[Comprehensive British and American] After the mage traveled through the super British world

Clark rubbed his head, feeling a little confused about Cyril's sudden thank you, "You're welcome, it's just a cup of coffee."

Xi Ruier bit the straw, looked down, thick eyelashes covered the waves in his eyes, his voice was very soft: "You know that's not what I want to thank."

Clark fell silent, the rich milk froth in the mocha coffee spread in his mouth, but his taste buds passed over the sweet milk, and accurately captured the burnt bitterness produced when the coffee was roasted.

"I didn't do it because you were the one who said this plan. I just think that there is really no other way now. So you don't have to thank me for this."

Cyril: "That's not what I'm thankful for."

Clark was confused: "What is that?"

"Probably thank you for being by my side all the time." Cyril put down the paper cup in her hand and shook it. The coffee in it had already bottomed out. "Didn't you say there are gifts for me? I'm looking forward to it."

Clark got up quickly, "Follow me, you have to go outside to see it."

Curious, Cyril followed behind the big man step by step, passed through all kinds of high-tech instruments in the Fortress of Solitude, and came to the gate.

He watched as Clark pushed open the door and walked out, squatted down, moved the carpet in front of the door, and picked up the key embedded in the ground to lock the door.

"I remember the last time Lex Luthor sneaked into the Fortress of Solitude and took your blood sample." Cyril was a little speechless, "You put the key like this now?"

Clark locked the door, put the key back into the small hole in the ground, covered it with a carpet, raised his head and smiled: "I rebuilt this key after that incident, using materials from the dwarf star, It weighs 50 tons. So don't worry."

Cyril: "..."

It's really a simple and effective method.

The whiteness outside is blindingly bright, and the wind howls on the vast Antarctic Plateau, engulfed in dry and rough snow particles, and slaps people's faces vigorously.Xi Ruier took a step forward, was blown by the wind, did not stand firm, but staggered.

Clark put his arms around his shoulders and pulled the belt around him.

In this severe cold of more than minus 40 degrees, the elf, who has always been hypothermic, feels a little warm to the touch.

Neither of them flew up, there seemed to be a subtle tacit understanding, they were just trudging through the wind and snow on foot.

In this desolate place, only the whistling wind can be heard. After a long time, it makes people feel quiet, so quiet that one can hear the sound of one's own heartbeat and blood flowing through the walls of blood vessels.

Clark walked with Cyril for about 10 minutes, from the front door of the Fortress of Solitude to the diagonally rear not far away, where Clark surrounded an open space with the simplest fence.

The area is not large, only about [-] square meters.

Inside is a piece of brilliant gold, which blooms in the wild polar snowfield. These unknown plants are rooted in the hard ice layer, and the dark green branches and leaves cling to the ground tightly, seeping into it in strands and strands, entangled.From a distance, it looks like a network of human veins growing abruptly in the white ice.

Although the shape of the rhizomes looks strangely beautiful, their blooming flowers are the purest gold, like gold without impurities, and like the hot sun at noon.These flowers are silently blooming, and each petal is covered with the small garden specially opened by Clark. It is isolated from the depths of Antarctica where no one has set foot, like a treasure waiting for explorers to discover.

Cyril can almost imagine how Clark inserted a wooden fence here, then planted the seeds with his own hands, and took care of them slowly when he was free, so that the current landscape was gradually formed.

"This is an outer space plant that can grow in extremely cold and arid environments," Clark said softly. "The first time I saw it, I thought they matched the color of your eyes and hair very well."

Cyril's eyes were originally attracted by this overly beautiful gift, but when she heard Clark's words, she turned her head in surprise.

The gazes of the two were raised and lowered, and they met at this moment, and each of them could clearly see the meaning in each other's eyes.

The wind and snow isolated everything from the outside world, and the underweight elf was still pulling Clark's clothes to prevent it from being blown away by the wind. He suddenly looked away, and his tone was a little uncertain: "Clark, I didn't know you did this for me." Is it worth doing."

Clark: "There is nothing worth it, I just think they should belong to you, so I brought them back and planted them here. I may not be able to give you other more expensive gifts, as long as you don't feel disappointed."

"How can you be disappointed, I really like it," Shrill shook her head, and retorted, "There is no better gift than this."

The few strands of black curly hair on Clark's forehead were disobedient, and they were blown wildly by the wind. The smile in his eyes made his face look extremely lively.

This scene was imprinted in Cyril's mind, and it seemed that he would never forget it for the rest of his life.

