I, Qing Huan

Are you really willing to go again?

Nan Yang asked herself inwardly, but she became uncertain. Of course she hoped that Qinghuan could remember the tenderness between them, but she was also afraid that she would remember the unbearable past. She killed Qing Huan's family and almost killed the three-year-old Qing Huan at the time. What should Qing Huan think of her when she remembered this episode? Maybe she forgave herself back then, but after thousands of years, she recalled the tragic scene again, can she really be ungrateful?

Qing Huan noticed that Nan Yang's mood was inexplicably low, and she shook her hand, tilted her head to look at her eyes covered by drooping eyelashes, "What's wrong, Master?"

As soon as she called Master, Nan Yang's erratic heart fell, just like a person who fell from a high altitude panicked and suddenly dropped onto a soft cushion.

The rest is left to the future, no matter what, she is now calling herself master.

A title alone is enough to make her happy for many days.

"It's okay, let's have breakfast." Nan Yang sorted out his expression, and reached for the chopsticks on the bedside table.

Her hands were wrapped in gauze, and her wrists were pierced with needles. Qinghuan certainly couldn't watch her eat. Before she touched the chopsticks, Qing Huan took the chopsticks first, picked up a slice of fried dough sticks and handed it to her mouth.

"Master opened his mouth."

Nanyang is still not accustomed to her calling herself master, she has heard it countless times 3,000 years ago. It might have been too long before she could adapt. Nowadays, every time she heard Qing Huan scream like this, her heart seemed to be uncontrollable, and her chest was pounding.

actually……

Was called shy.

She lowered her eyes, avoided Qing Huan's gaze, and focused on the fritters beside her mouth.

It didn't take long for the fried dough sticks to be deep-fried. They were so oily and crispy. They clicked when they bite them, and the corners of their lips and people were stained with oil. She chewed slowly with her mouth bulging, the fried dough sticks were too crispy, and a lot of small dregs stuck to her lower lip. As soon as she chewed, the small scum fell on the pure white sheet, like rain.

Qing Huan took the paper, swept away all the scum on the quilt, and held the paper under Nanyang's chin, and sighed, "Why are you still eating?"

Nan Yang shook his head with a mouthful of fried dough sticks, and said vaguely: "I don't have..."

"Okay, don't shake it," Qing Huan held the napkin and chased after her shaking her head, "the more you shake it, the more it will fall."

So Nanyang stopped there docilely and didn't move a bit, eating the fried dough sticks straightly. Qing Huan helped her get rid of the dregs in one hand, and fed her with chopsticks in the other, just like taking care of a child, only to tie her a saliva pocket.

"In ancient times, did Master live like this and couldn't take care of herself?" Qing Huan put a new bite of fried dough sticks into her mouth.

After Nanyang chewed and swallowed carefully, he replied, "I can't take care of myself without a life."

How can one say "life can't take care of oneself" with respect to the Lord?

At most... it's "non-human fireworks".

But in fact, for a lord like her to stretch out his hand and open his mouth, the words "no cannibalism" is basically equivalent to "cannot take care of yourself in life".

"Do you want to drink soy milk?" Qing Huan finished feeding a whole fried dough stick, picked up the disposable plastic cup filled with soy milk, stuck it in with a straw, and passed it to Nanyang's mouth.

"Ok."

Nan Yang grabbed the straw and took a sip unpreparedly.

The moment Qing Huan saw the white soy milk pouring from the transparent straw, she heard a "hiss——" cold air, and then Nan Yang quickly turned her head away, frowning and red hot. His tongue came out a little, and his teeth hung over his lips.

"It's hot?" Qing Huan put down the soy milk hurriedly, squeezed her chin and twisted it to take a look.

It was really hot, and there was a very obvious bubble on the tip of the tongue.

"you……"

Qing Huan just wanted to say the last two sentences, but then she thought about it, and couldn't bear to say it. In the past, when she fed Nanyang water or drinks, she had to blow it cold and tested the temperature with her lips and tongue before handing it to her. It was for her that she developed such a habit of not testing the temperature. What can she blame?

She called a nurse, and the nurse helped to see her. She was scalded a bit severely, and mucous membrane blistering was not a trivial matter. The nurse took some medicine and told him to spray on time every few hours. Don't eat messy things. Just drink some liquid food carefully these days. It will be much better when the bubbles disappear.

After the nurse left, Nan Yang sat blankly with her tongue out, and Qing Huan took a magazine as a fan to fan her tongue so that the medicine on it would dry up sooner.

With his mouth open all the time, the corners of his lips would inevitably have a little saliva. Qing Huan went to pick up the paper, thinking to herself that she really needed to make a drool for Nan Yang.

"How old is the master?" Qing Huan asked in a joking tone, pressing the corners of Nanyang's lips with paper.

Nan Yang thought for a moment, and replied earnestly: "If you count it carefully, it should be more than 3,500 years old."

Qing Huan had a fingertips.

Three thousand five hundred years old? ? ?

She was in a daze. In her cognition, Nan Yang's age was directly measured from 35 to 3,500. The impact was not small. She had thought that Nanyang was really old, but she didn't expect to be so old.

