Write well, don't fight

What is literature?

According to the official theoretical definition, literature is an art that uses language as a tool to more vividly reflect objective reality and express the writer's spiritual world, and different literary genres are its different forms of expression.

Literature is a world full of infinite possibilities.

Weisha deeply believed in this.

It is not that the detective agency has not discussed Weisha's strange abilities.The name is tall, and the essence is speechless. It seems that the ability is very tasteless, and the only function it can play is to remind people to change.

Oh, and there is also a use for distinguishing most supernatural beings.So far, what can be determined is that this ability will work for all the supernatural beings encountered.

To be honest, the detective agency is not unwilling to take on the business of a writer in addition to the official work, but...

The writers [crossed out] who were harmed by [crossed out] 'Caring for Love' smiled helplessly.

Outsiders see their brilliance, but only you know what it feels like...

Tanizaki Junichiro: "By the way, why does Wei Xia firmly believe that we are literary giants?"

Kunikida Doppo has already taken out his handbook, flipped through the pages, and said with a serious face: "The name of the ability: Wen Yi Zai Tao. The owner: Yun Weixia. Known activation conditions: Hearing the name of the person with the ability , ability name, related information, etc. Known activation method: the user’s words are heard by the affected person. Initiation effect: the affected person falls into an uncontrollable enthusiasm for writing, and the hand speed increases by 5%-11% compared with usual, It cannot be stopped until the work is completed. Restrictions on activation: [Undecided] by supernatural powers, single-target activation [To be determined]."

Closing the hand account, Kunikida Doppo pushed his glasses: "That's all the information collected so far."

Atsushi Nakajima tilted his head, and raised his hand hesitantly: "By the way, since I'm guessing here, why don't you just ask Miss Weixia?"

As soon as this remark came out, everyone immediately cast a complex look of surprise and vicissitudes.

I'm afraid you haven't suffered enough yet...

Tanizaki Junichiro: "If you want, I'll call Wei Xia now and ask her to come back, can you ask her face to face?"

Atsushi Nakajima, who was belatedly aware of it, recalled the experience when he was about to break his handwriting a few days ago, and his face turned pale: "...No... Forget it... Don't bother Miss Weixia!"

"Where is Dazai? Where did he go?"

Kunikida looked around for a week, and wanted to find the bandage waste device with a relatively easy-to-use brain to ask his opinion, but found that the person disappeared again...

Layers upon layers of clouds crowded each other to occupy most of the sky, and the cool wind mixed with water vapor lightly passed around the girl's sleeves, swinging happily on the soft hair tips.

Looking down from where we stand, we can see tiny translucent waves rippling from the gurgling river, the slender willow branches gently brushing across the river, ripples appear in circles, and the bright yellow leaf tips tremble slightly, like a beauty looking at herself.

This is a great place to watch the scenery, but few people.

Because this is a cemetery.

For here lies a soul at rest.

Wei Xia stared blankly at the brown-haired man standing no more than half a meter in front of her. The sand-colored windbreaker long hem covered those slender legs, and the bangs drooping on his forehead concealed the complex look in his pupils.

The tombstones are arranged in a dense and orderly manner, and it seems that the curling green smoke can be seen slowly rising.The overly solemn atmosphere made Weixia a little nervous. She thought she was silently looking at Osamu Dazai standing in front who seemed to have taken off his usual frivolous coat. The other party had been silent for nearly 10 minutes.

"Mr. Dazai...you..."

Finally, it was a bit unbearable to bear the dull atmosphere, Wei Xia tentatively opened his mouth, a pair of iris-colored pupils turned around, and met the girl's warm orange pupils.

Wei Xia quickly fell silent, the ups and downs in those eyes were hard to describe even in words, a combination of nostalgia, sadness and other emotions that were difficult to distinguish one by one, all immersed in the pupils of one person at this moment.

Osamu Dazai opened his mouth, with the usual chuckle in his tone: "Weixia, I want to know, why do you insist so much that we are literary giants?"

