Chapter 125: The one-armed tailor of the Shura field

Chapter 125: The one-armed tailor of the Shura field

Song Chen's heart instantly burst into flames, and his whole body would explode on the spot. He had expectations for this nominal wife, and was completely disappointed. Now he feels more like an inescapable burden. , there is no conjugal love.

Just thinking of last night and this morning, how many times she made goodwill, now turned into a heavy blow to the head, smashing Song Chenzheng, his eyes were splitting.

How can one person do this? Could it be that just because he cared about her face as a woman, he had to play and humiliate him repeatedly like this? !

Song Chen clenched his jaw, the blue veins on his forehead were bulging, stared at the quilt that was still stirring on the bed, took a deep breath, put the candlestick away, exited the door, and quickly went downstairs to get a guy who was handy.

The last time he was caught off guard at the scene of fornication, he was almost in a state of out-of-body stimulation, and he was always thinking about saving face for his "wife", but he never thought about making things bigger, so he just endured it. Nausea suppressed things.

This time, he didn't plan to endure it any longer. Since she didn't want her own face, then he didn't need to give it to her. He would simply go to the government, and then he would be forced to leave the matter with seven outs!

Song Chen held the square wood he used to press the cloth in his hand, and when he walked to the side of the bed aggressively, the quilt was lifted from the inside.

Cong Liangmeng felt the darkness under the quilt and fiddled with the chain on his feet. The more anxious he was, the more difficult it would be to fix it. Seeing that it was about to happen, his hands were so strong that he pinched and folded a section. He heard the door opening and closing in the room and Song Chen walking. , even anxious with a sullen face sweat.

Finally, all the broken pieces were stuffed under the mattress, and the ones on the feet were fastened. She quickly lifted the quilt and tugged at the front of her shirt.

But as soon as the quilt was lifted, she raised her head to meet Song Chen's gloomy gaze, from Liang Jing's trembling, her gaze slid down his arm, and she was surprised to see that he was holding a thick square wood in his hand...

From the good view of his posture, a ferocious word flashed in his mind in an instant - kill by stick.

"Song, Song Chen?" Cong Liang moved back subconsciously, "Why did you come back..."

Song Chen's belly was full of fire, and when he saw that there was only one Cong Liang in the quilt, he "hoorayed" - it went out.

He looked around without a trace, the base of the bed was too low to hide people, and there was no other place to hide people in the room, and his eyes turned back to Congliang.

She didn't tie her hair again after taking a shower. The messy sweat was wet on the temples, and it was scattered everywhere. After rubbing it in the bed for a while, it was terrible.

However, Song Chen felt that she had never looked so pleasing to the eye before, without the delicate red makeup, deliberately depicting the end of her eyes that were puzzling and provocative, opening her eyes and looking up at him in panic, more than he had ever seen all her appearances. People are comfortable.

"What are you doing?" Song Chen's eyes quickly calmed down, and he put Fang Mu by the bed.

"I..." Cong Liangqiang controlled his eyes, didn't glance at the two severed chains under the mattress, his mind turned sharply, "I, I'm actually, I'm afraid!"

Cong Liang said, "It's getting dark, you still don't go home, I'm so scared..." She knelt down to her wit, and took two steps on her knees, reaching out and hugging Song Chen who was standing beside the bed.

"Where have you been and how did you come back?" Congliang said pitifully, "I'm hungry and scared. I..." I thought of your words, and finally made Congliang swallow it back. Her face was leaking urine in the afternoon. After that, it has not been completed.

Song Chen couldn't explain what was going on with him. Being hugged was obviously awkward, but he resisted the desire to push away and didn't move.

"I'm going home." Song Chen said.

"Huh?" Cong Liang raised his head in confusion, "What are you going to do at Cong's house?" She remembered that even if Song Chen married the original body, she never interacted with Cong's home, and didn't even do the work introduced by Cong's home.

"The servants of Congfu are going to make a batch of autumn clothes..." Song Chen said, "I've been measuring sizes and discussing colors in Congfu all day."

Cong Liang blinked and looked at Song Chen, as if he didn't understand what he meant, and confirmed, "Are you going to make autumn clothes for Cong's servants?"

"Are you..." Cong Liang wanted to ask if you were short of money, but when she remembered why Song Chen was short of money, she shut up wisely. Song Chen's savings were all gambled away by "she".

Song Chen pushed Cong Liang away, turned to the door and picked up the biscuits in the oil-paper bag on the ground, "It's too late to cook, I'm going to make a ready-to-wear pattern tonight and send it to Congfu tomorrow," Song Chen took the sesame seeds Hand it to Cong Liangdao: "You eat this first tonight."

Cong Liang took the biscuits, grabbed Song Chen's hand on the way, hit the snake and followed the stick, "I'm afraid."

Cong Liang bit his lip shyly, "You're upstairs tonight..." You, who rolled to your mouth from Cong Liang, swallowed upstairs and said, "Just make your clothes upstairs when you are."

Song Chen didn't say a word, looked at Congliang with a very indescribable look, and Congliang shook his hand again, "Okay, husband."

Once again, Song Chen didn't hold on to Congliang's mill. The two took the cold tea on the table. After eating the biscuits, Song Chen really came upstairs with the ingredients and tools, and put the candlestick on the wall near the table. On, spread the cloth on the table, and cut the lines with a neat measuring ruler.

