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                                                                    顾烟卷着被子躺下，“恩，我要吃炒饭。”                                                                                                             “恩。”梁飞凡m0m0她的头发，“躺着，好了叫你。”                                                                                                             顾烟眯着眼，心安理得的躺着，点点头。                                                                                                             他轻手轻脚的出去。                                                                                                             嘭！咣当！                                                                                                             顾烟被一阵响声吵醒，好几秒才反应过来，是厨房里的声音。                                                                                                             “飞凡？”她套上t恤，出去看他。                                                                                                             梁飞凡蹲在地上，右手捂着左手。                                                                                                             “怎么了？”她急忙过去，抓他的手来看。                                                                                                             “痛。”梁飞凡低低的说。                                                                                                             “哪里？烫伤了还是划伤了？恩？”她急急的翻看他的手。                                                                                                             锅子扣在地上，炒饭半熟，洒了一地。                                                                                                             “这里。”梁飞凡拉她的手，盖在心口。                                                                                                             顾烟急了，心脏病？                                                                                                             “你别动！我去打电话！”她起身要走，却被他一把拉回。                                                                                                             “不用。”他拉着她的手，贴在自己x口，sisi按住，力气大的好像要把这