The days of cohabitation with gangster boyfriend

Chapter 8

When I was 13 watching TV, I remembered the method of poisoning his food.Of course, I really have no way to find deadly poisons like potassium cyanide used in TV without being discovered by him. With my limited knowledge of pharmacology, I can only cheat a bottle of sleeping pills by staying up for several nights .

One night, I walked into his study tremblingly holding a coffee cup filled with medicine.

He leaned against the back of the chair with his eyes closed, his brows furrowed.

The flame of the cigarette caught between his fingers was about to burn to his fingers, but he didn't realize it yet.

I put down the coffee cup and carefully pulled the cigarette butt away from his hand. The light smoke fluttered, and a long stub fell to the ground and fell into ashes.

He opened his eyes and looked at me quietly, blood red around his black pupils.

Startled, I took a step back unconsciously. "Did I wake you up?"

"No. What do you want me to do?"

"I see that you are tired. Let me make you a cup of coffee to refresh yourself."

His frowning brows relaxed a lot, he took a sip of coffee, frowned, sniffed, but didn't drink.

"Why don't you...drink?" My feet began to tremble, and my whole body was shaking.

He put down the coffee cup, brushed away my hair that was wet with cold sweat, and hugged me on his lap, wrapping his strong arms around my small body. "Haven't slept so late? Can't sleep again?"

"Ah."

"Have you taken medicine?"

I nodded.

His chin was pressed against my cheek, his smooth skin had no stubble, and it was still warm, so it was very comfortable against my face.

I felt my whole body was surrounded by his warm breath, and I no longer trembled.

"I'll sleep with you..."

"Ah."

He carried me back to the room, put me on the soft bed, turned on the orange desk lamp by the window, and then wrapped me tightly with a silk quilt, leaving only one hand outside.

He sat on the edge of the bed, put my little hand in his palm for comparison, looked at my slender little hand again and again, and wrapped it gently with his hand.His palm was so warm, as warm as his mother's hand.

"You've grown up a lot..."

I saw disappointment in his eyes, and I knew he didn't like me growing up.

Because he likes my fleshy little hand holding his index finger, likes me sitting on his lap shaking my short, thick calf and smiling at him, likes me sitting on the sofa with bare feet waiting for him to come home, and following him He said "Good night!" before going to sleep.

And what he likes the most is to throw me in the extra-large swimming pool, and make me tug at his arm in shock and shout, "Help!"

When he fished me out and put me in the bath towel, I could only look at him pitifully, with the drops of water in my eyes blocking my sight.

At that time, he would say that I was like an angel, a pure and innocent angel.

In fact, I don't want to grow up either.

It's out of my control.

That failure made me understand one thing. His sense of taste is very sensitive. If you want to poison, you must find colorless and tasteless ones, so I gave up the idea of ​​poisoning.

In a daze, another two years passed.

When I was 15 years old, I was sitting by the piano, the keys were jumping at my fingertips, and the soft and moist rhythm echoed under the faint light.

I practiced this piano piece hard for more than half a year in order to give him a surprise on his birthday today. I slowly shifted my gaze to Dai Xichen who was sitting on the armrest of the sofa. He was shaking his red wine glass with his head down. Crystal clear red swirls in the wine glass, winding...

To a seven-year-old child, his face is very beautiful, but to a 15-year-old girl, the deep wisdom in his eyes, the inextricable thoughts between his brows, are more impeccable than his almost perfect facial features. Faces are more attractive.Especially when he half-closed his eyes and revealed a vicious smile, he would exude the breath of poppies, which is enough to kill the magical power...

However, the most attractive thing about him is the loneliness in his eyes when he is sitting on the sofa smoking a cigarette and exhaling the smoke slowly.

(End of this chapter)