Imprisoned Crown of Thorns

"Good morning everyone."

Walking to the door of the meeting room, Han's senior executives are basically here today, and Han Sen glanced around.

"Good morning, Mr. Han."

Seeing Han Sen enter the door, the senior executives who sat down stood up one after another, politely returning to Han Sen.

Han Sen would never interfere innocently with his employees' private life and private morals, but in formal occasions where he was present, Han Sen's style was always elegant and old-fashioned, and he asked the people around him to also It has to be done.

Noisy, rude, unreasonable quarrels, meaningless struggles, these are all detested by Han Sen, and are strictly prohibited behaviors.

Feng Bai looked at Han Sen with a smile on his face, and raised his hand to straighten the edge of his skirt.

Han Sen turned sideways and let Nietzsche, who was standing behind him just now, walk in.

"Everyone, Mr. Nietzsche Lutheran will participate in our meeting today. I hope that Mr. Lutheran can give us generous corrections for any problems we encounter during the meeting."

Everyone started applauding. Nietzsche waved his hand to signal the applause to stop, then nodded to everyone, "Sit down."

Nietzsche glanced at Han Sen. Han Sen sat on the rostrum, and Nietzsche himself turned around and took the last seat on the left.

Shen Zui bumped Feng Bai lightly with his arm, but Feng Bai didn't respond and ignored him.

Shen Zui turned his head and saw Feng Bai sitting on the seat with a dignified face, Shen Zui smiled and said in a low voice, "A Bai? What's wrong with you?"

Feng Bai put down his hand, pinched Shen Zui's thigh under the conference table, and said through gritted teeth, "Don't talk to me! Didn't you see Lutheran looking at us! Don't you know how to concentrate during the meeting?"

Intoxicated for a moment, he turned his head and looked in Nietzsche's direction. The man gathered his clothes, sat upright in the last seat, raised his head, and kept his eyes on Han Sen, occasionally following Han Sen's words Look at the contents of the file you have reached and look at the file in front of you.

Nietzsche held a black signature pen in his hand, his face was expressionless, and he was still icy, no different from usual.

It's completely like a high-ranking son of aristocrat.

Shen Zui whispered to Feng Bai:

"No, you're thinking too much, Ah Bai, that person only has Brother Han in his eyes, seeing how nervous you are, I really don't know what you're thinking."

Thinking about it, the person Nietzsche cares most about is Han Sen. Now that Han Sen is here, maybe Nietzsche has forgotten his existence.

Besides, my sense of existence is already very low.

Only then did Feng Bai feel relieved to open the document in front of him.

As a result, Nietzsche stayed at Han Sen's company for the whole afternoon. After watching Han Sen's meeting, he did find some problems on Han Sen's side, so he was very interested in helping Han Sen deal with some trivial matters.

Although he didn't do anything himself, he just stood aside and pointed at Han Sen who was doing things critically, but his mood became very happy, especially when Han Sen was listening to everything he said.

The two stayed in the office until about eight o'clock in the evening. Because the days are short and the nights are long in late autumn, it was already late when Nietzsche and Han Sen went out.

"Is it cold?"

Nietzsche only wore a relatively casual windbreaker, which was not too thin and not very thick. Nietzsche felt that wearing a thick coat was too troublesome, but in fact, Nietzsche was very, very afraid of the cold. Also a lazy man.

As soon as he walked out of the company with warm air, there was a chilly wind blowing from the corridor outside the company. Nietzsche wrinkled up, and then leaned against Han Sen behind him, leaning his head on Han Sen's shoulder, and turned sideways Putting his face on Han Sen's neck, he nodded, "I'm freezing to death."

"Husband, take off your clothes and let me wear them."

Nietzsche put his arms around Han Sen's waist and leaned against Han Sen's body.

Han Sen smiled, took off his coat, put it on Nietzsche's body, raised his arms to hold Nietzsche in his arms, and the two walked towards the car parked by the door.

"Uncle, are you tired?"

Nietzsche had been with him for an afternoon, and that man rarely used his brain so diligently, so he was probably exhausted.

