I, Qing Huan

Nanyang was ready to go back to sleep after washing the bowl.

When she returned to the house, she suddenly heard a strange movement from the next door. She has high martial arts skills and very good ears, so she can hear very clearly, Qing Huan is suppressing and grunting, as if she is enduring intense pain.

She almost instinctively stepped to the door of Qing Huan, wanting to open it to see what was going on. But when his hand was about to touch the doorknob, he stayed in the air again, wanting to touch it, but didn't dare.

Does she want to go in by herself?

Does she need her own care?

Qing Huan seemed to take a breath of air, and the voice in her throat almost couldn't be suppressed. Nan Yang felt anxious and couldn't think too much, so he pressed the doorknob to open the door.

Zhu Qinghuan was not on the bed. She lay down on the ground embarrassedly, her enchanting curly hair against the floor, spreading like clouds. She covered her belly with one hand, her face was pale, her forehead was full of sweat, and her neck was glistening.

Nan Yang hurriedly squatted down and helped her up from the ground. Zhu Qinghuan was almost hallucinating in pain. She squinted her eyes and looked at Nanyang who was close at hand, her lips trembled: "You..."

Nan Yang helped Zhu Qinghuan to lie down on the bed, her brows frowned, and she bent down seriously to probe Zhu Qinghuan's forehead. When Nan Yang bent over, her long black hair hung down on Zhu Qinghuan's face. The hair was very soft. A gentle sweep made her want to scratch the itchy skin.

"Gastroenteritis, fever." Nanyang Xizi spit out these five words like gold.

Zhu Qinghuan was dizzy with pain. She only knew that she had gastroenteritis in 80%, but she did not expect that she was also involved in fever.

"I will take you to the hospital."

Nanyang turned around and left, wanting to go back to his room to get the car key.

"Don't..." Zhu Qinghuan called her weakly, "Don't go to the hospital, I... will be photographed."

"Don't kill you?" Nan Yang frowned and looked at her. She seldom speaks to Zhu Qinghuan in such a serious tone, but even this very tantrum-like sentence is in a soft tone.

"No... I have a contract, I can't make black material before shooting..." Zhu Qinghuan's voice trembled, "My marriage with you has not been released yet, and everyone in the circle knows that I and Mei If I go to the hospital with you, tomorrow... tomorrow our unmarried first pregnancy manuscript will be on the headlines..."

Nanyang has never felt that the career of star is so troublesome.

"Then you just lie down like this, can you do it?" Nan Yang felt wrong.

"It's okay...you can pour me a glass of water, my gastroenteritis is an old problem, and there is medicine in the drawer." Zhu Qinghuan curled up into a ball on the bed, his eyes couldn't open, and he didn't forget to say: "Boiled water is fine, you Don't put sugar or salt in it..."

That boiled cabbage may become a psychological shadow for her life.

Nan Yang sighed, and poured a glass of water downstairs. She found the medicine in the drawer and handed the water and medicine to Zhu Qinghuan.

Zhu Qinghuan got up with difficulty, dizzy, and his eyes were empty. She stared at the swaying glass of water, coughed dullly, and tried to raise her hand but had no energy.

"Hello?" Nan Yang asked her opinion.

Zhu Qinghuan raised his eyes and looked at Nan Yang a little displeased, as if expressing dissatisfaction with her Yue Ju. She was ill at this time, with hot flushes around her eyes. Although she made an unfriendly expression, she looked unusually charming.

"Qing Huan" cultivated the aisles back then, so her appearance was always dyed with the coldness that is unique to a monk, which concealed her originally beautiful facial features. "Zhu Qinghuan" hasn't cultivated any way. With all her frowns, the enchanting features of the facial features can be displayed to the fullest, like a goblin that is damaging to the country and the people, and you can see people up with blood when you raise your eyes.

The looks of her and Nanyang are two extremes. One is like a flame, the other is as cold as frost and snow. The inevitable result of frost and snow being close to the flame is to be melted, evaporated to dryness, turned into water, and turned into the same fallen color.

