A perfect score on the college entrance exam? The Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng has astonis

Su Wanci glared at him.

"I'm serious, don't you think this story is beautiful? A snake cultivated itself for a thousand years, transformed into a woman, and came to the human world to repay a debt of gratitude."

"As a result, she was imprisoned under a pagoda by a monk, undergoing a thousand years of cultivation, only to have a love affair end before it even began."

Chen Mo looked at her.

There was a light in her eyes when she spoke, not the kind of light that comes from being moved by a story.

Rather, it's the kind of light that you see in the story that reflects your own.

He had no idea what she had seen.

"Do you think it's worth it?" he asked.

Su Wanci thought for a moment.

Whether it's worth it or not doesn't matter, as long as she's willing.

The two of them left the restaurant and slowly walked back to the hotel along the lake.

Su Wanci walked very slowly, as if she was waiting for something, or as if she didn't want something to end too quickly.

Her hands were in her pockets, her fingers constantly touching the crumpled piece of paper.

"Jiang Cheng Zi: A Dream Record"

She had folded the paper again and again until it was only the size of a fingernail, but she remembered every single crease.

Back in the hotel room, the moment the door closed.

Su Wanci's tears fell down.

She sat on the edge of the bed, head down, clutching the paper in both hands, her shoulders trembling.

Chen Mo stood at the door, still holding the room key in his hand, watching her back.

He was silent for a few seconds, then walked over and sat down next to her.

"What's wrong?"

Su Wanci didn't look up; her voice was muffled and nasal.

"What rubbish lyrics did you write? I cried all the way here."

Chen Mo was stunned for a moment.

"Weren't you listening to me write this last night?"

"I heard it, but I didn't realize it at the time."

Su Wanci raised her head, her eyes and nose were red, and her lips were still trembling slightly.

Chen Mo looked at her without saying a word.

He pulled two tissues from the table and handed them to her.

Su Wanci took the tissue, wiped her eyes, blew her nose, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into the trash can.

But then she started crying again.

This time it was even more intense than before; it wasn't silent tears, but rather the kind where the shoulders trembled uncontrollably.

Even breathing became intermittent as she cried.

"What's wrong with you?" Chen Mo's voice carried a hint of helplessness.

When you wrote "Ten years have passed, and we are separated by life and death," who were you thinking of?

Su Wanci raised her head and stared straight into his eyes.

Chen Mo opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Su Wanci did not give him the chance.

Her tears fell like beads from a broken string, one by one.

"You're only eighteen, what are you writing about 'dust-covered face, temples like frost'? What are you writing about 'ten years of life and death'? Have you been afraid since you were eighteen? Afraid that we'll be separated? Afraid that there won't be enough time? Afraid of…"

She didn't continue.

Her voice was drowned out by sobs.

Chen Mo looked at her and remained silent for a long time.

He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, gently patting it without applying any pressure.

"I'm not afraid of us breaking up."

His voice was very soft, so soft that it sounded like he was telling a secret.

"I'm afraid I won't have enough time to be good to you."

Su Wanci's crying stopped for a moment, then intensified.

She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, curling up like a kitten soaked by the rain.

Chen Mo moved his hand from her shoulder to the back of her head and gently pressed it without saying a word.

After a while, Su Wanci's crying finally subsided.

She lifted her head from his shoulder, her makeup smudged, her eyeliner blurred, and her mascara stuck to her lower eyelids, making her look like two pandas. (This is a treasure trove of urban novels for you to discover.)

Chen Mo looked at her like this, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as if he wanted to laugh but held it back.

"What are you laughing at?"

Su Wanci sniffed, her voice still hoarse.

"It's nothing."

Chen Mo shifted his gaze and stared at the opposite wall.

Are you laughing at my looks?

Su Wanci reached out and touched her face, her hand covered in black ink. Then she saw Chen Mo finally couldn't help but laugh.

She was so angry that she raised her hand to hit him, but halfway up, she laughed at herself.

She laughed and then started crying, laughing and crying intermittently, like a little madwoman.

Chen Mo took two more tissues from the table, handed them to her, and asked a question as he did so.

"Are you going to cry or laugh?"

"I want them both."

Su Wanci took the tissue, wiped her face, and blew her nose. "What's it to you?"

Chen Mo did not speak again.

He stood up, walked to the window, and drew back the curtains.

The surface of West Lake shimmered in the sunlight, and the Leifeng Pagoda in the distance looked like a golden seal stamped on the pale blue rice paper on the horizon.

A breeze blew in through the window, carrying the fragrance of osmanthus blossoms.

He stood by the window for a while, then turned around, walked to the desk, picked up a notepad and a pencil, and sat down.

Su Wanci sat on the edge of the bed, looking at him.

What are you doing?

Chen Mo did not answer.

He kept his head down, slowly scribbling names on the sticky note with his pencil.

The sunlight streaming through the window shone on him, bathing his profile in a golden glow.

Su Wanci looked at his eyelashes, long and curled, casting a small fan-shaped shadow under his eyes. Suddenly, she stopped crying.

A few minutes later, Chen Mo stood up and handed her the note.

The handwriting wasn't very good, but every character was written very carefully, with straight lines, as if afraid she wouldn't be able to see it clearly.

Su Wanci took it and looked down at it.

Of all the flowers of land and water, many are lovely. Tao Yuanming of the Jin Dynasty, however, loved chrysanthemums above all.

Since the Tang Dynasty, people have greatly admired peonies. I alone love the lotus, which rises from the mud unsullied, is washed by clear ripples without being seductive, has a hollow stem and straight growth, does not spread or branch, its fragrance grows more pure as it spreads, and stands tall and clean, to be admired from afar but not to be trifled with.

She didn't finish reading it.

When she read "emerging from the mud unsullied," her eyes welled up with tears again, but this time it wasn't sadness, but something indescribable.

It was as if a stone that had been suspended in mid-air had finally fallen to the ground, creating a deep crater, and dust flew up, blinding everyone.

She looked up at Chen Mo, whose expression was calm, so calm that it was as if he hadn't written those few lines of text.

He simply handed her a blank piece of paper.

Why did you write this?

She heard her own voice and it trembled slightly.

"To coax you."

Chen Mo said, "Two words, light and airy, like saying 'The weather is nice today.'"

Su Wanci stared at him, at his face that seemed to say, "I'm just stating the facts."

Suddenly, he stopped crying and started laughing.

She pressed the sticky note to her chest, as if afraid it would be blown away by the wind, or perhaps afraid she would lose it. She sniffed and repeated the last sentence again—"It can be admired from afar, but not touched."

"Chen Mo, who did you say Lian is?"

She looked up, her eyes still glistening with tears, but the corners of her mouth were turned up.

Chen Mo glanced at her but didn't say anything.

That gaze was neither too heavy nor too light, neither too deep nor too shallow, but it was clearer than any answer.

Su Wanci froze for a moment under his gaze, her heart skipped a beat, and then bounced back at double speed.