Article 378

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It's up to her to think whatever she wants.

Mo Ran whispered to her: "I'm sorry." He ducked into the night.

The night wind tickled his cheeks, and he couldn't help but squint his eyes.

After a conversation with Ling'er, he suddenly realized that he might have been wrong about love all along.

Ling'er asked him, "What do you like?"

He seemed to have never asked himself this question.

People who receive little warmth always don't have much choice. As long as someone is extra nice to him, he will give all his blood to him.

"What kind do you like?"

This was a sentence that he didn't even dare to think about in his subconscious mind.

In fact, everyone in this world originally has their own special tastes and hobbies. When Mo Ran was a child, he often heard other children pulling on the corners of their parents' clothes on the roadside and saying, "I like to eat this, this one has chopped green onions." or "Mommy, this red lantern is more beautiful than the yellow one. I I like the red one.”

But he couldn't say it, and it was useless to say it. The only thing he could afford to eat was the cheapest white flour pancake, which he had to break up and share half with his mother.

Later, when he was in the restaurant, he would also peek at the wealthy young men who came to listen to the opera, watching them shake their silk fans and slowly say things like: "I liked that Cui'er last time, but I still want her to sing the opera this time." Yeah, delicate, sweet voice." Sentences like this.

In fact, in Mo Ran's eyes, Sister Cui'er is far less beautiful than Sister Bai Rong, but who cares about what he thinks?

No one will ever ask him "What do you like?" Whether it's aesthetics or choice, these words are only related to wealthy people. For Mo Ran, whatever others give him is what he eats, and he should be grateful if he eats it. , if a piece of clothing can cover your body, you should shed tears - "like"?

I'm afraid he is talking nonsense. Why can he like it? How dare he like it? What qualifications does he have to like it? He only has a miserable life that he has to struggle hard to survive.

As time went by, this habit of holding on to whatever he got was deeply rooted in his bones. Later, no matter how much gold, silver, and jewelry he was surrounded by, and the smoke of ambergris made him sneeze, it still couldn't relieve the sourness of poverty in his bones. Cover it up.

Throughout Mo Ran's life, he was poor and poor when he was young. His joys, sorrows, and joys were like the plaster on the soles of his shoes, worthless, so no one would ask him "What do you like?"

Later, when he became prosperous, Jane was in the emperor's heart, accompanying him to the king and the tiger. Others could only guess his thoughts, so no one dared to ask him "What do you like?"

Just now, Ling'er suddenly asked him this question. With just a few words, he was stunned.

He once thought that if he liked someone, he must be respectful, hold him in his hand, and dare not have any delusions.

Just like he did to his teacher.

He felt that this was love, and there seemed to be nothing wrong with it.

But at this moment, he vaguely understood that things were not what he thought.

Does he really like gentleness more than stubbornness?

Does he really like gentleness more than toughness?

Does he really like the peach blossoms in his eyes, which are more sharp than those of phoenixes, and the two-edged frost?

He...does he really like Shi Mingjing? instead of... instead of...

He didn't dare to think about that name, but his heartbeat couldn't help it, and his blood had become hot and hot.

Mo Ran was shocked by his own love.

Eros, Eros, love and desire are inseparable and inseparable. They are attracted by the other person's appearance, bewitched by the other person's voice, the other person's smell, and even the other person's eyes, want to occupy, want to Possession, wanting to leave one's own breath on the body that originally had nothing to do with one's own, wanting to insert one's own passion into the other person's body.

He has always believed that love is sacred and the one you love cannot be desecrated.

But how can it really not be blasphemous?

When a body that you love, long for, and yearn for appears in front of you, how can you help yourself not to feel hot and distraught?

Of all the loves in the world, only love has nothing to do with sex.

It is destined to be stained with sticky sweat and have the color of flesh. It is destined to have tangled temples and the smell of heather. It is related to moans and passion. It is destined to breed beauty in the warm and humid bed of mud. The dripping stamens are coming.

The ink burned in the night and suddenly stopped. His eyes were bright and terrifying, and his expression was horrified.

Something seemed to be broken in his head, and the violent current that had been suppressed by his stubbornness and stupidity flooded him with overwhelming force and swallowed him up.

He stood there in horror.

Desire, desire.

love.

Chu nightning...

He finally dug up the name.

When all the sand and mud are removed, treasures emerge.

It has always been Chu Wanning... Such private emotions, such passionate love, have always belonged only to Chu Wanning!

He felt that his eyes were going dark, and his obsession for two lifetimes was shattered. The broken brick walls were washed away by the violent tide, hitting his heart, making him almost breathless.

He was horrified.

Could it be that...it turned out to be like this...

The person he likes, his so-called love,

Was it wrong all along?

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