white

I was killing the time, and time was killing us.

……

White, pure white that fills the entire space.

It was as if the whole city sank into the extremely cold seabed with a groan. The extreme low temperature condensed the silent morning mist into ashes, freezing this room forever.The pure white chandeliers, pure white curtains and bed sheets, pure white and thick carpets, and the sunlight reflected on the white walls through the blinds are like seeing through the water, isolating the last trace of warmth in the world.

Mikazuki Zongjin put down his handbag and focused his eyes on the only color in the room.The thick pink-purple mist smudges from the horizon of the bay, mixed with honey-like sweetness, and dyes the small town under the twilight from the lonely fields to the ancient churches with intoxicating blush.

It was a painting, it was nailed to the drawing board, silent in front of Tsurumaru Kuninaga's bed.

Some colors are always good, otherwise it will always remind him of hospitals or mourning halls, places full of discomfort.

"Ah, suddenly appearing in front of me like this really scared me."

A voice with a smile that was different from what he had imagined came, and the boy lazily got up from the soft quilt, his hair scattered messily around the collar of his unbuttoned white pajamas, revealing a large piece of snow-white skin.The immature body is thin and thin, like the cold and gentle morning mist outside the window, which may dissipate in the noon sun at any time.

"I walked in by myself when I saw the door was open. I'm sorry to disturb you." He smiled politely as usual. "It's the first time we meet. My name is Mikazuki Zongjin. Your... can be regarded as a teacher. If you don't mind, you You can also call me Sanriyue."

Tsurumaru squinted his eyes at him.From the black socks in stark contrast to the snow-white carpet, to the slender legs covered by suit trousers, the meticulously trimmed tie, and finally the eyes stopped at the crescent pattern printed on the dark pupils,

"You look much better than in the picture."

Then he randomly scratched his silver-white forehead hair, and his slender feet landed silently, like a white flower gently floating on the water, "Then Mr. Sanriyue, please come with me, and I will take you to familiarize yourself with the environment here—— um , I hope you won't be scared, after all, this is a recognized haunted house."

The stairs are like hideous wounds precisely split by a knife blade, leading to the trembling texture inside, the veins of jet-black blood pouring out continuously, and the heart slowly and truly walking towards death.This house looks like an old man who is dying, every inch of skin and bones are cracking.The wooden floor creaked and shook under his feet, and Mikazuki subconsciously grabbed Tsurumaru's hand, which felt as cold as snow to the touch.

"Since it's a serious illness...it doesn't matter if you don't go to the hospital and hire me, who is useless except for painting?"

Walking in the terribly silent corridor, everything in the house is the same as their owner, and the eyes are swollen by the too pure and innocent white.

Tsurumaru blinked, the skin on his face was almost translucent under the dim light, "I have admired Mr. Mikazuki's paintings for a long time, and I will regret it in life if I spend time in such a place but don't see you."

"Thank you," San Riyue responded politely, "I am honored to receive such affirmation."

Sanri Yuezongjin, a talented painter who has shined in the art world in recent years.Even though modern photography technology is gradually impacting and replacing the ancient art of painting, the colors unique to Sanriyue's pens are like the bright red fruits on the top of mistletoe, so fantastic and romantic that they cannot be replaced.His paintbrush is like a miracle infused with the gift of the gods, weaving one after another gorgeous and beautiful dreams.

He is like an inexhaustible spring, every cell and pore collects and stores countless strange and magnificent scenes, and then bursts like fireworks under his pen, laying out the exquisite ashes into impeccable art Taste.

For such boasting and pursuit, he didn't care so much.

"There's the kitchen, well, the bathroom is in the corner behind the stairs, and there's one on the second floor too, but it's broken sometimes. This is the guest room, oops...it hasn't been used for too long, and there might be something weird living in it." Crouching down, Tsurumaru put his eyes close to the broken keyhole, and suddenly bounced back as if frightened, and hit Mikazuki, "It really scared me... Let's go downstairs and have a look. Maybe, for me You will be very interested in the collection."

The door of the basement opened in front of you, with a smell of decay and dampness, reminiscent of a coffin covered with moss, sacrificial roses grew wildly in the dark crevices, and sharp thorns penetrated deep into the bones of the dead, opening Out of evil and monstrous black flowers.Tsurumaru Kuninaga squeezed Mikazuki's hand like a prank, and his thin and hard nails were printed on his palm, "Don't worry, it's not a morgue. But whether there are ghosts in it... I can't say for sure."

