Writer saves the world

This is a story that happened in a bar.

The young killer ordered a cup of black coffee without sugar or milk, and frowned because of the too bitter taste.

The bartender behind the bar accosted him, saying that he would recommend wine for this taciturn and indifferent guest.The killer shook his head, declining his offer.

He has just finished a job, and there are several evening jobs waiting in line. If he drinks alcohol, he won't be able to last until the sun rises.

—It sounds like your business is booming.

said the bartender.

——When the world is bad, it is our peak season.I'm so busy these days that I have to be harassed by phone calls for a cup of coffee.

The killer's cell phone is in permanent silent mode, but the screen keeps lighting up for incoming calls or text messages.

——In that case, you must have seen many interesting things?

The bartender's expression is like a child who is looking forward to a bedtime story, which can lift the killer's spirit more than the hard-to-drink black coffee.Although, the money he received did not include the extra cost of mission secrecy, and the boring time before the night shift might be spent with one or two stories.

——If you want to listen, buy me a drink next time.

——I'll open you a bottle of the best wine in the store, so tell me a story to go with it, too.

So the killer told the story of two daughters from a wealthy family who were fighting for the inheritance left by the dead old man.

The shrewd and calculating wife of the first room, the ambitious second son of the second room, and the children who are incompetent and have caused many troubles. Relatives and friends, from the cry of "the old man died", they began to have their own thoughts and smiles, and they refused to give in to each other at the funeral. His eyes were red and his face was torn. He even wanted to fight for a pair of trousers from the old man. He wished he could kick the other party's whole family out of the house naked, and he was not allowed to take a single thread away.

The two families fought like chickens and dogs, and the city was full of ups and downs. At one time, the eldest house was proud of the spring breeze, and at other times, the second house took the victory, but it made others see enough jokes.

The killer is an excellent narrator, and he vividly described this ugly philistine family with no family at all. The bartender seemed to be able to see the face of Mrs. Changfang with "very white paint and a bloody mouth" and heard the harsh words. A family huddled in a villa quarreled like thunder.

--and then?

The bartender couldn't help wondering who the final winner was, and who would get the old man's multi-billion inheritance.

--Then?Then they all die.

The killer took a sip of his coffee, as the bartender's surprised expression showed a successful mischievous smile.

He is a killer, so someone must die in this story, it's just that the scope is a little bigger this time.

——That was really a big deal, and it took me a whole night to gather people together and reunite them in the villa left by the old man.Oops, it's really hard to think about it.

——But...wh, why?

the bartender asked timidly.

——Who knows, maybe they were too noisy, didn't they also appear in the news a few days ago, there was a murder case because of the noise upstairs.

The killer answered casually, seeing the clock pointing to the time when he started working, he drank the coffee at the bottom of the cup like medicine, got up and hurried out the door.

What's more, isn't this a good thing, the family is reunited, and there are no endless quarrels and quarrels to frame each other.

[Tranquility can only be enjoyed by death.

Namo Amitabha.

Goodness.Goodness. 】

……

The slight guilt in Natsume Soseki's heart disappeared with the ups and downs of this story, and a certain part quietly became self-satisfied-he dug out a piece of jade that was hidden in the brilliance, and those few casually dialed speeches, It really illuminates the literary path of young writers.

To write is to write about people, and to narrate stories is to spy on people's hearts.Oda Sakunosuke may not yet understand how to touch the hearts of others, but he has learned to start with himself, starting with his short killer career that is different from the lives of most ordinary people, and let the voice in his heart fall on paper , The immature and beautiful flowers bloomed under the pen.

"It's really an excellent work." Natsume Soseki admired, he thought he should say something to the young writer who was taken by him on another road, encouragement, praise, praise-please continue to write, Your words will surely bloom with incomparable brilliance.

He had to say something.

No, not over a phone call or a text message, something he felt was missing that way, something he couldn't name but was the most important thing, something that was absolutely indispensable in this case.

As Natsume Soseki was thinking, he flipped through the magazine along the page numbers. After "Shanzai", there were works by several foreign writers. They were equally wonderful, interesting and thought-provoking. The logic of the story is in stark contrast to the quality of the so-called bestsellers nowadays.

It can be said that it is an excellent masterpiece that is more than enough to be placed in a textbook.

However, Natsume Soseki can still tell at a glance that these works should be the same as those books in Naruya, from the so-called "commercial secrets" channel of Futaba Tingming, parallel world or other places, making the article by Oda Sakunosuke The works are particularly distinctive.

