He carefully spread one blanket on the floor, and rolled the other up as a pillow. Then he sat down on the stool, pulled her over, hugged her tightly with one hand, and groped with her with the other. His breath choked when he noticed her naked body under her thin clothes, and she heard it.

This time, she still didn't quite understand what kind of ecstasy it brought him. She didn't understand what kind of beauty he had found by touching her living body, and why he was so happy at it. Only passion can understand this beauty. If the passion is dead or absent-minded, then the wonderful rhythm of beauty will not be understood, and it will even be regarded as despicable. The feeling of touching this living and warm beauty is much deeper than the feeling of observing it.

When he gladly entered her, there was peace, and she was still waiting. She felt a little forgotten. She knew that part of the blame was on herself, and that she was deliberately creating a divide. Maybe she's destined to be in this state now.

But she still lay quietly and did not retreat. Even when he stopped, she didn't let herself get excited like Du Wancheng to achieve satisfaction on her own. She lay quietly, tears gradually welling up in her eyes, and finally came out of her eyes.

He lay quietly on top of her, hugging her tightly, trying to warm her by covering her bare poor legs with his own legs.

"Are you cold?" He asked her softly in a low voice, and it seemed that she was close enough to cling to him. And she felt far away from him, forgotten.

"It's not cold! But I have to go. She whispered.

He sighed and hugged her tightly for a moment before letting go of his hand to rest.

He didn't expect her to cry, and he thought she was just as useful as he was.

"I have to go." She repeated.

He lifted up, knelt beside her for a moment, bowed his head and kissed the base of her thigh, lowered his skirt for her in the dim light, and buttoned himself up, all without distraction, without even turning his body.

"You'll have to come to the village house someday." He looked down at her, his gaze warm, his expression confident and casual.

But she lay motionless, her eyes staring upwards at him. Stranger! Stranger! She was even a little disgusted with him.

He put on his coat, looked for his hat that had fallen off the floor, and slung the gun over his shoulder.

"Come back!" He looked at her warmly and calmly.

She slowly stood up. She didn't want to go, and she didn't want to stay. He helped her put on a thin raincoat and straighten her.

He opened the door for her, and it was already dark outside. Seeing him, the loyal dog under the eaves stood up happily. It was drizzling and gray, and it was getting late.

"I've got to get a flashlight!" He said, "There is no one else on the road!" ”

As they went up the path, he walked a little ahead of her, and the lamp swung downward, illuminating the wet grass, the black serpentine roots, and the pale flowers. Where the lights can't shine, it's rainy, foggy, and pitch black.

"You'll have to come to the house in the village someday," he said as he walked side by side on the wide road. Let's just let it go. ”

She was puzzled, he was so desperate that he was chasing her, and it was strange to her, but there was nothing between them, and he hadn't really said anything to her. Also, somehow she was annoyed by his dialect, what "come home", it didn't sound like she was talking to her, but like she was talking to an ordinary woman.

"It's a quarter past seven," he said, "and you'll still be able to make it to dinner." Sensing her indifference, he hurriedly changed his accent. As he turned the last bend of the road and walked towards the hedge wall and the garden gate, he turned out the lights. "Let's see you again." As he spoke, he took her arm.

It's not easy. The ground beneath their feet was mysterious, but he could grope his way forward because he was used to it. At the gate of the garden, he gave her his flashlight. "The garden is a little brighter," he said, "but take this with you, lest you stumble to the bottom of the road." ”

His words were right, and there did seem to be a pale ghost in the empty garden. He pulled her over suddenly, his hands rubbing in her skirt again, his cool hands drenched in water caressing her warm body.

"I would be blind even if I were to be dead to be able to touch a woman like you," he said in a hoarse voice, "and please stay a little longer." ”

She felt that he suddenly wanted her.

"Nope! I have to rush back. She said a little anxiously.

"Alas!" He let go of her abruptly and let her go.

She turned away, but immediately turned back to him and said, "Kiss me!" ”

In the darkness he bent down and kissed her on the forehead. She pursed her mouth, and he kissed it like a dragonfly before removing his own. He doesn't like kisses.

"I'll come back tomorrow," she said, "as long as I can." She added half a sentence.

"Hey! Don't be too late. He replied in the dark. By this time she could no longer see him.

"Good night!"

"Good night, Mrs. Zhang!" His voice came from the darkness.

She stopped, turned to look at the wet night, and could only see his figure. "Why are you calling me this?" She asked.

"Don't scream like that!" He said, "Good night! Let's go! ”

She plunged headlong into the darkness of the night. When he found the side door open, he slipped into his room. As soon as the door was closed, the gong for dinner rang. But she still had to take a shower, she had to take a shower. "But it can't be too late," she said to herself, "it's annoying." ”