snow maker

From the moment I met him I swore to God that he was going to be the most unique adventure of my life.However, the time it took me to see the truth behind this adventure was too long; in comparison, the "lifetime" I claimed and believed in at the time was too short.

It was snowing heavily on the day I saw him; looking out from the house, it seemed that there was no wind at all outside.There are no pedestrians or traffic, and the sky in the daytime has a very gentle dusk.I walked across an empty row of snow to the square near the university.The fountain in the center of the venue was frozen, and only a little music sounded.I walked around to the side of the statue in the center of the fountain, where the stone dancer's hands were raised gracefully above their heads.

I wondered when the sculpture had been repaired, and it changed its posture silently. After staring at it for a long time, I suddenly realized that there was another figure behind it.

This is the first living person I have seen in this snowy day.The hem of his scarf and coat were thrown back, his arms were outstretched, and a white halo hung over his right hand.Feather-like snowflakes are pouring out of the halo, blowing into the sky with the wind.

I deliberately turned the angle and stared at his sleeve. There really wasn't such a thing as a small flashlight or a blower inside.

"Horse, horse monkey shochu..." I murmured.

He seemed to have just noticed me, and looked towards me, a thin layer of snow fell from the top of his hair.

"What shochu?" He said a little confused.Then he let out a "huh", as if he had thought of something belatedly, and showed a clear smile in the snowy sky.

"You haven't fallen asleep yet. How about it, do you want to consider becoming a snowmaker like me?"

I stood stupidly.Snow particles kept hitting my face, and I forgot to block it.I wasn't sure for a second if I was really standing in the square near the school.

"If you have the identity of a snowmaker," he counted patiently, "fame, a rich life, and even a life span far beyond ordinary people are all within your reach... I am older than you think Big. What are you interested in? What do you want? As the only remaining snowmaker of the No.20 generation, I can definitely fulfill my wish of being the only successor.”

He took back the hand that raised the snow, but the snow hadn't stopped completely.He stretched it out to me again.

He didn't know at the time that he didn't have to say so much to me, and I would put my hand on it in a daze.He also didn't know that all his proposals and promises were not more attractive than his own existence.

"I want an adventure," I said.

"Okay." He said, restrained his smile, and looked into my eyes quietly, "I promise, it will be a grand adventure."

Then we sat side by side, by the dry fountain.The hand of the sculpted dancer was still open high above our heads, and I was a little worried that it would fall off and become a half-armed Venus.

With a bright ideal in Two-dimensional, I cautiously asked him: "Are you a magical girl...boy...?"

He looked at me strangely, as if he didn't understand.

"I'm a craftsman," he said. "Good at making snow," he emphasized.

My unspeakable fantasies about young ladies and long legs were instantly shattered, and the image of a middle-aged artist making clay figurines appeared in front of my eyes.I struggled desperately: "But we all use silver iodide now-I mean the artificial snowfall."

"The snow from the snowmaker is better than artificial snow. Didn't you notice something different today? When the snow fell, only you and I were awake in the whole city." A kind of pure high spirits, "my snow can rewrite evil."

I choked on this sudden mission: "I feel the need to ask why you came to Earth."

He laughed "poof" and said, "I'm a native. The craft was passed on to me by the previous person—I think so, although I'm a little uncertain recently. What about you, why did you come?"

I thought for three seconds, decided to give up the serious rebuttal of "I am also a native", and replied feebly: "For love and justice."

"Justice is very good..." He seemed not to hear my teasing, and said very seriously, "I was right to find you."

"However, how can you be sure," I said, "that your heir should be me?"

"How would I know. Maybe it's because you're an exception. Or maybe it's a feeling," he said, "like someone told me you'd be awake and I should find you, so here I am."

I look at him.A dense white rain intertwined in front of us, and behind us was a city that was so quiet that it seemed to be asleep.

After that, I left him the house number of my dormitory, and he also left me his address.Because there are eight people crowded in the university dormitory, and it is inconvenient to do many things together, I still come to his house more often, and he teaches me the formulas and heart formulas for making snow.After I met the first snowfall, he took me through the streets and alleys, and asked me to wait outside the door of a certain house to keep the snow falling, and he went in by himself to "rewrite the evil".

"This is much more convenient. It is always troublesome to prepare for two-handed work at the same time." He said, "You are still in the internship period, and you can only come in with me after you are proficient in snowmaking."

