Luggage Syndrome

Liang Yicheng waited restlessly in the corridor.

He really wanted to knock on the closed door of the bathroom, but he knew that the door would never open to him easily.

The last time, he was just a fluke and sneaked in when Fu Lang was drunk.

He took a key with great difficulty, but he didn't expect that there was more than one door to open.

When Fu Lang came out of the bathroom, his expression was calm, and no clues could be seen on his face, as if the weeping look just now was Liang Yicheng's illusion.

Only the hair tip on the forehead is still dripping with water, and the skirt of the clothes is also wet.

Following his line of sight, Fu Lang lowered his head, stretched out a hand to lift up the hem of the clothes, took off the wet clothes, threw them into the washing machine carelessly, and said lightly:

"Washing your face and getting it wet."

That meal was the most torturous meal Liang Yicheng had ever had in his memory.

The new dining table exudes a faint smell of wood, and the two sitting face to face are speechless.

Rice is warm and food is cold.

When Liang Yicheng took the first bite, he wanted to take them to reheat them, but Fu Lang didn't seem to notice, he picked up the vegetables one after another with his chopsticks, chewed them absent-mindedly, and then swallowed them hastily.

According to this posture, if the dishes were hot, Fu Lang's throat might still be scalded.

Liang Yicheng could only put the cold dish into his mouth.

The juice of the char siew was completely solidified and turned into a dry mass, like chewing wax.After finally swallowing it, he could still clearly feel the hard and dry food slowly scraping across the esophagus.

Top heart top lung.

Fu Lang ate quickly, but he didn't leave after putting down the bowl and chopsticks, but just sat there quietly, staring at the table.

The food became more and more difficult to swallow.

Liang Yicheng squeezed the chopsticks tightly, lowered his head, and said softly:

"Brother Lang, you don't like this table, I will return it tomorrow."

"Need not."

Fu Lang's decisive answer was beyond his expectation.

Liang Yicheng suddenly became angry, but when he raised his head, what he met was a pair of pleading eyes, and he was dumbfounded.

Liang Yicheng felt that Fu Lang was like an egg.

The hard shell is as strong as gold, and he finally waited until there was a gap to take advantage of before knocking open a corner. He thought that the delicious egg yolk would flow out of the hole, but he found that the egg was already cooked, and the egg white was still tightly wrapped around the yolk. Reality.

He couldn't crack the remaining eggshell completely, and he couldn't bear to smash the soft and fragile egg white.

No way to start.

The table has not been used since that meal broke up.

On the one hand, Fu Lang has to bring the new interns, and the off-duty time is getting later and later.Originally, apart from rest days, Fu Lang would go home and cook after the morning shift, but now he can't spare the time.

On the other hand, Liang Yicheng felt like a stick in his throat.Several times he had clearly prepared the food, but the moment he put it on the dining table, he remembered Fu Lang's look in his eyes.

Finally, he put all the hot meals in the refrigerator, and called Fu Lang to accompany him out for dinner.

Before I knew it, the dining table seemed to have turned into a thorn, stabbing there silently.

On Saturday, Fu Lang had an early morning shift for a long time. Liang Yicheng lay lazily on the sofa, absently watching TV and eating snacks, thinking that maybe he could have a meal made by Fu Lang tonight.

"Ding-dong-ding-dong-"

Doorbell rang.

The little white cat pricked up its ears vigilantly, quickly jumped off Liang Yicheng's belly, and got under the sofa.

Liang Yicheng sat up suspiciously.

It was only four o'clock in the afternoon, and there was still some time before Fu Lang returned home from get off work.

Of course, Fu Lang would not ring the doorbell either.

Liang Yicheng peeped out through the peephole, vaguely saw that the visitor was a thin middle-aged woman, thought it was the auntie of the neighborhood committee reading the water meter, and opened the door.

The middle-aged woman outside the door was plainly dressed, carrying a large backpack, and carrying a large eco-bag in her hand. Seeing him, she looked a little surprised.

Liang Yicheng scratched his head and asked politely:

"Hello? Who am I looking for?"

"Hello, I'm looking for Xiao Fu, Fu Lang, does he live here?"

"Uh, yes, are you...?"

"My name is Li He, and I'm the mother of his... former good friend."

As far as Liang Yicheng knew, there were very few people who could be called Fu Lang's "good friends".And the melancholy past tense made him immediately confirm Li He's identity.

It is Feng Wenxuan's mother.

Liang Yicheng invited Li He in, and while Li He took off his shoes, he immediately called Fu Lang.

