Qiu Wuji was happy, but Chu Ge wasn't happy at all. When other people went on dates with girls and even brought them home, what wonderful things might happen? He hadn't done anything. He'd gone off to fight someone and even taken a knife wound, only to come home and find the girl gone-and she'd gone especially far.
Chu Ge placed a durian on his head himself and sat there with his hands tucked away, staring blankly at the roses on the coffee table. He didn't even know whether he could shower with this wound. In this sweltering weather, too...
Come to think of it, these detestable roses that had caused Qiu Wuji to return early did look rather lovely after he stared at them for a while...
"Zhuang Zhou Dreams of a Butterfly" hung on the wall, pasted up without a frame.
The brushwork flowed with effortless grace, delicate and beautiful, and the words themselves were lofty. An air of cultured refinement swept over him.
The windows gleamed, the furnishings were spotless, and flowers and plants lent their fragrance to the air. Without his noticing, a man's rented home had completely changed.
Almost every corner of this home bore proof that she had lived here.
"With my meager words, I wrote down my imaginings, loving the madman who loved in my stead. Through another pair of eyes, I saw illusion as reality, as though all things obeyed my command..." His ringtone suddenly sounded.
He was used to this ringtone, normally answering before more than a single note had played, but this time Chu Ge felt something in it. He listened to an entire verse before leisurely answering. "Mom, why aren't you asleep this late? Oh, right, how was your Qixi?"
"At my age, what would I celebrate Qixi for?