Writer saves the world

There are seven people with different abilities sitting in the hall, except for a young Verne, the rest are all experienced and experienced powerhouses.

They are the guests of the rulers of various countries, and they are free to come and go in the most dangerous places where life is forbidden.They have witnessed and even personally participated in countless major events that will be engraved in history, and they have even become an unavoidable part of this history of war.

But even the most sinister conspiracy contests they have ever experienced, the most bloody near-death battles, or the high-risk missions that O. Henry joked that secrets can only be taken to the grave, compared with the blank manuscript paper in front of them, it seems like nothing. Suddenly it became easier.

So, how did the plot suddenly jump to writing?

Forgive them for not being able to give a definite answer because their memory was suddenly interrupted. It all started with Erye Tingming's words.

There seems to be something wrong...

But there seems to be nothing wrong.

A subtle sense of disobedience emerged in their hearts, and the sense of crisis honed between life and death made them subconsciously resist, but these emotions were swallowed up by the large blanks of the manuscript paper before they could make a small wave.

——Even the transcendent, there is no way to fight against the script written by the "book".

But even though they were honestly holding a pen and paper and trying to write something out, the reality was not as smooth as they had imagined.

Writing is a field they have never touched before. At most, it is like O. Henry writes mission reports, or Heine writes interrogation records and negotiation minutes due to work needs. Any personal emotion is allowed.

After staring at the manuscript paper for a few minutes, O. Henry was the first to drop his pen and quit.He sighed on the table and complained to Erye Tingming: "What's the difference between such a thing and a confession? I'm an intelligence officer. Can't you respect my professionalism?"

O. Henry is not only an intelligence officer, but also the chief intelligence officer of the U.S. security department. Even torture cannot make him reveal a word of intelligence. Hiding his emotions is an instinctive reaction like breathing. Now he is asked to write a confession The mental journey of betrayal is more difficult than letting him suffocate himself to death.

Erye Tingming was happily enjoying the wonderful process of squeezing the beets to produce grain, and replied after hearing the words: "That's why I chose to use writing—some words you will never say, the process of writing may make you feel better." You guys relax."

O. Henry continued to sigh, the more he sighed, the more Erye Tingming's little tentacles liked to move towards him.A background in intelligence means that O. Henry has hidden writing materials that are more twists and turns than stories. He can write a wonderful article with the simplest language. The only obstacle is his professional instinct as an intelligence officer. Morbidity generally blocks his heart from the outside world.

"You are really embarrassing..."

O. Henry muttered, reluctantly picked up a pen and wrote his name on the manuscript paper, and continued to write one name after another as if he was coping with the matter - starting with the letter A in order, as if he was unwilling to write an essay and was there to make up for it. The number of words is average for elementary school students.

Niels, who was sitting on Verne's shoulder and dangling his short legs, saw him, jumped down to O. Henry's hand and kicked his fingers, as if to remind him not to be lazy.

O. Henry picked up Nils' back collar, threw the little thumb aside, and said to Miss Lagerloff, "I'm not your student."

Miss Lagerlof caught Niels who was ruthlessly thrown over by O. Henry, and while comforting her frightened supernatural power, she said, "Then please be more mature, Mr. O. Henry, Neil Stu thinks you are naive."

O. Henry curled his lips, and deliberately glared at Niels who was secretly looking at him. The little boy hiccupped in fright, and then propped his chin and turned his head to see the progress of others.

You know, like those students who can't write the questions during the exam, they always have to look left and right, as if they can see flowers on other people's papers.

It's a pity that when O. Henry looked at it, most of the people couldn't write a few words just like him, and even Wilde had already started to draw on the manuscript paper.It was the first time for O. Henry to see the scene of Wilde's painting with his own eyes, and he couldn't help but take a closer look. Although the painting he saw from this angle was upside down, it didn't prevent him from seeing that Wilde's painting was from everyone present. appearance.

The composition is imitated The Last Supper, only a rough draft was made, but the drawing is very good, you can guess who is who in the painting by watching the dynamics.

Tsk tsk, as expected of a British national treasure painter.

O. Henry teased in his heart, and casually added a few names on the manuscript paper, his eyes had already drifted to Heine's pen.

O. Henry believes that this senior interrogator belonging to a German secret agency is facing the same troubles as him. At this time, his excellent professionalism has become the biggest obstacle. Weeping, but in the end everything stopped at the tip of the tongue that could pour out any lie, and after making a circle, it was swallowed back into the throat and swallowed.

Heine only wrote a few lines, with an ugly face as if he was interrogating an unforgivable criminal. Every word he dropped was like a whip, and he gritted his teeth as if feeling the same pain.

Yes, O. Henry knew what it was like, just like when he wrote down each name, it was like peeling off his own skin layer by layer, only to find that the old wound inside was still bloody with.He was amazed that his memory was so good, the past ten years ago was still as clear and clear in his mind as yesterday.

The kid named Verne was watching him secretly. O. Henry glanced at his crooked and clumsy handwriting, and showed him a list of his names, "Boy, guess who they are?"

Verne's cheeks were flushed because he was caught peeping, and he hurriedly covered the things he had scribbled and rewritten many wrong words.He looked at the entire page of names seriously for a long time, and asked carefully: "Yes, is it your companion...or family?"

"Huh?" O. Henry sneered, "Sure enough, he's still a child."

He said so, but he shook the manuscript paper on his hand like a child showing off his spoils, and revealed the answer——

"This is old Behrman, an old painter in his 60s."

"This is Jamie Wells, a new cop in New York."

