Cha Ling was carrying a makeup suitcase, with a work card of "temporary makeup artist" hanging on her chest, and stood outside the door of a dressing room with some trepidation.

When she was mentally prepared and was about to open the door, she was hit by a woman and her shoulder hurt terribly. But Gu Xiang was bent on putting on makeup for the contestants, and he didn't pay attention to any "obstacles" at all.

Cha Ling could only squeeze herself to the wall of the hallway.

The sound of noise and laughter is endless. The sound of stage stereos could be heard in the distance.

This is another world, and beneath the crazy exterior is the unexpected hustle and bustle and impetuousness of outsiders.

In the afterglow, a gaze was cast on her side, and she turned her head to meet the eyes of a boy with fluffy hair in metal frames. He leaned against the wall, and his eyes looked like he was watching a stage play.

Seeing her stunned, he smiled at her and turned to leave.

Isn't he a player? Don't go into the powder room? Cha Ling looked in the direction he left, a little puzzled.

Anyway, she turned around, took a breath, twisted the doorknob and walked in. She said to herself countless times, Chaling, don't panic.

As soon as they entered the door, everyone subconsciously looked over.

Thinking of herself as a robot, she stiffened over to the women in front of the vanity mirror.

"Hello, I'm Cha Ling, a temporary makeup artist."

Gu Xiang pursed his lips, and his attitude was more perfunctory and perfunctory. The others greeted her more kindly.

In this world where there are more men and fewer women, she is like a white camellia dripping with morning dew, so beautiful that people are excited, so some frivolous boys come to talk.

Her vigilance spontaneously enveloped her, her nerves tensed, and she didn't say a word.

The boys who were originally around her ate the closed door and dispersed.

Gu Xiang took advantage of the gap between the shadow plates on the table to look at Cha Ling, and then smiled ironically. Sure enough, he was still a child, and he didn't come to work at all.

Cha Ling has no degree to learn makeup, and she has no experience as a makeup artist, but she doesn't want others to deny her because of her age.

Her heart turned a thousand times, and she looked at the sofa in a daze, her eyes glazed.

In this interval of thinking, she never thought that the other party would hand her an olive branch first.

The boy was dressed in black casual clothes, his head was covered by a fisherman's hat, and he was leaning on the seat leisurely with a guitar, and his whole aura was elegant and demure.

He came over and asked, "Can you help me with my makeup?" ”

"When, of course you can." She replied in a sloppy manner, scrambling to open the vanity case.

When the boy sat down obediently, she leaned forward slightly, thought for a few seconds, and then reached out and carefully held the boy's face forward, making sure that his facial features were avoided from the darkness, and all stopped in the range of the mirror lamp.

If you apply makeup in a poorly lit area, you will be exaggerated if you are not careful.

The boy didn't seem to expect her move, twisting two delicate eyebrows. Inadvertently, he focused his attention on a pair of good-looking hands.

Small and slender, with white skin.

At this moment, these hands are working together in an orderly manner.

"What's your name? My name is Liao Juntao. ”

"Chaling." The voice is small, soft.

"Gushi Chaling's Chaling?"

"Yes." How did he know?

Liao Juntao thought for two seconds and raised his eyebrows: "Then you are amazing, you are a tribute of the Qing Dynasty." ”

A little banter enlivened the atmosphere, and Cha Ling stood relaxed with her back to the makeup mirror, her slender body shaking slightly with the gestures.

"But it's rare to see people with the surname Cha. Are you from Yunnan? Or Taiwanese? ”

"My grandfather was from Yunnan."

"Why do you say your grandfather? Isn't it supposed to say your dad? He wondered.

Cha Ling held the makeup palette steadily with one hand, and the other held the brush tightly, sweeping back and forth on Liao Juntao's cheeks: "My dad has moved to Beijing." ”

"Hey—your voice is nice."

Cha Ling blinked, and at some point her voice and speed of speech returned to normal.

"Your eyelashes are long." She watched as her drooping eyelashes grew like two small brushes. I thought to myself: Eyelash essence, this person.

"Oh roar, thank you for the compliment." The boy immediately raised the corners of his mouth.