Nietzsche hummed, put his head on Han Sen's shoulder, and fell asleep after a while.

"Sir, you are finally home."

The butler stood at the door and watched Han Sen come up with Nietzsche in his arms. Nietzsche seemed to be in a deep sleep, and Han Sen walked very steadily, so Nietzsche showed no sign of waking up. Know if you will feel tired.

"I'll send Lutheran to bed first."

The butler nodded,

"Mr. Han, why don't you let Mr. Nietzsche eat something first? He will definitely feel bad if he doesn't eat dinner."

Han Sen looked down at Nietzsche, shook his head and said:

"No, he will wake up when he is hungry. Now he is very tired, let him rest first."

"Okay, Mr. Han."

Han Sen carried Nietzsche into the door, and the butler turned sideways and followed Han Sen to the upstairs bedroom.

Han Sen bent down and put Nietzsche on the bed in the bedroom, looked down at Nietzsche, and brushed his bangs that covered his beautiful eyes with his fingers.

"Has Han Xiu fallen asleep?"

Han Sen asked the butler in a low voice.

The butler nodded:

"Young master is already asleep, and you don't have much for dinner."

"It's okay to eat less for dinner, and don't force him to eat after dinner if he doesn't have an appetite."

"Okay, sir, I have dinner for you at home. I heard that you have been busy with the company until now, so you must have not eaten dinner? Why don't you go and have a little rest first, and I will help Mr. Nietzsche Those who stay here to take care of him, as long as he wakes up, he will be able to see me here."

Han Sen smiled softly, waved his hand,

"You bring in dinner, and I'll eat a little at the desk here. If Nietzsche wakes up and sees you here, he will be angry."

Han Sen pointed to the table by the window, indicating that the butler can go down to get dinner now.

"Then I'll bring you dinner first."

"Go."

As soon as the butler walked out, Han Sen loosened his tie, tore it off his neck and threw it on the sofa, took off his suit, rolled up his sleeves, and took off Nietzsche's shirt, trousers, shoes and socks. After coming down, only a pair of underwear was left, and then went to the bathroom to bring a basin of warm water and a piece of silk cloth.

Han Sen put warm water next to the bed, soaked the silk cloth in the warm water, took Nietzsche's palm and began to wipe it carefully. Nietzsche's hand was very white, the skin was very delicate, and the knuckles were long. It looked like he was pampered. people.Wipe palms and then face.

"Good night, Lutheran."

Han Sen bent down and kissed Nietzsche's lips. When he looked up, the servant had already brought the dinner.

"Sir, are you going to eat now?"

the servant asked.

Han Sen nodded and pointed to the desk by the window,

"Just put it there. I'll just eat a little. You wait here and ask someone to take out Lutheran's clothes for washing."

"Okay, sir."

The servant put the dinner on the edge of the table, and then stood aside politely, waiting in peace without saying a word, everything was in order, and there was a touch of warmth.

Han Sen slowly finished what was in front of him, which was simple porridge and some side dishes.

"Good night, sir."

Han Sen nodded, got up and took a simple wash, went to the study to get a book he was reading recently, then went to bed and leaned against Nietzsche, and opened the bookmarked page.

Nietzsche, who was sleeping next to him, came over following Han Sen's smell, leaned sideways against Han Sen's body, and took a long breath.

Han Sen read the book for more than an hour, and looked down. Nietzsche seemed to be sleeping with his eyes closed, and there was no sign of waking up, so he turned around and put the book on the cabinet next to the bed, and turned on the light next to the bed. The tone was a little darker, and then I looked down at Nietzsche's sleeping face.

"Han Sen."

When Han Sen looked at Nietzsche, Nietzsche suddenly opened his eyes slowly.

Han Sen rubbed the corners of Nietzsche's slender eyes with his fingertips. In such a quiet late night, Han Sen's voice sounded like a cello playing solo in the garden, "What's the matter, Lutheran, are you hungry?"

Nietzsche nodded, sat up while supporting Han Sen's arm, and lay on Han Sen's body, "Hungry."

