Accurate and unique (1)

  Dazed, I turned back to see a young face in the open doorway. His brown hair was slightly long, and he was all dressed in black. As I sized him up, he also gave me a thorough once-over before calmly withdrawing his gaze, shaking his wheelchair, backing away, and turning around.

  "What are you still standing there for? Come in and cook for me!" The tone was a matter of course.

  Uh... cooking?

  He suddenly turned around, pulled out 200 yuan from his pocket and handed it over, "There's no food at home, go buy some nearby and cook again." Staring at the two red tickets in front of him, he took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly: "No need, if you don't mind, just come to my house and have something to eat."

  He looked at me without saying anything.

  I immediately thought of something and quickly swept over his crossed legs, saying "Wait a minute, I'll bring it over."

  As I walked out of the kitchen with a steaming hot noodle dish, I was stunned again.

  One person in a wheelchair, in my living room, flipping through...

  "Hey, what are you doing rummaging through my stuff?" Putting down the bowl on the table, she walked over in big strides and snatched away the album he was flipping through. These were all her manuscripts; whenever inspiration struck, she would scribble randomly on paper and tidy them up later when she returned to the studio.

  Just now when I entered the door, I deliberately didn't close it. Who would have thought that he came in and... there wasn't a single sound.

  He merely raised an eyebrow, hummed softly, and his expression seemed to be one of disdain. The rolling wheel rolled past me to the table, then pointed at the bowl of noodles with a look of disgust and asked: "You went into the kitchen for 28 minutes and 40 seconds, and you managed to burn this?"

  This kid is still giving me attitude? I gritted my teeth and spat out four words: "Love to eat or not."

  After I finished speaking, he finally pushed open the chair, straightened his wheelchair and started eating with his head down.

  Very few people can eat noodles as elegantly as the person in front of me, every time using chopsticks to roll up the noodles and then bring them to his mouth, biting gently, almost without making any unpleasant "slurping" sounds. Because he was lowering his head, his chestnut-colored bangs fell down and half-covered his eyes, but did not detract from his... good looks. No mistake, his facial features were very three-dimensional, with narrow and long eye lines, especially that skin, which was even whiter than mine, and the faint blue stubble on his chin added a few points to his masculine charm.

  My fingers are itching, scribbling on the tea table behind me. For beautiful people or things, I have an impulse to draw them down, just give me half an hour, and I can turn this scene of "handsome guy eating noodles" in front of me into a scenic illustration.

  He suddenly raised his head and bumped into my prying gaze, with a profound eye that made me embarrassed, but heard him say: "The taste of the noodles is not bad." The expression was completely different from the disgusted look just now.

  He curled up the corner of his mouth, and it seemed that this kid still knew some manners. But the next sentence was: "Although your noodles are not bad, I don't want to eat them tomorrow, go buy some dishes, just get braised pork ribs and steamed fish." His tone was a matter of course, leaving me speechless.

  His gaze shifted to my hand, with a thoughtful expression.

  "What's wrong?"

  The corners of his mouth were slightly raised, and his low-pitched voice was husky: "Your right hand has been injured before, and you know some basic defensive techniques."

  She was taken aback and subconsciously asked: "How did you know?"

  He ignored my question and continued, "You have a studio downstairs, and every day you go back and forth between home and the studio; your father passed away early, and your mother has remarried, so family ties are relatively weak; you have a mild case of hemophobia, and although you appear gentle on the surface, you're actually quite stubborn; today is your birthday, but since you live alone, you didn't feel like celebrating; due to your good looks, there's no shortage of suitors, including even some police officers. This morning, you received a bouquet of lilies, which you left in the studio. You don't have feelings for this suitor."

  He stopped at this point, a dull and uninteresting expression floated on his face, "That's it, too boring." Then he slid the wheels to the edge of the door, completely ignoring my shocked gaze.