Nan Yang endured it for a long time before forcibly resisting the idea of ​​kissing her.

"Open your mouth."

Nanyang held up the capsule.

Although Zhu Qinghuan seemed to want to refuse, her eyes were so painful that she couldn't see clearly, so she obeyed and opened her lips a little bit, and waited groggyly for the feed. Nanyang pushed the capsule into her mouth. When she left, she couldn't help but gently rubbed her lower lip with her fingertips. It was moist and soft, with a scorching temperature.

Zhu Qinghuan felt the concealed **** in that short touch. She swallowed the pill dry, frowned, and warned Nanyang: "Don't kiss me."

Her original intention was to protect herself, but when she said these words with a sick face, it would only make Nan Yang's indifferent eyes become more muddy.

Nanyang was silent for a while. Suddenly she stood up and walked out of the bedroom without saying a word, without closing the door.

Zhu Qinghuan looked in the direction where Nanyang disappeared. Is she angry? Zhu Qinghuan thought vaguely.

She didn't have the energy to think too much, and the surging illness made her drowsy. She sank herself into a soft bed and closed her eyes to brew sleep.

I don't know how long I slept, half asleep and half awake, someone patted her shoulder lightly.

Zhu Qinghuan opened her eyes in a daze, and saw Nan Yang standing next to her bed vaguely.

"I made you a bowl of porridge." Nanyang held a white porcelain bowl in his hand and a small spoon in his right hand. "Get up and eat something, my stomach is empty and uncomfortable."

"You went to cook porridge..." Zhu Qinghuan rubbed his forehead.

I thought you were gone.

When the second half of the sentence appeared in his heart, Zhu Qinghuan didn't think anything was wrong, it might indeed be burnt.

"Yeah." Nan Yang nodded, "eat some, so it's more comfortable."

Zhu Qinghuan glanced at the porridge, and his stomach groaned. She was really hungry, she hadn't eaten anything all day, and the vomiting just now made her stomach run out of stock. As for porridge, no matter how bad her cooking is, it won't be bad.

"Give it to me." Zhu Qinghuan dragged her body and sat up.

Nanyang handed it over. Zhu Qinghuan took the bowl, scooped up a large spoonful and passed it into his mouth.

When she touched the spoonful of porridge with her tongue, she almost exhausted all her life's rituals and teachings before forcibly suppressing her vomiting desire to survive, instead of spraying the porridge on Nanyang's body.

She frowned at last, "What did you do? What did you put in it?"

Nan Yang looked at her forbearing expression, was taken aback, and explained: "It's just a little sugar."

Impossible, a little sugar can never achieve such a disgusting greasiness.

"You don't want to cook anymore," Zhu Qinghuan put the bowl on the table, her eyes lost a little, and he corrected a hobby that was not suitable for her to develop for Nan Yang. "You did really ugly. ."

"Yes...Is there?" Nan Yang stammered rare.

"Or, are you deliberately retaliating against me?" Zhu Qinghuan narrowed his eyes and looked at Nanyang in general.

Nanyang shook his head.

Shake very sincerely.

Zhu Qinghuan touched her forehead, but it was still too hot, but she was still hungry. She resisted the discomfort of her body and got up from the bed, pulled a blanket over her shoulders, then bent weakly, dropped into her slippers, and whispered to Nan Yang in a hoarse voice:

"Come with me."

The kitchen should have never expected that it will be visited again in the middle of the night. The kitchen is even more unexpected, it will accommodate an extremely strange-looking scene.

A dying ill person stood in the front cooking with trembling hands, and another healthy person stood in the back with his hands on his back doing nothing.

Zhu Qinghuan was standing weakly in front of the stove wrapped in a blanket, with a pale face, only a burning blush at the end of his eyes. She was still holding her aching belly with one hand, but with the other hand she had to pick up the spoon and stir the water in the porridge pot.

Nan Yang just stood quietly behind her, staring silently on her beautifully permed curly hair.

