Chapter 549: Broken Love (2)

（42）

I was still stupidly watching his avatar light up all day, and the time for lunch and dinner was only half an hour away. Just give him a meeting and say: remember to brush your teeth after eating, don't go online so soon to go online dating.

I know he's waiting for someone to talk to her on the Internet, and he says he's a graduate student in medicine at Zhejiang University, a Christian. I asked him to go to service, and he said that their church was so far away that it would take a day to go.

On Saturday night, I remember urging him to get some rest so he could go to service, and at first he would always say, "Okay, I will go." Later, can you say a few words less.

In the fall, I found myself hooked on the kind of hopeless dizziness that would result from just saying hello or having nothing to say, and not needing him a word back.

There is also the kind of bitter tears that I think he won't give me even to deal with a few casual words and end up in an online relationship, as if all the tears that I used to hold back after knowing that my husband was cheating have flowed out.

I'm used to imagining the story of his family he tells, and I remember that copying chat logs started on September 17th, and I started writing "Red Apricot Declaration" on the 22nd, and the editor asked how the signing was considered, but I couldn't think about it, and I didn't dare to offend him.

He said: A powerful man will always be chased by a woman, and if you don't marry her, she will live with you as well. Now the agreement is clear that they want to buy out your copyright, or even the copyright of derivative works later. If I were you, I wouldn't sign it.

Of course, I knew that it was not to buy, but to get a lifelong slave for nothing, just like the marriage introduction letter issued by my husband from the unit, without spending a penny. And I don't have the patience to do the same thing for ten years.

I don't know how many author groups I was pulled into and kicked out at that time, and my friends became more than 150 people, so I don't know who was talking. One of them kept encouraging me to sign the contract, saying, "If you don't sign, the first prize will be vacant." If you sign it, we will be able to meet when the signed authors meet, so I'm looking forward to it. ”

I am very grateful to those post-90s writers who dare to speak and think and write, who helped me turn the pastime of writing a diary into the construction of a 200,000-word novel.

When I found out that the first prize was really vacant, I didn't know who the person who was joking was, the computer had been formatted N times, and the chat history that had not been copied in time was gone.

And he, the one who kept me waiting all the fall, didn't care about me at all, and he didn't hear from me.

If people knew that most of the things I wrote that I didn't nominate were his own, would they think it was disorganized and disorganized?

My husband said: Why are you always so pitiful, you can't even talk about online dating? Back then, so many people lined up to invite you to lunch, and you talked to people at the dinner table. Can you learn to be smarter and tell some nice lies?