"You should know what I want to say." Clark seemed a little embarrassed. His Adam's apple rolled up and down, but suddenly got stuck. After a long time, he finally said, "I like you, do you feel it?"

Seeing his slightly clumsy appearance, Cyril couldn't help laughing out loud: "I feel it."

Hearing Cyril's laughter, Clark became embarrassed instead.Although the normal state of the elves is asexual, basically they don't have such things as partners, so they are very slow in love, but Clark has no emotional usefulness except for a few girls who silently fell in love with during adolescence. experience.

And Cyril is obviously more difficult to guess than adolescent girls.

The two older virgins looked at each other.

"Then, do you have any ideas?" Clark thought for a while before continuing to ask.

"I?"

"It's because you know that I like you, are you going to reject me or..."

Xi Ruier was a little stunned: "If I don't reject you, are we still together?"

Clark was also in a trance: "It should be."

After much deliberation, Xi Ruier said solemnly: "Then I'd better reject you."

Clark's bright eyes dimmed with this refusal, he lowered his head, concealed his loss, and whispered, "I see."

Seeing Clark's disappointed and sad expression, Cyril was also a little flustered. He quickly waved his hands and explained, "I don't want to reject you... I just don't think we should be together right now."

Clark was dizzy, he felt a little happy, and seemed even sadder: "Why?"

"When two people become partners together, it should bind the future together." Cyril carefully chose his words, trying to make his words clear, "but as long as the undead are still there, I will be a person without a future. I am afraid of your future." It’s not worth the effort in the end. Besides...you don’t agree with many of my ideas and actions, and I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you in the future. After all, as a partner, you always have to bear more things than comrades and friends, no ?"

Although he has tried his best to express his thoughts, the knowledge system about "love" in Xi Ruier's heart is just hearsay. In the end, even he himself doesn't know what nonsense he is talking about.

Clark thought seriously about what Cyril said. He seemed to understand a little bit, but he didn't quite understand it. In the end, he only caught one important point.

"You mean...if there were no undead and everything in the world was normal, you wouldn't reject me, right?"

Cyril nodded with difficulty: "Yes."

Clark suddenly felt aggrieved: "But you took the initiative to kiss me that time."

The elf, who was a little dazed by this sudden confession, was stunned for a moment, and said a scumbag: "I... I may have been impulsive at the time."

It was good that Clark didn't mention the kiss, but after mentioning it, the two of them couldn't help but recall the feeling at that time, and their mouths were a little dry.

"So...Even if you kissed me, it doesn't mean we are together, right?" Clark frowned, and asked the bottom line.

Xi Ruier really didn't know how to answer, so he could only shake his head up and down mechanically.

Before the elves returned to their usual social level and said something to relieve the strange atmosphere, Clark's hand on his side suddenly stretched out, pinched Cyril's waist, and pulled the two of them closer. distance.

Superman lowered his head, and his lips were still warm and soft in the cold wind.

His movements were very sudden, but also very gentle, slowly pressing the elf's tightly closed lips, probing little by little, relying on the male instinct, wanting to pry open the other's hard and white teeth, to suck sweeter thing.

Cyril was completely stunned there, and the whole person was thrown into Clark's broad and powerful chest. The other hand held his waist with one hand, and the other hand wrapped around his shoulder from behind, airtightly Bring him into your sphere of influence.

In the extremely cold environment, Clark's normal body temperature was extraordinarily warm.Cyril felt that she was being scalded, her cheeks were hot, and the hot feeling was connected together, and her pointed ears were burned red.

He struggled slightly and found that Clark's biting of his lower lip stopped, but he still held him tightly.

The elf felt that his heart was also burning. He blushed and hesitated for a moment. The fingers that had been pulling Clark's clothes climbed up his back little by little. The light pink nails were illuminated by the sun, reflecting a faint light.

Clark's latissimus dorsi tensed when Cyril's fingers touched it.

—

After the end of this friendly afternoon coffee, which was supposed to be a meeting between comrades in arms after hard battles and difficult compromises, it turned into an embarrassing scene of unexplained dating and confession. Cyril returned to the own office.

He was still in a trance until he sat in his seat.

Looking at the golden flower in her white porcelain vase, Cyril fell into deep thought.

So... did he reject Clark or agree to him?

But before he could come up with a reason, the complicated work was thrown over him, extinguishing the newborn thoughts.