They went all the way down the stairs, the light in the basement was even weaker than the upstairs, and in this dim to hazy environment, Sanriyue saw the most incredible scenery in his life.

On both sides of the stairs, there are countless exquisitely framed paintings hanging densely.

Every painting, like a coral reef in the deep sea, sleeps peacefully in the flickering lights, or it is a delicate oil painting, or a scribbled sketch, like a museum showroom, closed forever in the dark Mouth.San Riyue felt that what he was looking at was not the painting, but the countless souls attached to the painting paper—the fate was too heavy but the soul was too light, and the weight of life that the painting paper could not bear was nakedly presented in these pictures come out.

The reason why art is appreciated by the world is mostly because they beautify the ordinary or ugly things.However, these paintings boldly use bold colors and high-strength lines, under the strong sensory stimulation, the ferocious wounds and bloody misery on the canvas can be seen at a glance.Tsurumaru Kuninaga's paintings have such an impact, perhaps because they are so real that they are hard to look at.

Tsurumaru stopped in front of a painting, on which was a child with hollow blue eyes as glassy and lifeless, with chapped lips slightly parted, holding a dead cat in his hand, and a bundle of flowers behind him. Swirling gray smoke was whining into the dim sky.

"The child in this painting died later. After he returned to his home that was bombed into ruins, he found only strangled pets. You know, that country has been at war for many years, and was quietly killed by his parents. There are more children abandoned at home than you can imagine."

People are always so selfish... Abandoning their children in the ruins of the war in order to escape, the emotions between people are always vulnerable in times of adversity.Mikazuki sighed, and continued to follow Tsurumaru down.

"Hey, this is my favorite work, isn't it beautiful?" Tsurumaru playfully pointed to a painting with very rich colors. On the picture is a woman's body, soft and plump, with golden-brown curly hair flowing like a spring Spreading it out, the key parts were covered by delicate red silk cloth, like clumps of bloody roses blooming on her body.In stark contrast to her delicate figure, the woman's face was unpainted, shy and pure, like a young girl in love. "She is a slut I met in the slums. At first I asked her to remove her makeup, but she didn't agree. She felt like someone was spying on her real self. Who knew, the effect was unexpectedly good." Tsurumaru used She tapped the girl's face in the painting with her fingertips, "She should be very happy with such a portrait. She was tortured to death by a grotesque person. Who knows, there are no people in such dark places as slums. But some People, don’t even think about going out for the rest of your life.”

Sanriyue was silent, only the breathing of the two of them remained in the air, and countless pairs of eyes on the wall silently watched them rushing in.

Tsurumaru stopped in front of a picture again, and then he suddenly smiled, his already beautiful and delicate face bloomed like early cherry blossoms with his curved golden eyes. "Ah, this one is a bit scribbled, but in such an environment, there's nothing I can do about it."

That painting is an ordinary family photo. A pair of parents and three young children are sitting on a couch, dressed in fancy clothes. But what is different from ordinary group photos is that the people in the picture are all faceless. The expression seemed to be fixed by something.The tone of the whole picture is only gray and dark brown, and the dark clouds in the background are sinking densely, making it suffocating.Mikazuki was so engrossed that he didn't feel that Tsurumaru let go of his hand to touch the painting. "It's strange, isn't it? This family is actually dead. It's just for the portrait, it was temporarily supported by a bracket to complete the final reunion. The smell of the corpse is really... I was wearing a gas mask at the time, after all, this family They died from the plague, and there are thousands of families who also died in the plague, but they are considered nobles and have the financial resources to hire painters."

Sanriyue nodded, glanced at the countless paintings around her, and suddenly said, "These you painted are the portraits of everyone?"

Tsurumaru raised a finger to his lips in a silent gesture.

"Shh, don't disturb them to sleep,"

"If the sleeping soul hears it, I can't guarantee what will happen next. This house will be haunted. Mr. Sankayue, you must have heard of it before you came, right?"

When he received the anonymous letter and saw the address written in beautiful cursive characters, many rumors about the house began to appear in Sankai Yuezong's mind.Some people say that all the decorations in the ancient house with a history of hundreds of years are blindingly white, even the cobwebs in the corners or the dust accumulated over the years are pale colors that are not favored by the sun.

