It is said that it is an invitation to eat, but in fact, it is just a bowl of wontons.

Fortunately, Rong Yi is not a picky eater, and it doesn't matter what he eats if someone pays anyway.

After eating the ravioli, it was almost eleven o'clock.

The two went back in opposite directions, so they parted ways at the door.

The wonton shop is not much away from the apartment, and Rong Yi is carrying a laptop bag crossbody, carrying the things he bought at the pharmacy in one hand and his trouser pocket in the other.

In April, although it is already spring, the wind blows at night, and it still feels a little cool.

Rong stretched out his hand from his trouser pocket, casually brushed the broken hair that was blown in front of his forehead, and stopped suddenly at the moment he put down his hand.

Maybe from today, he should re-understand the word "fate".

After all, if you meet the same person three times in a day, if you don't have a deliberate arrangement, then you can only explain it with the word fate.

Chen Aiqing stood next to the trash can on the side of the street and tore off the band-aid on the index finger of her right hand.

Although the wound is not very deep, the location is relatively tricky, a band-aid can not completely wrap the wound, and the healing effect is affected by moving things around while working, and after tearing off, blood beads soon emerge from the fingertips.

Chen Aiqing subconsciously wanted to find a tissue, but unexpectedly, his hand touched his pocket, and a touch of white happened to appear in his field of vision.

She froze for a moment, staring at the tissue that suddenly appeared for two seconds, and then her gaze moved to the hand holding the tissue.

From the professional perspective of an art student, the owner of this hand is definitely qualified to be a top hand model.

Just as she was carefully observing this hand, wondering whether it could be used for the work, a familiar voice suddenly sounded in her ear: "Hey, I'm very tired with my hand raised." ”

This is a poor tone......

Chen Aiqing frowned and raised his head.

Oh, what a hell, I actually ran into the "no appointment" at the door of the library.

Seeing that she didn't speak or move, Rong hooked the shopping bag of the pharmacy with his fingers and crossed to her: "Take it." ”

Chen Aiqing glanced at the bag.

Neuropathy.

You're not my father, why do you tell me to take it, I'll take it?

Sensing the little ghost's reluctant expression, Rong Yi didn't feel troublesome for the first time, but raised the corners of his lips and said patiently: "Take it first, okay?" ”

This kind of attitude is acceptable?

Chen Aiqing rubbed the tip of his nose with the back of his hand, although his expression was still reluctant, he reached over his uninjured hand and took the bag.

"If you want me to carry it for you, you have to do ......"

Before she could say the last word "ma", she felt her injured hand wrapped in a touch of warmth.

Rong Yi held a tissue in his hand and carefully wiped the blood from her fingertips.

"Aren't your hands very important when you study art?"

Chen Aiqing was not used to being grabbed like this, so he instinctively shrank back.

It's just that Rong Yi's strength is very strong, and she can't break free.

I don't know if she heard the word "art" or if his tone just now was slightly underwhelming, her attention was distracted, and she subconsciously said: "What you are talking about is nonsense, for any industry, hands are very important." ”

Hearing this, Rong Yi threw the tissue that had wiped the wound into the trash can, raised his head and glanced at her: "So that's how you protect your hands?" ”

Chen Aiqing was choked up and didn't speak.