any difference. She frowned, and felt that Song Boyu was inexplicable.

With my feet down the stairs, I glanced at my slippers, which was fine. Suddenly seeing a layer of hair sticking to the soles of the shoes, Cen Simiao stood on one foot, took the slippers to her eyes, and looked at the stairs again, with a layer of blankets on it, which looked particularly soft.

It should be stuck when stepping on it.

She pursed her lips.

When eating at noon, a large package of things bought by Cen Simiao came in handy. Through the previous world, although it was not good to cook, it was always swallowed.

She wears an apron, picks up a spatula, and is busy working in the kitchen. At twelve o'clock, Song Boyu appeared in the restaurant on time, and she was very graceful. She sat on a chair and waited for dinner.

Cen Simiao was tired for a long time, and finally fry the dishes and serve them quickly, this time it looks pretty good. She frowned with a smile: "Try it."

Song Boyu glanced at the dishes on the table without moving his chopsticks and turned to look at the wine cabinet next to him. Cen Simao followed, and went there and took a bottle of champagne: "Do you want to drink this?"

There was no disgust in Song Boyu's eyes.

The champagne was poured into the glass, he took a sip, then stood up, Cen Simiao froze, wondering what he wanted to do: "What do you want to take, I help you ..."

He walked straight up the stairs.

Cen Simiao calmed down. She didn't want to eat her dishes. She raised her eyebrows and whispered to the past, exhausting her patience: "Where is the appetite?"

Song Boyu's back was alienated, and there was a natural arrogance. Cen Simiao didn't respond until she followed the door of the room. This time he did not let her go up the stairs.

Looking down, I glanced at the slippers I had just bought.

The soles are clean and free of sticky hair.

Another day passed, Song Bomiao's dishes did not change. Apart from drinking water, he had nothing to eat in his stomach. Is she particularly wondering, isn't she hungry?

Cen Simiao couldn't help it, and took the initiative to call Song's father and mother, after listening there: "You said he's not eating anymore? Never before."

Cen Smiao rubbed her forehead and was embarrassed.

Then he asked immediately, "Have you cooked ginger?"

Cen Simiao nodded: "I took it from the shabu-shabu, and then I took it out."

He said over there, "No, he doesn't eat ginger, and tastes a little bit. And for breakfast, you remember to fry one side when frying eggs, don't touch both sides, and take out the yolk. He Do not eat. "

"If you drink porridge at night, put some sugar in it, just a little bit of a spoon."

Cen Smiao froze for a long time, breathing in her heart, saying nothing.

The next morning, Cen Simiao followed the instructions given by Song's father and mother, frying the eggs, and separated the yolks. They were served on a plate. After seeing them, Song Poyu finally moved his chopsticks and ate them bit by bit.

Then wiped his mouth.

Cen Simiao frowned. "You can tell me about your dietary preferences, otherwise it would be silly to be hungry."

Song Boyu was about to get up, and suddenly heard such a word, looked at her in doubt: "Why do you listen to me to cook?"

Cen Smiao pursed her lips: "Because you don't eat you will starve."

The doubt in his eyes was even worse: "I don't like the dishes you make, so I don't eat them. But what you do is your business, and it has nothing to do with me."

Cen Simiao glanced at him: "It doesn't matter, you should be hungry."