Doubling is not like that. Two zeros are added directly to the ID card age. Who can stand it?

Nan Yang looked at Qing Huan's eyes widened instantly, with the tip of his tongue still sticking out, and said vaguely: "You... don't you think I am old?"

"No, it's not that you are old," Qing Huan looked very surprised, "I'm just surprised, you lived more than three thousand five hundred years old, you will be burned like this by a mere cup of soy milk, Master, the respected man three thousand years ago Is the Lord as stupid as you?"

Nan Yang frowned: "Nonsense."

Because she kept sticking her tongue out, when she opened her mouth, the tip of her tongue was connected to the corners of her lips and there was saliva sticky. Qinghuan wiped her with paper, and smiled helplessly: "Master, stop talking, you are drooling now."

Nanyang tightened her fingers on the quilt. She never expected that her image would be ruined by a small cup of soy milk.

It's... out of style.

While the two were eating breakfast, the program team called and asked about Nanyang.

Nanyang looked very tragic when she was sent off the train. She was covered in blood. At that time, both Qing Huan and Sun Xuxue thought she was really dying. They cried more and more miserably. Everyone thought that she was really sick. Very serious illness. At that time, Nanyang’s condition was really serious, and he was indeed on the verge of life and death, but I don’t know what was going on. Now that it’s good, it’s almost better. Except for the hot blisters on the tongue, he looks like a healthy and normal person. .

Now that she is normal, the program team is relieved, and PD cheesyly asks them when it is convenient to return to the car to continue recording.

Qi Yi and Ming Wancheng are still waiting for them in the car, and the journey continues.

Qing Huan meant not to record anymore, she didn't want Nanyang to run around outside at the risk. Nan Yang said that she was getting better, and she still wanted to go abroad with Qing Huan.

Without the threat of death, she is now relaxed, and there is nothing more fascinating than traveling with her wife and friends.

Qing Huan reluctantly agreed, and said to her: "Then you have to promise me, and if you feel uncomfortable, you must tell me, don't force it by yourself and sneak away to smoke or something."

Nanyang spit out half of his burnt tongue and nodded meekly.

Qinghuan looked at her like this, pitiful and funny, and her voice softened: "It's not that you can't smoke. If you really want to smoke, I will accompany you. But before your tongue recovers, don't smoke it, can you?"

"can."

Nanyang answered vaguely.

Actually, she didn't smoke, anyway, she didn't get any taste last time, only felt choked and bitter.

The program team considered that Nanyang had a serious illness after all, and did not tell them to return immediately. They said that they would take a half-day rest. In the afternoon, they would take the high-speed train to Baoning Station and meet them at Baoning Station after the train where the program group was located.

Both were very tired, so they slept together on the hospital bed.

Nanyang, who was asleep, was still sticking out her tongue, and Qinghuan looked at her dimly, thinking she was like a snow-white rabbit.

Closing her eyes, exhaustion swept over her instantly, arching her head, and finding a comfortable position in Nanyang's arms, she fell asleep.

Sleeping during the day is the easiest to dream.

Qing Huan had another dream here.

This time, there were no previous fights and deaths and life and death in the dream, only a quiet plum garden, full of plum blossoms.

In the dream, she didn't seem to be very tall, her limbs were not drawn, and her palm was small and soft. She held a small wooden sword and swung it back and forth. Not far away, a woman in white sits idly aside, leaning on the curved trunk of the plum tree to read, raising her eyes from time to time to look at her who is practicing swordsmanship, and there is no emotion in her eyes.

After she stabbed a sword, she realized that she had made a wrong move and scratched her head in a daze. Nanyang of www.ltnovel.com~ put down the book and waved to her: "Come here."

So she walked over obediently, buried her head, not daring to look at Nanyang.

"hand."

Nanyang picked up a ruler on the stone platform and motioned for her to stretch out her hand.

Knowing that she was going to be beaten again, she cried out aggrieved, and stretched out her hand tremblingly: "Master, Master, please be gentle, it hurts."

Nanyang moved for a while, put the paddle down, and fixed his eyes on the red and swollen palm. After a while, her slender fingers covered her, wrapped her little hand, pulled it closer, and then hugged the child to her knees.

Nan Yang hugged her from behind, resting her chin on her immature shoulders, her white fingers caught her little red hands, and her thumb was pressed against the red marks on her palms to gently massage. After a while, Xiao Qinghuan used the corner of her eyes to see the woman on her shoulders pursing her lips slightly, and then, a cool breath blew from her shoulders, stroking her burning palm lines.

"Does it still hurt?" a soft voice came from the ear.

"It hurts!" She nodded vigorously.

This is the case for children. When they are aching or tired, they need an adult to hug each other.

Nan Yang smiled, picked up the child in her arms and turned around, letting her sit facing herself. Looking at those big expectant eyes, her slender hands squeezed the little palms as if holding a rare treasure, lowered her head, swept the child's fleshy wrist with her eyelashes, and gently kissed her Palm of the hand.