To my frozen hometown

Chapter 44 Human beings, like flying insects, are also phototaxis

Maybe because they noticed Liu Yuan and De Rosso's departure when they woke up, the people on the snowmobile also made a detour and came under the ice wall.

By the time they found the two of them, it was already daylight.

De Rosso collapsed on the snow, sleeping peacefully.

Liu Yuan stood aside, smoking silently, a few flakes of ash fell on her clothes, and then were blown away slowly by the wind.

McCa and the others did not speak, because they could basically guess what happened.

It was an unsurprising ending, but not without meaning, at least De Rosso accomplished his meaning.

Everyone looked up at the ice wall, and Al's eyes were in a trance. She watched the sun shine on the ice wall, saw the ice wall shining with brilliance, and suddenly remembered what Liu Yuan had said to her before.

It turns out that there are really paintings that can emit light.

Al seemed to understand something, because for the first time, she saw the beauty that people have been immersed in since ancient times.

Because she saw for the first time, this kind of thing called art, this kind of thing that was discarded by people in the disaster.

But it is still left in the end, and in this snowstorm, it carries all people's fantasies about beauty.

Mai Ka looked at the ice wall for a while, and after a while, he took out the photo recording his family from his arms, and placed it silently in front of the ice wall.

This is the only thing he can remember his family, and now, he wants to keep it in the most beautiful corner of the world.

He wants his family to be able to rely on this.

Kent walked up to the ice wall, looked at a "white flower" in the "green grass", after a while, suddenly smiled, turned his head to look at the crowd and said.

"Do you think this will be the last artwork of our time?"

"Not necessarily." Jester raised his eyebrows complicatedly, and grinned.

"Maybe it's just the beginning."

Yes, this is the original intention of De Rosso to create this beautiful dream, isn't he? He wants to awaken people's yearning for beauty.

He thinks that in people's eyes, it is no longer gloomy.

No one said anything, and everyone tacitly chose to bury De Rosso here, before his last work.

The boy's body had lost all warmth, but Liu Yuan still remembered his powerful heartbeat, as if that heart was still beating behind her at this moment.

This made her heart twitch subconsciously, probably because Liu Yuan hadn't had the illusion of a heartbeat for a long time after all.

"Liu Yuan, if Droso is like this, is he dead?" During the process of burying Droso, Al suddenly asked Liu Yuan.

This is indeed the first time she has watched human life disappear, not from disasters, nor from wild beasts, but quietly.

"No." But Liu Yuan shook his head.

"He just went to a place we all wanted to go."

What an enviable guy, he can find peace of mind without going back to his hometown.

"Really?" Al stared at De Rosso's cemetery, and suddenly laughed.

"Then he won't have to leave again, that's great."

She remembered that Liu Yuan had told her that what Liu Yuan wanted to go to was a place where she would never have to leave again.

Liu Yuan was smoking a cigarette, sparks were burning on the cigarette butt.

It is undeniable that this time, she did see the fire again.

At a time when she thought the era had lost its shine.

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"Kakakakaka."

On the ice track of the eastern plain, a greenhouse train was running, and the carriage shook slightly, making the unique sound of metal bumping.

By the car window, a little boy was looking at the ice field with a telescope, which was a birthday present from his grandfather on three days.

Looking at the boundless white snow under the track, the boy's face was full of curiosity and joy.

His eyes seem to be shining with light, which is the unique right of children, because they can look at everything in the world with the simplest sight.

"Wow!" Suddenly, the boy exclaimed.

He put down the binoculars in his hand, pointed in a direction with his finger, and asked an old man beside him.

"Grandpa, what's that?"

"Oh?" The old man smiled, squinted his eyes and turned his head.

"Has our little Joel found anything?"

As he spoke, he looked in the direction of the boy's finger.

The next moment, the old man froze there because he saw a distant mountain between the stretching ice walls.

The mountains are emerald green, there are streams flowing between the mountains, and at the foot of the mountains, lilac lavender seems to be planted.

The sun shone on the mountain, reflecting almost bright light, which firmly attracted the eyes of the old man.

At the same time, many passengers on the train seemed to have seen this scene.

"My God, what's that?" one of the passengers asked blankly.

Unfortunately, no one answered his question.

Because everyone is staring in that direction.

Yes, what is that, people think so, with deep throbbing in their hearts.

They couldn't move their eyes, because they felt a shock from the depths of their souls.

They couldn't take their eyes off it, because they hadn't seen other colors on the ice for too long.

What's more, it is such a beautiful scenery.

"It's like a painting."

But why is it so true.

The old man murmured and answered the child's question.

"Painting?" The boy turned his head again, with a bright smile on his face, and after a while, he asked longingly again.

"It's so beautiful, can I draw a picture like that too?"

The old man came back to his senses, he looked at the boy, pondered for a while, and asked with a smile.

"What's the matter, does Little Joel want to be a painter in the future?"

"Well, I want to draw a picture like that too."

"Then grandpa believes in you, you will succeed."

"Oh! I want to be a painter!"

In the carriage, the boy cheered, but the people were silent.

And the "scenery" above the ice wall seems to be shining with dazzling colors.

It illuminates this, already bleak age.

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"In the 220th year of the Ice Age, people once again found the light." - "New Century Literature and Art Movement"

(End of this chapter)