The sick beauty quits working in Shura Field | (BL, MTL)

Chapter 51: There is a temperature that does not belong to you on your lips

Wen Ming will never forget the years after his debut abroad.

He was cheated by the agency. He used the only money he had to pay training fees and got nothing, and the company would not arrange a stage for him. As a foreigner, with no relatives, no friends, and no money, he could only work to support himself while continuing to pursue his dream.

As fans said, he rented a basement, ate, slept and practiced dancing in that dark, small, damp place. When the lights were not turned on during the day, only a few rays of sunlight could shine through the narrow windows.

The window was so high that it almost reached the basement ceiling.

But the window was actually very low, so low that it was right at the feet of passers-by. When you open the window, the dust kicked up by your leather shoes will shake off.

Wen Ming works part-time during the day and part-time at night, and spends a lot of time practicing dancing. Hearing that he could make money as a dance blogger, he filmed his dance practice videos and posted them online, but with little success. Not many people were willing to watch them. Everyone liked a dance practice room with bright windows and clean windows.

He didn't understand what he was insisting on, but it seemed that he had nothing but persistence.

Until one day, someone responded to his video.

[It's a great dance, keep at it, come on]

It was a simple word, like a casual encouragement, but that was the first piece of positive feedback Wen Ming received.

Before this, some people said that this kind of shabby place was a dance studio. Some people said that you could not see clearly what was being danced. Some people said that they had the nerve to come out and shoot videos without special training.

Wen Ming deleted those remarks one by one, and lost a little bit of his anger.

If it weren't for that comment...

If it weren't for that comment, he wouldn't have gotten this far.

He looked at that person's homepage, and he would randomly post some lyrics he wrote, songs he sang, and videos of practicing musical instruments.

Later, the other party would leave messages under his videos every now and then, sometimes with words of encouragement, sometimes with sharing about his daily life. He never sent private messages to Wen Ming, and Wen Ming never replied to him. He just liked every post and treated his next video as a reply.

For almost two years and more than five hundred days and nights, Wen Ming relied on that person's message to support his hope of going on.

He sends messages every day and looks forward to that person's message every day, but the other person doesn't show up every day. He seems to be very busy.

This unequal relationship, this feeling of being forced to wait, gradually made Wen Ming unbalanced. He told himself that the other party must not have time, and that he did not intentionally not reply. But the desire to see this person and have him face up to himself gradually grew.

But that person canceled his account.

When he searched for clues, he discovered that the image he had imagined in his mind countless times turned out to be such a despicable person.

It turned out that all he gave himself were excuses. It wasn't that he didn't have time or that he couldn't see it, but that Shen Zhouran was a person who liked to play with other people's feelings and took pleasure in seeing others disappointed and angry.