Lan Qingchuan took the disinfectant water from the room, and he had already sat in her place very obediently, waiting for her to wipe it.

Lan Qingchuan was helpless, pulled out a chair and sat down, and dipped some cotton swabs on the corners of his mouth. He slept on the bed last night, and he didn't have time to deal with it, and he was a little festering and bruised.

His father's slap was so hard that even the corners of his mouth were fanned out with blood, and Lan Qingchuan looked a little unbearable.

"What did you say, how did you get beaten so badly?"

He shook his head, "What else could it be, but to reject their good intentions." He was not without scoff.

Lan Qingchuan was silent. She was in a different situation from Han Luochen, although her father was the same stern, cold and even tyrannical, but Fang Yuzhong had always hated the use of violence to suppress others and obey, and she was his only daughter, he would never be angry to the point of needing to do something.

Han Luochen glanced at her, stretched out his hand and nodded her slightly furrowed eyebrows, "What are you worried about." He hooked a big smile, cherry pink lips, just the right color, "I don't hurt at all, you see." Before he finished speaking, because the corners of his mouth were too wide, he suddenly pulled the wound, and the pain made him suppress his smile at once.

Lan Qingchuan patted him and said, "Don't move, wipe the potion." He stopped him from trying to speak, "Don't speak, it's going to flow into your mouth." ”

Her expression was serious, a face close at hand, pale black eyes, covered with a layer of golden sunlight, long black eyelashes, the hair on both sides of her face was pulled behind her ears, and the exposed ears were as white as jade.

He rejoiced, and even the wound did not hurt.

Lan Qingchuan wiped the medicine, and as soon as he raised his eyes, he met his staring gaze. She looked away, stood up, and was about to turn around to go back to the vial, when he grabbed her wrist with one hand. He didn't exert much force, Lan Qingchuan was still holding on to him, and his eyes turned sideways were as calm as water, "What's wrong?" ”

"Are those words you said to Zhou Luzhi true?" He rested one hand on the back of the chair, and the whole person sat on the chair, his legs straight and long, his boots on, his heels on the ground, and the evacuation was full of strength.

He asked, tightening his arms and pulling her over. From this angle, he looked up at her, his beautiful brown eyes, smiling, but strict and profound.

She smiled lightly, "You know everything, Han Luochen." At that moment, the young man's pupils seemed to suddenly light up with this snowy daylight, and Lan Qingchuan lowered his head, taking in his childlike happy expression. When he was happy, he was so fresh and bright, there was no heavy gloom and coldness in his eyes, nor was there the sharp emptiness of his eyes when he first saw him, and the slightly raised bamboo-like eyebrows were bent out of tenderness.

He still had a wound on his mouth, he couldn't smile too wantonly, the bridge of his snow-white nose was slightly wrinkled, and his joy was a little helpless and indescribable.

Lan Qingchuan wanted to withdraw her hand, but the happy young man still didn't let go, she stood in front of him, looking down at him, her eyes were still flowing with sunlight. She watched as he pulled the back of her hand and landed a kiss on it with a wounded lightness. Behind him was the grand morning light, his eyes closed, his expression so happy, and so serious.

"I've never been happier than I."

Only then did he let go of her, and the short hair was attached to his forehead, not soft, but extremely smooth.

She looked at the young man with delicate eyebrows, and she did not expect his unsurpassed joy.

"I haven't promised you yet."

"I know." In fact, he wanted to say that it was enough to have that sentence, and as for being together, he was not in a hurry, he could wait slowly.

Lan Qingchuan felt very struggling, and he couldn't resist his smile.