Chapter 118: Qin Liang and the Divine Brush

Qin Liang pushed open the door. The room was very quiet.

Tang Yunle was sitting on the edge of the bed, like an exquisite porcelain statue, completely still.

Her breath was held, and not even a single strand of hair on her shoulder moved.

Even though he knew that time was currently paused, the young man still subconsciously lightened his steps, slowly approaching and stopping in front of the girl. His gaze was as if drawn by a magnet, uncontrollably falling on her slightly pursed lips.

Remembering the wonderful experience from this morning, Qin Liang’s Adam’s apple couldn’t help but bob.

He reached out his finger and gently poked Tang Yunle’s cheek. Although he knew she wouldn’t have any reaction, he still said with a teasing smile, “Ah Le, oh, Ah Le. Don’t you think I look like the male protagonist in those time-stop novels right now? I can do whatever I want.”

“But it’s also a good thing that I’m the one who has this pen. Although I have my own selfish desires, I won’t use it to do anything illegal.”

“A great disaster will not kill, but will bring good fortune. The ancients did not deceive me!”

As he spoke, Qin Liang’s gaze unconsciously moved downwards and landed on Tang Yunle’s chest.

Just because of his unintentional words this morning, the softness that could have been completely covered by one hand had become even fuller and more supple, and even her collar was stretched a little tight.

His Adam’s apple bobbed again. He took out the fountain pen and murmured in a low voice, “Get smaller.”

As soon as his words fell, the fullness of that area shrank at a visible speed, and in the blink of an eye, it had become a flat plain.

Qin Liang frowned and quickly changed his words, “No, not smaller. Back to the original, the very beginning.”

This time, the description was accurate enough. The curve of Tang Yunle’s chest did indeed swell up a little, returning to the appearance a lively girl should have in his memory.

Qin Liang breathed a sigh of relief, put the fountain pen back in his pocket, and raised his hand to rub her hair.

Her hair was soft, with a faint lemon scent. As his fingertips passed through her hair, his tone suddenly softened. “Actually, I’m not a giant breast fetishist or anything. I just like that fleshy feeling, to be able to grab a handful, it feels great.”

“But how should I say this…” he paused, as if he were choosing his words. “If you’re willing, I won’t change it back. But if you don’t like it, I will never force you.”

“You’re my best friend, and you’re also the person I like. How could I force you to accept something you don’t like?”

He withdrew his hand, his gaze falling back on her face. Qin Liang said with a faint smile, adding, “Besides, what’s the point of forcing it? It’s only when you’re willing that a man feels a sense of accomplishment…”

“Just like you this morning…”

After doing all this, Qin Liang was just about to get up and leave, but his peripheral vision caught sight of Tang Yunle maintaining a very natural sitting posture in the time pause.

Her body was slightly tilted, and her shoulders were twisted to the right, as if she were turning her head to talk to someone.

But to her right was the empty bedside, with nothing but a neatly folded quilt.

But Tang Yunle’s gaze was clearly fixed in that direction, her pupils slightly constricted, her lips parted in a very small gap, as if she had just uttered half a syllable.

This posture, it seems she’s talking to an invisible person?

The thought flashed through his mind, and Qin Liang didn’t think about it any further. He turned and walked out of the bedroom.

The sound of his footsteps gradually faded, and the door also slowly closed.

At this moment, a very faint white light appeared in the room. A figure appeared out of thin air by the empty bedside.

It was a beautiful girl in a Lolita dress. White knee-high socks wrapped around her slender calves, and the lace on the hem of her skirt swayed gently as she sat down.

She happened to be sitting in the position where Tang Yunle’s gaze was locked, as if the conversation, which might have been a certain clock, had never been interrupted.

The girl first tilted her head and looked at the motionless Tang Yunle, poking her still face with her fingertip. Then she turned to the direction Qin Liang had left, her beautiful eyebrows knitted into a dead knot.

“Hmph! Do you really think you can use something without paying a price? Play however you want. Anyway, after you die, your inheritance will all belong to me and my sister.”

“Isn’t it good to be a tool? You just had to fall for my sister, and my sister still likes you, a unlucky person who is destined to have regrets.”

“I shouldn’t have…”

Two flowers bloom, each telling its own story.

If you held an extraordinary power that could overturn the world, what would you choose to do?

A person lives this life for nothing more than money, power, s*x, and profit. But Qin Liang pondered, and he didn’t seem to be lacking in any of these.

Although his family wasn’t a monopolistic financial magnate, whether in this world or the original one, he had never worried about money.

Power, although he had once fantasized about “holding the power of the world in a drunken hand, and lying in a beauty’s embrace in a drunken state,” Qin Liang had self-awareness. He was not cut out for politics at all.

S*x, having been taught by his mother since he was a child, he had long been determined to be a pure love party member. Harems were out of the question. And now he was planning to pursue Tang Yunle. Being two-faced, like his own older brother, a playboy, was not an option.

Profit, his dream for the first eighteen years of his life was very simple: to live well. As for the future, he would wait until the future to talk about it.

After such a calculation, Qin Liang looked down at the fountain pen in his hand, rubbed his chin, and said to himself, “Looking at it this way, apart from continuing to live, I don’t seem to have any other wishes that I must realize.”

“So, what should I do next?”

Qin Liang stood in his bedroom, staring at the fountain pen in his hand, lost in thought.

As the saying goes, if you have a knife in your hand, everyone looks like a watermelon. Holding such a fountain pen with the ability to “make whatever you wish for come true,” and yet putting it on a high shelf, wouldn’t that be a waste of a good thing?

But he thought and thought, and apart from “living,” he really couldn’t find any other wishes on his wish list that he had to realize. So he just released the time pause and turned to go to Tang Yunle’s room.

He had no wishes he wanted to realize. Tang Yunle might.

Happiness, after all, should be shared.

“Ah Le, do you want to see a snowstorm in Wanqing City?”

Just as Tang Yunle had sent Tang Yunke away, she looked up and saw Qin Liang, who should have been paralyzed and in a wheelchair, standing alive before her, and even saying such ridiculous words. She subconsciously raised her hand and touched her own forehead to confirm that she wasn’t having a hallucination from a fever.

Her temperature was normal, no fever.

And that meant…

She abruptly stood up and looked at the young man, her beautiful eyes wide with surprise and disbelief. “How did you stand up?”

“Let’s not talk about that for now,” Qin Liang said, playing with the fountain pen and asking again, a hint of a smile in his tone. “Ah Le, do you want to see a snowstorm in Wanqing City?”

Now, Tang Yunle was flustered. She reached out and touched the young man’s forehead.

“Could it be a side effect of the surgery that’s fried your brain?”

“Or is it a final burst of energy before death? You can actually stand up?”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to kick the bucket soon.”

“Wait, I’ll go call a doctor!”

As she spoke, she was about to run out, but the young man grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

Tang Yunle forcefully shook off his hand, stood straight with her hands on her hips, and glared at him. “Stop messing around! I’m going to call a doctor! I seriously suspect this is a final burst of energy before death!”

Qin Liang shrugged and chuckled, not answering directly.

He walked to the window, pushed it open a crack to let the sunlight in, and at the same time, he gently held the fountain pen and silently recited in his heart:

“I want a snowstorm, a heavy snowstorm, a heavy snowstorm with a romantic atmosphere.”