She turned her gaze to the painting. The snowflakes that had been smashed had melted and smeared. She sighed, and was in no mood to paint, so she took the canvas and covered it. Han Luochen came over to look at it and painted the room full of roses, delicate and beautiful, dancing with the sun. He pinched the brush and gave it to her, and smiled, "Go ahead, and I'll give me this picture."

He examined the color that had been destroyed by himself again, like rouge tears. Lan Qingchuan was helpless, and wiped the deep dark green to repair it, but unexpectedly, Han Luochen bent down from behind her and grabbed her hand. He looked into her eyes and smiled slightly, "It's better to use smoky purple here." He tuned a misty pansy color, which was very hazy and beautiful. Lan Qingchuan was a little amazed by his technique and vision. He held her hand, moving slowly, slowly covering the smudge with one stroke until it blended into the picture as a whole. He clicked on the canvas and smiled, "Well, that's good." ”

Lan Qingchuan withdrew his hand, there was still his warm temperature on the back of his hand, but he didn't seem to notice it, there was a faint smile in his birch eyes, flickering sporadically, reflecting the scorching roses in the room.

Her heartbeat slowed, and gradually slowed, so that her breath could be clearly discerned from the scent of the flowers between her snorts. She stared, stood up, and pulled some distance.

He took up her chair, his hands lazily resting on the back, his legs too long, and he stretched out like a child, rocking back and forth, the chair creaking with his movements. He seemed to notice something, and his crooked eyes were beautifully shaped, like delicate petals, and he looked at her and smiled.

"What are you doing standing so far away? I won't do anything to you. ”

Lan Qingchuan was silent, feeling that he had nothing to say to him, so he took the kettle under the stand and walked to the other side to water the flower bed.

Han Luochen stopped talking, and looked at the painting behind him, he glanced at the traces of repair, he liked it tightly, and touched it with his fingers again, and the fingertips lingered on the back of her soft and delicate hand, he looked at the painting happily, raised his voice and shouted Lan Qingchuan, "This has become a common work of the two of us." "I wondered what kind of edge to set and which corner of the house to put in it.

Lan Qingchuan didn't care about him.

After being quiet for a while, he began to toss again, saying something inconsequential, "Hey, Lan Qingchuan, talk to me again." Tell me, have you ever had a boyfriend abroad? ”

She didn't answer, and he gritted his teeth and denied, "Who would find such a dull girl." Lan Qingchuan, your temperament is the only one who is most compatible with you. He glanced at her as she turned her brow, but the second half of the sentence was clear and solemn, not a joke.

Lan Qingchuan put the kettle, and his beautiful side face was beautiful in the light, all because she was surrounded by a sea of flowers, and the background was too beautiful, which caused him to suffer a moment of cardiac arrest, lose focus, and have a deep touch of stunning color in his eyes.

She calmly refused, "Han Luochen, don't always catch me off guard. He stood up, picked up her jug and handed it to her, still with a disapproving expression, but not careless, and said, "So, how long shall I give you to prepare?" The distance between the two was very close, and Han Luochen could smell the fragrance of flowers on her body, and he felt that he had probably fallen into a deep depression.

She laughed and shook her head speechlessly.