The Cold Lord God Always Acts Like a Spoiled Brat To Me

  The wind by the lake is a bit cool, and the birch forest is rustling.

  The sky is azure, the clouds are dense, and there is no sunlight. There are still puddles on the shore. When you step on it, the water color breaks and gathers.

  The two walked along the lakeside, their footsteps were not too fast, and their backs entered the picture scroll of the deep scenery in spring, the atmosphere of the misty rain, and the occasional voice dissipated in the wind, and the old color became a thing of the past.

   "My fourth brother used to listen to many records with me. I still remember that before the gramophone broke down, the last record I listened to was Yuguang Song."

  Chu Jin'an is very casual, maybe because he is too familiar with him, and the wind can't blow away even if he gets close to him.

  While walking, the shoulders of the two touched inadvertently, and their hands were hanging by their sides. Inexplicably, Chu Jin'an's fingertips were a little itchy, and he could smell the unique fragrance of his body for many years in his breath.

  It is so clear, like the aftertaste of strong wine in the throat, it is unforgettable, so faint that it is hard to detect, and it is thrilling.

   It's all to blame for the strong wind today.

  Fu Rongheng listened to her, walking like a crane, perhaps because he was not wearing a military uniform, the cold-blooded sternness was silent in his bones, and his voice was sweet: "Really?"

  Chu Jin'an curled his lips lazily, and talked about the past unscrupulously, with a bit of teasing in his tone: "I still shed tears after listening to it."

  I remember the young Fourth Master Fu sitting in the dim light and shadow at that time, with a depressed and lazy silhouette, and his voice slowly sounded from the dark place: "If you want to listen, why are you crying?"

   I remember that the Commander’s Mansion was not as big as it is now, and there was still a little bit of human touch, but the higher it went, the more lonely it became.

I also remember that there were two century-old pear trees on the back hill by the lake. Whenever the fruits were ripe, Chu Jin’an would climb the trees to pick pears. Give it to Fu Rongheng.

   "Fourth brother, do you remember?" Chu Jin'an raised his head and asked suddenly, his eyes were dark and clear, not stained with dust.

  Fu Rongheng narrowed his eyes slightly, his eyebrows were meaningful, and there seemed to be a smile on his face, which was too faint to understand.

  That's right, for a person like him, even the silence is superior, and the smile is indifferent, showing a sense of coquettishness.

  He raised his hand.

  Chu Jin'an was slightly stunned, feeling the slender and distinct fingers brushing over her shoulders, burning for no reason.

  A birch leaf floated down and was brushed away by someone.

   "You are used to crying."

  His voice is low.

  Every word and sound fell on Chu Jinan's heart, and her mind moved slightly, like rain hitting sycamore leaves, making a knowing sound, with a clear and innocent aftertaste.

  I don’t know where the impulse came from, it seems that I have returned to the past, forgetting all the calmness that I should have when I grow up.

  She reached out and grabbed the man's cuff abruptly—

   shouted.

   "Fourth brother."

  Due to too much force, the flat and solemn sleeves were wrinkled, with shadows extending, and the cuff buttons reflected the coolness of the cloudy day.

  Fu Rongheng stopped in his tracks, looked down at her, his gaze fell on the thin fingers holding his sleeves, the fingertips were white and fragile, with a tinge of snow color.

   Between silence and silence, there is a sense of fate that no one knows.

  Chu Jin'an met his dark and deep eyes, and under impulse, his chest was filled with courage, and he blurted out his selfishness.

   "I don't like to cry now!"

  What she wanted to say was.

"I grew up."

  You can, you don’t have to treat me as a junior anymore.

  **

"ah."

  A frustrated whimper escaped from his throat, like the listless cry of a small animal.

   So annoying, so annoying, so annoying!

   After returning to China, Chu Jinan worked in the surgical department of the hospital. He got off work at one o'clock last night, and just finished a two-hour operation this morning. He was so tired that he fell on the chair and didn't want to get up.

  The spring is just right outside the window, the magpies on the branches are chirping, the potted plants on the window sill are sprouting, and the vibrant green is soft and healing, stretching in the sun.

  Chu Jin'an covered his face with this morning's newspaper, sat on the office chair and turned around.

  What the **** was she talking about that day!

  What would Fu Rongheng think?

  The more Chu Jin'an thought about it, the more annoying he became.

   "Doctor Chu?" An uncertain clear voice rang out.

  Chu Jinan immediately put down the morning newspaper, sat upright, with a serious face, dressed in a white coat, clean and cold: "Is there any patient?"

  Liang Shangjun walked in from the outside with a teacup in his hand. He thought her reaction just now was quite amusing. He looked at her dumbfounded, with one hand in the pocket of his white coat, with a clear face and a peaceful voice.

   "No, I just want to discuss one thing with you."

   "Speak."

  Liang Shangjun studied the same major as Qi An abroad, and now he is also working in the same department in Beicheng First People's Hospital.

  He had just arrived, and he was not familiar with the place where he was born. Qi An was sent to take care of Liang Shangjun when he was a kid in this area.

  Some people in the department made fun of them, saying that they looked like a pair of golden boys and jade girls.

  When Chu Jinan was working, there was a big gap between him and his private life. He had lost all the pretensions of golden branches and jade leaves. He was a doctor who saved lives and healed the wounded. Wearing a white coat, he had a sense of cleanliness and sanctity.

  She is gifted, combining advanced western medical technology with her family's hundreds of years of traditional Chinese medicine.

  The older directors of the hospital watched her grow up and treated her as their own daughter.

   "I'm on the night shift today, but I have something important to do at night, can we skip the shift? Next time you are on duty, I will take over."

  When Liang Shangjun spoke, he concealed the complicated guilt in his eyes.

   "No problem." Chu Jin'an made a gesture, "Brother, it's mean."

   He said thank you.

  Chu Jinan thinks he is a gentleman, but he is not rigid and pedantic.

   Less than half a month after coming to the hospital, all the little nurses in the hospital secretly came to see him in the department one by one.

  Chu Jinan continued to work.

  She has a serious business to do.

   I plan to tell Fu Rongheng when the things arrive.

  Chu Jin'an left the department to go for tea and indirect water, and the newspaper was placed on the table. Liang Shangjun picked it up and looked at it. His eyes glanced casually, and stayed on the news report of the reporter above, who was talking about Fu Rongheng.

  The photos on the news showed the officer's face more cold and sharp, and those squinting eyes seemed to be looking at Liang Shangjun through the lens.

  Liang Shangjun stared at it for a while, put the newspaper back, and looked at the time on the watch.

  Today is March eighteenth.

   is also the death day of that person.

  Liang Shangjun raised his eyes and looked out of the window. The spring scenery was deep, but he saw the desolation in the deep alley.

  Beicheng fell into night, and everything was silent.

   "Fourth Master, there is still a car parked in the yard." The guard said.

  Deep lanes, old houses, courtyards.

  Fu Rongheng hummed, with a deep voice, got out of the car, walked in, dressed in military uniform, too solemn and inviolable.

  Under the dim light, the room is an elderly man with gray temples, about eighty years old.

  The person by her side is Liang Shangjun, who is cooking, humble and gentle.

  Fu Rongheng glanced at him, there was no disturbance in his eyes, and nodded to the old man: "Grandma."

  The old man raised his head, said with a smile that Ah Heng is here, coughed twice, told him to sit down quickly, and asked him to take off his military uniform, and hung it on a simple wooden shelf for him.