"What do you want to eat?"

Nietzsche thought about it for a long time, because he is a man who doesn't distinguish between five grains, he eats what other people do every day, so Nietzsche couldn't think of what to eat for a while, so he turned his face to look at Han Sen and shook his head ,"I have no idea."

"I still want to drink water."

Han Sen nodded,

"I'll get you a glass of water."

Han Sen got out of bed, went to the coffee table by the bed and poured a cup of herbal tea for Nietzsche. Nietzsche sat on the bed and took a sip. He felt comfortable and leaned there lazily, "Han Sen, go cook for me. eat."

"I'll go right away. Lutheran, don't come down, it's cold outside."

Han Sen never turned on the air conditioner at home. Only Nietzsche's master bedroom had the air conditioner and heating turned on. Han Xiu's bedroom was not allowed to turn on the air conditioner in this intersecting season, unless it was hot summer or winter.

Now the dew has started to fall at night, the humidity is heavy, and it is in the mountains and forests. Nietzsche’s health has not been very good in recent years. When the mountain wind blows, he probably has a cold and a fever, and then he loses his temper non-stop , not giving good looks to the people around him, and being easily blamed, for the people in the family, Nietzsche at that time was really terrible.

"Okay, hurry up."

Han Sen nodded, put on his pajamas and went downstairs. The servant sleeping in the hall heard footsteps, looked up and saw Han Sen went downstairs, turned on the lights in the hall, and walked towards Han Sen quickly, "Yes Did something happen, Mr. Han?"

Han Sen shook his head,

"Nothing, Lutheran is hungry, I'll make him something to eat."

The man hurriedly said:

"Mr. Han, why don't you go upstairs and rest. I'll just make supper for Mr. Nietzsche. Sir, he wants something to eat."

Han Sen waved his hand to himself, walked to the refrigerator, opened the refrigerator, took out a tomato, an egg and a small roll of noodles, "Lutheran wants to eat what I make, but he won't eat what others make. "

"Oh, I know Mr. Han."

Han Sen nodded, indicating that the man could go down, took his things into the kitchen, turned on the light in the kitchen, and boiled hot water for noodles.

Nietzsche doesn't have a big appetite, and it's best to eat lightly at night, so Han Sen plans to cook him a small bowl of noodles. For Nietzsche, he just needs to eat a little as long as he is not hungry.

Seeing that the hot water was about to boil, Han Sen put the small handful of noodles and chopped tomatoes into it. After cooking for a while, he estimated that it was almost done, and then poured the eggs in the bowl into it. ]

"Lutheran, sit up and eat something."

Han Sen entered the bedroom with a bowl in his hand, a fork and a pair of chopsticks. When he opened the door, Nietzsche seemed to have fallen asleep again, lying on his back on the bed with his eyes closed and expressionless.

Han Sen walked over lightly, looked at Nietzsche's face and his sleeping expression, then turned around and put the food and tableware on the coffee table beside the bed.

"Lutheran."

Han Sen called Nietzsche's name in a low voice, and patted Nietzsche's face gently with his palm. Nietzsche opened his eyes, looked up and saw Han Sen looking at him intently.

"Why do you keep looking at me. I know I have a pretty face."

Nietzsche raised his eyebrows and looked at Han Sen.

Han Sen shook his head and smiled softly,

"I just think it's funny how you sleep."

"Actually, I wasn't asleep,"

Nietzsche sat up with his arms propped up, raised his hand and gathered his long hair and put it on his left shoulder. "I just want to know what I will think if one day I die and lie in one place."

Han Sen glanced at Nietzsche displeasedly, "What else can you think about when you're dead, you're dead when you're dead."

"But……"

"Okay, eat your food."

Before Nietzsche could speak, Han Sen handed the noodles to Nietzsche with a dark face, and handed the fork to the inexplicable man.

Nietzsche didn't know how to use chopsticks, so when he ate noodles, he used a fork.

Nietzsche frowned, looking at the plain face in front of him, unable to speak in pain.

