Writer saves the world

When Verne woke up, the moon had just climbed onto his window sill, and the moonlight, like snow-colored satin, fell from the sky to the hair of the man standing beside his bed.

It was long pale golden hair with a beautiful luster, which was almost silvery white under the moonlight. A thin braid was braided at the side of the temple, and a ribbon was tied in a delicate knot at the end of the hair.A pair of pale, glass-colored eyes stared at him, the thick pale golden eyelashes drooping, and the skin soaked in the moonlight was white and transparent, showing some illusory and elusive sense of distance.

Verne was taken aback.He just came back from the dream. Although the transcendents in the dream gave him urgent training, he was still a little guilty to be honest. When he opened his eyes, he found the French transcendent man he had just met not long ago standing on the bed. On the other hand, even though Verne had done countless times of psychological training for himself, and was encouraged by his companions rubbing their heads and cheeks for a long time, he thought for a moment that he was exposed somewhere, and almost fell off the bed because of nervousness. .

"Bo, Mr. Pobaudelaire..." Verne swallowed, trying to make his voice sound normal, but the tone that came out of his throat was so thin and weird that he almost bit his tongue.

The sound of the wind brought broken laughter and noise from the cracks in the windows, and it was the sound of the party of the French transcendents downstairs who had not yet dispersed.Verne's absence didn't affect them calling friends and holding a welcome party, enjoying wine, beauties and beautiful moonlight all night until the sun rose the next day.

After a few days, their little Verne has adapted to the environment, and they will make up for him a more grand welcome party, so that the little bumpkins from the countryside can experience the bustling night scene in Paris, so as not to disturb some people with ulterior motives The sparrows flickered, and their minds were hooked to Siberia.

Verne still didn't know that he couldn't escape the fate of being sucked into the all-night carnival by the French transcendents, and he didn't know that his only hope was standing beside his bed, because he frowned slightly in surprise.

He just swallowed nervously under Baudelaire's gaze, wanting to take a deep breath to adjust his fast heartbeat, but he dared not move like a rabbit being targeted by a predator.

Baudelaire is obviously very good-looking, even among the fat and thin (?) French transcendents, he stands out from the crowd.The delicate and cold face does not reveal his real age at all, like a fairy walking in the world, mature and young, full of contradictory and strange beauty.

But from the first time Verne saw him, he couldn't help being a little afraid of him.Even if Baudelaire is still friendly to him, and in Maupassant's words, Baudelaire is the one with the best temper and the best at educating newcomers among them, he will definitely be able to train him into a powerful and excellent person with supernatural powers ——But Verne was still afraid of him, just like when he faced the stormy sea, his survival instinct kept him away.

"I'll come and see you." Baudelaire said, "It's nothing, just go back to sleep."

His voice was also as clear and cold as moonlight, and there was no warmth in the words he spoke. Vernes nodded slowly in response, but felt as if a needle had been stuck in the bed. He couldn't help it under Baudelaire's gaze. An Ran lay back and continued to sleep, her whole body stiff as a rock.

This is a completely different sense of oppression from when he was practicing with other transcendents in the dream. He even felt that Baudelaire looked at him as if he was looking at a dead object, and all his breathing and heartbeat were blocked by a huge hollow Devouring, I can't feel half of my living existence.

Verne didn't dare to speak casually, and Baudelaire didn't speak, and the scene fell into a stalemate for a moment. Verne felt that Baudelaire's eyes looking at him were getting colder and colder, as if he was about to bury him in the next second. Into the garden to make flower fertilizer...

"Ah, Charles, you really came to the little cutie!"

Maupassant, who drunkenly kicked open the door, saved Verne's beating heart.This man who had been worried for several days finally brought Verne back safely. As soon as he finished the mission, he drank it down. He unbuttoned his shirt a few times, exposing most of his chest, with stains on his collar and cheeks. The marks left by the lipstick, the dark red and light crimson probably came from the lips of several girls.

Seeing Maupassant's dissolute appearance, Baudelaire moved to block Verne's sight, and asked with a frown, "Is there something wrong?"

