I'm the only straight man in the entire dormitory of international students

That night, Song Ziyan didn't sleep well either, he was always half asleep and half awake.

When he awoke, his hands were gripping the sheets.

Song Ziyan was in a trance, and when he realized it, his face became hot, and he quickly let go.

He was lying on the bed, looking at the ceiling.

It was as if those green lotus lanterns hanging in Shige's studio appeared before his eyes again.

Song Ziyan turned over in embarrassment, and after a while, he raised his collar with his fingers and looked inside.

It was still red and seemed a little swollen.

Song Ziyan's face was hot, and he got stuffy under the quilt, and fell asleep again at some point.

Have repeated dreams.

In the dream, he returned to the first half of the night.

A huge studio, empty and silent.

He was lying on the black sofa, as if locked in a stove, his whole body was so hot.

Occasionally, it seems to be bathed in spring, and a gentle breeze blows, soft and comfortable.

Song Ziyan couldn't take it anymore, and subconsciously shouted: "Brother..."

It's like the little animals are talking.

He intended to let Senior Brother say goodbye.

He also said no, and then, he couldn't say that he wanted to go home.

The green lotus lantern above the head is not very real.

It was very subtle in his ears, making him hear a wet and sticky sound that he couldn't describe.

He was dizzy, his face was rosy, his eyes were watery, and he loosened his grip on his senior brother's back.

Later, it was the senior brother who also got on the sofa, condescending, and wanted to kiss him.

Song Ziyan sobered up in an instant and escaped.I don't know what's wrong, but I suddenly cried.

That's it for the end.

Randall brought him a set of clean men's clothes and sent him home.

--The next morning, Song Ziyan woke up before seven o'clock, couldn't fall asleep, and got up directly.

Going downstairs, his father Song Changzhe was wearing sportswear and was about to go for a morning run. When he saw him, he didn't say much and asked him to call for breakfast.

Song Ziyan didn't call out and went to the main house. Grandpa Bai must have woken up at this point.

After getting there, it was empty.

The housekeeper, Uncle Li, said that the old man would go to a park more than 20 minutes away from home if he had nothing to do in the past two months.

Every morning, many old men and women who love calligraphy and painting do their morning exercises there.

Today, September [-]th, Saturday, Mr. Bai had no class at S University, so he went again.

Song Ziyan asked again, what about winter?

"The third young master was taken away last night." The third young master that Uncle Li was talking about was Bai Yanqing.

Bai Yanqing is the third son of old master Bai's three sons.

The servant prepared breakfast, Uncle Li asked him to have breakfast, and then went to Bai Yanqing's courtyard after eating.

Bai Yanqing usually wakes up at this point, he has the habit of running in the morning.

Song Ziyan didn't want to go, because of what happened yesterday, he was afraid when he saw Uncle Yanqing and Senior Brother.

After Song Ziyan finished eating, he asked Uncle Li to take him to the park.

When Song Ziyan reached the entrance, he happened to run into Randall.

Both sides were taken aback.

Song Ziyan began to feel uncomfortable, he didn't mean to blame senior brother, what happened last night was his own fault.

He's just awkward.

Randall was speechless for a moment, there were reasons for his absurdity last night, and there were some things he didn't understand.

The two walked up the steps in silence.

This park is not too big, and it took a few minutes to walk to the central square.

Old man Bai stood in a corner with a few old people of the same age, watching an old lady write on the floor tiles with a big brush wetted with water.

Someone saw Randall and yelled, "Randall is here."

Several other people also looked over.

When old man Bai saw Song Ziyan, his upright expression softened a bit.

Randall greeted the elders politely, and respectfully spoke to Mr. Bai, "Teacher."

Shouting this today, Randall is inevitably ashamed.

Old Master Bai nodded and waved, and Song Ziyan walked obediently to his side.

"Yanyan, did you get up so early today?" Elder Bai asked with a smile.

"...I can't sleep anymore." Song Ziyan subconsciously glanced at Randall.

"." Randall's eyes fell on his chest involuntarily.

Song Ziyan's ears were red and he turned away.

An old lady asked: "Old Bai, who is this young man who looks so good-looking?"

Song Ziyan was shy and greeted the other party.

Old Man Bai smiled and said, "This is my grandson, Song Ziyan, this year. He is also Randall's junior."

When everyone heard this, they became lively and let Song Ziyan show his skills one after another.

Song Ziyan was disrespectful, and walked to the stone table where the paper, ink, brush and inkstone were placed.

It rained last night, but this summer, with warm winds blowing, the ground is dry everywhere this morning.

Randall stood watching from the side. Song Ziyan was wearing a light blue long T and a pair of white denim trousers.

His younger brother didn't like to wear shorts. In his memory, except for yesterday, he had never seen Song Ziyan showing his arms and legs, let alone being so bold.

The clothes are messy like that.

Recalling yesterday, Randall's dryness when he woke up in the morning was surging again.

He ordered himself to be pure.

But when he looked at Song Ziyan's white jade hand holding a black brush, he felt dry again.

And those tiny scars on the shoulder blades on both sides.

It doesn't hurt.

It's just glowing...thick and thin itches.

Song Ziyan wrote a poem on Xuan paper, which attracted everyone's applause and praise.

"This small script is good," said an old man, stroking his beard, "he is upright and elegant, and his figure is outstanding."

"The words are like the person, three words, really beautiful." The old lady commented with a smile.

"Old Bai, you two disciples are amazing, ten and eighty-nine, and the handwriting is all beautiful."

Old man Bai was full of pride.

"Whose font is this?" asked an old lady admiring his handwriting.

"Mr. Liu Honggui's," Song Ziyan blushed, "but not entirely. I can't imitate Mr. Liu Honggui's charm."

"Calligraphy, everyone has their own style." The old man disagreed.

"Liu Honggui, from the Tang Dynasty, right?"

"Yes."

Everyone discussed, and then let Randall show his hand.

Randall and Song Ziyan are not in the same style, he writes in cursive script.

The handwriting is flowing and flowing, elegant and dusty.

An old lady sighed: "Randall's handwriting, every time I read it, I find it so pleasing to the eye. Randall, are you looking for a girlfriend now?"

"Are you still thinking of introducing your granddaughter to Randall?" an old man said.

The old lady hit him.

Everyone laughed.

Randall smiled helplessly, didn't say anything, just looked at Song Ziyan.

Song Ziyan didn't look at him, just smiled as if hearing a very common joke.

Seeing this, Randall's smile faded a bit, and something that he didn't understand became very clear for a while.