Journey to another world in the subway

Chapter 170 Gifts
Homer walked into his ward thoughtfully, and met the health soldier head-on. He touched Homer's shoulder, but Homer didn't notice it at all.

This is the time to give Sasha the bric-a-brac from the market, Homer said to himself.

Maybe Sasha can use this thing.

He pulled a bag out of the box and rubbed it in his hands.

The girl burst into his room a few minutes later—nervous, bewildered, and cranky.

Will the mine be detonated or will Homer be spared?

Sasha didn't speak, just bit her nails.

Both were waiting for the other's reaction.

"I have a gift for you." The old man stood up from behind the table and put a roll of things on the bed cover beside the girl.

"Why?" She seemed to be hiding in the shell, creaking all over, and she didn't intend to crawl out of it.

"Why do people give gifts to each other?"

"In order to repay the other party." Sasha answered with certainty, "to repay the other party for what they have done for you, and to advance what you asked the other party to do for you."

"Then take this gift as my repayment for what you have done for me." Homer smiled, "I won't beg you for anything in the future."

"I didn't do anything for you." The girl retorted.

"Have you forgotten my book? I've already written you in. The debt should be paid off. I don't want to owe anyone else. Okay, come on, open it and take a look." He pretended to be angry.

"I don't like to owe others anything either." Sasha opened the hole as she spoke.

"What is this? Oops!"

What she holds in her hand is a red plastic round box that can be opened from the middle.

It turned out to be a cheap military powder box. Now the compartments for powder and rouge are empty, but a small mirror embedded in the lid of the box is very well preserved.

"It looks better in this mirror than in the puddle." Sasha stared at the mirror, studying her appearance with interest. "Why did you send me this?"

"Sometimes you still need to see what you look like." Homer said with a smile, "It allows us to understand ourselves better."

"What should I know about myself?" She was alert, feeling that Homer had something to say.

"Some people have never seen themselves the way they are, so they spend their whole lives thinking they are different.

People can't really see themselves from the inside out, but there's no one else to prompt you...

Without a mirror, they continue to misread and lose themselves.Even when they see their own image in the mirror, they cannot believe that it is themselves.

At the same time, the mirror also reflects people's life and emotions.When others ask you for help, then you will lend a helping hand and express your kindness; but when others command you, then you will ignore them and express your disdain. "

"So who do I see inside?" the girl asked stubbornly.

"It's up to you to tell me." Homer folded his hands over his chest.

"It's me...a girl." To be more precise, she turned one cheek to the mirror first, then the other.

"Girl," Homer corrected her, "a very slovenly girl."

She fiddled with it for a while longer, then stared at Homer earnestly, as if about to ask something, but changed her mind.

She was silent for a while, and then mustered up the courage to ask, and Homer was choked up and coughed:
"Am I ugly?"

"It's hard to say." He tried his best to restrain the corners of his mouth from rising, "I can't see you so unkempt."

"So it's because of this?" Sasha raised her eyebrows, "Don't men feel the beauty of a woman? Should I show it to you and explain it to you?"

"Gudan said so. And because of this, we are often deceived." Homer laughed.

"Those pigments can work wonders on a woman's face. As for you, your face, we have to dig it out through archeology first, and then start the restoration work.

We cannot tell from the pedestals of Greco-Roman statues that they were beautiful, although they were almost certainly beautiful. ’ added Homer kindly.

"What is 'Greco-Roman'"? Sasha deliberately tricked.

"Ancient ones." Homer also joked sincerely.

"But I'm only 18!" she protested.

"People only discovered this later, when they dug you out." The old man put on an indifferent look, sat behind the table again, opened the last page of the book full of words, and read it again, with an expression on his face. become melancholy.

If excavated, the girl, himself, and everyone else...

Once upon a time, he had an idea that could amused himself:
When archaeologists inspect the ruins of Moscow thousands of years from now, will they find an entrance to an underground labyrinth?
Will they realize they've hit a giant mass grave?

It is estimated that no one will think of this, because they will not believe that human beings can live in such a dark tomb, and that no highly developed civilization can degenerate to this point at the end of its existence.

So archaeologists will determine that this mass grave must be the tomb of the monarch. He was buried here with all his companions, including weapons, servants, and wives and concubines.

There are more than 80 useless sheets left in his notebook. Are these 80 sheets enough for him to write both worlds—the world on the ground and the world inside the subway?
"Are you listening to me?" The girl touched his arm.

"What? Sorry, I was distracted." He wiped his forehead.

"Are those ancient statues really beautiful? Is what people thought beautiful in the past still beautiful today?"

"Of course." The old man shrugged.

"Tomorrow is still beautiful?" The girl continued to ask.

"Maybe, if it's of value to someone."

Sasha pondered and stopped talking!

Once again Homer was lost in his own unpleasant reverie, and did not press the conversation further.

"That is to say, beauty does not exist without people?" Sasha asked her own question in confusion at the end.

"No, maybe not," he replied nonchalantly.

"If no one sees something beautiful... Know that animals are incapable of beauty..."

"The difference between beasts and people is that they cannot distinguish between beauty and ugliness," Sasha mused.

"Does that mean that without beauty, human beings cannot exist?"

"Maybe." The old man nodded, "But many people don't need beauty at all in their lives."

The girl reached into her pocket and pulled out an unknown object:

A square filled with drawings, polyethylene, or other plastic.

The girl was a little shy and proud, as if displaying a great treasure, and she handed it to Homer.

(End of this chapter)