If Kosaka Kyosuke Had a Saber Face

This stems from confidence in one's own strength.

Outside the door, under the orange voice-activated light, the neighbor's old lady whom I just met was standing in front of the door with her back slightly hunched, holding a small iron pot in her wrinkled hands.

The lid blocked Ye Jian's view of looking into the pot, but it couldn't stop the overflowing fragrance.

The white nose twitched.

Well, it's probably pork rib soup, so rich.

And the old woman was a little nervous when she saw the blond Yejian who came out of the door, and her mouth with crooked teeth stuttered: "You, hello, young man, can you understand Japanese?"

Facing the old man Ye Jian's voice softened rarely, from the cold clear spring to the suitable warm water: "Well, I understand Japanese, what are you...?"

Shengqing's eyes glanced at the pot full of pot.

The white-haired old woman breathed a sigh of relief, raised her head and looked at Ye Jian with her slightly cloudy eyes after getting older: "Old woman, I still feel a little worried about Xiao Dong Xiang after I got home, and I don't know if she is really sick or not. No."

Speaking tremblingly, he handed the pot in his hand to Ye Jian: "I just made a pot of pork rib soup, no matter whether Xiao Dong Xiangsheng is sick or not, let's drink it with her."

Ye Jian subconsciously stretched out both hands to hold the warm pot, but didn't know whether to pick it up or not.

After all, he didn't even know the relationship between the old lady and Dong Xiang.

On the other side, the elderly mother-in-law saw that the beautiful foreign child had already held the pot, so she withdrew her hands with thick knuckles from working all the year round.

The rough and thick small iron pot was held in the hands of Ye Jian Bai Nen.

At this time, a voice that was already quite smooth but still had a slightly hoarse friction came from behind.

"Grandma, I just have a cold, it's fine, you can take this soup home and drink it. Thank you."

Ye Jian looked back and saw a dangerously thin girl walking towards the wall step by step with her hands as pale as the wall.

Little feet with only a pair of thin socks stepped on the clean wooden floor, without shoes.

Because the shoes are stepping on Ye Jian's feet.

Ye Jian was a little embarrassed when she found this, but she couldn't take it off and put it on again for her, so she had to follow Dong Xiang's wishes and pass the pot back.

The old woman waved her hands hastily: "I still have some more, the old woman can't drink so much by herself, you two drink it."

Without waiting for the two to answer, he slowly moved his inflexible legs and walked towards his own house next door with the door open.

In the slow movements of the old man, Ye Jian and Dong Xiang naturally had time to say a few more words, but they didn't know what to say for a long time because they were not used to the pure kindness of others.

On the one hand, he felt that such a soup made by such a lonely old man should not be made, and Dong Xiang couldn't drink it; but on the other hand, he couldn't bear to reject this old lady who cared about her.

Ye Jian frowned slightly and looked back at the helpless handsome girl, rubbing her fingers against the body of the pot a few times to hold it more stably, and took a step over the shallow threshold, the clear boyish voice hit the wall of the corridor Ethereal echoes.

"Grandma, thank you, I will send the pot back to you after we finish drinking."

Taking one step at a time, the old man who was about to turn into the door suddenly paused, turned his head and saw a smile that was not so good-looking due to his old age, and a slightly harsh hoarse voice squeezed out of his throat, but it made people feel uncomfortable. Ye Jian felt a rare warmth in his heart: "It's okay, there's no rush, just send it back when you have time. I'll go back first, old lady."

As he spoke, he hunched over and slowly walked into the house.

The door closed with a "bang", but it bounced open due to too little strength. There were two hoarse coughs of "cough cough", followed by another "bang".

Finally hit it.

There was silence in the corridor.

Only the dim light fell from overhead.

A few seconds later, Ye Jian retracted the leg that was going to help close the door, turned around and returned to Dong Xiang's house with the pot in hand.

Putting the pot on the shoe rack aside, the rich aroma of the broth leaked through the cracks in the lid.

Elegantly leading the door, the blond boy raised Cuibi's eyes and looked gently at Dong Xiang who was leaning against the wall.

The girl with dark blue hair and messy hair raised her head and looked at the pale ceiling blankly, as if she was thinking about something, until Ye Jian picked up the pot again, she kept her back against the wall and turned her head to look at Ye Jian , Confusion was clearly visible in the big sharp eyes of the past: "Maybe..."

The voice was rubbing in the throat, with a little flustered: "Mr. Ye Jian, your approach is correct..."

"Of course it is correct."

Ye Jian didn't look at her, and walked into the house with the pot, and the words flowed into Dong Xiang's delicate ears like a handful of clear springs: "If you feel that you owe her, then you should pay more attention to this old woman, old man There must be a lot of inconvenient times for people to live in.”

The small black iron pot was placed firmly on the table in the bedroom, and the thin lips were still open and closed: "People help each other, each takes what they need, no one owes anyone else, but feelings are born like this. It's human connection."

The flat voice spoke of things he had never actually done himself.

"Of course." Turning her blond-haired head back to Dong Xiang who was staring blankly at him, "it's also the first step for ghouls to coexist peacefully with humans."

The pale golden eyelashes, which seemed to be condensed by the thin sunlight, trembled slightly, and the corners of the eyes narrowed into soft folds.

A warm and indifferent smile like the winter sun is reflected in Dong Xiang's eyes, and even the clear and gentle voice has a touch of warmth: "Please believe me, you will like this feeling, Ms. Kirishima."

The dark blue eyes fluctuated slightly like the surface of a lake blown by the breeze.

Then there was a voice with a thick nasal voice, full of emotions that moistened the eye sockets.

"Okay. See you tonight, teacher."

116 Kirishima Touka's Heart Is Not Human ([-])

See you tonight, teacher.

Dong Xiang silently recited the title again in her heart.