Zhang Yan was stunned for a mont before sothing seed to propel her to run back to the balcony, gazing intently through the old window at the street below.
She counted in her mind, and when she reached "13," that familiar figure finally appeared on the pathway in the community.
He walked briskly under the afternoon sun, almost jogging.
His entire being exuded a youthful and carefree energy.
The passionate, clean, radiant "boy" from her mories had finally broken free from dullness and oppression.
The Tang Song she saw this ti was much better than what she had hoped for or imagined.
Tears began to gather in Zhang Yan’s eyes.
It’s wonderful that he’s doing so well.
She genuinely felt happy for him.
She just quietly watched, motionless, until his figure disappeared around the corner of the community.
She didn’t know how much ti had passed.
That familiar silhouette appeared in her sight again.
This ti, he was carrying many items, but it was unclear what they were.
Zhang Yan quickly ca to her senses, hurriedly returned to the living room, and stood nervously by the door.
When she heard clear footsteps in the hallway, she gently opened the door.
Soon, Tang Song ca in.
"I’m back," he said, dropping the items in his hands loudly on the floor.
"What’s this..." Zhang Yan looked at the items on the floor and imdiately froze.
One large bucket bore the words "Strong Waterproof and Anti-Alkali Prir," another was labeled "Odorless Eco-Friendly Waterproof Latex Paint," and there was a shopping bag with a hardware store logo.
Noticing her startled gaze, Tang Song explained with a smile, "I rember telling you before that my dad did renovations. I just happened to have so free ti today, so I thought I’d help you fix the walls; I know a thing or two about this."
"Ah!" Zhang Yan exclaid softly, shaking her head and waving her hands frantically, her words muddled, "No, no need! I... I can find soone to fix it myself... I can’t let you..."
Tang Song chuckled and gently interrupted her, "It’s no trouble, really. Besides, I haven’t done this in a while, and I really wanted to give it a try; it’s quite fun."
He paused for a mont and playfully winked at her, "Want to co help out a bit? We can work together and make it easier."
Zhang Yan stamred for a while, looking into his sincere, smiling eyes, and finally couldn’t bring herself to object anymore.
She picked up the plastic bag filled with tools and followed him into the bathroom, which embarrassed her the most.
The walls weren’t tiled, only coated with a long-yellowed waterproof paint.
Due to years of dampness and poor ventilation, large areas of wall paint had lifted and peeled, revealing mottled, unsightly cent beneath.
It was really terrible; every ti Tang Song said he wanted to use the bathroom, she would feel nervous and uneasy.
Tang Song seemingly didn’t notice her discomfort, naturally working with her to move the sundries from the bathroom to the bedroom.
Then, he took out a blue smock from the shopping bag and put it on, retrieving a roller, brush, and putty knife, skillfully starting to clean the wall surface.
"You see, with this kind of old wall, you have to scrape off all the peeling and loose areas first, or the new paint won’t last long,"
"Before painting, this waterproof prir is key, especially in damp places like bathrooms and kitchens; it can prevent the walls from getting damp and moldy and help the topcoat adhere more firmly..."
As he worked, he casually shared so renovation knowledge with her.
The bathroom was very small, about four square ters, with approximately ten square ters of walls to paint.
With Tang Song’s current strength and coordination, the job went particularly smoothly and efficiently.
The mottled wall paint was slowly scraped off by his hands, revealing the gray cent underneath.
Tang Song evenly mixed the prir and carefully applied it with a roller.
Zhang Yan followed him, initially feeling nervous and timid, unsure where to put her hands and feet.
But gradually, she was infected by his ease and focus.
Sotis, she would hand him tools; sotis, she’d steady the slightly unstable small stool for him.
More often, she just stood quietly by, dazedly watching him, dotted with sweat and white latex paint.
The roller rubbed against the wall repeatedly, producing a low "rustling" sound.
The dilapidated bathroom was being covered and repaired, little by little, with a clean, new layer of white.
She looked and listened.
For so reason, she couldn’t help but call his na, "Tang Song—"
Tang Song paused, turned around, his face stained with a few spots of white paint, smiling brightly and cleanly, "I’m here, what’s up?"
"No, no, nothing, thank you," she lowered her head in a fluster.
Montarily, she felt that a similarly mottled, damp, and insecure corner inside her.
Was being ticulously and gently nded by him, quietly, bit by bit.
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