[R18] Want a daughter-in-law – “Desire for a Daughter-in-law” Chapter 66 – Quiet Place (1) [English]

Click, click——

The sound of the heavy iron door being turned open by the key was particularly clear in the quiet alley in the evening.

Brother Sheng opened the door, and a dry indoor smell hit his nostrils. There was the smell of old wood with a bit of sun exposure, mixed with faint traces of dust and time.

He walked straight in, and Shu Qi followed him in.

The house is not big, with a traditional partition layout. After walking through the long and narrow entrance, you will find the living room. Next to it is a sliding door that looks like it has never been closed. From the sliding door, you can see the kitchen. It has an old-fashioned gas stove, a white porcelain sink, and a row of yellowed wooden cabinets. It can be seen that it has been used for many years.

There is no carefully designed decoration in the house, and there is no convenience of modern furniture in the house. Every item has a sense of age.

On the long wooden chair in the living room, there are layers of clothes and coats piled up, some of which still retain the wrinkles from being put on them after passing through them.

There were miscellaneous things on the TV cabinet, including a few small boxes containing tools, a stack of unopened envelopes, a few old books and a yellowed radio.

There is also a leaning bicycle in the corner. The straps on the handlebars are slightly torn and yellowed. It seems that it has not been ridden for a long time.

There are some old photos on the wooden cabinet in the corner of the living room.

They were all people she didn’t know, with vague smiles, and a few photos of Brother Sheng when he was young.

The whole room gave off an indescribable smell of life. Things were scattered, but not dirty, like traces of a certain rhythm. Every object had its usual way of returning to its place, but the owner was too lazy to tidy it up, instead of forgetting it.

She turned around, stood in the middle of the living room, looked around, and suddenly said: “I used to only talk to him during the Chinese New Year…”

Halfway through her words, she glanced at Brother Sheng and immediately changed her words, “I just came to sit down. I was in the living room at that time, and I was too embarrassed to look around…”

Hearing this, Brother Sheng just smiled and said nothing. He bent down to arrange the cushions for her and motioned for her to sit down.

“Look wherever you want to see now. There’s nothing I can’t show you here.”

She turned her head to look at he and suddenly said: “I like it here very much…”

Brother Sheng’s eyes moved slightly and he smiled.

“Are you hungry? Want to go out to eat?”

Shu Qi shook her head and said softly: “I want to be at home and look around.”

Brother Sheng glanced at her, nodded, and glanced at the time, “Then I’ll go out and buy some things and come back. You stay at home first.”

After saying that, he picked up the keys and went out, his pace still unhurried.

After the room quieted down, Shu Qi stood up slowly. The sound of her footsteps fell on the floor and sounded from time to time in the space. Those subtle sounds were particularly clear in the quiet space.

She walked around the living room, her eyes stopping at the photos on the wooden cabinet.

She walked over gently.

He deliberately slowed down his pace, as if he was afraid of disturbing some memory that had been sleeping in this room for many years.

The photo was mounted in an old-fashioned wooden frame, and a thin layer of dust fell on the glass surface; she stretched out her fingertips and gently brushed them away, sliding her fingertips across the once young face.

It’s Brother Sheng, the young he.

Wearing a leather jacket, he was leaning on an old car, smiling wildly, his eyes full of madness and freedom, as if he was not afraid of anything.

That smile was so bright that she was distracted for a moment.

She has never seen this look on the current he; he is always quiet, calm, and reserved now, like a deep well.

But he in this photo looks like a beast that can run into a fire without frowning.

“…So you have times like this too.” she murmured.

Her fingertips were still attached to the edge of the photo, as if she didn’t want to let go of anything.

She suddenly thought, has he been seen like this by someone before?Who has been secretly loved and touched like this?

He, who looks mad in the photo, has gone through something to become such a gentle man now?

It’s just that I came too late and didn’t have time to participate in his past.

She lowered her eyes, a little sore, but also inexplicably moved.

It was not jealousy, but something deeper than jealousy; she suddenly longed to participate in the memory that no one had ever gotten close to, the past that no one had ever known.

She stood there blankly for a while, as if she hadn’t gotten over that smile yet.

It wasn’t until the next moment that he slowly turned around.

She is like a curious kitten, wandering quietly in a strange and safe space.

Walking into the kitchen, a faint smell of detergent mixed with the residual warmth of the sun still lingers in the air. The kitchen utensils hanging on the wall have a sense of age; the countertop has traces of years of use, and the joints of the tiles are also mottled, but they are surprisingly clean and tidy.

She stretched out her hand and lightly ran her fingertips over the sink, as if she were reading a letter.

The traces of hand-washed dishes and the arcs of dried water marks are all like the handwriting left by him in a certain rhythm of life.

“How do you live alone…” she murmured in a low voice, as if talking to an empty room.

She knelt down and looked at the base cabinet, then walked to the refrigerator. Out of some quiet sense of intimacy, she gently opened the door.

It was surprisingly clean inside, even a little empty.

There are only a few eggs on the upper layer, an unopened carton of milk, and a package of toast that has been opened but neatly sandwiched.

In the deepest part of the refrigerator, there was a bottle of wine that looked half-drunk. It looked a little old and the label was a little blurry.

“It’s so empty…” She laughed and said softly: “Do you usually live like this?”

She was not teasing him, but rather felt a slight feeling of distress and closeness, as if she had truly walked into his life for the first time instead of just lying in his arms.

She gently closed the refrigerator door, turned around and leaned against the refrigerator door, her eyes resting on the stove, as if she was silently imagining he cooking alone in her mind.

After a moment, she left the kitchen and walked quietly along the corridor.

There was a wooden door ajar at the end of the passage, with a faint light coming from the crack. She hesitated for a moment, then slowly approached.

She didn’t push the door open, but just peeked inside.

The space is small, very neat, and even a bit restrained.

It has a dark wooden bed frame and gray-blue sheets. The wardrobe is open, as if it has never been closed, with neat clothes and pants hanging inside.

She couldn’t help but take a step forward, put her hand gently on the doorknob, pushed in, and her eyes slowly swept across the room; she glanced at the desk with various books scattered around, and the bed where she had slept on many lonely nights.

She felt an indescribable emotion coming up.

It was not desire or the throbbing of love, but a very private sense of closeness. She seemed to see the quietest and most real look of this man after taking off his clothes.

There is only a warm yellow bedside lamp on the bedside table next to the bed.

There is no perfume and no unnecessary decoration. The whole space, like the people of he, is low-key, stable and not easy to see through.

She stood in the middle of the room, and the surroundings were so quiet that she could only hear her own heartbeat.

After a few seconds, she walked to the bed and slowly sat down as if being pulled by something.

The mattress sank a little, and she sat very lightly, with her hands on the sides of her legs, her head slightly lowered, and she took a deep breath.

There is a faint smell, the smell of he, an indescribable smell that is always reassuring.

The smell is like whiskey that has been awakened at a low temperature. The calm aroma of smoky wood is intoxicating.

She sat quietly, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the folds of the sheets, as if touching some tender memory.

Then, she slowly lay down, her cheek pressed against the spot where he had slept, and the side of her face pressed against the sheets, where there was still the residual warmth of the sun and the subtle body odor.

She trembled her eyelashes and closed her eyes.

It was like stealing a hug that only she knew.

It’s like a little warmth and a little breathing rate stolen from his arms.

At some point, her breathing slowed down and her eyelashes stopped trembling.

Slowly, his consciousness was swallowed up by the tenderness.