Chapter 57 Zhuang Zhou Mengdie

The tip of his nose rubbed against Ye Zhenzhen's face intentionally or unintentionally, and his breath was filled with ambiguity.

Ye Zhenzhen's heart was shaken by the aura, and her breathing became noticeably disordered.

He held her hand, and their fingers fit together perfectly.

His eyes were filled with meaningful warmth, and he looked at her quietly and affectionately above her.

Ye Zhenzhen's breath was a little breathless, and the blood in her body began to boil again, and she felt inexplicably hot and uncomfortable.

She unconsciously clenched her intertwined fingers, and the base of her left index and middle fingers felt slightly cool and a bit prickly.

The coolness made her bubbling blood seem a little weak. In a moment, the bubbling bubbles gradually became smaller, and then became lukewarm, until they cooled down.

Somehow, she suddenly became distracted.

Ye Zhenzhen avoided Wen Baijing's hot kiss, turned her face away, and lowered her eyelashes.

"What's wrong..."

Wen Baijing whispered in her ear, asking. His hot breath sprinkled on her cheeks and neck.

Ye Zhenzhen shook her head, her eyes slightly misty.

"Are you too tired?"

Wen Baijing noticed her strangeness and stopped further actions.

Having just returned from the hospital the day before, Wen Baijing didn't want to trouble her too much, so he sat up and helped her up.

They sat side by side on the sofa, and he put his arm around her thin shoulders.

She leaned on his shoulder and buried her head in the crook of his neck. Unspeakable emotions, like the tide of Qiantang River, flooded her heart.

He put his arms around Wen Baijing's waist, like a coquettish and clingy cat.

Wen Baijing raised his hand and stroked her hair, the tenderness in his eyes undiminished.

The TV channels kept switching and I couldn't find the programs I liked.

"Why don't we read a book?"

It was too boring to just sit there. Thinking of the whole wall of books in the study, Ye Zhenzhen sat up straight, tilted her head to look at him, and suggested softly.

The two walked towards the study hand in hand, and Ye Zhenzhen clung to him as if she had no bones.

"Choose for yourself!"

Facing a cabinet full of books, Ye Zhenzhen felt a little dizzy. There were many famous works from home and abroad...

Ye Zhenzhen was dazzled by the books she looked at, and finally, she chose the familiar "Steppenwolf".

"What are you reading?" She held the selected book and tilted her head to look at Wen Baijing.

He shook the book in his hand - "Zhuangzi".

It's all right...

She couldn't help but shiver. She couldn't understand such an obscure book.

A horse flies past the western window, and the setting sun fills the courtyard.

Standing on the balcony, overlooking the Phoenix Lake not far away, the setting sun jumps on the lake, and the autumn wind ripples the lake surface, creating sparkling waves.

The two of them sat on the lounge chairs on the balcony and read quietly.

Ye Zhenzhen opened the book and was stunned.

I can't understand the original version. She covered her face in shame, so embarrassing!

I stole a glance at Wen Baijing, who was concentrating on reading. He was enveloped by the gentle sunlight, and his outline looked much softer than usual.

Wen Baijing was leaning back in his chair in great comfort, his long legs casually crossed, revealing laziness and leisure. In the sunlight, his profile, like a carefully carved face, looked even more perfect.

Ye Zhenzhen was so fascinated by what she saw that her thoughts were all over the place.

Noticing her gaze, Wen Baijing turned his head and looked at her in a daze.

Wen Baijing raised his hand and waved it in front of her eyes, "Don't read the book properly, huh?"

"Um……"

She blinked and cleverly changed the subject, "Are you reading the book Zhuangzi's Dream of a Butterfly?"

Wen Baijing nodded, "Yes. Once upon a time, Zhuang Zhou dreamed that he was a butterfly, fluttering around like a butterfly. He thought he was happy and contented, but he didn't know he was Zhuang. Suddenly he woke up and found himself to be Zhuang..."

"Then do you think Zhuang Zhou turned into a butterfly in his dream, or the butterfly turned into Zhuang Zhou in its dream?" Ye Zhenzhen was puzzled and couldn't help asking.

Wen Baijing threw the question back to her: "What do you think?"

"Whether Zhuang Zhou dreamed of being a butterfly, or the butterfly dreamed of Zhuang Zhou, it's the same. The point is not to distinguish between dreams and reality. Just like now, we think we are living in reality, but maybe, all this is just a dream. The past does not exist, the future does not exist, maybe, only the present is real!" Ye Zhenzhen didn't know what nonsense she was talking about, she just spoke freely.

Wen Baijing raised his hand and hooked her nose, smiling slightly, "Perhaps, it can be understood this way."

Then, he asked, "Why don't you read the book after you got it?"

Feeling somewhat ashamed, she lowered her head and covered her eyes with her hands, "I don't understand..."

Wen Baijing pursed his lips, without any mockery in his words, but with a bit of tolerance, "If there is a dubbed version, I'll get it for you."

"Tell me where it is and I'll get it myself." Ye Zhenzhen quickly stood up, her face slightly flushed.

"Well, it's on the second to last shelf in the lower right corner of the bookshelf. Can you find it?"

"Well, just read the book! I can find it."

Ye Zhenzhen was wearing a white long dress. She was holding a book, her skirt swaying as she walked out from the bedroom balcony and turned towards the study.

Fortunately, there is a Chinese version. If I had studied harder, I wouldn’t be so embarrassed today.

She came to the study with self-blame and shame.

Um, bottom right, second layer...

Finally found it! She sighed, took out the Chinese version of the book, hugged it in her arms and ran out in a hurry.

The white long skirt swayed with her steps, and the hem swept across the desk.

She felt as if something was pulling her, and she paused. She turned her head and looked down, and found that the hem of her skirt was accidentally hooked on the handle of the desk drawer.

She bent down and carefully took the hem of her skirt off the handle, afraid of tearing it.

Ye Zhenzhen tucked her scattered hair behind her ears. The hem of her skirt was wrapped a little too tightly, and she took it off with great effort, stroking the wrinkled hem of her skirt, trying to restore it to its original shape.

She picked up a tissue from the desk and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

When she was about to leave, she found that the drawer was half open, so she raised her hand to close it.

I accidentally caught a glimpse of a photo frame out of the corner of my eye.

Ye Zhenzhen suddenly shuddered, her hands paused, her heart suddenly started beating wildly, and beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.

The girl in the photo has a fairy-like appearance, wearing a white dress and long hair draped over her shoulders, a typical gentle appearance of a Jiangnan woman.

In the drawer, there is also a dark green velvet ring box.

She didn't have the courage to open the drawer and check, and in the half-open drawer, she accidentally saw things that she should and shouldn't have seen.

She knew what was in the ring box without even having to think about it.

Out of basic upbringing, she closed the drawer and could not and dared not to explore the truth.

My heart was filled with depression. The river was clogged with mud, and there was no time to clean it up, so it was blocking my chest.

They are different, yes, they look different. Ye Zhenzhen is not a stand-in, no! Maybe they just like to wear white dresses and have long hair. There are a lot of girls who dress like this.

Ye Zhenzhen walked out of the study slowly, and her steps suddenly became heavy.

"found it?"

Wen Baijing raised his eyes, the rays of the setting sun reflected in his pupils, and for a moment, the clouds were eclipsed.

Only his eyes are brilliant and charming.

"Well, I found it."

Ye Zhenzhen smiled, sat on the chair, half-lying down, and opened "Steppenwolf".

Her eyes rested on a passage:

"On ordinary days, neither pain nor joy dare to shout loudly. Everyone whispers and walks on tiptoe."