The diving bird was helpless, and finally had to kiss the bombardment, and the paralyzed butterfly still surrendered, and reluctantly muttered: I want to, I really want to.

The diving bird took a step closer, his eyes burning, and asked further: Say, what do you think?

The butterfly turned her brain around, sighed to herself and said: I miss you.

It's true? The eyes of the diving bird are like one and two lights lit,...... Countless bright and bright lights, shining, shining, and revealing a childish innocent smile.

The butterfly looked at it, and involuntarily moved her emotions, and said infatuatedly: I miss you, from head to toe.

The diving bird grinned, with a little smugness, a little cunning.

In fact, the diving bird's uncertain mood ups and downs today, the butterfly has long noticed that there seems to be something hidden in it, but he is secretive, and she also knows that he is this temperament when they get along with each other over the years.

If he doesn't want to say it himself, I'm afraid it will be difficult for others to pry his mouth open.

At this point, the butterfly secretly complained in her heart, and she couldn't bear to be like a pair carved out of a mold.

Butterfly is a stupid temper who doesn't want to be strong, if you don't say it, I won't ask.

The two compartments are still pressed with some thoughts, but fortunately, when they meet for the first time, they still have no time to save themselves, how can they have so much time to take care of these.

It's just that after the warmth, those quiet and silent spaces, butterflies can't help but reminisce.

She thought, too, that he had always had a bad temper with his mother, and that he had known it for a long time, and that he had always said that he could not be alone with her for more than half a day, and that he was sure to quarrel. It must be something unpleasant again.

Butterfly thought of this, and wanted to follow this line, persuade him, and say something like "children want to be filial, relatives are not there", but I feel that it is inappropriate, in case this is not the case, wouldn't I have nothing to do?

Thinking about it, I couldn't help but sigh a little.

The diving bird reached out and touched her, and asked softly: "What are you doing?"

The butterfly replied: It's okay, it's really windy outside, I don't know if it will be a good weather tomorrow?

The diving bird smiled and said, "Tomorrow is a rest anyway, whatever." What are we going to do tomorrow?

Butterfly thought that she was about to go to work, and she couldn't help but feel a little lonely in her heart, and said: If the weather is good, go out for a walk, if it is not good, it is better to stay at home.

The diving bird touched her face tenderly and whispered: When you get up and half a day has passed, what else do you say?

When I woke up the next day, it was a good day, the sun shone through the curtain on most of the bed, and when the butterfly woke up, as before, the diving bird was no longer in bed.

For some reason, this always makes butterflies feel inexplicably uncomfortable.

She thought last night that she must get up earlier than him tomorrow, so that he can also taste the feeling of waking up alone.

I only woke up once in the early hours of the morning, and it was because of a dream. In the dream, she crossed the river through the clouds, traveled to many places, and revisited the old place vaguely, the lonely garden, broken tiles, the autumn wind, the barren grass and loneliness, not even the breath of life.

She walked around, then left, and entered a town, as if to look for someone, but lingered on the ancient streets, back and forth for a long time, and finally did not find that person, her heart was lonely, but she was helpless, and she was about to leave, when she suddenly heard someone calling her: butterfly-

The wind, through the long street, the bluestone road, where is there half a figure?

She woke up suddenly and found that it was the early hours of the morning, and the diving birds around her were sleeping soundly, with their heads resting on their chins.

The room was not very dark, I don't know where the light came from, I could vaguely see half of his slightly clear face, as if carved out of marble, the lines were well-proportioned and soft, smooth forehead, firm nose bridge, the tip of the nose shone slightly, obviously the previous sweat had not dried out.

He slept like a baby, so tight, so intimate with himself, with one hand around his waist.

The butterfly looked at it, and was very happy in her heart, but she was afraid that this happiness would not be real, so she quietly stretched out a finger and touched his forehead, which was really hot, and then closed her eyes contentedly.

But as soon as I closed my eyes, the desolate and cold feeling in my dream was still trembling and vivid.

There are really two situations, two states of mind. It's hard to tell, which is true and which is the dream? It's just this dream, in vain, that I realized that life seems to have gone through thousands of mountains and rivers, tasted all kinds of parting feelings, and my heart is so old in the blink of an eye. I really want to say it, I want to say it, I want to say it, I said, it's cool and autumn.

Life is like this, if you don't go through a lot of ups and downs, you will never be able to truly detach.

When I fell asleep, I naturally slept until dawn, and I didn't even notice that the diving bird got up and dressed.

But fortunately, the diving bird soon returned to bed, and he kissed the butterfly, and when he saw her open eyes, he smiled, and said, "Women like to lie in bed, and they do."

The butterfly lazily said: I'm thirsty, have you boiled water?

The diving bird said: I'll pour water. Today you have to accompany me to the supermarket to buy something, and tomorrow I have to go to work, and I have to stock up on some food at home.

He actually made a pot of tea, poured a cup of joy, and handed it to the butterfly, who was half leaning against the edge of the bed, half of her body still shrunk in the quilt.

The sun was shining outside, but the wind was still very cold.

Butterfly understands that Gao Ruohan always said that there is nothing to do in the countryside in winter, everyone likes to lie in bed and watch TV, and make do with noodles and pancakes when they are hungry, and the whole winter is actually very decadent.

At that time, she was still in school, and she was as busy as a spinning top every day, and it was already a luxury to be able to sleep, let alone have nothing to do.

Besides, Dad has always had the habit of getting up early, and the last thing he wants to see is a woman sleeping lazy. At that time, if Gao Ruohan slept late one day, his father muttered vigorously: What does it look like, still nesting in the quilt so late, like a lazy cat.

Fortunately, Gao Ruohan is also a very diligent woman, and she does it occasionally when she lies in bed. Most of the time, early in the morning, you can hear the two of them facing each other, you and I slap each other back and forth.

So I don't understand what this decadence means.

Right now, I suddenly realized that in addition to decadence, I really couldn't find the right words to describe my dignity. The hair was scattered, the eyes were blurred, the clothes were messy, and after the good things last night, because they were too sleepy, they didn't have time to change their clothes, and the two spring cats whimpered and meowed and hugged a lump of sleepiness.

Fortunately, the diving bird never cares, or, he is used to his lazy way of tidying up, he tolerates it so generously, and he is, hehe, please bear with me.