She just looked at her like this, as if going back more than three thousand years ago, every time she looked at the back of Qing Huan cooking. Just looking at her, it was as if they were still in their Rongku Pavilion. She was still Nanyang who could not cook well, and she was still the Qinghuan who only cooked for Nanyang. It was as if they had just walked for a long period of time each, there was no goodbye, no separation, she was always there, waiting for her master to find her.

"Go get a piece of paper to write it down," Zhu Qinghuan's voice suddenly sounded, "The process, the materials used."

"Great."

Nanyang came back to her senses and walked out of the kitchen to the bedroom upstairs to pick up paper and pen. When she went upstairs, she used light work to complete a round trip as quickly as possible.

The water in the pot was ready. Zhu Qinghuan found the rice jar and reached in to grab the rice.

She had already grasped the amount she had eaten, and when she was about to take her hand out of the rice jar, she moved. She hung her head and couldn't see the expression on her face, but after a while, the hand went down again and grabbed the amount of two people.

Nanyang has returned, holding a pen and a notebook. Zhu Qinghuan put the rice in the porridge pot, pointed to the pot and said to her: "The ratio of rice to water is almost one to eight. If you want to be thinner, one to ten is almost the same, and if it is thinner, it will become soup. If you use glutinous rice or mung beans, you have to soak it in advance and then cook it. The taste will be much better. In fact, the white porridge is very fragrant without any condiments. If you want to put some sugar or salt, you can do it, but don’t put too much. No matter what the seasoning is, it will be unpalatable if you add too much.

With that said, Zhu Qinghuan gave up a bit of space, "Come on, you put the candy, let me see how you put the candy."

She was really curious about how Nanyang was released.

Nanyang put down the half-written notebook, walked obediently to the side of the sugar jar, took the spoon in his right hand and took a spoonful of sugar. When she lifted it to the top of the porridge pot, her hands were shaking, and they were shaking violently. With a shake of his hand, all the sugar in the spoon was poured out.

Zhu Qinghuan hurriedly reached out and blocked it, blocking most of the candy outside.

Well, now she knows why Nanyang's cooking skills are so devilish. The hands are shaking like this, and the ingredients will never be good. How can the rice be delicious.

Nan Yang lowered his eyes, his voice was very soft: "I'm sorry."

Zhu Qinghuan saw that she was actually apologizing, and she couldn't help but curl her lips: "Why do you apologize. You have been served by a big boss since you were young. It's normal for a big boss like you to be unable to do this."

Nan Yang is not the big boss, her status is much more honorable than the "big boss". She was born as the Lord, and later she was directly in charge, where she went to be worshipped, and she was held for offerings. It was indeed her turn to do these chores. Generally, when she needs to eat or go to bed, Qinghuan serves her.

Therefore, since Qing Huan left, she never took care of herself.

Nan Yang looked at Zhu Qinghuan who was stirring the porridge pot, and asked softly, "Have you always been good at cooking like this?"

"Yes, I've been good at making it since I was a child, and the food is delicious," Zhu Qinghuan's voice was a little unnoticeable, "but I'm lazy, so sometimes I would rather be hungry than make it. Eat for yourself."

"Your gastrointestinal disease should be related to you always skipping breakfast."

"Perhaps. But that's how it is to be an entertainer. When filming is so busy, who cares about eating when you are really busy? Besides, eating this kind of carbon will make you fat."

Nan Yang gave a hum, and said, "But it's better to have breakfast."

Zhu Qinghuan chuckled, "Why are you like my mother?"

Nanyang closed his mouth and said nothing.

"Okay, it's done," Zhu Qinghuan gathered the blanket on her body and said to Nan Yang, "Bring two bowls."

"...Two?"

Nan Feng was stunned.

"Otherwise? Take three?" Zhu Qinghuan tilted his head to look at her, "Do you want to eat two bowls alone?"

Nan Yang's ears were a little red, and he didn't answer. He just took out two bowls from the cupboard, flushed them again in the sink, and handed them to Qing Huan.

She looked at the appearance of Qing Huan Sheng porridge, and thought to herself, it's not impossible to eat two bowls.

