After reaching the pinnacle of life, cheats came [Entertainment Circle]

Francis is a very perceptive child, and during his short time with Liancheng, he sensed that there was no malice.

Soon his childlike nature blossomed.

He told the story of the western cowboy vividly. Liancheng was very curious, where did he come from such a large vocabulary at such a young age.

One after another, the maid came several times in the middle, but did not open the door.

Francis could hear the elevator running, and the creaking of the boards as the maid walked.

He put his ear on the door, waited for the maid to leave, then walked softly to Liancheng's side, waved the hippocampus, and asked, "Do you like playing the piano?"

Liancheng nodded, "I still like it."

"That's right," Francis said with an "I understand" expression on his face, "You are not in good health, so you probably have no friends, right? You can only play the piano."

Isn't this kid too embarrassed to speak?

Liancheng smiled half-smile and asked him, "How do you know I don't have any friends?"

"Where is it?" Francis raised his head and asked curiously.

"You."

When the last note fell, Liancheng withdrew his hand and rubbed his wrist lightly.

A light flashed in Francis' eyes, but it soon dimmed again. He rubbed his nose, walked around the room with the little seahorse, and returned to Liancheng, saying seriously: "My mother told me that you can't really treat you as a friend."

"You are my role model."

The day Francis was brought to see Rimbaud was their first meeting.

But in fact, Francis has learned the name of this talented little brother from his mother countless times.

Mother always said that he, like a little prince, was the best in the world in terms of family background, tutoring and talent.

Usually behind such remarks, there is also a dislike for the father.

Francis' father is a handsome but down-and-out painter. Because he fell in love with his mother, he had the opportunity to step into the palace of art.

Otherwise, there are very few well-known painters who can be famous far and wide while they are alive.Even so, he earns very little money and can only listen to his mother at home.

Liv hopes that Francis can become a good pianist, so that if he has the opportunity to be invited by the queen to play, money will fly into his pocket like long wings.He doesn't have to be like his father, who can only rely on his wife, submissive.

On the day he saw Rimbaud, while he was still in a coma, Francis lay beside him, seeing Rimbaud's eyebrows very clearly.

He inherited his parents' ability to appreciate beauty, and he felt that his mother was right, that little brother Rimbaud was indeed a perfect work of art from God.

Francis climbed back into the chair, not wanting at all to use this handsome little brother as a forward example for the "enemy".

But he didn't want to be friends with Rimbaud either.

Liv will use this to urge him more severely, and he cannot disobey his mother's order.

But Francis did not expect that Rimbaud actually said that he was his friend.

He rubbed his small nose, and like all naughty little boys, he lay down on the piano, made a sharp sound, and leaned in front of Liancheng, with anticipation in his eyes, and asked, "Then we are friends?"

Not only that, but he also stretched out his slender little finger to hook up with Liancheng.

Liancheng looked at him with a smile, and made an agreement with him.

This year, one of them was 12 years old and the other was six years old.

They did become very good friends, and with Lian Cheng's company, they would spend every day together and practice playing the piano.

In the piano room, two pianos, one large and one small, are placed together, as if they are playing a game of solitaire. Sometimes they play a section alone, and sometimes they cooperate for a section.

The door to the piano room was left open, and Liv was sitting downstairs with a strong fire burning in the fireplace, and Rimbaud's mother was here.

The sound of the piano from upstairs brought smiles to the faces of the two mothers.

Liv was very happy, because after her son practiced playing the piano with Rimbaud, his performance was indeed much better than before.

And never showed resistance to playing the piano again.

What she didn't know was that Liancheng would take the opportunity to show his son the comic book while playing the piano.

"Ok?"

"All right."

Francis stood up from the chair, ran to close the door, and said to the maid standing outside the door: "Brother Rimbaud wants to close the door, he is a bit cold."

Although the 15-year-old Rimbaud is not as sick as before, he is still a sick beauty.

The maid closed the door, and the incandescent lamp was lit in the piano room.

Liancheng took out a palm-sized comic book from his arms and handed it to Francis. It was drawn by himself, and the content was some stories from ancient books. He slightly modified it to make it entertaining and educational.

After practicing for an hour every day, they will stop for a while.

To Liv, it is said that Rimbaud wants to teach Francis some skills, but it is actually a reward from Liancheng to Francis.

"Wow..." Francis leaned against Liancheng, sitting on the thick cashmere carpet, and exclaimed. He looked up at Liancheng who was playing the piano, "Did you really draw this yourself?"

"Yeah," Lian Cheng replied, and he had to flick it a few times from time to time, so as not to be noticed by the suspicious Liv downstairs.

