People in Tokyo, the world is clear

"Anyway, it's a weird one."

She had originally thought she was a heavyweight. Her heart had long been filled with resentment and resentment, and she was lucky enough to have met such an acquaintance, but her words were always filled with subconscious sarcasm and attacks.

It would have been easy to lose such a friend.

Just, unexpected.

He handles it with ease.

Not only did she not take it seriously, she was also able to come up with a brilliant counterattack, smoothly deconstructing the atmosphere that should have been ruined due to her poor language organization into a joke.

Sasagawa Rimei wasn't insensitive. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that, having spent years wandering in a sea of ​​loneliness, her soul and body had made her more sensitive than most.

Of course, I can realize the young writer's tolerance towards me.

So, deep down, he is actually a person who is just like his writing style?

A faint fragment of memory drifted over, the inner monologue of the protagonist from his book "The Last Kiss".

[Pretending to be not lonely, but always longing for someone to talk to.]

[About day and night, about death and life, about our short life, about that bright and dazzling afternoon chasing the wind.]

But things always go against my wishes. It's like listening to the prelude of a piece of music, waiting for the lyrics and vocals to arrive, until the pure sound ends, and then I realize that this is my life.

Perhaps, the texts created by Mr. Wu Mu with care are always like this.

In the seemingly boring, difficult and cold narration, it suddenly shakes your soul and strikes the hidden and beautiful resonance.

Chapter 48: The Ocean and Drowning, Loneliness and Melancholy

Sasagawa Rio was awakened by the chopsticks dangling in front of her eyes.

What caught my eye was a helpless face. It had lost the sculpted aloofness it had held before the table, and now felt like it had been immersed in the mortal world, full of the vibrant atmosphere of everyday life.

Then came the potato chips that were brought to my eyes.

"I remember asking Editor Sasakawa to slice it into the thinnest slices possible."

“I tried my best.”

"Well, that's my question. I should have recommended Editor Sasakawa to bring his talent to Dubai sooner."

Lin Sen had no choice but to lead a kitchen expert to demonstrate how to process potatoes.

This time it turned into neat thin slices.

"Take another one and dice it. Try it again."

He gave up his seat and stood aside, watching in fear as the woman next to him fiddled with the knife like a toy.

"Be careful!"

After calling out several times, no accidents happened.

"Get another tomato."

Dice it and put it into the iron pan where you have fried minced garlic until it sizzles with sour and fragrant juice.

Add potato slices and diced potatoes and stir-fry, then add soy sauce, salt and tomato sauce.

When I added water, covered the pot and started to boil, I turned my head and saw a greedy bird that was secretly swallowing its saliva beside me suddenly became serious and turned its face away.

Quite funny.

"Don't look around! Look here."

Lin Sen knocked on the old refrigerator with his hand.

Only then, with the woman's slightly surprised look, did he explain bit by bit the sticky note that had been posted there at some point.

"The top left corner has breakfast recipes. They're simple and easy to make, the kind you can whip up in five minutes before work. Remember, the bottom row, the whole egg, chicken breast, and buttered toast combination, is high in calories. I recommend making it once a week, rotating it left-handed."

"Lunch is all about the conveniently packaged ones, so you can pick whatever you want and switch it up. For dinner, I highly recommend trying these biscuit-crushed beef patties. In one word, they're incredible."

"When I can't come over in the future, you can research it yourself. I've already written down the recipes for you. Don't make those raw and cold things every day."

He took the time to impart half of his life's knowledge about recipes, then turned around and added rice to complete the tomato and potato risotto.

During this time, the flamingo next to him remained silent until he started filling the pot, then he crossed his arms over his chest and managed to say a few words.

"You, how can you cook so many dishes?"

"Can't think of a new nickname this time? Are you out of ideas?"

"I was just marveling at the fact that the useless loser had some unexpectedly insignificant talents, but I forgot about it for a moment."

"Well, I love to eat, but I'm poor and lazy, so I spend all day researching this kind of easy and delicious dish."

After all, he is someone who lost interest in high-level hobbies a long time ago, and apart from games, he is probably only interested in food.

The craft that had been abandoned for a long time was something to be proud of. Looking at the rice in the Flamingo bowl, the speed at which it was decreasing had already surpassed that of his own bowl.

He supported his chin and stared at the woman's face, which was pretending to be calm.

The image of him eating with his head down vaguely overlapped with that of a silly girl with short hair, and I couldn't help laughing in my heart.

This kind of cooking skill probably wouldn't be much to be praised in later generations. A simple tap on your phone will bring up a plethora of similar recipes.

But considering that the speed of information dissemination is still limited, it is still amazing to be able to figure it out.

It is definitely a move that will make people take notice.

He was smug for a while, until he noticed the flamingo sitting opposite him turned away, then he adjusted his posture.

