desensitization therapy

December came as promised, not only the first snow in winter, but also Christmas Eve, and the retribution of not taking medicine.

Fang Zhilian coughed intermittently for about a week, and finally started to take medicine. Unfortunately, he barely survived the weekend by taking medicine, and began to have difficulty breathing again at night.

Tang Jitong was the first to notice this. Perhaps it was because the clinicians were very keen. He made an appointment for Fang Zhilian in this hospital on Monday, and told Fang Zhilian to remember to go for an examination.

Christmas Eve happened to be a Monday.Fang Zhilian wrote a leave report to Duan Jiayu in advance, coughed for a long time at home with Crescent Moon in the morning, and went to the hospital for a half-day trip in the afternoon.

Zhu Wen was still envious that he didn't have to go to class, Fang Zhilian replied weakly while transfusing blood: "Don't be envious."

It was already past five o'clock after finishing the atomization and prescribing the medicine.

It was almost evening when Fang Zhilian left the hospital. He crossed a street to the opposite side to take a taxi, passed by the fruit stand in front of the hospital, but stopped without knowing it.

Christmas Eve always endows ordinary apples with different meanings. Adding cellophane and bowknot packaging can transform them into double price.

But the apples at the fruit stand in front of the hospital are not given any special meaning. When it comes to life, old age, sickness and death, most people don't care about the meaning brought by this kind of Western festival, or they have no time to care about it.

"Auntie," Fang Zhilian gently touched the lazy black cat lying beside the fruit stand, and asked politely, "Can you help me get a bag?"

When Song Feijue came home, Song Yuming was on the phone on the sofa in the other hall on the first floor, with a slightly weird smile on his face.

The tea table was very low, and Wen Peitang was brewing tea at his feet, with a submissive expression and gentle movements.

Song Feijue looked outside the hall for a long time until the smile on Song Yuming's face gradually faded.

"Qi Bureau," Song Yuming frowned imperceptibly, and said in a meaningful tone, "You have already seen the index approval of this project. It is too late to say no now, isn't it?"

After explaining a few words on the other side of the call, Wen Peitang didn't pay attention, the tea clip in his hand was tilted, and the lid on the pot rolled down along the edge of the table.

Fortunately, there was a layer of velvet carpet blocking it, and the upper pot lid just rolled on it twice, making a muffled sound.

Song Yuming glanced at it, but didn't respond, then retracted his gaze and continued to deal with the person on the phone.

Wen Peitang did not dare to breathe a sigh of relief, but picked up the lid of the pot as if walking on eggshells, and prepared to wake up the tea according to the steps just now.

But before it started, Wen Peitang first saw Song Feijue standing outside the hall from the corner of her eye. She straightened her back suddenly and signaled Song Feijue to go back to the room with her eyes.

But Song Feijue didn't move, just remained silent.

Within a few minutes, Song Yuming finished the call, picked up the teacup, blew, and suddenly smiled.

"Take Joe with me."

Song Yuming was clearly smiling, but the tone of his words had revealed his impatience and irritability.

Wen Peitang raised her eyes hesitantly. She knew that it was time to answer. No matter what the answer was, she had to make a sound first.

Song Yuming had many rules, and before Wen Jingliang passed away, there were actually signs of it.

For example, Song Yuming does not allow a nanny or a cleaning lady who does not live at home.

No one knows how Wen Peitang, a young lady who is used to pampering herself, was persuaded, maybe it was through ignorance and subtle influence.

Another example is that Song Yuming doesn't know the so-called self-esteem, which is reflected in the conversations with Wen Jingliang and any outsiders.

Even the quarrel before Wen Jingliang's death was the same.

When Wen Jingliang learned that Song Yuming used his name to exempt someone from overdue fees of more than three million yuan, he lost his temper the most in history.In front of Wen Peitang, he yelled at Song Yuming as a trash and an idiot, trembling with anger.

At that time, Song Yuming was no longer under Wen Jingliang's control. When Wen Peitang defended Song Yuming softly with Wen Jingliang, he clenched his fists and then loosened them.

Within half a month, Wen Jingliang accidentally suffered a myocardial infarction at home and died due to ineffective rescue.

Wen Peitang finally saw clearly the mask under Song Yuming's layers of camouflage, but it was too late, and at the price of seeing clearly with the only relative.

