The Bumpy Road of Marriage: The Ex-Wife Is Expecting

"How old are you, and your house still has access control?" Qiao Yaruan scorned, "It's a big deal. We're going back to school."

Shui Anluo could feel that Qiao Yaruan was not in a good mood today, so he did not object, but went directly with her.

When they passed, it was when there were a lot of people, and there were a lot of people in the open-air barbecue. They finally found a place and ordered something to wait for delivery.

"Hey, I said, now that you and your family Chu are finally reconciled, why haven't you remarried?" Qiao Yaruan asked with a drink.

"He hasn't proposed yet." Shui Anluo said naturally, because of physical reasons, she just went to buy a cup of hot milk tea nearby, and Qiao Yaruan knew her period, so she didn't ask her to drink with her.

Qiao Yaruan was most envious of Shui Anluo's physiological period, because she didn't have a stomachache, she was not a woman.

"You're less arrogant, and wait until the day when your family Chu is arrogant, then you cry." Qiao Yaruan said in a deep voice.

"Cut, I'm going to find the bathroom." Shui Anluo looked around, and finally got up to find the bathroom.

Qiao Yaruan continued to drink, watching Shui Anluo was so happy, she also wanted to fall in love, but thinking of this, she would think of Fengfeng, and then it was the scene of the hospital ward door, he almost strangled himself This is one thing she has been unable to release.

Shui Anluo returned to the bathroom, but saw the painter who painted on the bridge while passing the arch bridge.

Shui Anluo walked a little and walked slowly. The artist was painting a couple. His left hand was injured, so he could only use one right hand. Shui Anluo watched him finish the painting and looked at The couple gave money and left, and Shui Anluo saw that there was not much money, as if it only felt like twenty or thirty.

Shui Anluo sat down on a stool in front of him, and the artist sorted his drawing board with one hand. As if he felt someone was sitting down, he said, "To paint a self-portrait—" Seeing the girl sitting in front of him, "Is it you?"

"Help me draw one." Shui Anluo said slightly, tilting his head.

The artist nodded, organized his drawing board, and then began to paint portraits for Shui'anluo.

Shui Anluo put his hand on his chin and looked at the serious painter, "How long will you stay in this city?"

"Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow," said the artist.

Shui Anluo nodded slightly, and his eyes fell on the painter's painting bag again. "That, is that important to you? My friend said that you were injured to protect it?"

After Shui Anluo said it, the painter felt a shake in her body. She hurriedly apologized, "Sorry, I didn't mean it."

That should be given by someone who is important to him.

The artist looked down at his painting bag, then reached for an eraser, wiped out the wrong place, and started painting again.

"Yeah, it's very important. I want to take it to look at every corner of this motherland." The painter's voice was low, as if he had already taken it lightly.

Suddenly a few more bleakness under Shui'anluo's heart.

"What about city A, have you finished watching it?" Shui Anluo whispered.

The artist paused again, and then the actions continued: "City A is her hometown. She is more familiar than me, but she misses her too much, so come back and see."

She, the woman who gave him the painting bag.