mr frank is faithful to love

(FR. Hilde Frank)

Three days after I drove to Xingang with Ethan, I was going on a business trip to Chongqing. I was accompanied by another senior executive of the company and their assistants.

Nozawa seemed not interested in the unexpected journey. He was wearing light-colored trousers and linen shirt with a grass-green cardigan over it, and was dragging the suitcase. Although the luggage looked heavy, he still A cold expression.

Ask me: "Frank, do you need to contact the restaurant in advance for dinner?"

I read the documents on the seat of the plane, covered with a blanket and stepped on slippers, and replied: "Let's read it when we get there, there is no need to be too grand."

"I contacted a few friends. Some of them have lived in Chongqing for ten years, and some of them often travel around the country. Then I made this list. You can see if there is anything you want to eat."

Nozawa’s voice fell, and a list was sent to my mobile phone. I opened it and looked at it. It was nothing more than authentic hot pot, Jianghu cuisine, as well as German food, Western food, as well as coffee shops and Japanese food.

I said, "Don't worry about it. If you want to eat anything, we can eat it too."

"But don't worry," Nozawa's upper body crossed the distance between the seats, but he didn't get too close. He said in a low voice, "These strategies are all done after get off work."

I froze for a moment and told him: "It's okay, there is no need to explain it."

Nozawa's hair was not tied up, standing outside the airport, his hair was blowing in the wind all the time, I was calling Ethan to report that he was safe, Nozawa helped me carry my handbag.

After getting into the car, he asked me, "Frank, have you thought about what to eat?"

"Think about it too." I said.

Because it doesn't matter what I eat, I just want to finish work early and rush back. Ethan's health is not fully recovered, so I am very worried.

"If you're tired, I can order food to be delivered to the hotel, or we can order food at the hotel. Their food is pretty good." Nozawa said a lot in a soft but decisive voice, and the level of thoughtfulness made me a little uncomfortable. Previously, an assistant to me was just a role of obeying and executing, which was appropriate and comfortable.

I said, "Let's eat the Chinese food at the hotel, and there will be an online meeting in the evening."

"Okay, I'll send you the menu right away."

Whether I have an assistant accompanying me on a business trip depends only on whether the work requires it, and my personal basic necessities of life can be settled by myself.After returning to the hotel, Nozawa ordered food and delivered it to my room. He also came over and changed into a Japanese-style wine-red double-breasted top, ecru trousers, and canvas shoes.

He came to help me take meeting notes.

I said, "There are still three and ten minutes. You can take a break and come back."

Nozawa had a strange look in his eyes, he smiled, but he didn't seem to smile at all, but any smile on his face was a bit out of line.He looked at me, thought for a while, and said, "Isn't it okay to just sit down?"

"You can sit down." I went to eat at the dining table, and Nozawa was working on the computer on the other side by himself. For about 10 minutes, he was not in my sight.

He suddenly said, "It feels like you don't know me well enough."

"Do I have to understand you?" I turned my face away and asked him.

Nozawa's fingers left the keyboard, he touched his nails, looked at me blankly, and said, "This question is misleading."

Nozawa emitted an invisible light with his eyes, probably a strange anticipation, and certainty, he stood up calmly, walked to my side, stood, and asked abruptly: "Is there enough to eat? Do you need more food?"

This sentence came in a sudden and stubborn German. Nozawa didn't look like a German at all, but he spoke extremely pure German. This was a kind of conflict and a strange harmony.

"No need." I subconsciously replied in German.

The rainy weather in Chongqing came as soon as it was said, and the weather in Beijing also turned cold. Ethan, who had a cold, sniffed his nose in front of the camera, nodded his red nose, and said, "How could I be overwhelmed by a cold? Never possible."

"I still have to take the medicine." I said.

I was sitting in the coffee shop on the first floor of the exhibition, the rain curtain outside the window was hanging down, and the sound of fierce water could be heard. Nozawa was fixing his lunch box, while I was working on my laptop.

Put the phone in front of the computer and make a video call with Ethan.

"You alone?" Ethan asked me.

I said, "My assistant is here too. Today's time is relatively tight, and he's having lunch."

"Then have you eaten?"

"Ate a sandwich."

"I can't get enough to eat." Ethan wrapped himself tightly in the blanket.

I said: "I'm already full, and I can't starve myself, but you, no one is in charge and you don't eat on time—"

"It's almost done. I'm not a child. Don't say that. Others have heard the joke."

I miss Ethan almost from the first second I left Beijing. Sometimes I start to wonder if my life would be different now if I had never met him.

I just love it now.

I never expected to see Nozawa's tears suddenly. I just hung up the phone with Ethan, and the tears rolled out of Nozawa's eyes. His eyes were red and he said, "This dish is too spicy."

"Drink some water." I said three words softly, wondering how spicy the food was. When I looked at Nozawa, Nozawa squeezed his red and swollen mouth and swallowed a lot of water.

He was still "hissing" inhaling, and said, "I've never eaten anything so spicy."

I was even more puzzled, and said, "No matter how hot it is, it won't make you cry."

"Don't you know? Most Japanese people can't eat spicy food." Nozawa finished drinking the ice water in the glass and put down his chopsticks.

I said, "Then let's eat something else."

"The Chinese food here... a lot of it is very spicy."

I thought about it and suggested: "You can try the sandwiches from this restaurant."

Nozawa took out two tissues in a daze, and the moment he covered his eyes with the tissues, he began to shrug his shoulders slightly, sobbing gracefully, and said, "When I ate something that didn't suit my taste, I suddenly felt homesick."

I couldn't resist the unexpected breakdown during work, but I couldn't criticize him, so I could only politely suggest: "You can find a Japanese restaurant to eat."

"Then you're going too?" Nozawa showed red and wet eyes, his messy hair covered both sides of his forehead, and suddenly spoke German.

I replied in Chinese: "Go."

Let's go, it's just a meal, it's nothing.