The house he lives in is an ordinary single-family house with little decoration, so that I always think that what he said, "To be famous, to be famous, to gain wealth" is just a casual blow.I found out later that we actually had customers; there were quite a few people in the community who knew about the existence of the snowmaker's business and were willing to pay a huge premium for his next move.

In the days when there are no customers and exams, I just hang out with him at his home.His appearance is worldly enough, but he is actually quite antique.There are no electronic products in the house, no computer, not even a landline phone, and he himself knows little about technology.I still moved my notebook and taught him the concepts of popular science Internet and Internet vocabulary.We lie on the bed and watch anime together, and drink a cup of tea he made after watching an episode.

He was very interested in the new figure skating program "The Ice of the Reason", and threatened to use the high-end postures in it to effectively make snow next time, and make all the movements into a set.

I couldn't help squinting at him: "How long have you lived?"

"A long time," he told me. "It's fun to be alive."

I passed by the square again that day, and found that they were probably repairing the sculpture in the center. The dancer was still in that elegant and graceful posture, with a stone flower in his raised hand.

It is too difficult to meditate on a set of heart formulas for a moment. I can't do it as easily and skillfully as he does. I can only put my hands in the fixed initial position - below the chest, above the belly button - dryly. Bits of snow are scattered outward, like a sprinkler head that is in disrepair but still clean.And whenever I stopped reciting the formula, Xue would also stop suddenly, which was far from his level, and almost caused the crisis of the whole city waking up halfway.I have never been able to meet his standard of proficiency in making snow, so I have to obediently guard the goal for him every time.

I've always wondered how he rewrites the crime by going in and out of a different door each time?He always laughed and didn't answer, saying he wanted to keep it a secret until I moved on to the next stage.

So I have been working hard to reveal this secret, but one day, the tip of the iceberg was revealed to me in the most unexpected way.

"You look young, you don't look like a customer who needs to make snow. What are you? An hourly worker?" A middle-aged man came out of his single building, just bumped into me who was climbing the stairs, and was quite interested made a sentence.

"I am his apprentice." I said cautiously.

"Not like, not like." He looked at me with a strange expression.

He was wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase in his hand. He didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave at this time, so he smoked a cigarette and lit it.

"Are you here to pay the deposit?" I asked.

"I'm here for the finale," he said, taking a puff on his cigarette; his cheeks, already high on the cheekbones, deepened. "The big man thing yesterday."

I don't know why I feel a little flustered.He didn't contact me yesterday to go out to make snow, I thought I had nothing to do.

The middle-aged man finished his cigarette and flicked down a long strip of ash.I had no intention of waiting any longer, and immediately planned to walk past him and knock on the door.

"So, how many people have you killed now?" the man said.

I stopped and turned around suddenly, thinking I had heard wrong, "What?"

"How many people have you killed?" He repeated in a dull tone, looked me from head to toe, and suddenly smiled, "No way, the snowmaker hasn't taught you to kill yet? Then what did he teach you? Snowmaking? I'm sorry, I really didn't expect to be an apprentice in another aspect. It's so abrupt, didn't it scare you?"

He spoke politely, but there was no "sorry" expression on his face, but a faint gloating and sarcasm.

"He didn't kill people." I was probably irritated by a certain point in this person, subconsciously hiding my ignorance and inner shock in front of him, "He is...rewriting crime."

"Rewrite evil." The man said indifferently, "This is a better way to say it."

Trembling in my heart, I repeated word by word the information that the snowmaker had vaguely disclosed to me: "He takes rewards, but he doesn't accept those who are paid. He selects tasks and only chooses righteous ones to do them. "

"Don't you think it's interesting for him to judge whether justice is right or not?" The man laughed chatteringly. "He thinks he is a Fury, but in fact he is just a prostitute, a fanatic—a murderer."

I clenched my fingers.I could feel my tensed arms shaking slightly.

"It's people like you who sent him missions...how can you call him a murderer?"

The man looked at me, just smiled slyly and didn't speak.He probably guessed that my heart was shaken, and even he thought his words were untenable.

"One day his extremes will make him unable to tolerate anyone. The next one may be me, and maybe one day it may be you." He said to me when he left.I watched him walk into the crowded street in a suit, and then disappeared in the back of all kinds of people after three or two steps - he looked like every ordinary person.