With one hand, it stands to reason that even a normal life will have many inconveniences, but Song Chen's movements are smooth and smooth, and he is not inferior to any normal person at all. Wear one.

When sewing, sew the fabric to the right edge, press one end under the square wood that was going to be used to kill, and clamp the other end between the chest and the table, the only right hand flies, the speed stitch, even let Congliang come from the countryside like this. Women who often do needlework are not as good as themselves.

Serious men are the most attractive. Cong Liang was sitting at the table, and before he knew it, he was fascinated. Song Chen used up a thread, and when he went to thread it again, Cong Liang saw his slightly pursed lips, and leaned in as if in a daze. In the past, seeing that she was about to kiss her, Song Chen turned her wrist with the needle nose and poked her in the face.

The warm yellow candlelight couldn't cover up the flushed cheeks, Song Chen's voice was soft and low, with a little bit of untraceable resentment: "What are you doing?"

Congliang reached out and touched his face, which was also a little hot, and stammered: "I'll help you, lead, cough, lead!"

After saying that, he took the needle and thread in Song Chen's hand, lowered his head and put it on, stretched it to a suitable length and bit it with his teeth. After twisting and twisting his index finger and thumb, he twisted a small lump at the end of the thread and handed it to Song Chen again.

Song Chen looked at the needle and thread in Congliang's hand, raised his hand to take it, and took a deep look at her again, the unknown meaning in his eyes made Congliang bewildered.

But since the beginning of time travel, this is the first time that she has had the opportunity to get along with Song Chen in such a harmonious way. Of course, she will not give up such a good opportunity.

"I'll stretch it for you, you'll sew..." Cong Liang moved aside the wooden block used to press the cloth, and helped Song Chen stretch the cloth with his hands and lift it to a suitable height.

Song Chen paused for a while, but in the end he didn't refuse. The two of them had one flying needle for stitching, the other was in charge of threading and flattening the fabric. In addition to being a little awkward at first, they gradually became more and more tacit, and the speed became faster and faster.

"Pfft!" The candle on the wall exploded into a lantern. Song Chen put the thread in his hand on the thread, his right hand followed Liang's left hand while dragging a sleeve, and picked up the short punches made on the table to take a look. , spread it on the table again, measured it a few times with a measuring tape, and slightly raised his lips.

"Is it alright?" Although Congliang has sewed quilts, she is not good at making clothes. These ancient clothes look very simple, but when they are really made, there are a lot of places to sew.

"Well..." Song Chen nodded, and looked at Congliang with that strange look. This is the fastest piece of clothing he has made, and it is also the first time he has made clothes with the help of others. Surprisingly, he cooperates very well with Congliang. smoothly.

From Liang, he could see that Song Chen was happy, and he made a few bunt gestures, and he was also very happy. This was done in cooperation with her eldest baby, and the meaning was extraordinary.

"This one looks good to me, so let me wear it." Cong Liang said.

Song Chen, who was measuring the size of his trousers, couldn't help but smile when he heard the words, and he laughed out two shallow dimples, which were outrageous.

Song Chen said, "It's a men's bunt, it's not suitable for you to wear."

Seeing Song Chen laughing from the good, an old heart was about to burst out of his heart, and he tutted, "What's not suitable, I think it's suitable."

As he spoke, he put it on himself, and while he was putting it on, he said, "The clothes you make are all suitable."

Song Chen was about to cut his hand for a moment, then turned his head to look at Cong Liang who was slapped on the hood of his dress, and restrained the smile on his face, he was not stupid, since last night, Cong Liang has been showing him in various ways. Well, Yan Ming wants to have a good time with him.

Song Chen had this kind of thought when he first got married. In the two years of messy marriage life, I have worked hard, but every time it ends with being teased and ridiculed.

In all the memories of the past, whenever the two talked, there was never a normal conversation, nor was it as calm as now, or even had a tacit understanding.

He couldn't help being in a trance, and the doubts in his heart were getting bigger and bigger. Is the person in front of him really the woman he married into the door?

Cong Liang made Song Chen look a little unbearable, he took off his clothes cowardly, put them on the table, smiled awkwardly, and explained, "I'm just kidding. How do I wear men's clothes, hahaha …”

"You said," Song Chen stared at Cong Liang and said, "I will never wear the junk I made in my life."

Congliang was afraid of this, her hand on the table trembled, for fear that Song Chen would say something about the dark history of her original body, the number of pots on her head now can be sold at a stall.

But the reality always runs counter to the ideal, Song Chen paused and spoke again.

"You also said that a junk like me who lacks arms and legs is not worthy of you to take a look." Song Chen's tone was very ordinary, and his eyes were not sharp when he looked at Congliang, but Congliang's back spine was listening. "Whoosh" in the cool breeze.

"You said you'd rather sleep with a beggar on the side of the road, or with a wild man..."

"Song Chen!" Cong Liang interrupted him, she really didn't want to listen any more, not because she was afraid of having more pots, but because she felt bad for Song Chen.

"I," Cong Liang rubbed his face, walked to Song Chen's side, lightly wrapped around his waist, raised his face, "look into my eyes."

"It won't lie," Congliang said, "forget all that...let's start over, okay?"

The author has something to say: 1

Song Chen: You said @#@#%!#!

Cong Liang: ...you look me in the eyes! Look at my sincere little eyes! I bear with you!

Congliang: Why is he like a little white rabbit, but I am more afraid of death than anyone else in my life?

System: Because he is a little white rabbit with steel teeth.