"Is it the local tax bureau?" Wen Peitang pondered and said, "I heard from Mrs. Qi last time, and the current situation is indeed... ah!"

A splash of hot tea stopped Wen Peitang's next words.

Song Yuming threw it in an inconvenient position, with intentional humiliation.The freshly brewed tea overflowed from Wen Peitang's chest, soaking the entire nightgown.

The small teacup rolled onto the carpet without making any sound.

Wen Peitang was in excruciating pain, the place where the tea was splashed was burning like fire, but she didn't dare to make a sound, for fear that Song Yuming's attack would be even worse.

"I can't even brew a cup of tea," Song Yuming stood up at some point, and gave him a faint look, "Idiot."

Wen Peitang didn't have time to apologize, she wanted to speak, but her throat seemed to be blocked and she couldn't make a sound.The next second, she was supported to stand up.

Song Feijue walked towards the bathroom with his arms around her shoulders without saying a word.Song Yuming didn't chase after him, but raised his eyebrows, adjusted his collar slowly, and walked upstairs.

The area where the tea was splashed was not too big, but it was freshly brewed tea after all, and the skin on Wen Peitang's chest was flushed, which was shocking.

Song Feijue turned his back, and heard the sound of gurgling water.

After a few minutes, the sound of running water stopped.Song Feijue turned around, and he saw Wen Peitang staring at the mirror in a daze.

Wen Peitang's fingertips were still dripping with water, and the scalded skin was half covered by the button-up collar.She stared blankly at the mirror, her eyes flushed.

"Fortunately, it's not serious." Wen Peitang forced a smile.

The sound of leather shoes stepping down the stairs was faintly heard from the other room in the other room. Wen Peitang flinched, and soon realized that Song Yuming seemed to be going out, and put the curly hair scattered around his ears behind his ears as a cover.

Song Feijue looked at Wen Peitang through the mirror, her forehead covered by curly hair just now was now exposed, it was a scar that had just scabbed over but would never heal completely.

Compared with that sentence, it's okay, which seems extremely ironic.

Song Feijue turned around and opened the door to go out, but Wen Peitang grabbed his arm from behind.

Wen Peitang, who has always been weak, seemed to have exerted all her strength. She clenched Song Feijue's sleeves tightly, and tears welled up in her eyes: "Even if mom begs you, don't go."

When Song Yuming put together the arranged contracts and was about to go out, the mobile phone on the porch cabinet suddenly lighted up silently.

What made the screen light up was a text message. Song Yuming's mobile phone was also the same black color. He picked up the mobile phone and was about to go out when he took a closer look and realized something was wrong.

Fang Zhilian: Is it convenient for you to lie down now?

Song Yuming threw it back to the entrance cabinet uninterestedly, and went back to the tea table in the living room to get his phone. When he came back, the phone's screen was on again.

Fang Zhilian: [jumping]

Until the sound of closing the door came.

Wen Peitang finally breathed a sigh of relief, she let go of Song Feijue's hand, her legs softened, and she collapsed on the cold tiles.

"Wait for another six months." Wen Peitang didn't seem to feel the cold, she lowered her head, her messy curly hair covered half of her tearful face, "When you go to college, mom will accompany you to go abroad and never come back again. Stay away from him, don't be afraid of him anymore..."

Song Feijue gently stretched out his hand to brush Wen Peitang's hair that was stuck to his face by tears, his voice was low and hoarse, like sandpaper that had been ground.

"Really?"

Wen Peitang didn't answer immediately, she covered her face, but couldn't suppress the sobbing that leaked from between her fingers.

Like Cheng Lei, Wen Peitang also met the only two paths he could choose, but Wen Peitang chose the one responsible for Song Feijue.

Song Feijue didn't know if Wen Peitang had regretted it.In reality, he can always make the right choice among the four-choice questions.But also because it was in reality, he couldn't go back 11 years ago and make the right choice for Wen Peitang.

He hated Wen Peitang's cowardice before, but found out sadly at this moment.

It is precisely because he is Wen Peitang's weakness that Wen Peitang crashes into the prison of hell without hesitation.

After a long silence, Wen Peitang raised her head again with red eyes, as if she was convincing Song Feijue and herself.

"It will be over soon," Wen Peitang's voice trembled, "bear it, bear it again."

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