man, he looks ugly

The small town of Grasse is the perfume capital of France and even the world. The air is filled with fragrant flowers. Freshly picked petals float in the air with the wind, like an olfactory feast dedicated to the gods.Sufficient sunshine and abundant water make the town full of large and small flower fields. They are colorful, just like pure color blocks smeared on the paint plate.

Hyacinth, daffodil, jasmine, lavender, longevity flower, tuberose, rose... All kinds of flower essential oils on the market can be made from here. Let these flowers gently suffocate, slowly fall into eternal sleep, and then collect the oil and separate it into expensive essential oil.

Each flower has its own flowering period, so people are busy in these colorful flower fields day and night for most of the year. Only in the winter when the flowers wither, people will stay in the barn with various dried flowers and hay, and accompany them. Dancing to music, chatting, partying.

Only at this time, I, who was clumsy in the flower field, could finally give full play to my strengths and play the violin for people.The flower growers here would be surprised at first that a girl would provide the music for the party, but after two years in a row, they got used to me being able to play a tune that suits the occasion at any time when the atmosphere is lively.

At the end of the party, the courier delivered a large pile of letter paper and packages, and was immediately surrounded by waiting people.

"Meg, your letter."

Laura from the next door called my name in her loud voice.

After playing all night, my fingers were almost worn out, and I quickly declined the request for another dance music, put the violin in the case, and squeezed it out of the crowd.

Laura handed me the letter.

Looking at the familiar words on the letter paper, I was excited all night but slightly tired, and still fluctuated again.

I took the letter along the flower field, and walked quickly all the way back to my small wooden house built near the flower field.

The decoration in the room is very simple, an ordinary wooden table, two chairs, and bottles and jars of various essential oils. To be honest, I can only use this small house with my salary of working in the flower field for a year. Keep it like this.

The letter came from Paris. Ever since I left that bustling city, left the sky covered in coal dust, and came under the blue sky of Grasse, being with these flowers seems to have cleansed my soul.

Christine introduced her recent situation with Raul in the letter. For example, her status as a pillar in the opera house has gradually stabilized, and she can also receive good errands for exchange abroad from time to time. Ever since Eric guided her to the holy steps of the music hall In the end, with her hard work, sweat and love support, the road to music became smoother and smoother.

To be honest, I have long seen that there is something wrong between the two of them, but I never thought that Raul is the little boy Christine misses. They have known each other since they were young, but they had to separate due to various reasons such as family background. , met again, despite many hardships, with the persistence of the lovers, the flower of love bloomed more and more brilliantly.

There was not a single word about Eric in the whole letter. Since I escaped from marriage and left Paris, Mrs. Geary and Christine have resolutely protected my information, and they will not take the initiative to mention Eric. They are sure that it must be Eric. Rick did something that hurt me so much that I forgot everything and left right before my engagement.

Of course, another reason may be that they don't know Eric's recent situation.

At the end of the letter, Christine wished to ask for a bottle of perfume I made myself.

After staying in Grasse for more than half a year, I finally learned how to make perfume, playing with these bottles and jars, enjoying the collision and fusion of various wonderful smells in glass bottles, and blending another brand new smell. This kind of creative work makes people willing to indulge in it, and it also provides a new continuation for my life that can no longer dance due to an ankle injury.

I picked a bottle of my best work and started writing this long letter.

A muffled thunder sounded outside the window, indicating that the flower farmers in Grasse were about to start another year of work.

Midsummer, harvest time in Grasse.

Scattered people are scattered in the large lavender fields, and these purple flowers are skillfully cut off with sickles, and children are running around in the fields.

When the sun was hanging in the highest sky, Laura dragged me out of the flower field to rest, and smiled at me with flushed cheeks.

"Meg, I'm getting married."

"real?!"

I know that Laura made a love affair with a young man named Rafa in the town very early on, and I may still feel very happy from the bottom of my heart when I hear the news of their successful cultivation.

"Next Monday, Mom will scent my wedding dress with lavender. Will you come?"

"Of course." As a good friend with Laura, I am obliged to agree.

But there is always a little pain and depression in my heart.

I left Paris, took away my freedom and myself, but left behind my love.