At the end of the day I still didn't knock on the snowmaker's door.I went back to the dormitory in a state of confusion, with my computer notebook spread out on my lap, and various webpages were opened and closed by me.I repeated this meaningless action until I saw a scrolling local news on a certain page: "my country's oil tycoon Li died in his private house yesterday, and the company's account flow was exposed by an unknown person. According to reliable sources, the person has The possibility of using power to smuggle across countries is being investigated in depth."

Tycoon Lee and his head office are in the city where I am.If it weren't for the conversation with the man in the suit today, I would never have thought of any connection between the snowmaker and this matter.

My phone rang with a "ding".I subconsciously thought it was a text message from the snow maker, and my heart was raised very high for a moment, and a kind of dizzy excitement fermented there.

But the text message was not his, it came from an unknown number:

"They are both abuses of power. What's the difference?"

I silently hit the delete key.I fell asleep very early that day with my head covered and had many bad dreams, including a snowmaker.In one dream, we were both laughing, and he handed me a colorful comic book.I looked down at the moment of the handover, and his and my hands holding the book were covered with blood.

On my own initiative, I saw him less and less often.I reasoned that the old man in class had been acting uncharacteristically lately, and it was too difficult to get out, so I apologized to him and promised to practice snowmaking diligently and not miss homework.During this period of time, I only went on missions with him three times. Every time, I stood outside the door, kept making snow, and forced myself not to think about what was happening inside the door led by him.

"Aren't you tired of making snow?" he asked me, noticing the abnormality I tried to hide.He has been quite critical of my being too busy during this time.

"Of course not," I said, "it's because I'm too tired from studying."

of course not.I actually never got tired of making snow, never got tired of him.What made me tired was myself—I didn’t have the courage to question him face to face, nor did I have the courage to remove the cloth made of snow with my own hands. Instead, I chose the illusion of maintaining peace and muddled through.

I realized desperately that even knowing the truth behind him and the mistakes he concealed, he still held such a huge attraction for me.Like a piece of fresh light in the gray world, like a snowflake falling in the smoky dust.

I just wanted to calm down my feverish mind about him, and declined many of his casual party invitations halfway through.He stopped dating in a while; we didn't see each other at his house for a whole month.But one night, he called and said that he hoped that I would definitely go there, so I walked past the school gate and rushed to his house.

We are still the same as in the past, he boils water with a stainless steel pot, the two of us lie on the bed and watch the figure skating anime I downloaded.I was very absent-minded, but luckily he seemed to be too, so we watched the people on the screen laughing and making noise together in silence.After playing one of the sections, he suddenly pressed pause.I stared blankly for two or three seconds before I realized that it wasn't the video that froze.

"I'm getting more and more sober..." he said.

I was barely able to read the content on the computer screen, and suddenly I felt a little stuck in my head. I didn't realize how the plot of this sports show had progressed to the point where the two male protagonists exchanged rings.

He patted my head lightly, and turned my gaze straight: "...do you still want to know where I come from?"

I looked at myself in his eyes against the light of the room—the man's face was full of confusion.

He sighed, then smiled suddenly, as if he had relieved some burden: "Forget it. It's not that important."

He made me another cup of tea.This is milk tea, with honey, condensed milk, milk and his brewed tea leaves. It is very sweet and delicious-very Western style, something he would not normally try.The hot milk tea flowed down my throat, and he sat across from me, telling me to drink slowly.In that short moment, I almost wanted to give up all rejections, all moral checks and balances, and pour out all the questions and painful doubts that had been suppressed for too long.

Through the mist on the cup, I think, he looks like he has a pair of wet eyes.

"Is something on your mind?" he asked me.

I opened my mouth, but the phone in my pocket rang before me.

It's an inopportune text message.I felt my whole body tense up.

"No," I said, "I should go."

I headed out the door sullenly, walked downstairs to his house, and met a familiar person outside.

"I guess you should be here." The man in the suit looked thinner, decadent, but very energetic, "Good evening, little apprentice."

"Hello." I stared at him warily.

He didn't express his displeasure at my hostility, but raised his phone at me.Such a bright screen is very dazzling at night; I didn't see it until I got used to the light. It was text messages sent to me by those unknown numbers, and the latest one came from just now.

