As soon as the cold touch touched Su Wan's wrist, a blurry picture passed through his mind, and the only thing that was clear was Li Jingchen's crazy eyebrows, and a big hole was drawn in the corner of his eye, and blood was dripping and flowing.

He asked bitterly in her recollections: "Wanwan, do you hate me?" ”

"Very well, you already hate me so much anyway. That makes you hate me even more. ”

The man called Su Wan's name one after another, lowered his head and kissed her cheek: "Wanwan, my Wanwan." ”

"I love you the most, Wanwan."

"Don't hate me." The last sentence is extremely soft, so light that it is inaudible and heartbreaking.

It's this weird memory again, yes, it's a memory, it's really happened.

Su Wan's heart leaked half a beat, she was sure that she and Li Jingchen had definitely been here.

In the lost memories, there are many stories about Li Jingchen's torn past.

She'd never been like this before, desperate to get her lost memories back and what had happened to them. Perhaps, that is the key to curing Li Jingchen's illness.

From memories to reality.

Li Jingchen approached Su Wan, his facial features were deep and three-dimensional, and when he got so close, he could clearly see the hot and cracked love in his eyes.

He sprayed hot air between his nose: "Late, okay." ”

"Huh?"

Su Wan has a voice in her heart that does not belong but belongs to her: Su Wan, don't refuse her. Refusal will only make his illness worse and worse, and in this life, don't repeat the same mistakes.

In this life? She caught a particularly mysterious word "this life", so how many lives do she and Li Jingchen have?

Her thoughts were drifting away, and she smiled lightly, and the style outlined by her eyebrows and eyes was soul-catching: "Good." I'm stuck here with you, not going anywhere. ”

"It's just you and me, it's just us and each other."

As she spoke, her right hand, which was not locked, grabbed Li Jingchen's left hand and shook it gently.

Li Jingchen's eyes were stunned, and the bottom of his eyes gradually revealed the vast stars, the flowing water in the mountains, and the gentleness pouring out from the Milky Way.

The tips of his lips were hooked, and his voice was low: "Every day, I have to kiss and hug late." ”

"Day and night, they all sleep together at night."

His voice, always with this wonderful ability, sketches a picture that is beautiful and morbid, with a fatal attraction.

Why, the previous Su party rejected such a morbid and pestering Mr. Li, wouldn't she involuntarily indulge?

She sank and nodded with her eyes closed.

With your eyes closed, it's great for kissing.

Li Jingchen smiled stupidly, and his handsome face slowly approached.

It's close, it's close, it's going to be kissed.

As if realizing something, his dark pupils cracked and blood-red, and he tilted his head and laughed at himself.

After a while, he lowered his head and took the cold key, untying himself and Su Wan's cold shackles.

The voice was hoarse for a few dozen degrees: "Late, I just went crazy again." ”

When Su Wan opened her eyes again, Li Jingchen had already walked away, and the residual hormonal breath was still eroding people's nerves.

She didn't have a heart-to-heart argument with him, which shouldn't be a repeat of the past.

Suddenly, her gaze was fixed on a corner. The diary that was burned by Li Jingchen appeared strangely here.

Her heart was beating fast and fast, and she was about to get up and walk to the diary, but she saw the man approaching her.

One step, two steps, three steps, every step thrills people's hearts.

The man was born very tall, and Su Wan squatted on the ground, and could only look up at him, seeing his chin with a little scum, and his towering Adam's apple.

The two men stared at each other in silence, neither of them speaking.

Caught off guard, Li Jingchen half-knelt on the ground, his back straightened, and said in a low voice: "Wanwan, I'm sorry." "As soon as he came in, he couldn't control himself.

He looked at Su Wan fixedly, his eyes filled with dark mist. Affectionate, like the evening breeze, and like the molten slurry at the bottom of the lake, sometimes shallow blowing, sometimes paranoid bursting.

Perfect fingertips, exuding a little warm sugar, lying quietly in the dry and warm palm, he said in an urn: "You eat sugar tonight, don't hate me." ”