I went out with my husband at night, and on the way the shoelaces opened and he leaned over to help me tie it. I tickled his chin on a whim: "I appreciate you, be my lackey." He was stunned, grabbed my hand and kissed it gently: "Willing to be a subordinate of the skirt." "Under the moonlight, he smiled at me with such bright eyes, and there was a bright and dangling Milky Way in his eyes, and I couldn't even count how many stars there were in the sky.
One afternoon, he was reading with his head down, and I was humming and rubbing around him. He pushed his glasses, held my face and pecked lightly: "Nothing to offer, no..." I suddenly left my mouth and tried to turn my face away. The next second, he wrapped himself in his arms and whispered in my ear, "Very cute." ”
Once I saw him, my emotions were particularly broken, and tears fell down. Confused, he took me into his arms and gently kissed me with tears on his face. A voice in my ear called out my nickname, and kept patting me: "It will be fine, it will be fine..." A string of fine and dense kisses was printed on the sideburns.
While we were reading together, my husband's pen fell under the table, and he leaned over to pick it up, and I took the opportunity to prick his ear. As a result, the gentleman "banged" into the corner of the table, got up and bit my face fiercely, and then said with a look of grievance: "I thought you would protect my head, but you actually poked my ear..."
One event was going to end very late, and I told my husband not to wait for me. As soon as I went downstairs, I saw him standing under a tree, turning his head to see me, and then opening his arms with a smile. I trotted over with joy and plunged into his arms. It seems that the toys in the window that I had been obsessively looking forward to when I was a child were full of it.
The northern autumn and winter are windy. While walking down the street with him, a demonic wind blew through, and I grabbed my husband's arm: "Grab me, I'm going to be blown away!" Wrapping himself around me in his coat, the gentleman said disgustedly, "You underestimate your weight too much."
Last winter, I wrapped myself up like a bear and went to see Mr. Yang. He took a bag of steaming sugar sautéed chestnuts from his clothes, peeled them off and fed them into my mouth. With a happy face, he asked, "Is it delicious, it's been lined up for a long time." The snow on the ground creaked and creaked, and the tip of his nose froze like a lotus petal out of the water, revealing a mouthful of small white teeth. At that moment he was like a steaming chestnut in his arms, warm, sweet, grinning at me.
In the evening, I told my husband my answer, and sighed: "Alas, I am afraid that I am red, please use honorifics when talking to me in the future." He smiled secretly, and when he saw me look over, he said, "Okay, good lady, would you like to drink milk tea?" ”
I hugged him hard, "I want it!" ”
When my husband and I were just together, when we secretly looked at each other, we accidentally looked at each other and tried to move away, and then the two of us bent our eyes together and laughed out loud.
A long time ago, my husband was too shy to do it, I ran to feed him candy, he ate the candy and then kissed me lightly with his eyebrows raised, and when he sat up, his earlobes were red, but his face was stretched. I sat in front of him, my feet dangling around as he flipped through the book without distraction, solemnly remembering his experience in the corner of the book, raising his eyebrows in worry and worrying about the country, and his face was full of seriousness. It's just that the cheeks are bulging with sugar cubes, and the earlobes are glowing more and more compelling and unconsciously red. I covered my mouth and laughed out loud: "Silly..." He finally couldn't bear to stand up, clasped the back of my neck with one hand, pressed his forehead together, and asked viciously with sugar: "Then what are you blushing?" I suppressed my laughter and was stunned for half a day before I opened my mouth with a shaking voice: "Jing... Refreshed?"
Sigh, lemon flavored.
I remembered a small thing from high school.
He competed with Mr. Yang, who was still a teenager, and went late so he could only sit in the back of the classroom. Too far away from the teacher, I couldn't see clearly or hear my brain, so I quietly pulled Mr. Yang, who was listening carefully to the lecture, "I think I'm about to suffocate." He looked at me very seriously, quietly pulled on my sweater collar, and whispered to me:
"Wear the sweater backwards, don't forget to change it when you get home from school."
When I was in high school, I was extremely afraid of meeting Mr. Yang at dinner. Because I felt that I should maintain the image of a fairy eating flowers and drinking dew in Mr. Yang's heart. Unfortunately, after two months of hiding, I was in the corner of the canteen preparing to eat when I met Mr. Xiao Yang. His eyes lit up and he walked toward me. I panicked, ate the last half of my cream bun in one bite, and then pulled my leg and ran. As a result, he was caught by Mr. Yang. He poked my cheek with his finger and laughed out loud very unfriendly. I glanced at him, and he covered his face with his hand and smiled; I glared at him, and he laughed. When I was about not to see him in my life, he suddenly laughed until he trembled, pinched my face, and said, "Why are you so likable?" I think he was probably delirious.
