The Duke in the Spire of Thorns

Celeste looked at the self-portrait in front of him and always felt something was wrong.

The self-portrait was so vivid that it made him feel like he was looking in a mirror.I don't know if it was an illusion, but he felt that he had some connection with this painting.

But how is this possible?

Celeste didn't have time to think about it, and Escrito covered the painting with a white cloth.

As the self-portrait was covered in white cloth, the vague sense of connection disappeared, and Escrite gave him a kiss, and he completely forgot about it.

"Do you like to draw?"

Escrito asked softly, Celeste should have answered "like", but when the answer came to his lips, he hesitated.

Does he really like to draw?

As a young boy, he never imagined that one day he would pick up a paintbrush and make a living from it.So, when did he pick up the paintbrush and when did he decide to embark on the road of painting?

The day he picked up the paintbrush was the day when countless inspirations emerged inexplicably. He guessed that it was a gift from Escrit, so he held the paintbrush tightly without hesitation.And then, the ease with which he could paint masterpieces and the wealth and fame that accompanies them drove him to become a painter.

Does he love painting?

"……I have no idea."

Celeste lowered his head and answered in a somewhat confused manner.He told Escrit honestly: "Actually, I didn't intend to become a painter at first, but painting suddenly became very simple, and it can bring me fame and fortune. I couldn't refuse the temptation... Maybe I didn't I love to draw."

His voice became smaller and smaller, like a small animal that made a mistake, waiting for Escrit's answer uneasily, he didn't want to deceive the other party, so he cut his dark side completely, and let Escrit Scritter watched.

Will Escrito be angry?

Maybe he would, unlike him, Escrito was different from him, he was a real painter, he must love to paint, and he would be angry when he heard his answer.

Celeste regretted it again, he was simply too stupid, it wouldn't hurt to say something about love, why did he have to say something that might be angry?

"So it is."

Escrito's voice could not be heard, and Celeste was anxious. His lips moved a few times, trying to say something to save his mistake, but the words in his mind were too weak to withstand scrutiny .In the end, he still shut up.

"It's okay if you don't like it."

Escrit was not angry, he whispered softly, "It's just a skill, if you don't like it, don't like it."

He didn't seem to feel that his faith was offended at all, Escrit hugged Celeste on his lap, "What you like is the ease of painting and the fame and fortune it can bring, right?"

This is indeed the case, and Celeste also admitted it himself just now, but now that Escrit said this, he always felt hot on his face, he lowered his head in shame, and said sorry.

Escrit seemed to be amused by him, and asked patiently, "Why do you feel sorry?"

"I, I have tarnished your faith." Celeste recalled the painters he had been with. They regarded the art of painting as a belief, and some were even willing to defend it with their lives.Perhaps Escrit was like that too?

"My faith?" Escrit stroked the back of Celeste's neck and said with a smile, "It's not worthy yet."

"Don't feel sorry for me, I don't think you are wrong." Escrit said: "Your talent for painting comes from me, I will let you continue to have it, you can use it as you like, I don't care."

His voice gradually lowered, and he approached Celeste intimately, "As long as you pay me something, or if you don't want to pay, it's fine."

How could Celeste grow up among the rich and powerful, how could he not know what Escrit meant?His face immediately turned red. He had imagined his meeting with Escrit, and he had fantasized about the changes in their relationship, but no matter in which imagining, he and Escrit would not progress like this. quick.

He should refuse, and then proceed step by step in a proper manner, starting with giving flowers, and then inviting dinner... But how could he be willing to refuse?

"It's not a reward," he said vaguely. "This is my dream."

"As long as you want, I don't mind. But you don't have to pay anything, I have found you, I don't need your talent anymore, even if I am no longer a painter, I still have power."

Celeste was caught in the chaos of joy, and tentatively kissed Escrit's chin, "I will treat you well, and I will give you whatever you want."

"Really?" Escrit stroked his back, "If you are lying to me, then I will be angry."

"I will never lie to you." Celeste was innocent and sincere, "I know what you want, and I won't refuse."

He put his arms around Escrit and kissed him awkwardly but passionately.

Escrito's body tensed up, but his face was still calm and calm. He took Celeste into the bathroom and carried him out again. Bitter taste, but Celeste didn't care, he lay on the bed, looked at Escrit and smiled.

They lived a sweet life in the manor for a few days. Celeste was immersed in the sweet love, and still remembered to give some attention to George. After George left, he never contacted him again, which is very unusual.There was no letter in the mailbox at the door, and no one answered the hotel phone in the address book.

At first, he thought that there would be no problem with George. George had been here before, and he was very familiar with it. How could there be an accident?But as time went on, George still had no news, and Celeste couldn't sit still.

"I've got to see George."

Celeste said this to Escrit, there were still stains of red marks under his open collar, Escrilt buttoned his shirt slowly, "Okay."

"Would you like me to go with you?"

Celeste laughed: "I wish I could, George will definitely be shocked."

"Well, I want to take you to see George, and I want to take you to meet my family, if you don't mind." Celeste looked forward to the future: "My family will definitely like you very much."

Escrito didn't speak, he tidied up a little, and went out with Celeste.

The garden outside the door is extremely beautiful, with all kinds of flowers blooming mixedly, the bushes and landscape trees have also been pruned into a regular look, the angel statue on the fountain is white and brand new, with its wings slightly spread, it seems that it is planning to fly to the sky.

The iron door was opened, and a carriage was parked there. Escrite sat on the driver's seat, and Celeste sat beside him. He didn't want to sit in the carriage, but only wanted to lean on his lover.

Escrito raised his whip, and the wheels began to roll, making a slight sound of rolling over sand and gravel.