[Comprehensive] Martyrdom is not a good civilization

Arrived at the bookstore at 09:30, most of the students rest at home on weekends or go out to play with their second or third friends, it is quite deserted here.

I hesitated at the door of the store, with tiny beads of sweat oozing from the tip of my nose, feeling anxious and looking forward to it.

My heart was beating uncontrollably, and I knocked lightly on the door of the bookstore.

"Tuk Tuk!"

The old man raised his head and took off the reading glasses on his face. His eye sockets were slightly sunken, and his translucent dark brown eyes looked at me for a moment, and asked in a slow voice: "Oh, what's wrong with the little girl?"

I'm not particularly good at talking to others, especially the elders, I'm nervous with hands and feet and a serious face.

The old man was infected by my expression, he stroked his silver-streaked hair and waited quietly for my answer.

I took a deep breath and walked up to him and bowed: "Excuse me, Mr. Store Manager! I came here today to send you a drawing."

The old gentleman came out from the cash register, wearing a dark blue kimono, he looked at me suspiciously: "Sketch?"

"Yes! I got the inspiration from you when I came to the bookstore last time. I conceived a short story based on you as the protagonist. I am very sorry if I offend you!"

"Oh, that's it..." The old man looked at me curiously, "The children nowadays are really fantastic, relax little girl, can I read that story?"

"Of course!" I let out a long breath in my heart, feeling a little ashamed of my behavior - I was so nervous that I forgot to take out the drawing.

I opened the backpack and carefully took out the sealed bag, and handed it to the old man with both hands.

The old gentleman took the drawing and put it on the table, and pulled out a stool from the side for me: "Let's read it together, little girl and the old man. By the way, tell me what kind of story this is."

"Okay!" I sat up obediently.

To be honest, I am a little nervous now, and even my language organization ability has flown away.

"The story starts from the old house where the protagonist lives..." The old man finished reading the first page, and I slowly followed to add details.

This old bookstore was hardly visited in the morning, and it was deserted and comfortable.

The old gentleman nodded slowly, with a slightly heavy voice: "...What about the final ending of the shadow tea bowl?"

"It returns to its original form for the human beings it likes."

"That's it." The old man gently rubbed the shadow teacup at the end of the drawing. It was broken into pieces like the most common and inconspicuous teacup, and was finally picked up by the protagonist and thrown into the trash can.

I didn't respond, and the old gentleman didn't need my response.I saw that his brown pupils, which were the same as those of young people, became a little cloudy, stained with a touch of loneliness and melancholy.

"The little girl's story is very interesting, and the painting is also very good." The old gentleman looked a little tired, but his smile was relieved. He looked at me at a loss and said in a vicissitudes of voice: "Such a good work should not be buried with the old man. Go to a magazine or keep it for the little girl herself."

"Huh?" Don't you like the old man, I suddenly feel frustrated.

"I'm an old man, I'm going to close the store today and have a good rest!" The old man smiled and carefully arranged the manuscript paper and stuffed it back into the sealed bag, and solemnly handed it to me.

I hesitated for a moment, looking at the old gentleman's firm eyes, I still took it.The theme of the recent short story activities of Zhimeng Magazine coincides with the story of Yingchawan.

"Okay! Please be careful of your body. I will submit this story to Zhimeng Magazine, and I will mark the source of inspiration." I bent down and took it carefully in my arms.

"Okay." The old man looked at me with a gentle expression. I felt that he seemed to be vaguely aware of the existence of the shadow tea bowl. His voice was old but peaceful, "The little girl will often come to the bookstore for a while, and the old man is very lonely by himself."

"Okay! Please allow me to disturb you! Please rest well, I'm leaving first." Lonely people will always have telepathy, so I agreed.

I was very moved by the old man's invitation. The place is quiet but not lonely, and I can observe many different people when I come here to create.

"Okay." The old gentleman sat at the cashier and waved to me.

The sun hangs in the middle of the sky, and the bright sunlight shines on the old wooden door, giving off a dazzling vitality.

I looked back, as if I could imprint this scene in my memory, deeply engraved in my mind and never fade.

After leaving the bookstore, I rushed to the post office to send the drawing to Editor Minase.

I will walk out of a different future on the road of painting. Will this be my new life?

I was full of excitement and shallow tension, and my whole body jumped up again.

"Ayako!"

With a smirk on my face, I happened to meet Mao Lilan who was also smirking, she was holding an envelope in her hand, and she had the unique sense of happiness of a girl in love on her face.

Hmm... I looked at Conan behind Xiaolan.

Kudo Shinichi is now Edogawa Conan, Xiaolan is so happy...Conan, how are you?

I raised my eyebrows at Xiao Douding behind Xiaolan, clicked my tongue and shook my head.

Conan looked at me, and smiled provocatively and disdainfully.

"Sister Xiaolan, what did brother Xinyi send you?"

"Well, it's a postcard from him." Xiaolan held the envelope in her hand, smiling shyly.

Wow, single dogs are about to be blinded!

After showing off, Conan pulled Xiaolan's cuff and acted like a baby: "Sister Xiaolan, I want to whisper to sister Ayako!"

"Okay, then I'll wait for Conan at the door." Xiaolan smiled sweetly, "Ayako and Conan get along very well!"

"Haha... Conan is so cute!" I laughed silly.

Conan took me to the corner of the quiet corridor.

The innocent smile on Conan's face disappeared in an instant, and he held his chin: "Sakuraya, do you know who that Dazai Osamu is?"

"Uh...you know it."

"I asked Dr. Ali to check his identity, but it turned out that there was no such person." Conan's expression was serious, and he paused for a moment as if trying to organize his words, "This man is very dangerous, Sakuragu..."

"I know, Mr. Dazai has left now," I was grateful for Conan's concern, "Thank you, Detective Justice!"

Conan is the representative of the integrity of the three views, I deeply feel the difference between me and Conan and Dazai.

I can feel the joy of being alive and the pain of death, but I never reach out and try to grab any of them, I just stay where I am and torture myself.

Living is not easy, but now I have my own goals, and everything is getting better.

Very nice.