Five years simulation three years first

When Feng Zhou was wiping his hair in the bathroom, he heard a "cracking" noise outside.He paused with his hand holding the towel, opened the door and looked into the kitchen.

A certain person who usually looks quite reliable is holding a chopping board, standing far away from the pot as if facing a formidable enemy.

The egg liquid in the pot "cracked" and jumped into flowers. Yu Shaochun lifted the chopping board in front of him, and with the other hand, he reached into the pot with a spatula and stirred them blindly.

...Is he on the Syrian front?

Feng Zhou sighed amusedly and helplessly, and walked over slowly: "I'll do it."

"I can do it," Yu Shaochun still wanted to maintain his face, "I really can, you go and rest."

Feng Zhou's tone was undeniably tough: "Hurry up and get out of the kitchen."

Yu Shaochun reluctantly handed him the spatula and chopping board, and stood by to watch.

"How do you cut your tomatoes?"

"Just..." Yu Shaochun pointed to the chopping board, "It was cut on that."

Is that what I want you to answer?

Feng Zhou looked at the tomatoes in the pot that were simply and roughly divided into two halves, and fell silent.

He reached for the soup spoon next to him, poured a spoonful of water into the pot, and covered the pot: "What do you want to eat?"

"Anything is fine, I don't pick."

You better be.

Before Feng Zhou could speak, he wrapped his hands around his waist from behind and tied an apron for him.

While tying, Yu Shaochun couldn't help thinking of the panic in front of the porch and the soft skin under his hands just now, and coughed lightly: "How about making noodles? It can be simpler."

Feng Zhou dug out half a sausage from his refrigerator, neatly cut it into small pieces on the chopping board and put them aside for later use, and then took a section of green onion.

"I don't eat onions."

He glanced at the person who said he didn't want to pick it just now, and put the piece of green onion back: "Where's your salt?"

Yu Shaochun took out a small jar of salt from the cabinet below and handed it to him.

"I'll teach you how to spread it," Feng Zhou said, "Sprinkle half a spoonful and sprinkle it slowly in circles."

The two big petals of tomato just now have been overcooked, smashed with a spatula, and scattered to make the red in the soup.

Yu Shaochun took the small spoon in the salt shaker and shook it on the pot——

Nothing shakes down.

Feng Zhou couldn't hold it back, and leaned against the sink next to him with a smile: "Your ability to take care of yourself is too poor."

Yu Shaochun was a little embarrassed, shook his hand vigorously, and poured a spoonful of salt on the same place impartially.

"Master Yu," Feng Zhou rushed to rescue the pot of noodles, "You have Parkinson's disease."

The noodles are cooking in the pot, and the aroma slowly lingers in the whole kitchen.

"I've never cooked," Yu Shaochun said, "My parents think the other's cooking is not delicious, and they rush to cook every day. How can I have a chance to learn?"

He said it almost without thinking, and when he finished, he remembered that when Feng Zhou was making dumplings, he said that his parents never cared whether he could eat or not, and felt that he had said something wrong.

Yu Shaochun looked at Feng Zhou with some embarrassment.

Feng Zhou didn't seem to care, and took a taste of the soup with a spoon.

"Xiao Feng," he said, "I will bring you to my house for dinner when I have a chance."

"Ok?"

Feng Zhou tilted his head to look at him: "Isn't this here to eat?"

"It's not this kind of meal." Yu Shaochun took the plate in his hand, "I brought you back when my parents and sisters are around."

Although the two plates of noodles started with Yu Shaochun's disorderly mischief, but fortunately Feng Zhou took over in time and did not waste two tomatoes and a few eggs for nothing.

Yu Shaochun picked out the sausage from his plate to Feng Zhou, and Feng Zhou reciprocated and gave him the eggs.

He didn't eat, he bit the tip of his chopsticks and looked at Feng Zhou, and smiled for a long time.

"What are you laughing at?" Feng Zhou asked, "Like a landlord's silly son."

"Laugh at your cuteness."

Always cute, the more you look at it, the cuter it becomes.

"I'm sick," Feng Zhou kicked him under the table, "If you don't eat noodles, you'll be sick."

"Hey Feng Zhou."

"what happened again?"

"I found that I like you more and more."

Yu Shaochun has always been outspoken, and he said what he had to say, including things like "like" and "love".

Every time he hits a straight ball, he catches people off guard.

Feng Zhou let out an "oh" and held it in for a long time before he could say, "Me...so do I."

"I don't believe it," Yu Shaochun said, "unless you perform that."

"Which one?"

"Just what you said when you begged me that day, I still want to hear—"

Before he could finish speaking, someone stepped on his foot under the table.

"Eating can't stop your mouth."

The lights are warm and yellow, and the room is still filled with the aroma left over from the previous cooking.The apron was untied and placed on the back of the chair next to him. In front of him was hot noodles, and opposite him was his lover.

For the first time, Feng Zhou had the feeling of "living life" seriously.

It is the appearance of "home" that I have never felt in the past 18 years.

After eating, Yu Shaochun insisted on washing the dishes, which is called a family tradition, one person cooks and the other washes the dishes, the rules must not be messed up.

Feng Zhou had no choice but to leave him alone in the kitchen to wrestle with detergent and foamy water. Sitting alone in the living room, he saw a large stack of scripts under the transparent coffee table.

The script should not be in English, because he can understand few words.

It turns out that Ms. Shen Yingying really has a habit of collecting these things.