If you look at it alone, the difference is actually not obvious. However, when you read the entire magazine in front of you one after another, "Shanzai" is like the only black goat in a flock of white sheep, from head to toe. Every hair looks like a barbaric growth.

As a former killer, as a person with supernatural powers, as a human being who lives with non-human beings, the young writer who has become a monk has a faint bloody smell of withdrawing from the business and ignoring life and death in his words, and cleverly hides the edge in the noisy story of the philistine , and the tip of the knife is bright from the very beginning, which is a kind of unconscious cruelty and danger.

To write a book is to write about a person, and by reading every word written by a writer, one can see the essence hidden in his soul.

At the end of the magazine, there is an advertisement on both sides of the paper. The front is a subscription guide, telling readers that the first issue is a free trial. If they think it is good, just cut out the subscription form on the last page and fill it out. The subscription fee of [-] yen is sent to the location of the editorial department together with the form, and you can receive the freshly baked "Contentation" at the beginning of each month.

In addition, full unsubscription is supported for the first three months. As long as the content quality of any issue of the magazine does not meet expectations, readers can write to the editorial department by email or call directly to request a refund of all subscription fees paid by themselves.

This kind of sales strategy was completely irresistible. Natsume Soseki not only immediately decided to order a copy for himself, but also planned to order a few more copies for various departments under him.Most of the departments under him are secret departments that cannot be seen in the light. The daily work pressure is high, not to mention the long overtime hours. There are also high-risk jobs such as the Supernatural Secret Service Department and the Magic Affairs Department. and meaningful leisure activities.

For example, use a few excellent literary works in fragmented time to nourish the exhausted soul that has been beaten and killed.

The more Natsume Soseki thought about it, the more he felt that this idea was a good idea, and judging from the amount of books collected by Tingming Erye, at least three to five years in "Contentation" can guarantee high-quality content updates.The annual subscription fee of [-] yen is very cheap for a senior official like him, and it is no problem to order a copy for each of his subordinates.

Well, let's order two more books for the Conjuration Affairs Section. The only two specially-approved civil servants in it are underage.

After filling out the subscription form, Natsume Soseki glanced at the submission guide on the back of the subscription guide. "Zhengming" accepts all forms of submissions - essays, poetry, literary criticism, art theory, creative skills sharing...

Everything to do with literature.

And, it's all about literature.

This range can be very broad or very narrow, and Natsume Soseki's instinct as a politician allows him to smell the deep meaning hidden in this ambiguous description.He had an intuition that Erye Tingming was going to do something big, but he carefully checked Erye Tingming's recent movements, and couldn't think of what big things Erye Tingming could do, after all, Erye Tingming, who was squatting in Yokohama every day, Ming didn't even meet a few outsiders, and the daily report came up every day except for looking at the store and taking care of the children. He was so honest that the agents who monitored him couldn't write anything.

In the end, Natsume Soseki could only attribute it to being too suspicious. He sighed and thought about the seriousness of occupational diseases, and then stared at the contact email submission address on the submission guide for a while and was silent for a while—he had to say something to Oda Sakunosuke , this thought popped up again, scratching his heart like a feather, tempting him to pick up the pen he hadn't touched for a long time, and turning out the manuscript paper at the bottom of the box, telling him to count all his thoughts like he did when he was young and frivolous Pay at the end of the pen.

He has not written for such a long time, but for some reason, just thinking about it for a while, his heart is beating happily, and it really becomes hot and hot like it was when he was young.

Well……

Let him think about which corner he stuffed the manuscript paper into.

……

While Natsume Soseki was rummaging through boxes and cabinets looking for manuscript paper, the other end of Japan—the northernmost end—was snowflakes fluttering down.

Sometimes it looks like powder, sometimes it looks like grains, sometimes it looks like cotton wool, and sometimes it looks like water.

Sometimes it is like turning hard soil, sometimes it is like accumulating granulated sugar, and sometimes it is like hiding cold ice.

This is the appearance of snowflakes falling at the northernmost part of this land. I don’t know how long it has been snowing, and a thick and soft white layer has accumulated under the fortified eaves of the deep house and compound.

The servants were doing their own things in an orderly manner, clearing the snow on the road, adding coal and charcoal to the old-fashioned floor heating, and carrying the master's changed clothes, walking quickly and lightly.

He neither talks too much, but also restrains himself in every move, and there is no noise of impoliteness, so in the silent house, even the sound of snowflakes falling can be heard clearly.

Even the children who should be elated when they see snow falling, like Zhongyuan Zhongye, jumping down to play in the snow, just sit by the window and look at the snow scene outside, An Jingjing has no intention of going out to have fun at all.