"No malice," he said, "I just think your choice is very interesting. You are completely different from him, but you are completely devoted to him. So I came here to tell you a reliable new information: it's my turn. Just Tomorrow."

I couldn't bear to imagine the deep meaning in his words.

"Does he want you to go out with him tomorrow?" he asked pointedly.

"Yes." I squeezed out a word.

"It seems that the news of my death hasn't reached the point where it can be published." He brushed off the non-existent dust on his tie, "I didn't intend to escape the catastrophe. The profession of snowmaker is too mysterious, death or not depends on He is happy. I entrusted him to kill, and the person with all the bad deeds died; now someone entrusts him to kill me, so I, the one with all the bad deeds, will die too. That’s the reason why the murderer always kills him, right?”

He said again: "What about you? Are you a passerby, an executioner, or a knife he took by mistake?"

I went back to the dormitory in silence, without sleep all night.

I counted, adding the last three times, this is a total of four times my No.20 went out to make snow with him.

This time the road was a little longer.I spread the snow as we walked, and we walked through a beautiful manor-like place with him.There was a big iron gate that was pushed open by him, and there were trees planted on both sides of it, and all the people in the guard room fell asleep with their heads bowed.We finally came to the door of the house, but this time the door was open and not shut.

He hesitated for a moment, then said to me: "You continue to make snow and wait for me to come out."

I silently watched him go in, and the iron-colored door closed behind him.I leaned my back against the cold door, continued to recite the mantra and stretched my hands.A peach blossom planted by the door almost reached my nose.It was brightly colored, with its rising April buds covered with snow.

He only kills bad guys... I mused, hypnotizing myself as usual.

But this time, the familiar face of the man in the suit jumped out. It was torn apart in my mind, and it was still oozing blood, and his unfinished words spit out from his open mouth.

What is a "bad guy", is it up to you to define it?

I was stunned in place by a clear loud explosion.I thought it was my poor brain capacity that finally overloaded and exploded, but the only reason left told me that it came from inside the door, from the noise of the hot weapon.All the chains called restraint snapped at that sound; I let myself slam the door open and rushed in.

The door was facing a large living room, and there were only two people in it.

For a moment, I was afraid, or rather willing to think that all this was the man in the suit's conspiracy, and I would see him standing triumphantly, while the snowmaker fell in a pool of blood on the ground.But the fact is that the man in the suit was lying on the bench, and the gurgling blood was continuously flowing from the big hole in his chest.The snowmaker was standing there, completely clean, except for a few sporadic blood foam splashed on his cuffs, and he threw a pistol to the man in the suit's head.

No more snow coming out of my palms.

"I read you right, little apprentice." The man slowly opened his eyes, his expression was still waking up from sleep, but his voice was already hoarse, and he couldn't tell whether it was coming from the depths of his throat or From his damaged lung, "You're finally here to stand up for what's right."

I couldn't look at the other person in the room, and I walked up to the man in the suit step by step.The gun barrel at the side of his head was still emitting residual heat.I picked it up and held it awkwardly in my hand.

"That's why, you prepared a gun for me to kill you yourself?" The snowmaker's voice sounded behind me.

"I don't want to die unclearly in your snow like everyone else." The man in the suit said, coughing up a lot of blood.He looked at me very hard, his eyes seemed to be unwilling, but also seemed to be extremely turbid and crazy, "Little apprentice, look...he killed so many...so many people. How many lives he has arbitrarily judged... ..." He was panting hard, his chest was bulging up and down, and every word seemed to drain his exhausted life in the next moment, "How do you know... what is he doing behind your back?"

I could no longer analyze the deeper meaning of his words, so I reflexively pointed my gun at my back and turned around.

The snowmaker didn't conjure any weapons.He stared down at the barrel of the gun, and took two steps towards the gun I held up, his chest almost reaching the muzzle of the gun.

My right hand, which had never touched a gun before, shook even more.

"Is this the justice you're after?" He smiled, as if he had just asked a slightly curious question.

I suddenly felt that it was not the man in the suit who was pierced through the lung, but me standing here.I can barely breathe.

"You even studied the electric kettle for a long time... It took me a long time to teach you how to play CS..." I said with difficulty, "I never thought you could use a gun."

He lightly plucked my fingers on the side of the gun stock, and rested his whole right hand on my hand holding the gun.