His eyes moved to the family photos hanging on the wall again, and he saw Yu Shaochun who was pouting and being hugged, Yu Shaochun who was arguing with his sister, and Yu Shaochun who grew up and started to rebel.

Many times, Feng Zhou also felt that the two of them were very similar, and they both liked things that few of their peers liked or even studied.

But it's completely different.

Yu Shaochun is a young master who was raised by all the stars, he is a dog's tail grass that no one cares about crawling out of the mud.

He never said that occasionally he would be a little jealous of Yu Shaochun's harmonious family and happy childhood, but he was more fortunate.

Fortunately, Yu Shaochun's childhood was good enough to allow him to become such a warm and splendid existence, one of the few vivid colors in his memory.

Yu Shaochun walked out of the kitchen shaking the water droplets on his hand, and saw Feng Zhou staring at a wall of photos in a daze.

He strode over with a nervous face: "Don't look at it."

"Why can't I see it?"

"It's so stupid," he said, "it's not handsome at all, it doesn't fit my current image!"

Feng Zhouxin said that you are not very smart now, but he refused to admit it: "I didn't see your photo."

"If you don't look at me, who do you look at?"

"Your sister."

Yu Shaochun approached him slowly: "Does my sister look like me?"

Feng Zhou thought for a while about the siblings' pair of peach blossom eyes, as well as the innate dazzling temperament, and nodded: "It's pretty similar."

"Then..." Yu Shaochun bullied Feng Zhou, "Will you like her?"

This question has been rooted in his heart since he knew that Feng Zhou was that male netizen, until he finally broke ground when he brought him to meet Yu Sixuan that day.

Young Master Yu is confident.

But he has always been confident in the field he is good at, but he is not sure about the things he is not sure about.

After all, Feng Zhou should have been straight before.

"Are you asking this?" Feng Zhou was stunned for a moment, as if he was thinking seriously, "Your sister is very beautiful, smart and cute, and she seems really likable."

Then he saw Yu Shaochun visibly dejected, with a smile on his lips.

"But there is only one Yu Shaochun in the world," he continued slowly, "No matter how cute Yu Sizhen is, she is just someone's sister."

"Depend on."

Yu Shaochun's heart went up and down for a while, he lowered his head, and took a vengeful bite on his lips: "Student Feng, you have become bad, you were not like this before."

"Those who are close to vermilion are red and those who are close to ink are black," Feng Zhou said, "thank you for the true biography, Mr. Yu."

It was not early for the two of them to go home, and they had been cooking and eating for a long time. When they recovered, it was almost 11:30 in the evening.

Yu Shaochun stood by the bed and asked him, "How do you sleep?"

"Lie down."

After finishing speaking, Feng Zhou lay down as he said, as if he didn't understand the hints in his words.

"I mean do I sleep on the couch or..."

"Sleep on the sofa," Feng Zhou said intentionally, "Isn't there a difference between host and guest?"

Yu Shaochun remembered what he said last time, and felt a little bit like shooting himself in the foot.

"I don't want to sleep alone," Yu Shaochun said, "To tell you the truth, I'm actually very timid, and I don't feel safe sleeping alone at night."

"...Do you want to be ashamed?"

That being said, Feng Zhou didn't really want to drive him to sleep on the sofa.

He tried it before, and the sofa was narrow and soft, so it might not be very comfortable to lie on it.

Feng Zhou had a small frame, and with his back turned to him, he was hugged directly.

"Xiao Feng, you are so small," Yu said, "Eat more in the future, you are too skinny."

Feng Zhou gave him an elbow without changing his expression, which made him gasp in pain.

"You are domestic violence."

"I don't have one," Feng Zhou said, "it's for Dao."

He turned his head slightly, and saw a red string hanging brightly under the collar of Yu Shaochun's half-open pajamas.

"Are you still wearing this?"

Yu Shaochun didn't remember to eat or beat, and he stretched out his arms to hug him: "Of course I have to keep the first gift my boyfriend gave me."

A certain soft place in Feng Zhou's heart was inexplicably poked, and he nestled in his arms and closed his eyes: "Sleep."

An unknown faint fragrance lingers on the tip of the nose, which makes people feel at ease.

"You didn't say good night."

"Okay, good night."

"Wait," Yu Shaochun got up, "you wait a while before going to sleep."

The temperature around him suddenly disappeared, and Feng Zhou frowned helplessly: "What are you doing?"

Yu Shaochun came over with his mobile phone: "Say it again."

"say what?"

"Say good night," he turned on the tape recorder on his phone, "I'll record it."

"You crazy, what are you doing recording this?"

"I'll listen to it if I suffer from insomnia in the future." He propped his head up to look at Feng Zhou with a smile in his eyes, "Say it."

"It's not like I won't see you again in the future," Feng Zhou looked up in confusion, "Besides, I'm not a sleeping pill."

He met those eyes unexpectedly, very gentle, like a crescent moon living inside.

Finally Feng Zhou compromised: "Good night."

"Who is good night?"

"...boyfriend, good night."

Satisfied, Yu Shaochun turned off the recorder and put him in his arms again.

The curtains in front of the windows were not drawn properly, revealing a half moon hanging in the sky outside.

Looking at the half moon, Feng Zhou thought endlessly of the crescent in Yu Shaochun's eyes.

There lives a 46 billion-year-old moon in the sky, which belongs to everyone.

In Feng Zhou's heart, there will always be a moon born on a midsummer night, which belongs to him alone.