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Chapter 22 1. The Blade of Spring

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    ?

    (Dust everywhere

    And a painful step

    Like the blade of spring

    Hate breeds hate

    The wound is like a flower

    The sound of flowers blooming

    finally quieted them)

    eighty-one

    Not far from the hospital, at the east end of the street, there is a special western restaurant. The billboard is very vague, it is a calligrapher's cursive script, making it difficult to see whether it is "green rose" or "green grass".  Its door was small, like an exit from a basement.

    The frosted glass door is added with wooden lattice, which is a bit antique.  On both sides of the door stood girls in brown cotton lantern skirts, aprons and blue headscarves, smiling and looking at the passers-by.

    Joan walked towards "Lvyinyin", but before she reached the door, her cell phone rang again.

    "Hello?"

    Shyly's sharp voice came from the phone: "I'm afraid you won't come."

    Joan didn't answer, and pinched the phone.

    shyly was there waiting for her.

    "I thought you wouldn't come!" Shyly said again when she saw her.  That look of flaring teeth and claws has long since disappeared, and his expression is calm.

    Joan said nothing.  She hated shyly instinctively, and didn't know what she was looking for.  However, it must be related to Luo Zi, so she had to come.

    There is no arrogance and viciousness in shyly's eyes, only tiredness and helplessness.  She glanced at Joan.

    "I'm not as good as you." Shyly said with her head down.

    "How do you say that!" Jon pulled the skirt of her chest.  She is wearing a small blue flower top and beige skirt today.  The clothes are tight, and when she sits down, she has to pay attention to whether the buttons will be open.

    I don't know why, but she doesn't have any hatred for this rival in front of her today.  Moreover, shyly seems to be out of shape today, her chin is sharper, her face is gray, she has obvious bags under her eyes, and her two big dark circles are shocking.

    Joan felt sorry for her.

    Maybe it's because I'm tired.  When you are tired, life becomes a buzzing reverberation without anger and sentimentality.

    Maybe it's also because the current opponent is so gloomy and withered.

    shyly looks very haggard, her eye circles are as black as a chongqing rural spade, like a big prune in australia.  She was poorly dressed, wearing one of Roz's old shirts, a pair of flip-flop slippers on her feet under the dining table, and most of the paint on her toenails had come off.  A woman who challenged the world with her looks, her image has been so ruined, she must have been hit hard, lost hope in life, and wiped out her fighting spirit.

    Joan looked at shyly again, she recognized the clothes on shyly, it was thrown in the studio by Roz.  She used it to wipe over the huge painting table.

    Even in love and hatred, women will have a wealth of compassion.  Because she will see herself in the other person, and see the misfortune she may have from the other person's misfortune.  After all, any flower will wither, and any beauty will inevitably wither, and even the flame in a man's eyes will turn to ashes at some point.

    She saw shyly lowering her head and smoking silently, and asked her, "Are you feeling well?"

    "No." She said coldly and succinctly.

    "Then, what would you like to drink?"

    "Whatever." Shyly said, "I'm smoking. I drank some just now. Would you like to drink some? Moisten your throat"

    Only then did Joan see a bottle of Remy Martin on the table, most of which had already been removed.

    "I didn't expect you to be good at drinking." Joan said.

    "I used to know a boss who often took me out for drinks late at night" Shyly's eyes were red, her tongue was stiff, and she couldn't speak so fluently.

    "Drinking capacity really needs to be cultivated."

    "Don't mock me."

    Joan smiled: "You should know that at this moment, I won't mock you. Otherwise, I wouldn't accept your invitation either."

    "Thank you!" Shyly's attitude surprised Joan.

    Shyly continued: "I'm not as good as you, really. It's not that I'm not as good-looking or sexy as you. But that time in Shangri-La, you poured wine on his face At that moment, I really felt that  I am not as good as you!"

    Shyly's words made Joan involuntarily silent for a moment, and looked at her carefully.

    "Shyly," Joan called her name for the first time, "do you just want to tell me this? I thought that you asked me to come because you wanted to tell me some stories about you and him."

    "Stories He and I really don't have any stories. I am a person with many stories, but Luo Zi I have been waiting for you for a long time, and I guess you won't come. I don't have much??, what do you think?  "

    "I understand what you mean. You said 'a man is a man', and women want to take wealth from men." Joan said sleepily, with hazy eyes, as if in a dream, "Therefore, women have to adopt 'women' without a bottom line."  The 'means.' When it comes to the relationship between the sexes, you mean 'everyone can be a husband'."

    Joan has been thinking about the ways and attitudes of the shylys.  Perhaps, putting aside the traditional consciousness, from the ultimate perspective of the relationship between the sexes, the greatest tolerance may really be "everyone can be a husband" and "everyone can be a wife".

    From this, she recalled Luo Zi's love and her endless pain.  Is it because she regards him as the only one?

    As soon as Luo Zi was mentioned, she felt her heart convulsing, and felt boundless pain wrapping herself like many days in the past.

    She closed her eyes and put her head on the table.

    There is a voice in my heart, like the singing of an ode, echoing in Joan's body: "But I can only do this, I can only love like this"

    (There is no justice in love, the wise heart is only cut in half, and we are taken whole and replaced with eyes. But I can only love this way, and no one can make me believe that there will be another  Flame can burn life more ardently The fragrance of love turns the earth into a swamp, and the distant and deep call is always the voice of the lover) (Remember this website: www.hlnovel.com
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