"Your finger is in the wrong place."

Another loud bang came from the door.It was the door that was knocked open again, and a group of people in black suits rushed in, holding guns and surrounding us. Many of them were the sleeping faces I had seen before.

I don't know what orders the man in the suit gave them.The man in the suit was dead, his pale face tilted to the side of his neck.They didn't try to lift him back from the dead, and they didn't just shoot us with blood.

The snowmaker didn't seem to hear the noise, nor did he see the men in black around him, and he kept his eyes fixed on it.His hand that can make snow is still covering mine, and his fingers are very warm, which are two extremes from the snow he made.

I looked at him, and suddenly those men in black disappeared, and everything seemed to go back to the winter day when we met.He stretched out his hand to me in the snow, and I put it up without any regrets.

"I've killed a lot of people, and he's right. Whether it's a paranoid or a gangster, I have a clear conscience." He said tenderly. "Now, are you going to kill me?"

I was horrified by his last sentence.I didn't actually think the moment I picked up the gun, I was going to point this thing at him.It just became my self-defense weapon in the great confusion and vacillating predicament. The gun pointed at the imaginary enemy I feared the most, the darkness I regretted and loved, and the self I was conflicted about and wanted to kill. With my rootless weakness and fear.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he asked.

"No..." I said, and found myself speaking in a breathy voice.

I swallowed, trying to moisten my throat.no no.I said to him with my eyes.

I think he understood my expression.Because he showed a relieved smile, which was very similar to the night he called me over, but slightly different.

"Forget it, forget it," he said.

My eyes were dazedly chasing the meaning of his smile, and all the struggling pain flowed away with my thinking.I thought, yes, forget it, the big deal is that he and I will just leave, hypnotize the surrounding crowd first, and then return to the original place.From then on, we are the superman and reserve superman in this city, running amok—no, punishing the evil and promoting the good, and the target is determined by drawing lots from the heinous people.Could it be that among the proteges who applauded and cheered in the street, would someone stand up and judge Superman for not obeying the law?

I wanted to clear my throat and tell him all this, but he caught off guard and pushed my index finger on the trigger.

I heard a total of three loud bangs that day, and this one was the most deafening.All I could see was the color of blood, and there was a lot of blood splattered on my clothes.It wasn't mine—the person in front of me had a blood hole in his chest that was exactly the same as the man in the suit.

"Does this sound like—an adventure you'd like?" he said in a steady voice.

The recoil of the gun made my jaw ache.My mind was buzzing, and I couldn't get back to my senses. The gun in my hand slipped to the ground.

"for--"

He was still standing, with his fingers on my lips to keep me from speaking.

"You will know sooner or later, when you return to the place where you came from." He coughed twice and pulled his clothes, as if trying to block the blood hole in his chest. "Don't say anything now."

The guns of the men in black around had been withdrawn.He fell forward, and his whole weight fell on me.I breathed against his hair, feeling my nose go numb from the cold.Confusion and regret choked my neck, scrambling to be the first to turn into silent bitterness.

"You used to say that you came to find 'love and justice', but now I think you may have found your own justice." The person leaning against me whispered.

How I hate my wavering heart.I should have told him that I believe in him unconditionally, I should have told him that I am willing to be a weapon in his hands, I should have said that everything about him has attracted me so much that it doesn't matter whether I am in the same boat or in the same boat. should have said-

"I just want to know," he said, "have you found your love yet?"

My neck stiffened, and a single tear fell between the strands of his hair.

His hand groped and climbed up again, covering my half-open mouth.

"Ah—I forgot. Don't answer that question either."

He did not slip to the ground in the end, becoming another limp corpse.From the hole in his chest, his whole being faded like a fading image, turning into flakes of snow.I could no longer be shocked by the scene far beyond my imagination. I passed through the men in black who were sleeping all over the floor, and walked slowly to the door.It was snowing heavily outside the door, and the snow had piled up very thickly.

I wanted to dust off the blood that belonged to him on my chest, but found that the fabric was clean, except for a few crusted snowflakes that I brushed off.

The whole city fell asleep again because of the snowmaker's death.I couldn't get a taxi, so I could only walk back in the snow.I recalled his last unintelligible words, and wondered, what counts as my "place from"?Is he talking about the square, or the school?

