sovbooks Chapter 64 Palmistry
Chapter 64 Palmistry
"No!"
Song Huan suddenly opened her eyes.
The ceiling was still white, not a stark white, but a warm white, the kind of warm white that comes from being exposed to sunlight.
The lights weren't on, and the curtains were drawn, but light streamed in from behind them, illuminating the entire room.
The quilt is blue, made of cotton, washed until soft, and has no loose threads at the edges.
The pillow smelled faintly of laundry detergent, no longer that cheap, pungent odor.
He lay on the bed, panting heavily.
My back was soaked, and my T-shirt was sticking to my skin, feeling sticky.
My heart was beating very fast, as fast as if I had just run a kilometer.
He stared at the ceiling for a long time, until his heartbeat gradually calmed down and his breathing became less labored.
His hands were trembling; he pressed them under the blanket and gripped the sheets tightly.
It's just a dream!
But it was so real, so real that you could smell the musty smell in the rented room, hear the sound of a cake box being crushed, and feel the pain in your toes when you kicked the TV.
And that pair of scissors, made of stainless steel, the blade flashed under the light and went into his eye; it still hurts to this day.
The door was pushed open, and Xiao Yunqing stood in the doorway, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, her hair tied in a ponytail, with a look of worry on her face.
"What's wrong? I knocked on the door for ages and you didn't answer. I was so scared!"
Song Huan looked at her; sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the curtains, falling on her and making her shine.
Her face was red, not from blush, but a natural red that shone through from beneath her skin.
Her eyes were bright, the black pupils reflecting light, and her ponytail was tied high, revealing a section of her white nape. She was alive and well, standing right in front of him.
"I had a nightmare," he said, his voice a little hoarse, and he coughed.
Xiao Yunqing walked in, squatted down beside his bed, tilted her head to look at him, and asked, "What did you dream about? You were so scared."
She reached out and touched his forehead. "You don't have a fever."
Her hands were warm, but her fingertips were a little cool. She gently placed them on his forehead.
Song Huan looked at her without saying anything. She withdrew her hand and stood up.
"Wait a minute, I'll get you a cup of hot water."
She turned and ran, her ponytail swishing, and disappeared around the corner at the door.
Song Huan sat on the bed, the blanket piled up around her waist.
He looked down at his hands; they were no longer trembling, but his palms were still sweaty.
He rubbed his hand on his pants, and then felt that the action was very familiar.
In my past life, when I came back from driving for others, my hands would get smudged like this too. The sweat from the steering wheel would get onto my pants, and I could never get it completely clean.
Xiao Yunqing walked back with the cup, carefully, afraid of getting burned.
She handed him the cup, and Song Huan took it; it was warm, not hot.
He took a sip, the water slid down his throat, warming his stomach, and then took another sip.
Xiao Yunqing sat on the edge of the bed, supporting herself with her hands behind her back, swinging her legs.
"You're so old and you still have nightmares? They scared me to death." She turned to look at him, but there was still a hint of worry in her eyes.
"What did you dream about?"
Song Huan held the cup, its walls warm against her palm.
He thought for a moment, then smiled, "I dreamt that you married me."
Xiao Yunqing was stunned for a moment.
Then her face flushed red, all the way to her ears.
She reached out and slapped him lightly on the arm.
"It's your good fortune that I'm marrying you! You should be overjoyed, not calling it a nightmare!"
After she finished speaking, she laughed, her eyes crinkling and her ponytail trembling.
As Song Huan looked at her and smiled, the shadow in her heart seemed to melt away like sunlight, gradually dissipating.
He lowered his head, took a sip of water, and placed the cup on the bedside table.
"Xiao Yunqing".
"what?"
"I've been learning palmistry these past few days, would you like to have your palm read?"
Xiao Yunqing's eyes lit up for a moment, then quickly dimmed again. She looked at him suspiciously, "You're not lying to me, are you?"
Song Huan pouted, "If you don't believe me, then forget it."
"I believe you! I believe you!" Xiao Yunqing said anxiously, stretching out her hand, palm up, in front of him. "Please take a look at it for me quickly."
Her hands were white, her fingers were long and slender, and her nails were trimmed into neat circles.
The lines on the palm are fine and dense, with three main lines that are very deep, extending from the wrist all the way to the base of the fingers.
Song Huan pretended to hold her hand, turned it over to look at the palm, then turned it over to look at the back of the hand, frowning seriously.
"Your palm reading..." he drawled.
Xiao Yunqing held her breath.
"Your wisdom line is long, clear, and straight. You're insightful and know everything, but you don't like to talk about it. You may look gentle, but you're actually very opinionated and calmer than anyone else when things happen. You're just too considerate of others and always hide your grievances in the lines on your palm." He gently traced the deepest line on her palm with his finger.
Xiao Yunqing listened in a daze, nodding repeatedly as if she were exactly like that.
They didn't even notice that his hand had changed from "supporting" to "holding".
Song Huan chuckled inwardly, but maintained his serious expression on his face.
He frowned again, sighed, and said, "Exactly, your marriage line..."
Xiao Yunqing immediately tensed up. "What happened to the marriage line?"
"You're probably going to have a hard time finding a husband; you're destined to be alone your whole life. Look at your marriage line—it looks flat on the surface, but it actually hides a secret; the latter half is incredibly winding..."
"Huh?" Xiao Yunqing's face fell.
Song Huan suddenly exclaimed "Huh?" and leaned closer to look. "No, no, I've misread it."
He looked up at her, his expression serious, "Your future husband..."
He suddenly grabbed her hand, and their fingers intertwined.
Her hands were small and soft, and he held them completely in his palms.
Xiao Yunqing was stunned, her eyes wide open.
"Far away, yet right before my eyes."
The room fell silent.
The curtains were blown up slightly by the wind, and sunlight peeked through the gap, dancing briefly between the two people.
Xiao Yunqing's face changed from white to red, from red to purple, and from purple to an indescribable color.
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but her throat felt like it was blocked by something.
After several seconds, she finally managed to utter a sentence.
"You, you scoundrel!"
She tried to pull her hand back, but couldn't budge it after two attempts.
Song Huan held on tightly, refusing to let go.
"A scoundrel reading palms doesn't cost money, I'd even pay him to do it," he chuckled.
Xiao Yunqing stared at him for several seconds.
Then she lowered her head and stopped looking at him.
Her ears were so red they looked like they could drip blood, and her hair hung down, covering half of her face.
After a long time, she whispered something.
"Who wants you to pay me?"
The voice was muffled, as if it were being squeezed out of the throat.
But Song Huan heard her inner voice, soft and gentle, like cotton candy soaking in warm water.
[Fool.]
[You big idiot.]
[The biggest idiot.]
Song Huan smiled and released his hand. Xiao Yunqing quickly pulled her hand back and hid it behind her back.
Xiao Yunqing sat with her head down for a while, then suddenly stood up.
"I'm going to check if Auntie has finished cooking." She turned and ran, her ponytail swinging, and disappeared around the corner at the door.
Song Huan sat on the bed, watching her run away.
The sunlight shone on the spot where she had just sat, leaving a faint mark on the sheet.
He looked down at his hands; the warmth of her hand still lingered in his palm.
He clenched his fist, then relaxed it; it seemed to still carry a faint fragrance.
The wind blowing in from outside the window made the curtains flutter.
The sunlight danced in the room, falling on the floor, on the bed, and in his palm.
Thank goodness it was just a dream...
Thankfully, this isn't a dream...