The fragrant white porridge was served in a porcelain white bowl, steaming hot and tempting mist. Zhu Qinghuan walked to the restaurant with two bowls of porridge. Nanyang wanted to help her, so she hid for a while and didn't ask Nanyang to take it.

Two people are sitting at the dining table, the living room is dark, only the dining room has a light on top, making it look like a small independent world. Zhu Qinghuan was eating the porridge she made, except that she had lost a little more sugar, but it was generally delicious.

"Why do you put sugar in everything?" Zhu Qinghuan took a mouthful of porridge and asked vaguely, "I want to put the cabbage, but also put the porridge."

After Nan Yang swallowed the porridge in his mouth, he replied, "I like sweet food."

"Yeah, the first time I saw you, you were eating candied haws, and you ate several..." Zhu Qinghuan's voice was soft and soft, "Let’s eat less carbs, you are thirty-five years old. It’s easy to get diabetes if you eat it like this. If you really like sugar so much, you can try chocolate, the pure cocoa butter, it tastes delicious, and if you eat it when you are sad, you will feel better."

"Okay, I remember."

Nan Yang nodded seriously.

Zhu Qinghuan held a spoon and secretly glanced up at Nanyang on the opposite side.

Before coming to the kitchen, Nan Yang tied her hair up in a hurry. The hair on her temples fell loosely on the side of her face, looking very demure and gentle. She is still wearing a pure white shirt. She seems to wear only white all the time. The shirt buttons are tightly buttoned one by one, revealing a strong sense of abstinence.

Actually... She is pretty good too. Outsiders are indifferent, gentle and accommodating to oneself alone, people are also beautiful, and they are not old. Apart from poor cooking, there are no shortcomings to pick.

It's just a pity, how long can it last?

When I was in high school, a girl treated her like this. She would send good morning and good night on time every day. She would use her pink water bottle to make a pot of hot water for herself in the morning between classes. She would secretly stuff her desk pocket with a lot of lollipops, and she would tell herself every day. : Zhu Zhu, I like you. Although she didn't have that kind of affection for that girl, she was still moved by her kindness to her. She yearned for the "like" she said in her mouth. If one person likes another person, she is willing to do anything for her. , It sounds really tempting.

But a person who likes himself so much will also like others overnight. One day, she suddenly found herself and said, Zhu Zhu, a more beautiful transfer student came from the next class, and I decided to like her. Please return my kettle to me.

So she returned the pink water bottle to her and left together with her trust in "like".

She has always been reluctant to fall in love, especially with rich people like Nanyang, because she is unwilling to watch such beautiful things as "likes" be ruined. Since childhood, rich children have always loved to spoil things. When they like something, they treat it as a treasure. If they don't like it, they will throw it away as **** because they have more retreats and better choices.

Like is really the most unreliable thing in the world.

No one will always like another person.

Nan Yang ate the porridge warmly and said, "Tomorrow, I will make breakfast for you. You have to eat breakfast. Don't worry, I have learned everything. I will cook the rice and water together without adding any spices."

Zhu Qinghuan regained her sanity, and her gentle tone converged slightly: "I can't eat it."

"I'll make it tomorrow and put it on the dining table, so as not to disturb your sleep." Nan Yang squeezed his porridge's upper lip.

I wish Qinghuan noncommittal.

Nanyang ate the last bit of porridge in the bowl and said softly, "Thank you for teaching me how to make porridge."

Zhu Qinghuan smiled, looked at the porridge in his spoon, and asked casually: "Why do you always want to cook for me?"

Nanyang stopped taking the spoon.

The ups and downs of chewing on the cheeks also stopped.

Her fingers on the handle of the spoon were turning white.

Zhu Qinghuan didn't hear Nan Yang's answer and didn't care, she just asked casually. She ate all the porridge left in the bowl, thinking hard whether to wash the dishes immediately or to wash the dishes until tomorrow. When she was distracted, a word suddenly came from her ear:

"I'm just... doing what I should have done."