Unknowingly, I walked to the center of that square.The sculpture of the stone dancer is in another position; this time she is curled up with her arms folded, her face half buried between her knees, her eyes revealing no hint of emotion—crude art, after all. Taste.

I sat down by the dry fountain, with my unanswered doubts, and the deep sleepiness that had hit me earlier, like everyone else in this city, I fell into a deep sleep in the heavy snow.

"Congratulations to the 20-year-old contestant No. 007831 for winning the annual prize of 3000 million gold!" A male voice shouted hoarsely.Then a flood of cheers erupted in my ears.

I seem to have been lifted from a container and sat in an extremely bright and warm place.I felt sticky all over my body and had a splitting headache. It took me a long time to adapt to the strong light above my head and to open my eyes with difficulty.I realized that I was sitting on a high stool at the front of the stage, facing a dark auditorium, and countless fanatics stood up, waving their arms and whistling toward the stage, holding up signs with "007831" written on them. The LED light sign shakes from side to side.

A host dressed in hippies came to me holding a microphone: "We have just witnessed the highlights of contestant No. 007831. To be honest, even I didn't expect him to be the first in this "Battle of Seduction" The winner of the challenge, the first one to wake up. But he really did it! Think back to his last decisive decision, it is definitely a considerable bonus item-let us applaud him again!"

The commotion below reached another level, almost toppling the dome flickering with colorful lights.

"Okay," the host approached cordially, and handed the microphone in front of me, "Let our winner make a few acceptance speeches himself?"

Countless memories come back in an instant.Compared with the length of those memories and those brought to me by the snowmaker, the latter seems like a distant old dream.

"It seems that this contestant has not recovered from the 'hidden world'. He challenged the A-level difficulty and entered the identity without the memory of the original body. Now he should still retain some sense of dislocation." The host Shan explained Satisfied, "Let's review his pre-match VCR first."

The large screens surrounding the venue were lit up.I saw my face magnified.The young man on the screen looked determined, looked at the camera and said rather greenly:

"I'm number 007831. I signed up for Battle of Seduction because I wanted to earn enough bonuses for my unemployed mother and sister. About seduction, uh--I don't really know what my biggest desire is. I think it may not be money , and may not be the more common temptation in the previous issues. This is also the biggest source of my confidence. I firmly believe that I can resist the 'temptation' derived from my subconscious, and will not indulge in the subconscious world, so I don't worry too much about the eventual brain death Possibly. Finally, thank you all, I hope you enjoy watching.”

He gave a shy smile and the screen turned off.

Later, I replayed several key shots of me in the latent world.The final shooting was a close-up, because it was recorded from my perspective, and most of the middle of the shot in the shot was covered by the hands of the snowmaker.All I could see was that the slowed down bullet flew out of the pistol I was holding, and then flew into the body of the person opposite, splashing a cloud of blood.

"It's really a rare 'temptation'." The host said tut-tsk, "For your temptation number 007831 is such a person, do you have any insights that you can bring to everyone?"

I said something vaguely, and I can't remember the specific content, but it attracted another burst of cheers.

What is a snowmaker?The existence of a high-level 'temptation', the protagonist of a comic who knows that he is in a comic?Does he also know who I am--does he know that I am the cause of all this tragedy?

What is he to me...?

I was pushed to the top of the podium.They gave me a commemorative tape of my imaginary world, a snow-white check followed by many zeros rose up in front of me, dyed bright yellow under the stage lights.I reached for it, clutching the videotape with the check.

The people in the auditorium shouted, the host looked at me with a red face, and the gathered reporters were looking forward to some more gimmicky testimonials from me. There were probably countless envious people in front of the broadcast screen. looking at me and at my check.I stood under the spotlight with a dry throat, and the soles of my feet were still vain. Anger, confusion, and undeniable pain emerged from the bottom of my heart.At this moment, anyone can stand on this wound and jump, for a stranger's unworthy victory, for their blood boiling too easily, for a rare and precious joke, they suppressed it day after day export.

I clenched the things in my hands, suddenly wanted to tear them apart, and then slammed into the center of this entertainment feast.

In my silence, the scene gradually quieted down.They looked at me intently, their eyes gathered together, waiting for my response.My lips were too close to Mike, trembling slightly.

"Thank you all. I'm so excited to be on this stage."