"There's also Soapy, the homeless man in Madison Square. It's a pity that he went to prison recently. Otherwise, you can look at his bow tie. You can't buy such a beautiful thing outside."

"As for this, Billy Dliscu, he is very powerful. The wanted man who kidnapped the general's only son has not been caught yet."

"Of course," concluded O. Henry triumphantly, "they're all me."

He raised his chin, as if this was some great feat—Heine almost sneered, whoever engaged in intelligence has never used dozens or hundreds of false identities, O. Henry’s false identity and their false identities The only difference is the [-]% perfect camouflage under the influence of the special ability [Arcadian Passenger].

As long as there is a hair of the person to be disguised, O. Henry can completely transform himself into another person in the world - from appearance to blood type to DNA, even [-]% to [-]% of different abilities can be simulated.

The old drivers with piles of false identities ignored O Henry's show off, but Verne, who had never seen the world, let out a voice of admiration in cooperation.

Verne was very flattering, but O. Henry suddenly turned to Erye Tingming and asked, "I can understand that you chose other people, but this brat...he probably doesn't even know what supernatural powers are."

He purposely didn't speak very nicely, so that Verne's emotions, which had just risen a little, immediately fell to the bottom.Verne didn't know what he did wrong, he squeezed the holder of the pen and wrote a few words on the paper, desperately swallowing the grievance rising from his throat.

Nils leaned against his hand and patted his fingers to comfort him, but Verne inexplicably understood the atmosphere in the field, and what O Henry asked was also the question of others.

This question was written in Erye Tingming's script. Erye Tingming thought about it based on the current plot development and the characters he observed, and replied: "Jules Verne's fate is destined to be like this, even if there is no I, and someone else, will take him down this road to hell."

"I glimpsed a corner of his fate. The young boat will capsize in the stormy sea as soon as it sets sail."

Erye Tingming said warmly: "If that's the case, why don't I do it myself." Seeing the slightly moved expressions of the people present, the smile on his lips deepened, "At least I can guarantee that he can survive."

"Okay..." O. Henry snorted, "Thank you for your kindness." He didn't know whether to say this in a mockery or as a compliment, and turned back the page of the manuscript paper full of names, and vigorously Write a few words on the first line.

His brow furrowed and his lips pursed.Without a smile, a bit of cruelty appeared on his face, and because of the wrinkles between his brows, it added to the distress of falling into the enemy's helplessness.

At this time, O. Henry actually looked so similar to Heine next to him.

Now the only one who has nothing written on the blank paper is Cervantes—for the time being, Wilde who is obsessed with painting is not considered here—this gentleman is holding a pen like a knight holding the wrong weapon. at a loss.

Erye Tingming saw that he really couldn't squeeze out a word, so he kindly reminded: "If you don't know how to write, the books on the bookshelf can also be used as a reference, maybe they can provide some inspiration."

As soon as the words came out, Wilde immediately stopped shading the characters, "So these books can be read, I thought they were decorations."

Erye Tingming said: "Using books for decoration is the biggest waste in this world."

"I'm so sorry." Wilde abandoned the half-painted picture, stood up to study the books around him, and explained casually, "My study is full of such decorations, and I'm a little too used to it. gone."

Wilde walked around the wall made of books, took a book down casually, saw a gap in the original place of the book, and could see some outside light through the gap, so he couldn't help but tease: "It seems that if I read all the books, I can escape from the prison built by these books."

Erye Tingming chuckled because of his speech, "The soul is born free, and books will take you wherever you want."

"Then it would be best to take me to my heart." Wilde said, "I also want to know what I am thinking."

In fact, he didn't feel any pain, struggle and helplessness, and he could hardly recall what he had lost, desired or irretrievable.He didn't know where his consciousness of throwing away all glory came from, and he didn't know what his ideal should be painted to be more suitable.

He didn't even know why he grabbed the letter, maybe it was just because he mistook it for a butterfly flying in from outside the cage.

Or maybe even if the end point is hell, there is still a part of him unwilling to give up trying to escape from the canvas.

Wilde smiled self-deprecatingly, opened the book he took down, and immediately found that he was holding a collection of fairy tales.He glanced at the cover and wanted to know which writer had such a childlike innocence, but the author's name just passed by his eyes. The script of the "book" let him see the author's name, and then the name disappeared from his mind .

[The statue of the Happy Prince stands on a high stone pillar above the city.

His body is covered with thin leaves of gold, and his eyes are made of two bright sapphires...]

Wilde's action drove the other Calvin players who couldn't write a few words. They wandered along the walls of the books, from the bottom one to the top one as far as their eyes could see, as if the books they had no interest in before now It's so attractive that they can't take their eyes off at all.

Even Niels jumped up to Wilde, blinking wide-eyed at the fairy tale in his hands.

Erye Tingming guessed that with their progress, he had no hope of receiving any works tonight, so he stopped here to disturb the beets to get nourishment, got up and said: "Sorry, it's almost dawn over there, please Forgive me for waking up first in this dream."

"The books here are free for you to read. If you want to leave, you only need to say 'dawn' three times silently, and if you want to come back in, you only need to silently say 'go in your dream' three times before going to bed." Erye Tingming said , raised his index finger and made a silent gesture, "For safety reasons, you cannot mention tonight's events to outsiders in any form. Please forgive me if I offend you."

"Maybe after a week, we can have some new progress."

Erye Tingming bowed slightly, and made a final concluding speech for tonight's meeting.

"In the name of peace, freedom and the future, I salute you again."

"Sweet dreams."