And in the basement of this ancient house that no one dares to pry into, lives a red ghost.

Whenever night falls, all the white-covered places in this building will bleed.

From the fine grain of the wooden floor, from the gap between the white tiles and the wall, and from every woven fiber of the thick wool carpet.The bright red blood gushes out continuously like a needle point piercing the skin, until it connects into a slowly surging river, flowing steadily and powerfully along the blood vessels of the lingering old house... until it covers all the pure white, Be a hell of blood and carnage.

And when the sky is about to light up, all those blood will gather in one place, pass through the gap in the basement door, and disappear into the eternal darkness.

"Sounds a lot like the legend of vampires." San Riyue laughed.

They didn't go to the end of the ladder.Tsurumaru bounced and walked down for a while, took off a painting from the wall, and then jumped back to himself.

"Okay, we got the things, let's go back." Tsurumaru took his hand again, maybe because the cold air in the ground was too heavy, his body temperature seemed to be lower than before.Sankayue was a little surprised at his familiarity, but compared to these, he was more surprised that Tsurumaru, who looked young, had traveled to so many places, and even had so many experiences that ordinary people could not imagine.

Sanriyue Zongjin couldn't understand why such a person would choose to spend the last period of his life in a dark old house, and why he chose to accompany him by himself.

The painting that Tsurumaru brought back was a blank sheet of paper.

It was well preserved in a quaint picture frame, and Tsurumaru placed it in front of the window, standing shoulder to shoulder with the light purple dusk that was not yet dry.

"Mr. Sanriyue, the reason I invited you here is that I want you to paint the last portrait of my life."

The innocence of the boy's unique voice is full of indescribable charm, which is a force majeure that cannot be disobeyed.He looked at the clock in the room and said in surprise, "Ah, it's time for dinner so soon, I'm so hungry."

"Well, what did you eat before?"

"Takeaway..." Tsurumaru lazily rubbed his temples, "but I don't want to eat today."

Before that, Sanriyue never thought that she would cook in person one day.When I was in the gallery, the three meals a day were brought back by that guy Xiaohumaru.Even if I go out to collect folk songs, I'm still in a local tavern or someone's house... In this way, I also eat takeaway every day.

Tsurumaru's house is exceptionally clean, even the kitchen, it doesn't look like he lives alone.Sanriyue suddenly thought of the red ghost when she was looking for kitchen utensils, and then those desperate and weird paintings in the basement appeared before her eyes.

People of this age think too much.He couldn't help shaking his head when he scooped out the miso soup. He doesn't know how to take care of others, so I hope he doesn't dislike it.

But when he returned to the room with his lunch, what he saw was Tsurumaru Kuninaga lying on the ground with his eyes closed, lifeless.

It happened so suddenly that Mikazuki Zongjin was still wearing slippers when he was sitting on the hospital bench.The lights in the emergency room were still on, and he was in such a hurry when he went out that he didn't even bring Tsurumaru's cell phone with him, so he couldn't contact his family at this time.

He flipped through his cell phone address book over and over again, feeling upset and not knowing who to call.He has always been calm, but now he is irritable for no reason, and even has the urge to rush into the emergency room.

The invitation letter stated that he would die soon, but Sankayue didn't even know what kind of disease he was.

"Family, please sign. The operation will start immediately." The doctor's cold gaze caused him to look up. He just wanted to explain that he hadn't contacted his family, but the doctor answered plainly, "This patient is a regular visitor here." .He has no family members. If you are his friend, you can sign it."

When Sanriyue signed her name, she was more depressed than surprised.

He sat on a bench outside the operating room all day.It was not until late at night that the doctor came out of the operating room to tell him that he could visit.

Tsurumaru Kuninaga on the hospital bed was even more haggard than when he first saw him, his thin body seemed to be trapped in the narrow bed, as thin as a piece of paper.The beautiful and pale face is lifeless, like a paper flower that has been soaked and broken by the wind and rain, losing its original vivid color.Sanriyue Zongjin felt that his heart was being pulled by an unknown force, and he knew what he was afraid of.

At this moment, the pair of golden eyes that were tightly closed suddenly opened, Tsurumaru couldn't help laughing, and it was only when the laughter echoed in the empty ward that Mikazuki realized that he had been tricked.

"Oh, oh, I'm sorry for scaring you," his voice sounded a little tired because of his weakness, "but I'm a little surprised that you can come."