Later I asked him, why are you chasing me? He thought about it and said, when you looked at me stupidly and then ate the milk yellow bag and ran away, I thought you were like a little rabbit, and if I didn't chase you, you would flee back to the forest.
Yesterday I asked him about it again, and he bent his eyes and said, "Of course I remember, how are you so cute."
I collapsed on the couch, "But it was not a fairy."
He laughed, "It's Adilina by the water, beautiful but with the smell of fireworks."
By the way, since that day, there have been no more milk yellow buns in the canteen, and my last half of the milk yellow buns have not tasted the taste.
Nasty Mr. Yang.
In the winter, when I had eaten with Mr. Yang and was ready to go home, I found that the snow was very heavy. Mr. Yang's driving skills were really frightening on a snowy day, so the two of them walked back together. At that time, I was wearing a down jacket wrapped around my head to my feet, while Mr. Yang was wearing only one coat. In the snow. Tall. Thin. tall and straight. But it was cold, and there was a layer of snow on the shoulders. I unzipped my down jacket and ran over and jumped on his back, wrapping him around him, the fur collar covering our heads together. He hugged me, turned his head, and asked softly, "Are you tired of walking?" I put my arms around his neck and shook my head, "I want to borrow some snow from your shoulder."
This answer has been a few years old, and when I wrote it, I was a child, staying in a thick honey pot, and writing something like sweet cream, which may not be the same now. For example, he used to care whether the flowers in his hand were stained with dew, and now he would probably muttered what the old Yang brain was thinking, and there was nothing to send flowers to whether the last time he played mahjong and lost my brain collapse, he didn't want to give it. Alas, I can't help but sigh, and the years have turned me into a young woman with a sinister heart.
About a few days ago, there was a knock at the door, and I shouted in the bedroom: "Old Yang! Someone knocked on the door! After he opened the door to take the takeaway, he suddenly leaned in and muttered in a low voice: "Do you remember what you used to call me..." I was stunned for a moment, and the folded clothes were put aside, and I seriously recalled that I didn't know when he had changed from "Mr. Yang" to "our old Yang". I threw away my clothes and dressed up as a teapot with my hands crossed at my waist: "Congratulations, my daughter-in-law has become a mother-in-law for many years!" ”
The flower shop downstairs was discounted, and I passed by and suddenly wanted to buy a bouquet of lilies and hydrangeas, and went home to deliver a large handful of flowers at the moment of opening the door. He was stunned, took the bouquet, and smiled at me a little shyly, strangely gentle. I jumped into the house and was taking off my trench coat when he suddenly turned back, his eyes lit up, and he suddenly smiled: "Is it a discount in the flower shop?" I hugged him in the face and kissed him loudly: "Lak Tsai, you understand me!" The two misers clapped their hands and laughed.
Later, he became a regular customer of the flower shop downstairs, and the flowers found a few glass soda bottles to insert casually, and when they withered, they went to the flower shop to continue, and went together, always a little bit of shame that the two people loved for the first time, and would quietly scratch the palm of his hand with their fingers, and then grin at him. When she went by herself, the hostess would smile and greet: "Your mouth has been bought back!" This way of calling me gave me a sense of intimacy with my old husband and wife, and after a gentle response, I went upstairs to find "my family's mouth".
More economical than the downstairs flower shop is that you can drive to the suburbs on the weekend, a few snow-white reed flowers folded on the river beach are fluffy and fluffy into the short and fat black clay pot, Lamei should be enshrined in a white porcelain vase with a thin neck, there is no rules, as if it were planting seedlings, Lao Yang will also plant a tender and raw coriander into a small flower pot (originally raised too much meat, and then died there is only a pot of soil left), every time after washing his hands, he has to run to the kitchen to give the coriander some water, and there is nothing wrong with the coriander as a kiss. Early one morning, he opened his eyes and sighed deeply: "Last night the water seemed to be poured too much, whining and mourning, my son is finished." "The coriander really died, and I didn't even have time to cook a bowl of small wontons to accompany it." Lao Yang was sad for several days, not knowing whether it was for coriander or for fresh meat ravioli without coriander.