desensitization therapy

The moment Fang Zhilian fell into the pool, he seemed to have thought a lot, but he didn't seem to think about anything.

The water in the pool has reached his jaw, Fang Zhilian is breathing up and down, what should he do, swimming?diving?But Fang Zhilian didn't.He could feel Song Feijue's fingers clasping the back of his neck with great force, this recognition made him unable to move.

Song Feijue is a trap, a swamp, a catalyst for falling inch by inch into the depths of the flood.

Is not it good?Fang Zhilian's ear drums were surrounded by the wheezing sound of the pool water squeezing his lungs.

A person's life begins with birth and ends with death, and it is always a decay.There is no cure together, there is no cure, and there is no way to go.

But there is always a slight deviation in his interpretation of Song Feijue's course.

Song Feijue pulled him into the water and rescued him ashore.They lay together on the white marble platform, looking at the same unset half-moon.

Fang Zhilian’s psychological construction in the swimming pool was in vain. Fortunately, he breathed evenly for a while and sobered up a lot. He imagined the scene when the hotel staff found them at the bottom of the pool—the corpses had been soaked all night, for sure. It was horrible, probably no one would go into the water in person, maybe they would spray a circle of disinfectant around it before catching it with a fishing net.

Song Feijue sat up first, still holding the camera tightly in his hand, which hadn't even gotten into the water.There was soft moonlight hitting his browbones, weakening the indifference with distance.

He turned his face sideways, lowered his eyelashes and looked at Fang Zhilian who was grinning inexplicably.

"I'm thinking about what happened last time. Qiu Yun told me not to jump into the sea and die in love." Fang Zhilian knew exactly what he was thinking, and strenuously propped up his upper body, took the camera and said, "Fortunately, it didn't enter the water."

"It takes two people to die for love," Song Feijue said.

Fang Zhilian raised his face to look at Song Feijue, and suddenly hesitated for a moment, not knowing where to start.I want to tell him not to worry about overturning the case, but I don't think it's necessary.

The cold spring evening wind blew by, and they sat side by side by the swimming pool. The surface of the pool, which had stirred up layers of water just now, was unbelievably quiet at this moment.

"When are you going back?" Fang Zhilian pulled down his sleeves a little, and the wet cloth was sticking to his skin, which was very uncomfortable.

"About next week," Song Feijue looked away, "Is the camera still available?"

Fang Zhilian was estimating the date of departure, and then he came back to his senses and said, "It should be possible, let me take a picture for you?"

Song Feijue didn't say yes or no, but just stared at Fang Zhilian with those dark eyes.

Fang Zhilian turned on the camera, sat a little further away, and focused on Song Feijue, but a second before pressing the shutter, Song Feijue suddenly looked away.

The camera captured his profile at this second.

"Why do you study landscape design?" Song Feijue asked in a calm voice.

"I don't know," Fang Zhilian blinked, and answered frankly, "Maybe the agent said that this major is very popular in American universities, so she applied for me."

It is self-evident who this "she" is, and there is no superfluous expression on Song Feijue's face.He raised his arm, as if he wanted to touch Fang Zhilian's upturned hair, but in the end it still fell down.

"Hair," he reminded.

Fang Zhilian's hair is very soft, and it will curl up in a mess when it is touched with water, even if it is pressed down hard, it will still curl up, so let's just ignore it.

"It's ok."

"It's said that hair quality can also be inherited," Song Feijue glanced at him, "but you don't look like it."

Fang Zhilian thought about it for a while, and it seemed to be the case. Cheng Lei's hair was a bit curly, and her long hair was extremely difficult to manage, so she simply cut it short all year round.As for Fang Huo, Fang Zhilian's impression of him is too vague, and it should not be called soft hair.

"I'm not like them." Fang Zhilian touched his bangs subconsciously.

"Perhaps I made a mistake in my genetics, as well as my personality," Fang Zhilian could only explain in this way, "My sister also inherited natural curly hair, and she also has a little sofa... No, but her personality is very similar to my stepfather."

Song Feijue didn't answer, and was silent for two seconds, then suddenly smiled.

"Do you know about the rhesus experiment?" he said.

The silence lasted for about a minute, and Fang Zhilian replied, "I've seen it a bit."

There was still a slight smile on the corner of Song Feijue's mouth. He looked directly at Fang Zhilian's lips, and the scars from being bitten twice were almost invisible.

"There are two general experimental results." Song Feijue rolled his eyes. "The first one is that after establishing an attachment relationship, even if you encounter abuse or expulsion, you will not leave."

Fang Zhilian met his gaze, and his voice finally fluctuated, but what he uttered was not what he really wanted to ask: "What about the second one?"

But Song Feijue didn't answer.

"Have you ever heard?" He rolled his eyes, and casually passed the question, "Sadistic tendencies can also be inherited."

Fang Zhilian was stunned, as if he understood, but also didn't seem to understand.He wanted to refute it, but he couldn't find any way to support this theory.

Song Feijue stood up, water drops fell from his sleeves and hit Fang Zhilian's curled up palms.

"Some people can climb out of the mud, and some people can't."

Song Feijue looked at him with those staring eyes, and the corners of his mouth curled down: "You should go back."

It was sunny for several days in a row. Chen Langqing was surprised that there was not much rain in Liwan in spring, but now he is no longer surprised.

The cold brewed tea became warm in the temperature. Fang Zhilian went to the convenience store to buy a box of ice cubes. When he came back, he saw Chen Langqing staring at Wu Muwei, who was talking and laughing with the hotel manager in the distance.

"Why isn't he leaving yet?" Chen Langqing said to himself, "It's just a few hotels, how can we talk for so long?"

Fang Zhilian also looked over. He was looking at Song Feijue, but he looked away after a few seconds: "He talks about his business, you play your own, don't bother each other."

Chen Langqing saw that he kept knocking on his knuckles with a glass straw, and his attention was briefly diverted: "What are you knocking on?"

Fang Zhilian curled up his red fingers: "Boring."

"It's true, I'm just weird."

"What's strange?"

"My uncle," Chen Langqing stared straight at him with a bitter face, "He didn't bring the female secretary who often followed him, but brought a man, wouldn't it be intriguing?"

"Maybe it's the convenience of the same sex." Fang Zhilian didn't care.

"It's inconvenient to take a man with you." Chen Langqing said.

"My uncle, he..." Chen Langqing seemed a little embarrassed to say it, but he slapped his thigh and said, "He just likes men!"

Fang Zhilian was taken aback, and his thoughts were temporarily interrupted. He glanced at Wu Muwei in the distance, squeezed the phone case, but didn't say anything.

Chen Langqing was still rambling: "Although it's none of my business, but if my aunt... hey, anyway, if he really works and brings a male mistress, I have to..."

"Don't worry." Fang Zhilian interrupted Chen Langqing with his head tilted, and then began to tap his knuckles hard with the straw.

He said in a low voice that only he could hear, "It doesn't seem to be hard to accept."

On the beach in the distance, the manager just in front of him turned his head and said something, Song Feijue smiled slightly, polite and distant.

Chen Langqing hasn't figured out the situation yet: "Don't worry about what?"

Fang Zhilian continued to think about the thoughts just now, he threw the straw aside, and said perfunctorily, "It's something you're worried about."

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