"Much better than my dad's drawing."

Francis looked down again.

Liancheng smiled. He had seen Francis' father's paintings, which were relatively abstract. Maybe 100 years later, he would be admitted to the palace and enjoy all the praises.

But now, even on a cold winter's day, he would go to a banquet to see if he could meet a speculator in exchange for a high maintenance bill for the castle.

These are what Francis told Liancheng, and these words are all the information he got from his parents' quarrel.

Liancheng had never seen such a contradictory child. When Francis was six years old, he was smart and precocious, with a highly keen intuition. He also knew how to pretend to be an obedient little pity under his easily angry mother to protect himself from harm.

He looks like an "old man", but in private, his mind is full of weird ideas, and he seems not to be affected by his family environment in the slightest.

He never gave up the idea of ​​going to the mountains to be a hunter, instead, he asked Liancheng to tell him more stories about the mountains and forests, so as to prepare him for growing up.

"Liv can't control my whole life," he said nonchalantly, "just like my grandma, she doesn't want my father to be a painter. Half of the hungry and cold people in the city are painters. This is my grandma. The original words."

His favorite is Liancheng's foreign version of comic strips adapted from "Water Margin", and he said to Liancheng very sincerely: "Maybe you don't have to be a pianist, if you are a painter, you can also leave my father behind. "

Liancheng was amused by him, and coughed again. He thoughtfully rubbed Liancheng's back.

For a while, he played the piano and thought about Francis' interesting words. Neither Liancheng nor Francis, who was addicted to the comics, heard the sound of Mrs. Liv going upstairs.

It wasn't until the door was pushed that Liancheng woke up suddenly, exchanged glances with the panicked Francis, and decisively pressed the comic book under the carpet.

The door opened, Liancheng coughed, and fell weakly on the blanket, and was supported by Francis, "Brother Rambo, what's wrong with you?"

Liancheng leaned his head on his shoulder, frowned and coughed, and Francis covered the comic book with a blanket.

Sure enough, both Liv and Rimbaud's mother were attracted by him.

After a period of turmoil, Rimbaud was carried into a carriage by a strong servant and sent back to the castle. The family doctor had already rushed over.

Liv stood behind Francis, put her hands on his shoulders, and said to her son, "Rambo probably won't be here for some time, you can't waste time trying to catch up with him."

Francis sneered inwardly, the gap between geniuses and ordinary people cannot be bridged by time at all.

But he is still respectful: "Okay, Mom."

Liv didn't notice the comic strip under the blanket.

Liancheng rested at home for a few days, and was allowed to go out only after there was no major problem.

He went to Francis with a new volume of comic strips that he drew during his break.

Francis is already 12 years old, and Mrs. Liv has taught him very well. From the outside, he is elegant enough to be a gentleman. Although he is only a short kid, his proportions are very good.

Liancheng was supported by him to the piano room, the first thing he did when he entered the door, Liancheng asked him: "Have you been discovered?"

There was excitement in Francis' eyes about sharing a secret with Rimbaud. He shook his head and smiled like a little devil, "Mom didn't find out."

If caught, maybe he would kneel now in the dark attic.

Although he quite liked being alone in the attic, he preferred to be around Rimbaud.

Even if he is asked to play the piano for a long time, he is willing.

Liancheng rubbed his hair, pinched his red earlobes, and took out a new comic book from his arms, "This is for you."

Francis took it and looked at his clothes curiously.

He even stretched out his hand to feel it. Inside the silk shirt, there were some ribs that hurt his hands.

"You're so skinny." Francis said the truth calmly.

He heard from Liv that Rimbaud's mother once cried, saying that Rimbaud might not live to be 18 years old.

Ke Lanbo is 18 years old this year, and he still stands in front of him, can talk and laugh, and can draw comic books.

Just a little thinner.

Sitting on the blanket, he took out the comic book he had placed underneath last time, and read it.

After a while, he looked up at Liancheng.

Liancheng always likes to look at him with gentle eyes, and doesn't hate him.

"Maybe we can go for a walk in the forest, and the witch may help you cure your disease."

He tilted his head, with innocence in his words, "It's always good to go out more, at least after my father moved here, the things he drew are much better than before."

Francis is a staunch "forest lover". In his heart, the most mysterious things in the world are hidden in the forest.

No one knows what that thing will be, but it exists.

He is so contradictory, innocent, and sophisticated.

Liancheng resisted the throbbing pain in his heart, and smiled nonchalantly: "Okay."

After Francis got the affirmation, he continued to read.

Spring is coming soon.

Liancheng spent a boring winter in bed. He fell into a serious illness and fell asleep for three days.