"It's good that Crane is fine. Sending patients to the hospital is what you should do as an escort, so don't worry about it." Sanri Yue Zongjin straightened the quilt for him, and smiled politely like him before, "Your physical condition, you still need to stay in the hospital. Hospitals are better, but it’s dangerous at home.”

"Oh? Mr. Mikazuki hopes that something will happen to me at home." A sly look flashed in Tsurumaru's eyes, like a shooting star on a summer night. It would be a surprise to stop breathing in my own bed this morning. I'm a dying man."

After saying this, he yawned, and then grabbed the person standing in front of him with his cold hands.

"Hey, Mr. Mikazuki, it's getting late, do you mind accompanying me?" Tsurumaru blinked, "At this time, there will be... a red ghost appearing at home."

Sanriyue would politely refuse many things, but there was nothing she could do about him.This boy seems to be able to grasp his weakness easily, even the story he told about the red ghost, as an atheist, he can't help but believe it, right?

Therefore, when Tsurumaru wanted to be discharged from the hospital and go home, he couldn't find a reason to refuse.

It's a big deal to take care of him more in the future... Anyway, he won't leave here until the portrait is finished.

But for that painting, he couldn't think of how to write it anyway.It is like a bottomless well, devouring his endless inspiration greedily, washing his brain into a blank.

But the strange thing is that he doesn't feel disgusted at all by this feeling.

Tsurumaru was carried back to the house by Mikazuki, he was as light as a feather, and seemed to dissipate when the wind blows.And the cold body temperature is more like a flower bud wrapped in ice and snow in the cold night, it seems that it may die at any time.He fell into a deep sleep, clutching the corner of his clothes tightly on the road, and didn't even let go when he returned to the bedroom.

Sankaiyue felt that Tsurumaru was like the thick fog outside the window that would never go away, and there were countless mysteries about him.Sankaiyue was leaning on the bed with Tsurumaru grabbing the corner of his clothes, the whole bed was filled with a faint bitterness of medicine.Have you been sick for a long time?How much courage does a person need to be able to travel around calmly when he knows that his life is not long, and draw the last stroke of life for everyone who is about to die.

Cool hands climbed up his waist through a thin layer of shirt, and the boy's breath spread evenly on the side of his face. He was really an extremely insecure child, and he was not polite to strangers at all—although he is not considered a stranger now people.Even when Tsurumaru woke up the next morning, he was still in this position, rubbing against the side of his neck twice, like a kitten acting like a spoiled child, innocent yet fatally seductive.

That's why when I paint, I'm always taken away by him.

Although Ben came here as a painting teacher, the painting was just a casually agreed request.He really likes to see Tsurumaru's appearance when he is drawing, it is different from his usual, but his serious expression is just right.When he paints, he seems to put everything aside, with floating stars shining in his eyes, and the tip of his pen precisely pushes away bright or dark color blocks on the drawing paper.

As a world-famous painting, he has appreciated that painting countless times. The most expensive painting in the world today is "Boy with a Pipe".But if you look closely, it is quite different from the original one. The background of the original warm color has been added with a glaze-like blue, but it looks a bit indescribable.Sunlight cuts his back into countless light and dark pieces through the fine window slits. The interlacing of trance light and shadow makes the young man completely melt into the world he described. The image of snow-white back is like the white paint flowing on the canvas. A little bit of oil paint stained is more like a flame rising into the sky in that blank space, burning with the loneliness and emptiness that will never see the sun.

"Ah, I'm laughing. It's a fake, but it doesn't look like the painting at all," Tsurumaru noticed that Mikazuki was standing behind him, and Tsurumaru's gaze was still on the painting, but his face turned to him, and then he signed in the corner of the painting smartly a name.

"No, you draw very well." Sanriyue nodded and said, "Your personal style is very obvious, even if it is an imitation...you can see what you want to express yourself."

It was as if the throat had been cut open by a sharp bone spur, but flowers bloomed from the bleeding wound.

"Life is only a few decades, and I always feel that there are too many things to finish." Tsurumaru glanced at the painting again, and suddenly turned to the back of the painting. The frame was stained magnificently under the rubbing of his fingers stained with paint. "I don't have time to copy all the paintings I like, so I have to draw them hastily. Mr. Sanriyue, do you know the story behind this painting?"