But at this time, Fu Lang happened to be making ward rounds, and no one answered. He saw that the recycle bag that Li He was carrying seemed to be very heavy, so he quickly put down his phone and helped Li He move into the house.

After Li He entered the room, he sat on the sofa in an orderly manner, but his face couldn't hide his curiosity. Looking at the huge cat climbing frame in the corner, and at the cat toys scattered all over the floor, he couldn't help but ask:

"Does Xiao Fu have a pet?"

"Yes, I have a kitten."

"I didn't expect him to raise small animals—"

Halfway through Li He's speech, he shook his head again and said to himself:

"However, he is indeed a very gentle child, from childhood to adulthood."

Liang Yicheng smiled softly, picked up the remote control and the tissue box that the little white cat had put on the floor and put them back on the table, and put the cat toys that obstructed the passage into the storage box.

He took out the mahogany tea tray that Fu Lang usually used to make tea from the cabinet, hesitated for a moment among the purple sand pot and the white porcelain tureen, carefully took out the white porcelain tureen, and placed a set of white porcelain saucers and teacups on the tea tray.

He washed the tea set clumsily, and asked, "Aunt Li, what kind of tea would you like to drink?"

Li He stared blankly at the tureen in his hand, and replied: "White porcelain tureen, let's drink Fenghuang Dancong."

Liang Yicheng was stunned for a moment before responding: "Okay."

Fenghuang Dancong is Fu Lang's favorite tea.

Liang Yicheng poured out the tea leaves from the tea pot, poured boiling water into the gaiwan, and the white porcelain gradually became hot.

Although he knew nothing about tea art, he also noticed that Fu Lang would only take out this set of white porcelain tureen when making Fenghuang Dancong.The way of making tea is very elegant, and once he pestered Fu Lang to teach him to make tea with a tureen.

Fu Lang agreed, but it took him a long time to hand over the gaiwan to him. At that time, he thought that Fu Lang was unwilling to teach, so he lost interest and just learned a gesture hastily.

It wasn't until now that the white porcelain tureen in his hand made his hands red and painful, that he suddenly realized.

Fu Lang was just afraid that he would get burned.

Fu Lang is a caring and considerate lover.

And he is not.

He's just timid and impatient.

Obviously the one who has been shrinking back is himself, but he still thinks it is a kind of consideration to ignore him.

The ten fingers connected to the heart, and the tingling pain from the fingertips caused his chest to shudder.

With trembling hands, he poured hot tea into the two small porcelain cups in front of him, barely stopping at [-]% full.

The tea is poured [-]% full, leaving [-]% is human favor.

But Fu Lang poured tea for him, it was always full.

No room is left, no retreat is left.

"Auntie, please drink tea."

Li He thanked him, picked up the white porcelain cup and looked at it for a long time, closed his eyes, smelled the fragrance of Dan Cong's tea, took a sip slowly, and sighed softly.

Liang Yicheng also took a sip, and realized that he had put too much tea, and hadn't grasped the timing. The hot water soaked the tea for too long, and the tea soup was extremely astringent.

However, Li He still closed his eyes, seeming to have endless aftertaste.

"In the past, I often heard from my son that the Fu family loved to drink Phoenix Dancong. Every time they went to Xiaofu's house to play, Xiaofu would imitate his father and make them drink Dancong in a white porcelain tureen. .”

"Dan Cong will be very astringent after soaking for a long time, which is not suitable for children's taste, but Xiaofu will always force them to drink it up. Later, the more soaked in Xiaofu, the appointment is made, and the children are used to drinking it. Go home and tell me Shancong. Cong is actually very good to drink, first bitter and then sweet, the more bitter the taste, the sweeter the aftertaste."

"I remember I said at that time, when you have a chance, you must learn from Xiaofu, and let me taste it when you go home. He happily agreed."

Li He absently played with the white porcelain cup in his hand, and murmured:

"Later, the child's father and I both went out to work, and unexpectedly... we never had the chance to drink the tea he made..."

"Now, it can be regarded as a wish fulfilled."

Li He's voice trembled, and Liang Yicheng's mouth became more bitter.

Li He was quiet for a while, then sighed softly, and said, "Little handsome guy, thank you for making tea for Auntie, and I heard Auntie complain. What's your name?"

"Auntie, you're welcome. My name is Liang Yicheng."

"Xiao Liang, thank you. Are you Xiao Fu's relative?"

"Well, I'm his—friend."

The corners of Li He's lips gradually curved: "You must be very good friends."

The sweetness of Fenghuang Dancong spreads on the tip of the tongue little by little.

"He is... a very important person to me."

The author says:

Orange: I want to beat up this slut