Fortunately, he finally woke up again, and his mother told him that Francis had been here.

"He is a good boy. Even if the mountains are covered by snow, he will come to see you. This is his gift to you."

His mother handed him the sheet music on the bedside, "This is the piece he composed himself."

Her eyes were full of admiration, "Although she is still immature, it can be seen that she is much better than Liv."

Liancheng raised his hand slightly, took it from his mother, and tried to play it in his heart.

She is right, the sincere feelings and blessings contained in the score can indeed be conveyed to people's hearts.

This is the power of music.

Liancheng only woke up for a while, then fell asleep again.

Rimbaud's mother left the room with red eyes, and the doctor told her that Rimbaud's health was getting worse.

His heart was far beyond his body's capacity to handle it.

Perhaps the day when the little prince returns to his own planet is not far away.

Francis came to visit Liancheng again in the spring, and he didn't mind mentioning the fact that he came to visit him in winter.

He ran over with Liv on his back, and he was alone, walking in the snow.

It took over three hours to get here.

Liancheng asked him, "Why did you walk for more than three hours?"

Francis said with excitement, "The forest in winter is so beautiful, I played for a while. I found a suitable place. When you are well, I will take you there."

He is always in high spirits in front of Liancheng, and some ordinary things are very interesting in his mouth.

For example, on the way he came just now, a butterfly stopped briefly at his fingertips.

"Like being kissed by spring."

Liancheng felt that he should be trained to be a poet, or a novelist, not a damn pianist.

As he spoke, Francis took Liancheng's hand and touched his somewhat cold hand with his fingertips that had been kissed by butterflies.

"Have you felt the spring yet?"

Liancheng's blue eyes looked indulgently at his childish movements, and shook his head with a smile.

"So what?"

Francis lay on the side of the bed, and kissed Liancheng's hand briefly and delicately.

He was lying there, looking up at Liancheng, pious and stubborn, as if he insisted on saying, "I feel it."

Liancheng complied with his wishes.

Francis happily kissed his fingers a few more times, "Poor Rimbaud, spring will make you better."

His blessings are more useful than God's.

Sure enough, Liancheng was able to stand up again. In the garden, under the sun, they sat on the bench and played "Bee" together.

The fierce rhythm echoed in the valley, and the two mothers were the best listeners.

Liancheng didn't have much strength, he just played with his left hand, while Francis had both hands on the keys.

Almost all of Francis' credit.

After the song was played, Liv was so excited that she was about to cry. Her son was indeed a genius.

Francis raised his eyes to look at Liancheng, his pale eyes could see a few blue ripples in the sunlight.

He is asking for compliments.

Liancheng smiled dotingly, "You did a good job."

Since Francis was ten years old, Liv began to frequently send him to participate in various competitions, some of which were places given to Rimbaud by the conference committee.

Because of Rimbaud's health, Rimbaud's mother declined the kindness of the conference and gave the opportunity to Francis instead.

He was a bright and lively boy, and Rimbaud's health improved a lot with him around.

Francis can always get the championship trophy, after all, he practiced with Rimbaud all day long, and Rimbaud's mother gave him occasional guidance.

Liv felt that her decision to move here was the best decision she had ever made.

When Francis was 15 years old, he finally got the opportunity to tour the world with the junior group. For the next whole year, he will follow his mother Liv to play around the world.

He seemed to be getting farther and farther on the road of piano, and Liancheng's body was already at the end of its strength.

Liancheng could feel that the world given by the system was gradually collapsing.

From the age of six to the age of 15, Liancheng accompanied Francis for nine years, but he never heard a reminder.

He had probably figured out what it was all about.

Still waiting for an opportunity.

Mrs. Liv is very happy and wants to move her family back to the urban area, which will make their social life more convenient.

Francis has become an outstanding boy, his moon-white eyes, when looking at Liancheng, are as clear as the moon in the sky.

He came to Liancheng's room familiarly, picked him up from the bed, and put a thick pillow behind him.

"We're leaving tomorrow."

Liancheng was weak and speechless, he raised his finger slightly, and Francis immediately held his hand.

Put your ear on Liancheng's chest and listen to his weak breathing.

Francis took a deep breath, he had no concept of death, just like the sun rising and setting, it was a normal thing.

His grandmother passed away a few years ago, Mrs. Liv said that he was like a real gentleman, he didn't cry, he was very decent.

Liancheng smiled, and pointed to the tabletop, which was his new comic strip.

Francis picked up the comic book and read it with gusto.

For so many years, he has not been caught by Mrs. Liv once. In the eyes of Mrs. Liv, he is a decent gentleman pianist.

