Tokyo: The life of a literary giant begins with home self-defense!

Chapter 15 All writers have some quirks

Longchuan Che has beautiful handwriting.

This is what Mrs. Takeda realized when he started writing.

He was wearing a clean shirt with a white collar folded out from the somewhat crudely made fur collar. The golden tip of the pen slid across the empty white paper, leaving some arrogant handwriting like a shining sword.

The calligraphy is very beautiful, with a flavor of the "Feng Xin Tie" by Kūkai.

Japan also has copybooks and calligraphy, and Mrs. Takeda once sent Takeda Akane to learn it.

pity.

Her daughter has good grades in science, but her handwriting is as shabby as chicken feet.

Mrs. Takeda looked at her daughter with some anger. Takeda Akane pouted in dissatisfaction and glared at Ryukawa Toru.

She still didn't believe that Longchuan Che could become a writer. The girl snorted coldly and lowered her head to do her own paper.

Both of them were busy with their own things, and Mrs. Takeda was quietly peeling her oranges.

The thing she had just peeled was snatched away by Longchuan Che, and she didn't dare to say a word.

Thinking about giving the little bastard a lesson after getting the agreement back, Mrs. Takeda suddenly looked at Ryukawa Toru with some suspicion.

It felt like someone touched me just now.

It must be an illusion, Mrs. Takeda continued to peel the orange.

'The man in the mirror only looks calm when he looks at the girl's chest'

As Ryukawa Toru wrote this, he placed his hand on Mrs. Takeda's thigh.

After a while, he felt someone holding his hand.

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Takeda squeezed Ryukawa Toru's hand to make sure that the little bastard was touching her across the kotatsu table.

"I'm writing a novel." Longchuan Che looked at his wife innocently and pinched her hard with his dog paws.

From his perspective, the woman was sitting upright.

Some tight sweaters highlight her beautiful body lines.

From top to bottom, the back is straight, with a graceful arc sinking at the waist.

Her waist is very thin, but her heart-shaped buttocks that press against her ankles are full and perky.

Although he was sitting upright, he naturally formed an exaggerated S shape.

Longchuan Che had never seen a woman who could be called a beauty more than her. Her peach-like charm could not be concealed.

"Write a novel, you"

Mrs. Takeda couldn't help but snort halfway through her speech.

Both of them paused, looked up at Takeda Akane who was still quietly doing her homework, and then continued their conversation.

"Why are you touching me while I'm writing a novel?" Takeda Takako gritted her teeth.

"Hugo likes to be naked when he writes," Longchuan Che smiled and wandered on his wife's thighs.

"German writer Marquez liked to place a yellow rose beside him when he was writing, Hemingway liked to stand on one foot when he was writing, and Friedrich Schiller always had some rotten apples in his desk drawer."

As Longchuan Tetsu spoke, he observed the difference between his wife and just now.

at this time.

The wife's peach-like buttocks were still pressed on her delicate little feet.

But the buttocks are slightly raised and the soles of the feet are gently curled up.

The round and smooth toes were neatly arranged like a row of pomegranate seeds, while the soles of the feet were tightly curled up as if stimulated and were faintly red.

"So what?" Mrs. Takeda really wanted to stand up and question Ryukawa Toru, but she couldn't because her daughter was around.

"So in order for me to write good works, I have to put my wife in a difficult position."

Longchuan Che recalled that his situation was called a child-previous crime.

However, considering its literary and artistic qualities, I decided to call it inspiration.

The seeds of art took root in Mrs. Takeda's body. Mrs. Takeda's straight back slowly bent. She first gritted her teeth and looked at Longchuan, then secretly looked at her daughter. Takeda Akane deduced mathematical formulas and was immersed in the ocean of knowledge.

"Ryukawa Tetsu, you liar"

Before Takeda Takako could finish her words, she felt Ryukawa Toru's dog paws pinching her thigh even harder.

"Hmm~"

Takeda Takako gnashed out a moan louder than before from between her teeth.

"What's the matter with you, mother?"

Finally being disturbed, Takeda Akane looked up and looked at Mrs. Takeda, who was hunched over, with confusion.

The woman's left hand was on the table, half-hugging her body, one hand covering her mouth, her body trembling slightly, as if she was enduring something.

"Maybe it's too cold?"

Longchuan Che took over the conversation with a smile.

Although Mrs. Takeda looks a bit plump, her thighs feel firm and elastic, and you can tell at the touch that they are well-maintained.

"Yes, it's a bit cold."

Mrs. Takeda's hand rested softly on Ryukawa Toru's wrist.

She didn't have the strength to stop the other party at this moment. After Long Chuan Che's pinch, she felt something numbing along her coccyx all the way to the top of her head.

Her body was soft and she couldn't exert any strength, and the hand on the boy's wrist made it seem like she was leading him to take advantage of her.

The shame and excitement of being stared at by her daughter made Mrs. Takeda bury her face in her arms after she said she felt a little cold, as if she was avoiding something, or as if she was really trying to keep warm.

Takeda Akane looked at the still burning fireplace, and then at her mother who had slumped over beside the table.

"Wait until the snow stops and bring back some more firewood." Takeda Akane looked at Ryukawa Toru with an expression that said, "Why are you so short-sighted?"

My mother has always been dignified and polite, but this time she fell down in a somewhat unbecoming manner.

It seems to be really cold.

Longchuan Toru half-lowered his eyes and hummed softly, his hand slowly slid along the curve of the woman's legs to Mrs. Takeda's small feet.

He himself is not a foot fetishist, but Mrs. Takeda's feet are so beautiful.

Neatly trimmed nails and cute toes lined up neatly.

Longchuan Che took the rare opportunity to absorb inspiration.

He played with the woman's feet with his left hand and wrote slowly with his right hand.

This is Longchuan's writer's habit.

"Damn you. You're a pervert."

Mrs. Takeda tilted her head slightly towards Ryukawa Toru.

Her eyes were filled with tears at this moment, and she looked a bit fragile like a young girl.

Longchuan Che raised his eyebrows.

The ancients talked about wind, flowers, snow and moon.

The great scholar Su Dongpo said, "The delicate beauty must be seen from the palm of your hand."

How can the affairs of intellectuals be described as lascivious and perverted?

This is called romantic.

Yes, romantic.

Thinking of this, Longchuan Che drew horizontal lines on several paragraphs on the manuscript paper.
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As Shimamura looked at it, he realized that the finger seemed to only remember the woman he was going to meet later.

The more he chewed on these words, the more he felt the rare delicacy and beauty in them, Long Chuan Che exclaimed.

Lao Chuan never lied to me.

(End of this chapter)