He acted cold and unapproachable, but Maupassant was not frightened by his cold face at all, and stretched out his hand to put on Baudelaire's shoulder with a smile, "We are going to pry the wine cellar here, do you want to come together? "

Baudelaire knocked off the hand on his shoulder, and his tone was so cold that ice shards fell, "I don't think you have forgotten that this is my home."

You are a guest who left behind a forced party with a shameless face. Here, you openly invite the host who doesn't want to entertain you to pry into your wine cellar. I'm afraid you have a big problem with your head.

"That's why your family came to invite you. It would be impolite for us not to take you with us." Maupassant shook his hands and turned his head, and saw Verne sitting on the bed again. His eyes lit up and he walked over in a few steps , "Gabe, come along, the wine cellar of Shire's house is the most exciting to pry up! It will bloom and explode! Bang! Bang! Boom!"

Verne, who had inexplicably added "Gabe" as his nickname, was grabbed by Maupassant. The heavy smell of alcohol on his face made him wrinkle his face, shook his head and refused, "No, I'm going to sleep."

"But you haven't slept yet, haven't you?" Maupassant was very troubled when he was drunk, not even afraid of Baudelaire's cold face, and naturally he would not be knocked down by Verne's powerless refusal, so he pulled Verne up Na was about to carry people downstairs, regardless of Verne still wearing pajamas and bare feet - just look at the battle situation on the first floor, at least Verne was still wearing pants compared to some gentlemen who were too excited to show their true colors.

Baudelaire also thought of some unsightly human-shaped garbage he saw before coming up, and reached out to stop Maupassant and save Verne's eyes.

"Forget it if you're outrageous, don't mess around with the children." Without seeing Baudelaire's movements, Maupassant suddenly collapsed, and Verne, who was carried on his shoulders, fell into Baudelaire's arms. and was sent back to bed.

"You go to sleep, I'll go down and have a look." Baudelaire grabbed Maupassant's collar and dragged him away like a corpse, then said after a pause, "...good night."

Verne squeezed the corner of the quilt, and whispered: "Good night, Mr. Baudelaire."

Baudelaire nodded lightly, then turned and closed the door.

Downstairs was still bustling, and I don't know who took the lead in singing the lingering love song. The melodious sound of the piano may come from the beautiful white piano in the hall, which made the room even more silent.

Verne slowly relaxed his tense body, belatedly feeling the sweat on his palms.

He stretched out his hand, looked at the moonlight falling on his palm quietly for a long time, then closed his fingers carefully, as if trying to catch the moonlight.

Somehow, Verne recalled a passage in Wilde’s story—he wrote about the cold and stormy night, when the canary at the end of its life just endlessly stretched out its hand to the moonlight.

The moonlight that night should be more beautiful than tonight.

Verne let go of his hand again, letting the moonlight in his hand disperse.He lay back under the quilt, silently saying "go in a dream" in his heart, and suddenly wanted to read that canary story again.

The night in Paris is getting darker, but the morning in Tokyo has just arrived.Natsume Soseki, who worked overtime all night, is enjoying a rare moment of relaxation in the form of a cat. The air stained with morning dew is moist and clean, and the indigo sky is hazy like fog, which is not interesting.

The nimble and vigorous Sanhua cat walks through the narrow gaps that humans cannot squeeze in, and leaps up to the roof to make way. This is a secret passage dedicated to cats. Only cats can understand the intricate routes from the ground to the underground.

The morning breeze blows away the tiredness of working overtime all night. The high raised tail and gently swaying tip of the tail indicate a good mood for the rest day. Natsume Soseki found a quiet place until he was almost at the door of his house. Changing back into a human body, walking home as if nothing had happened—how Mr. Natsume went back and forth between home and office without being noticed by anyone, is one of the seven mysteries circulating among high-level civil servants in Tokyo .

Because of the busy work during this period, he has not been able to go home for several days, and there are several newspapers he ordered, as well as some advertisements and promotion leaflets stuffed in the mailbox at the door.The mailbox was full, and those who couldn’t fit had to be placed on top of the mailbox, pressed with stones to avoid being blown away by the wind.

At this time, today's newspaper should have arrived.