Where Mrs. Liv can't see, he is a small tree growing freely in the forest, with branches growing at will.

After finishing the last comic book, Francis looked out of the window. The scenery outside the window was as beautiful as a painting.

Under the snow-capped mountains in the distance is the forest he dreamed of. For so many years, Rimbaud's father has never had a chance to take his beloved son to the forest.

Francis' eyes shone with excitement, and even his breathing became a little heavy.

He leaned close to Liancheng's ear, his warm breath hitting the tip of his ear, itching.

He said, "How about I take you to the forest?"

Liancheng raised his eyebrows, a little surprised.

Surprised by Francis' keen intuition, he sensed that Liancheng's life was coming to an end.

Francis found a wheelchair, easily carried Liancheng into the wheelchair, and said to Rimbaud's mother, "My brother wants to go for a walk, I'll take him there."

Sitting face to face with Rimbaud's mother, the family doctor and Liancheng's ears were sharp, and he heard her say: "Then let this child do whatever he wants."

They didn't stop Francis.

Francis pushed the wheelchair and walked around the castle for half a circle, and then turned around with the wheelchair while no one was paying attention.

He walked towards the forest until he came to a stream.

The silver-white stream blocked their way, Francis was not discouraged, he dropped the wheelchair, and then hugged Liancheng.

Liancheng was so amused by his action that he wanted to laugh.

He did smile, and Francis looked at him for a moment and smiled, "Spring is here again."

He easily carried Liancheng downhill, and then stopped by the river. The hillside was covered with flowers of various colors, and butterflies stayed here.

Putting Liancheng on the shore, Francis took off his shoes, tied the shoelaces together, and hung them around his neck.

He rolled up his pants, like a happy young man who doesn't know how to behave, and hugged Liancheng again.

Liancheng could hear the beating heart in his thin chest, and could feel the vigorous blood flow in him.

Francis cautiously crossed the stream and reached the edge of the forest.

The stone at the entrance of the forest was covered with moss. Francis changed Liancheng's posture, squatted down with his back on his back, looked at the moss carefully, and even smelled it closely.

"You heard it too?"

Escaping from Mrs. Liv's control, he seemed to be having fun, wanting to release all the nature that he never showed in his childhood.

Even tried to climb up straight trees.

The clean white shirt was stained.

Put Liancheng on the grass, he is like a puppy, running to catch butterflies.

Putting the yellow butterfly with big wings in Liancheng's palm, Francis has not forgotten the fingertip kiss three years ago.

"Do you feel it kissing you?"

Liancheng leaned in his arms, shaking his head slightly, the pain in his heart almost drained all his air.

He was a little dizzy.

Francis let the butterfly fly, lifted Liancheng's chin from behind, rubbed against his side face affectionately, and immediately kissed his pale lips.

Francis didn't let him go until Liancheng's bloodless face turned bright red.

He put his fingers on Liancheng's lips, and touched down the light blue blood vessels in his neck.

Go deep into Liancheng's shirt, stay in his weak beating heart.

"You're still alive." Francis muttered, suddenly feeling panicked.

When the heart of this man stops beating at all, what is left of him?

Francis seems to be stuck in the vast ocean, about to lose his life jacket.

He hugged Liancheng very tightly, with warm tears dripping on Liancheng's face, he clenched his teeth.

He had to admit that only by Liancheng's side could he live like a human being.

Not mother's doll.

Francis sniffled, wiped away tears, and begged softly, "Don't leave me, okay?"

Liancheng lay in his arms, his sky blue eyes were full of indulgence, he held Francis' hand tightly.

With compassion.

Francis is different from him. Even if he is bound in the garden, he will grow vigorously outward.

His leaves and flowers will be cut off, but his roots will always go deep, to places where no one can see, and will never lose his heart.

Liancheng knew this, but still couldn't reject this contradictory boy.

He said, "Okay."

Francis bowed his head to kiss him again, trying to spread his warmth to him.

He hugged Liancheng and lay in the flowers, quietly listening to the faint heartbeat, which gradually disappeared.

Francis closed his eyes.

Liancheng woke up from his sleep, and the bell rang from the cathedral in the distance.

He went to the bathroom to take a shower and called the system, but there was no answer.

Check out the rewards you get when you complete the quest, he's tried it before and it does appear in his hand.

But now, there is nothing.

It's like none of this has ever happened.

Liancheng sat by the bed, thinking quietly.

How much of what was in his mind was true and how much was false.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Liancheng tried to calm down.

But he couldn't calm down.

The weeds in his heart are spreading crazily, is he still in a dream?