Being busy in the flower fields every day makes me have no free time to think about whether I can fall in love with someone other than Eric again in this life...

In order to hide the tears welling up in my eyes from Lola, I had to turn my eyes to the road next to me.

There was a tall, thin man in tattered clothes walking on the road.

During the harvest season in Grasse, homeless people often come to beg for water and food, hoping that they will be lucky enough to get a job.

This man looked similar to other homeless people, except that he was wearing a worn-out felt hat that covered most of his face.

He stood by the flower field, looking around, as if looking for something.

"Do you need a drink?" I called to him.

This is a very common sentence.

However, this man was as stiff as if he had been hit by a thunderbolt falling from the clear sky. He turned around bluntly, and ran towards me crazily like a puppet guided by witchcraft.

I didn't recognize his face until he ran halfway across the flower field.

This ugly, familiar face, this face keeps me awake at night and makes me throb.

Half angel, half devil.

Laura screamed in fright, clutched my arm tightly, and dragged me backward desperately.

But I struggled to break free from her and ran towards the source of danger, the source of salvation.

The air carried countless lavender pollen across my skin, the wind blew off my straw hat while running, and the hem of my skirt was blown out of shape, and the field was so quiet at noon that I could barely breathe when I was running. Listen clearly, I have to lift the hem of my skirt to break through the fetters of countless lavender branches.

Eric!

Eric!

Eric!

In my humble cabin, Eric and I sat on the only chair in the room and looked at each other.

After so long, Eric still has this dead temper. If I don't ask, he will just sit there stupidly and stare at me hungrily.

In order to alleviate this embarrassment, I had to ask him how he found this place.

After hesitating for a long time, he fumbled out a small bottle of perfume from his clothes and confessed everything.

This bottle looks familiar, it seems to be a bottle of perfume that Christine asked for from me half a year ago.Now it seems that her original intention of taking this bottle of perfume seems to be to pass it on to Eric.

At that time, Eric had lost all his wealth and was penniless.

Most of the city-wide wealth he brought back from the East was donated to the Paris Opera House as a repair fee, and the other part was used as compensation to do good deeds in the name of Christine and Raul.

If the only thing he did during this time that hurt anyone was the Persians.

The Persian was Eric's savior, but he also poisoned him and almost killed him, and wrote a letter to instigate Philip to fight with Eric.If it weren't for Julian's meticulous treatment, Eric would have almost died.

The root cause is the amazing wealth that Eric possessed. When these wealth disappeared, the Persians couldn't bear it, so they sniffed the poisonous perfume they made by themselves and passed away.

Eric told me that he was like an ascetic, wandering on the banks of the Seine, earning copper coins for his livelihood by selling singing. At the Paris Opera House, he could exchange tens of thousands of francs for a good voice, and sometimes he couldn’t even exchange a meal. Fortunately, he can also do various juggling skills, such as ventriloquist, such as magic, and finally earned the travel expenses.

Therefore, when he found me, his beard was prickly, his hair was disheveled, and his body was smelly. He was completely different from the sophisticated man in my memory. No wonder I couldn't recognize him in the flower field.

I had to boil two large pots of boiling water for him to bathe, wash his hair, and scald his lice.

At this point, there was only one room in all, and I had to come out and sit on the low wall outside the room while Eric was bathing in it.

After talking all night, five hundred days and nights apart, we had countless words and things to share and exchange.

The sun is gradually rising from the edge of the endless lavender fields, the orange-red light covers the vast purple fields, the clouds in the sky are slowly turning blue like lavender flowers, and the slowly rising morning wind is like Countless tiny details are pushed like tides.

The flower fields at dawn, this breath-taking scenery, can’t be seen in the urban area of ​​Paris, where there are only countless people, carriages, and streets and buildings lined up.

I believe that Eric will also like it here. His soul yearns to love all beautiful things, such as singing, such as soul, I can't help but chuckle.

Maybe, we will live in the flower fields, away from the luxury and luxury in Paris, read the bustling, support ourselves, sing and play to our heart's content, and spend the best time in each other's lives.

The author has something to say: ╮(╯▽╰)╭, it’s over, I’ve been stuck for a long time, but it’s finally finished~ I’m letting go of my thoughts~