Natsume Soseki looked at his watch, and took home the things stuffed inside and outside the mailbox.He is not worried about any dangerous goods inside. After all, the location of his residence is strictly kept secret. It is just an ordinary self-built house to the outside world. There is an ordinary civil servant living here. No one passing by will look at it. With a glance, and the fact that there are agents in charge of protecting him living nearby, any suspicious and dangerous items that shouldn't appear will be cleaned up before he sees them.

Normally, after several days of high-intensity work and two days of staying up all night, he should lie down quickly to catch up on sleep, but Natsume Soseki works too much overtime and will suffer from slight insomnia due to excessive nervousness. The more irritable you are, it is better to read newspapers, magazines or even the advertisements stuffed in to soothe your nerves.

Taking off his coat and putting on comfortable home clothes, Natsume Soseki sat down and sorted out the messy magazine and newspaper advertisements in the mailbox one by one - the newspaper from three days ago, yesterday's magazine, last week's expired supermarket promotion... …

Today's newspaper hasn't come yet, but he turned out a magazine that he had never subscribed to or seen, but the origin of this magazine is easy to guess. The signboards are exactly the same, and you can tell at a glance that they are from the same person.

Natsume Soseki's curiosity was raised.He didn't ignore the subtle but subtle attraction on the cover, which made him want to open the magazine the moment he saw it—probably some non-human spell of Futaba Tingming, Natsume Soseki felt the cover carefully, and after confirming that it would not have too much influence, he put aside the idea of ​​having tea with Erye Tingming for the time being.

I've been too busy recently, so I don't have much time to go to Yokohama. Since Futaba Teimaki didn't use his spells too much, he'll wait and see, and wait until he's on vacation for a while.

Natsume Soseki didn't care about the newspaper and magazine advertisements spread all over the floor, and happily decided to take this "Contest" as his bedtime reading.

If the magazine Futaba Teimaki gave him, there is a high probability that it is a literary magazine. The name of "Natsume Soseki" is on the cover, and the name of "Mori Ogai" that Natsume Soseki has heard.

Of course, "Natsume Soseki" is not his Natsume Soseki, and "Mori Ogai" is not the Mori Ogai who is favored by his colleagues and is performing long-term missions overseas.

Natsume Soseki glanced at the names on the cover again, and paid extra attention to "Akutagawa Ryunosuke" and "Newcomer Writer Taneyoshi". While guessing the content of the magazine, he turned to the first page and saw the catalog page. With a prominent post-it note.The note said [Please read this article, although it is a clumsy work, I hope it can make you laugh. 】.

The signature on the note is "Oda Sakunosuke", and an arrow is thoughtfully drawn to point to the specific item in the catalog.

Natsume Soseki raised his eyebrows. He searched the name of Oda Sakunosuke in his mind, and he could only think of the former boy killer Oda Sakunosuke who lived with Futaba Temingaki.The only interaction he has with the other party is that he gave the other party a book that was unsalable when he was young, and out of a certain adult's psychology of being a teacher, he talked to him a few times, trying to put him on the side of saving people Pulled a hand.

But they only saw that side, and Natsume Soseki didn't pay attention to the follow-up matter. If it wasn't for Oda Sakunosuke who later appeared next to Futaba Tingming, Natsume Soseki, who was overwhelmed by work, might not have remembered that he had encountered such a thing before. As a young man, he has to use his associative ability to think that Oda Sakunosuke was really moved by a few words in his book, and he washed his hands and embarked on the road of literary creation.

This was obviously a good thing, as good as he had hoped for at the time, but suddenly a few guilty bubbles popped up in Natsume Soseki's heart.He was like those Neptune shit shovel officers who were glued to by stray cats who were fed casually. He was condemned by his conscience when he faced the good cats who had run for an unknown distance and were squatting expectantly at the door of the house.

You tease him and run away without a trace, and you ignore people and get blocked at the door. Everyone has to say something happy, if Wilde is so mean, he will directly laugh at him, which is called retribution.

Natsume Soseki took a deep breath, suppressing the strange emotions in his heart.The old fox who is a political mess has skillfully lost his conscience, and he can turn the magazine to the page marked by Oda Sakunosuke without changing his face.

——"Goodness"

——The author Zhong Ji.

Under the pen name is Oda Sakunosuke.

The Oda Sakunosuke who Natsume Soseki met, talked to, and only met once.