It's snowing.

Looks like I can't go out today.

He fell into the water by accident not long ago, and now he still has a little cough. It is impossible for his family to let him go out in the snow. It would be bad if his condition worsened due to the wind and cold.Although he is the youngest son in the family, he has an older brother and a younger brother who is usually not taken seriously, so the housekeeper and servants will remind his father and them of such basic trivial matters.

Sure enough, not long after, the maid came to inform him that today's trip had nothing to do with him.The maid who cared too much about him even added a few words like "The master told you to rest well" on her own initiative, trying to comfort him, the poor little wretch left by his family.

He also knew that such words could not come from his serious and reticent father.

The child skillfully showed a well-behaved smile, mixed with just the right loneliness and sadness, and sent the maid away to the kitchen to get some snacks in a few words.Today, the adults at home are not here, and the cook on duty is a lazy guy, so she can't be bothered easily. At least the maid said it would take an hour to get back the snacks, and he would have an hour of peace and freedom.

So, what to do during this time...

He leaned against the window sill, staring out of the window in a daze.There is no one in the picture framed by the window, only the pine trees, white snow and hard-working birds. A little farther away is the artificial lake that he fell into not long ago. The water of the lake is frozen these days, reflecting the The color of snow glistens.

The doctor said that he almost drowned in the lake. He had a high fever and was in a coma for several days before waking up. His mother cried and hugged him and kissed his cheek. This was the closest time he had to his mother since he could remember. A little scared, as if I couldn't breathe because of my mother's embrace.

He also heard that his elder brother who took him to play by the lake was severely scolded by his father and shut up in a room for self-reflection. So the night before his father came to see him, he was so nervous that he couldn't sleep, thinking over and over in his head How should I face my father.But his father was gentle beyond his expectations. He just reprimanded him a few words for being too busy playing and not paying attention to safety, which made the family worry so much. He even patted his head and said that he was already an older child. Be sensible.

It was very strange, for the first time, he couldn't figure out what other people were thinking, as if everyone was under magic, and everyone was so abnormal that he was at a loss, wishing to escape to a place where no one could find him It's better to go.

Maybe it's the magic called "death"?

He couldn't help but think of the pain of drowning again. He was cold and unable to breathe. The water poured into his body from his nose and mouth. He couldn't think about anything, as if his whole body disappeared into a cloud of mist There was a gust of wind, and I couldn't even feel my own existence.

Quiet, blank, dark...

As he recalled, the feeling of peace and lightness revealed a warm and beautiful radiance, overshadowing the initial painful struggle.He thought maybe this was also the power of the "death" magic, which made him know that this was just an absurd and wrong illusion, and couldn't help but yearn to do it again.

It would be nice if it wasn't so cold and uncomfortable, he looked at the frozen lake and thought that it would be fine if it snowed like this.

There was the sound of creaking floorboards in the corridor outside the door, and the next second he sat up straight like a conditioned reflex, someone opened his door, "Xiu Zhi! Are you feeling better?"

It was his second-ranked elder brother. Not long ago, he was punished by his father and said that he would never play with him again, but now he posted it as if he had never said that sentence.

The second brother held a magazine, and mysteriously said that it was a good thing he found out from the elder brother's study. He specially brought it to the poor brother who couldn't go out to relieve his boredom. In addition, he reluctantly contributed his own canned oranges—— In this rural area in the northernmost part of Japan, this kind of high-end products brought back from Tokyo are rare. Although they don't look much different from local canned food, they always feel that the taste is sweeter.

The elder brother held the younger brother in his lap, and sifted through the articles in the magazines, choosing one that seemed suitable for a young child and reading it to him.

Before he came here, he had already read the magazine called "Contentation". The elder brother said that he didn't know who put in the stuff to promote it. They were all unknown third-rate writers, and they put it on the table without reading it. However, after reading it, he found the article in this magazine interesting, so he used it as an excuse to reconcile with his young brother.

The child named Xiuzhi was eating canned oranges earnestly. The orange petals soaked in sugar water were crystal clear like gems.He was gifted and intelligent, and he could read books by himself very early, but he was not interested in books. His brother was willing to read them to him, so he listened to them as stories to pass the time.

"It probably happened in the late years of Yuanqing and the early years of Renhe. No matter which dynasty or generation, it has nothing to do with this story. The judges can only think that it happened a long time ago in the Heian Dynasty. ——It is said that at that time, Fujiwara Motosuke was regent, and his subordinates Among the guards, there is a fifth rank..."