"I didn't notice for a moment."

I'm so sad

Novel qun㈨㈤○一八○9○九

"I understand. After all, he's Shameless-kun, so it's only natural that he'd imagine disgusting and evil things in such a self-absorbed scene."

"Did I make evil associations? I did make evil associations!"

After taking a few more bites, he went straight to the side, took out the manuscript paper and started creating.

The attitude was so natural that Flamingo, who had also finished eating and stood up, was stunned for a long time before he stretched out his somewhat stiff hands, took all the leftover bowls, and went into the kitchen.

This was of course part of Lin Sen's brilliant plan. In fact, one of the reasons he didn't often cook in the apartment was that he was too lazy to wash the dishes.

Here, it's different. After you slowly cultivate an editor's housework habits, you can use their dishwashing skills for free after cooking, and even eventually get a full lunch and dinner for free.

It is important to lie down after eating.

The more you think about it, the happier you will feel.

He even shamelessly turned his head to admire a lady's clumsy way of washing dishes, spinning straight and laughing.

Then--

He was caught red-handed by the other party who seemed to sense something and turned around.

The embarrassing situation was easily resolved by being thick-skinned, and he even raised his hand and waved in greeting.

The woman in the chef's apron was stunned for a moment, then she curled her lips and turned away in disgust.

My good mood lasted throughout the entire afternoon of creation, and I only came back to my senses when the sun set completely.

Only then did I realize that the female editor was sitting next to me with her legs crossed, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and turning pages of a book spread out on her lap with the other. A cooler evening menu was already placed on the table.

It is one of the ones that has just been taught.

"Don't get me wrong, I didn't make this specifically for Mo Zijun," she explained calmly. "It was just my first time trying to make dinner, and I didn't control the ingredients well, so there were some extra leftovers."

"so."

"There weren't any stray cats or dogs around that could handle it, so I had to reluctantly give it to someone who likes to stay in other people's houses."

"My problem. I had a lot of inspiration today, so I wrote for a long time."

Lin Sen finished his dinner in two or three bites and ran to wash the dishes.

The sky had completely darkened without anyone noticing.

The young writer stood at the entrance, changed his shoes, opened the door, and turned around.

The shadows were stretched very long by the lights in the house, extending into the long night.

"Then let's go."

He still waved, "See you next weekend."

Another week to wait?

Sasagawa Rio's mind subconsciously surged with thoughts, and then she was immediately startled.

He immediately closed his eyes, waved his hand in disgust, and said nothing.

He didn't open his eyes again until he heard the door close.

The manuscripts were laid out in front of me, plus the one week's supply I brought with me, forming a small stack.

Pick it up carefully and you will see the beautiful words:

As you pursue your dreams, Alaskan cod leap from the water. As you find delight and satisfaction in every ordinary meal, shearwaters from the other shore fly across the Sydney sky. As you drift off to sleep amidst the bustling city night, the Arctic night sky shimmers with dazzling light. When you're stuck, consider these sights. And anticipate them. Perhaps in the next moment, the beauty of the world will transcend time and space, transcending the sea of ​​humanity, and burst forth upon you.

Flamingo put down the manuscript, stood up, strolled, and touched the living room window with his fingers.

The suburbs are deserted at night.

Home-loving birds took off one by one from the telephone poles, and the old man hummed a little tune and hurried home with his dinner.

The clouds were dark, and the world seemed to be slowly falling into silence.

Suddenly, I felt so overwhelmed with emotion that I wanted to confide in someone. But when I turned around, the room was empty.

Yes.

There has never been anyone to talk to.

It was also common for people who were in the mood for conversation to weave their sighs, opinions, understandings and emotions into words that they could speak to whoever they wanted to hear.

But the caregivers around me only understand family matters, and the writers who submit manuscripts only worry about poor performance.

In the past, she never received any feedback.

In the end, I could only flip through the books one by one, leaving my handwriting bit by bit in the gaps between the words.

I've gotten used to it. I could have endured it forever.

Loneliness and depression are like the ocean and drowning. When does it stop being possible to swim freely?

The woman sat down, opened the manuscript again, and took a deep breath.

A long sigh seemed to bring the night to an end.

The sound of plum rain gradually rang in my ears, as if it was going to drown my lonely soul.

She stood up, untied the short rope that tied her hair, and wanted to turn off the light in the entrance hall.

However, when my hand touched the switch, the knocking sound suddenly hit my heart again and again.

"..."

Sasagawa Rio's eyes widened.

Two sudden steps.

Go forward and unlock the door.

"Crash..."

The sound of rain and a figure came towards her.

"that."

It was still that calm face, no matter what. However, this time, there was a hint of embarrassment in his expression.

He wiped the rain off his forehead and pointed to his wet clothes.

"Do you have an umbrella at home?"

Chapter 49: Night Talk in the Old House