Sol, who was delegated by Odin to take over and dock with the earth, got busy after the memory was over, and began to go to Asgard with the two companies with the highest ranking in wealth in the United States, in order to arrange for the millions of people who are about to wake up. Asgardian warriors prepare.

In this regard, Cyril also contacted some politicians who had connections with him and traded behind him, and wanted to introduce some bills, and at the same time prepare for the formal establishment of diplomatic relations and alliance between Earth and Asgard.

It wasn't until three full days of continuous rotation that the sleepless Chief Sirel finally finalized this matter.

But before he could go home for a rest, or go to the cafeteria to eat something, Dr. Hannibal suddenly called, saying that he had the latest research results to report.

Xi Ruier only had time to move the back of the chair after sitting for a whole afternoon, drank a glass of water to moisten his throat, and then returned to work.

He changed into a black suit and a long windbreaker made of light material, walked out of the office on the top floor, took the elevator, and came directly to the Institute of Undead Psychology on the 21st floor.

New York is already hot in spring, and this temperature is the most comfortable for Cyril. Looking at the green shade downstairs outside the window, the elf suddenly feels better.

The Institute of Undead Psychology sounds harmless to humans and animals, but it is one of the places with the highest level of secrecy in the "Bright" base, because there are many completely undead infected people held here as experimental subjects.

Enter dynamic password, detect iris and DNA.

Walking out of this morning's meeting with constant disputes and a heavy atmosphere, Cyril, who felt that she had a new look, walked into the laboratory that was guarded by layers of guards.

Dr. Hannibal was waiting for the officer in his office early, and there were stacks of documents and materials neatly arranged on the desktop.

The authoritative figure in the field of psychology is holding a sketchbook, drawing some indistinct lines on it, with a smile on the corner of his mouth.

There was a knock on the door outside, Hannibal closed the sketchbook, got up and opened the door himself, and led Cyril in and sat down.

His office is not the same as Cyril's concise and generous, the light is dim, covered with thick woolen carpets, and the tall bookcases even require stepping on a ladder to reach the books on the top floor.

"Your decoration here is very good." Cyril looked around and praised sincerely. "I didn't expect that in such a short period of time, you not only finished the decoration of the office, but also produced the research results."

Hannibal's dark blond hair was pomaded, and he wore a navy blue three-piece suit that fit perfectly. With a polite and gentle smile in his deep eyes, he looked like a decent European gentleman.

He said humbly: "It can only be said that I have accumulated a lot of knowledge. Before I came here, I had already studied the subject of undead for a long time. I would also like to thank you for giving me the opportunity to enter the 'Light' to continue my research."

Xi Ruier came and went with him and exchanged a few polite greetings.

Then, he asked, "Can you briefly talk about the research results of your team?"

The sharp-eyed elf had already spotted the documents on the table, and was curious about what this scholar and doctor with extensive knowledge had researched, and it was worthy of his face-to-face report.

Hannibal leaned over and pushed the thinnest-looking document in front of Cyril, "The results of this research may be subversive, breaking our previous understanding of the undead, even you will think Incredible."

Cyril took out the document and read it carefully.

To be honest, he didn't quite understand it.

As a typical liberal arts student, if he is given Middle English or even Latin, he can read fluently, but this kind of scientific knowledge that needs to be cultivated in a systematic way is completely in his blind spot.

Xi Ruier rubbed his eyes helplessly: "My eyes are dazzled."

Hannibal thoughtfully poured him a cup of black tea and put it in front of him, and took the initiative to introduce: "As for the difference between low-level undead and high-level undead, our previous cognition has always been based on 'whether self-awareness is produced', but I found that there is also a big difference between the low-level undead."

Cyril did not subdivide the difference between the low-level undead scientifically, so he also raised his ears and listened carefully.

"Although in terms of combat strength, the gap between the low-level undead is negligible. However, after countless controlled experiments, we found that there are some low-level undead, because the power of the undead contained in them is too rare. They can only kill humans, but they cannot infect humans with their own undead power alone. I call them basic infected people."

"Basic infected?"

Although this research sounds groundbreaking, it doesn't seem to help the current situation. Cyril's intuition told him that Hannibal must have discovered something even more remarkable.

"Through behavior modification and reflex training, the basic infection has a 40.00% chance of being cured. With the maturity of the treatment method, the cure rate will continue to increase."

Hearing this sentence, Cyril's pupils suddenly constricted.

The author has something to say: Try to be thick and long...

—

Clark: You can kiss without being together, but you said it yourself