All The Male Leads Have Blackened

Song Boyu frowned, with unhappy expression on his face, and his chest even fluctuated slightly. Cen Simiao took a step back and looked up at him. It was the first time he had seen him express such intense emotions.

Although it is not quite the same as ordinary people, it can still make people feel unhappy.

Cen Smiao pursed her lips and shouted at him with a low voice. Song Boyu ignored it, her jaw tightened, and her eyes turned to another place.

Cen Simao didn't shout anymore, knowing that he must be able to breathe out for a while, so he stopped touching the nail. She stood on the spot for a while, feeling more tired, and fell asleep in the early morning. She was woken up by the alarm clock after a while and got up to cook for him.

It can't stand it.

Glancing at Song Boyu, he asked softly, "Are you still angry?"

Song Boyu glanced at her, and the thin fury among the brows was still there.

Cen Simiao discussed with him: "Don't you be angry?"

Song Boyu raised his chin and turned his head to her.

Cen Simiao looked at him with a gazed eyes, but still didn't get a response, and sighed: "Then you'll be angry slowly."

Then he turned around and left, his face was very tired, and he yawned. Anyway, he wanted to be angry, no matter how to persuade him, he went back to sleep for a while.

Footsteps sounded, and he walked into the room in a hurry.

Song Boyu was attracted by the sound, and he turned his head involuntarily, his brows deepened, staring at Cen Simiao's back until she closed the door.

Cen Simao returned to the bedroom with a dull head, walked to the bed, curled sideways, just covered the quilt, and suddenly heard a bang. She was instantly excited, sat up reflexively, and drowsled away most of it.

Cen Simiao glanced at the door of the room. Could Song Boyu be angry?

She sat there for a long time without hearing other movements, relieved, and wanted to put on shoes and go out to see what was going on, but she couldn't get up, couldn't stand it, and lay down and dragged herself. Horn wraps himself in bed.

The system looked aside and stopped talking, and then sighed and went to the forums dedicated to their systems. Many of the same systems are using the host. It brushed a few posts, read it all the way, made a noise, filled with indignation.

That's horrible.

Some hosts wore into the ancient palace and became unloved concubines. Later, they attacked all the way and won the emperor's favor. When they were about to reach 100% of the favor, they suddenly fell in love with a guard, and the task was ignored, especially infatuated The two discussed elopement.

All were killed by the emperor.

This post is based on the 0056 system. I used to have friendly conversations with it in the past. It was very cute. I was very polite when talking, but now I can clearly feel the change.

You Mengxin asked, "You can persuade her, why not stop her?"

0056: "I stopped her uncle."

The system empathizes, and posts with grief in particular.

#Host is holding people up and ready to die, what should I do? Asking for help online, etc., is not very urgent #

While Cen Simiao was sleeping and the system was immersed in the crying atmosphere of the forum, Lin Zhenqi had awoken from his bed in the bedroom, and the curtains were not pulled. Today the sun is particularly good and the light is strong. He opened his eyes coldly, especially Not adapted.

Close your eyes again and let it go for a long time before returning. Frowning, looking at the side of the body, empty, and looked down to the ground, no woman clothes.

His own pants were still on, and his bare top was missing.

Lin Zhenqi leaned on the bed, thinking back to last night, he remembered that Cen Simiao had been brought back, and both of them had entered the house, but later things could not be remembered.

He rubbed his eyebrows, picked up the phone and watched the time, but saw a message, and clicked it in from Cen Simiao. He pursed his lips and stared at the screen for a long time.

Not quite right, he drank a lot last night, but didn't reach the point where he drunk and slept.

Lin Zhenqi was puzzled, and when she returned to Cen Simiao, she said nothing, and did not contact her for a while.

Cen Simiao couldn't care less about him, and was busy coaxing Song Boyu. He didn't react at all, not as emotionally exposed as that day, and still no different from usual, but Cen Simiao could obviously feel his alienation.

Song Boyu spends most of his day in the room painting.

She would never come together at this time, and would only talk softly to him while eating. Song Boyu was a little annoying when she heard it, but she didn't want to ignore her. Every time she saw her, she frowned and looked like she was holding back.

But no matter how annoying, he didn't deliberately hide from Cen Simiao, it can be said that he never thought of hiding from her.

Cen Simiao has a heart in mind.

She bought a set of painting tools and placed it in her room, sitting on a chair, raising her arms and drawing a few strokes on the canvas. Not very good-looking, even a little waste of these painting tools.

The system wants to give her a golden finger, isn't it just trying to get a good hand, and then makes Song Boyu think she's really good. Why do you have to practice it yourself and haven't been taught by a teacher? What can you learn in such a short period of time?

Cen Simiao has been thinking about painting for several days.