Yun Weixia blinked, and repeated what she had said many times before: "You don't need to think about it, because you are writers! Writers who use words to describe human nature, use words to analyze society, and use words to create the world!"

"However, we have never engaged in literary work. Isn't all this your subjective assumption, Weisha?"

Osamu Dazai slightly bent the corners of his lips, took a step towards the girl, and cut it off before the girl wanted to continue: "Is all this a special effect brought about by your ability, or is it because of something else? The reason? Have you really not noticed the huge gap between the world you think and the reality?"

"Or, did you do it knowingly, Weisha?"

The man's tone was still frivolous, but there was no real smile in his eyes. He stared deeply at the girl's eyes, as if he wanted to see through everything.

"Because I've seen it!"

Yun Weixia spoke resolutely, facing Dazai Zhiji's somewhat surprised gaze, stepped forward and looked directly at the pair of pupils with dim light flowing without fear: "Maybe you don't know, but I have seen it, I I have seen your work."

"I saw it and was deeply moved by it."

Osamu Dazai lowered his head slightly, looking at the girl's firm eyes, the color of the pupils was like the morning sun, exuding too dazzling light.

He was dumb, and then smiled: "As expected, is that so?"

Wei Xia tilted his head, looked suspiciously at the other party sitting on the ground and covered his face while laughing, the laughter was very loud.

She was a little puzzled, but still swallowed the doubts in her heart, and turned her gaze to the tombstone directly in front of her.The handwriting on the stone tablet has become blurred and difficult to distinguish, only a small piece of sunken soil in front of the stone tablet can prove that someone must have stood here for a long time.

"Mr. Dazai came here... because of... an important person..."

Osamu Dazai turned around, stroked the tombstone, and said softly, "Yes...he is my friend, you should know his name..."

"what?"

Wei Xia was puzzled, how could she know who this was, she couldn't read the words on the tombstone.

"Oda Sakunosuke..."

A cautious voice sounded softly, as if worrying about something important being broken.

"The pioneer of Japanese body decadent literature, with the creative concept of "turning lies into reality", and wants to fundamentally eliminate the boundary between fiction and reality. Mr. Oda Sakunosuke, who is quite innovative in the style of Japanese novels!

Wei Xia covered his mouth with a look of astonishment: "That is the leading writer who is not only a realist, but also proficient in existentialism, and belongs to the "rogue faction". Mr. Odasaku?! The literary giant who passed away at the age of 34 like a comet?!"

"Did you die at the age of 34... Indeed..." Osamu Dazai lowered his eyes, traced and stroked the outline of the tombstone with his fingers.

Light rain began to patter in the sky, tick tock, like a whining whisper, moistening the soil.

Wei Xia took out the umbrella from the bag and opened it, looked at the brown-haired man's clothes soaked in the rain, and said softly, "Mr. Dazai, it's raining, and you'll catch a cold if you get wet."

"Weixia, you know Odasaku's article, can you... read it to me..."

Osamu Dazai didn't answer the words, and he didn't go to the place where the girl specially left him to shelter from the rain. He just stroked the stone tablet mechanically, as if tirelessly.

"But..." Wei Xia wanted to say something more, but she didn't finish her sentence after all. Her eyes were a little red, and she pursed her lips.

It was a pleading tone from Osamu Dazai that she had never heard before.

"The word youth...remove the upper part...remain...the sun and the moon...the sun and the moon...as the light. As long as there is...youth...there is light...but after the light is projected...the other side... Everyone will... reflect on... their own shadow..."

The girl wiped her tears while talking intermittently. The brown-haired man was already sitting in front of the tombstone, leaning against the stone tablet, slowly closing his eyes, listening to the words that seemed to float in the air like water mist, spanning time and space. .

There were crystal drops of water hanging on the curved eyelashes, but Osamu Dazai was smiling slightly.

"This is the only best day after you left..."

He gently closed his eyes, his murmurs covered by the rain.