"Han Sen, this kind of noodles are very difficult to eat."

Nietzsche told the truth that he could not accept all such seemingly bland things, and never touched them.

Han Sen snorted coldly, took off the things in Nietzsche's hands, and picked up the chopsticks by himself, "Now, eat obediently for me."

I don't like porridge, but I don't like noodles either. Nietzsche is really picky.

Nietzsche tightly closed his lips, did not open his mouth, did not speak, and his gaze fell directly on the plain face of that night.

Han Sen glanced at Nietzsche,

"Lutheran, look, I've been cooking for you all my life."

Even Han Xiu never enjoyed the treatment that his father Han Sen cooks himself.

Nietzsche turned his face to look at Han Sen, because Han Sen said these words, suddenly became happy.

Nietzsche moved his head towards the rice bowl, not intending to do it himself,

"Okay, let's stop talking, I'm going to eat now, I'm hungry."

"Well, eat them all."

It seemed that he had wandered into the garden path of the Lutheran family many years ago by accident, and the air was filled with fog.

Nietzsche, who had red hair when he was a teenager, was wearing a black suit and walking side by side with his mother in the garden, surrounded by red rhododendrons, a large area of ​​bright red, Nietzsche's clothes were pressed against the flowers, and he walked gracefully with his young mother .

"Nini,"

Hearing his mother's voice, Nietzsche turned his face to look at his mother. His mother was still the same as he remembered when he was a child, with bright red long hair, dark green eyes, noble and beautiful, so young, as young as a teenager little girl.

The young mother stood beside Nietzsche, raised her hand to stroke his cheek, and spoke softly to the cold-faced boy in front of her.

At that time, Nietzsche was already in charge, and his father and mother had completely gone away, leaving Nietzsche's life.

Nietzsche lowered his head and saw that his mother's other hand was holding his own palm, just like when he was a child. His face was habitually expressionless, but he held his mother's palm with his backhand, and his fingers slowly moved on her palm. Rubbing for a while, silent nostalgia.

"Nini, mom is leaving. Mom still loves you as before, but mom can't accompany you anymore. You have to believe that someone will always love you instead of mom."

Nietzsche tightly held his mother's palm, but suddenly saw his father's figure in the distance, as if waiting for his mother, Nietzsche still let go of his hand and let his mother leave.

Mother turned around and walked towards father until she held father's hand and walked farther and farther without any regrets, the world around her suddenly became blurred.

Nietzsche wanted to open his mouth to speak, but he didn't know what to say. He stood alone on the path in the garden, and said to himself: "Mom, who will accompany me."

He looked far away, trying to follow the direction where his parents left, but just as he took a step forward, he felt someone pulling his palm behind him. The palm of that person was very warm, and Nietzsche felt his heart trembling...

"Who are you."

The young Nietzsche turned his face sideways and looked straight at the man who was holding his hand. The young man was extremely handsome, his eyes were like dark pools.

"I'm Han Sen."

The man's voice was beautiful.

The man held Nietzsche in his arms forcefully, raised his hand to stroke the boy's soft and messy hair, and said softly, "Uncle, I will be with you."

The young Nietzsche asked coldly:

"Will you stay with me, which day, one day, one year, or ten years?"

"Until the day you die."

"Really?"

"Well, really."

Dreaming back at midnight, Han Sen felt that Nietzsche, who had been sleeping peacefully in his arms, suddenly struggled. Han Sen raised his hand and touched Nietzsche's forehead. The man's forehead was covered with thin cold sweat, and his brows were tightly frowned. Together, their palms groped back and forth on their bodies, as if eagerly and impatiently looking for something.

Han Sen stretched out his hand, intertwined his fingers and grasped Nietzsche's palm, placed it on his heart, and pressed Nietzsche firmly into his arms. Nietzsche finally calmed down and gradually became less anxious. His thighs were pressed against Han Sen's. After feeling warm, I continued to sleep peacefully.

Lutheran, I understood very early on that as long as it can make you feel no longer lonely, in fact, I am really willing to do anything. ——Han Sen@