Forgot to clean Song Poyu's room.

Song Boyu didn't want to listen to Cen Simiao, she didn't come to him and didn't think there was anything. But even a week later, the drawing paper used in his house was almost piled up into a hill.

Song Boyu frowned, and he felt something wrong. He looked up at the wall clock on the wall of his eyes. At ten-five, he frowned, thinking of Cen Simiao.

Then I remembered that she hadn't been in his room for a long time.

Song Boyu went out and saw Cen Simiao's bedroom door closed, and there was no one in the living room, but unlike the sudden disappearance that night, the shoes at the entrance were still there.

She should not have gone out.

Song Boyu walked a few steps towards Cen Simiao's room door, and when he approached, he stopped again, his calm expression suddenly showed his awkward expression, put his hand in his pants pocket, and turned back to his house.

The next day, Cen Simiao came out of the room in the morning, preparing to go to the kitchen to cook, and suddenly saw that Song Boyu's door was staggered. It was rare, and his door was usually closed.

She had to knock on the door several times to get him impatient to clean up.

Cen Smiao hooked her mouth, didn't go in, and continued downstairs. Near the door of the kitchen, she glanced at Song Boyu's room, but saw that he was standing there, and the door was open.

Cen Simiao froze, then bent her eyes to say hello. Song Boyu stared at her without talking, her lips narrowed, and she turned back to the room.

Cen Simiao continued to walk to the kitchen, and Leng Buding heard a bang again. She looked up conditionedly and saw Song Boyu closing the door hard.

Hatred with the door.

The system was anxious: "It's not because you hate the door, you've provoked him. Hurry up and don't study painting!"

Cen Simiao: "Don't go."

The system was silent for a long time, as if it had been hit. It was shaking the data. It turned out the help posts posted a few days ago. There were a lot of replies below. Most of them were crying with it. Only one layer of replies was the idea.

It looked.

The system didn't know it would work, hesitated and tried: "Then, then don't coax him, don't go."

Cen Simao didn't know if she heard it, and didn't react at all.

Song Boyu stayed in the room, frowning tightly, this is the second time, just now he was burned in his heart, and his mind was messy, as long as the thought of Cen Simiao showing his indifferent expression to him , Can not control the anger.

And other scenes appeared in front of her. Cen Simiao seemed to be wearing ancient clothes, her eyes were particularly charming with a smile, but her eyes were unemotional.

He pondered again and the picture disappeared.

Song Boyu felt that she was more and more affected by Cen Simiao. Even she did not show up, she couldn't help but go to her, put down her paintbrush, and walked to the door of her bedroom, but she hated him even more. Sudden emotions.

So he never knocked on the door once.

This time Song Boyu pushed open the bedroom door again and looked at Cen Simiao's room. After taking a few steps, she found that she hadn't closed the door this time, but was half open.

Song Boyu stopped and wanted to turn around, but didn't know what was going on. He didn't move. Cen Simiao was sitting quietly, with a concentrated and serious expression, her eyes were especially gentle, staring at the canvas, and the brush was gently sketching on it.

Draw only one outline. If you can't see it, you will exaggerate it, so that Song Boyu can see it, and she will never feel that she has painted well.

He stared at it for a long time, suddenly frowning, Cen Simiao's lines were messy, but he could vaguely see what was drawn.

A man standing on the canvas, thin but tall, seems to be looking at the roses on the table, but with a few eyebrows, he can tell that he is proud and indifferent.

The clear picture is Song Boyu.

He lowered his eyelids, pursed his lips and wondered what the lines on his face were softening little by little, not as stiff as before.

Suddenly Cen Simiao noticed his gaze and looked up here. She froze, then smiled happily, softening her voice: "You come."

Song Boyu frowned and moved two steps forward.

Cen Simiao still smiled sweetly: "You come again."

He walked over.

Cen Simiao was sitting on a chair with her chin raised and letting him look at the paintings on the canvas: "You haven't ignored me recently. I'm afraid I'll make you bother me, and I dare not show up. I can only paint you secretly.

Song Boyu's expression remained unchanged, his eyes looked at the painting calmly.

She hooked her mouth: "Like you?"

Song Boyu's tone was flat: "It looks like, but it doesn't paint well."

Cen Simiao's eyelashes trembled, and suddenly she stood up, perhaps too fiercely, her eyes darkened, and she was dizzy. She subconsciously grabbed Song Boyu's arm.

He frowned to hide, but found Cen Simiao's body wobbly, as if standing still. She leaned against his chest, her body weak, her arms clung to him, her breathing shallow.

Song Boyu tried to push her arm stiff, paused in the air, and slowly drooped again.

After a while, Cen Simiao froze on his chest, raised his head, and said softly, "Teach me then."