Blade and Poetry

31

On the day when the play was staged, most classes had already ended, and the theaters on campus were full of people.We were running around behind the curtain, setting up sets, props.The costumes and makeup of the actors are ready, and a group of guest bands brought by Xiaohuaniao are playing impromptu in front.I just feel that the heat and the light are stuffy and sweaty.When the music faded away, the narrator's voice sounded, and the red curtain slid open to both sides, I was really relieved and sat down on one side of the backstage.

Two days ago, Odd and their play were wonderful, in which he himself played an old-time magician.It wasn't until then that I realized why he was so secretive when talking about his role—his appearance in the play followed the customs of magicians in the past, making a breakthrough on the basis of his previous meticulous, forehead-baring hairstyle, boldly adding A black wig, the length of which fell to the knees.

I couldn't help but think back to the scene where he complained to me twice in a low voice, "it's ridiculous", and suddenly I was curious about Lan Duo's mood on the stage at this time.Now she should be wearing a bun, aiming the two law lines carefully made by the makeup artist on the little flower and bird—she is playing the country gentleman's wife.

Scene after scene slowly alternated, the cheers rising and falling as the curtain opened and closed.I felt that the audience's emotions were getting higher and higher, and the mixed emotions of excitement and tension in their hearts became heavier and heavier.I slipped down halfway to breathe a few times, asked the mobile staff for a few sips of tasteless lemonade, and poured it down my throat before returning.I vaguely remember Karajan sitting in the middle of the first row, far away from me.

Repeated this several times, someone patted me on the shoulder, with the heat of the stage lights on my body: "It's your turn soon, buddy."

This is already the last scene.I went to the dressing room to change into my suspenders and shirt and was handed a basket full of flower petals.The lines of the actors could be heard especially clearly at this end of the stage. Francesco should have kissed Minnelli's hand on the stone bridge;I counted down to three seconds and stumbled onto the long stone bridge from the other end.

My character is a little boy who is hurrying by.After people in the class realized that my roles were only "a certain waiter who didn't speak", "a certain circus member who sat cross-legged all the way" and "a silent corpse", they warned me not to be lazy on my own, and then unanimously stuffed me Into this last empty character.I was protesting about the height discrepancy, but they actually offered to raise money for me to buy a pair of flat shoes.

I ran forward, my left foot tripped over my right foot, and I fell on the small half of the stone bridge.The flower basket rolled several times on the bridge, and all the petals inside splashed in the direction of the two of them. Mixed with the whispered incantation of the Wind Flushing Curse, they stained their hair and clothes all over.

"Sorry, sorry," I immediately got up and ran over in a panic, "I'm so sorry, I just messed up everything..."

"It's okay, friend." Eugene stood up and brushed his hair.His eyes were still on Erma, and the corners of his tender lips curled up quietly, "At least you didn't disturb my mood. I happen to be immersed in happiness."

Alma looked at him tenderly.While squatting on the bridge to pick up flower petals, I murmured thanks and said some auspicious words to them.

When I finally exited to the other side of the stone bridge, the petals flying out from the side of the stage also rushed to my face along with the wind. Under the stone bridge were all these brilliant and soft things.Eugene and Alma hugged—it was Alma who reached out first.

I turned around and shouted to them, "God will bless your love!"

The blond young man raised the palm attached to his lover's back, and waved it slightly twice towards me.

"Which one?" he asked aloud, grinning.

"Each one," I said.

The red curtain was pulled up amidst music and cheers, and then pulled away again, and all the actors gathered in front of the stage to call the curtain.The audience stood up and applauded, and many of them rushed down, clamoring around the protagonist.Minnelli seemed to have left the venue early without any notice, and the little flower and bird seemed to want to chase after him, but due to the lively situation in the theater, he had no choice but to wait where he was and chat with people.

The stage was packed to the brim.I suddenly noticed that Karajan also jumped up at some point, smiling not far away.

"Karajan," I kept pushing aside the crowd with my hands, and squeezed past the overlapping shoulders of one person after another, "I have something to do with you at five o'clock tomorrow afternoon, are you free?"

I could barely hear myself shouting in the din, but he seemed to understand.

"What is it?" he said, slowing down.

"Secret." I lip-sync.

He simply responded, "Okay, where will I meet?"

"It's right here." I originally wanted to point to the ground, but thought he wouldn't be able to see it in the crowd, so I raised my hand and pointed to the ceiling.

At this time, I hadn't completely squeezed to his side when another person grabbed my shoulder from behind.Unexpectedly, I turned my head and found that it was Coleman.He was pale, and I could see the fine sweat on his forehead.

"Vicente, please do me this favor." He glanced around and said in a low voice, "I——need you to accompany me on this journey."

Coleman led me out of the theater and we walked out of the academy.There are two tall black winged horses waiting at the gate, and behind them is a carriage with exquisite carvings.He and I sat on it silently, watching the horse's hooves gradually fall into the void, and the roof of the car broke through the clouds.

"May I know our destination?" I said to him.His expression made me not want to make a joke.

"The palace of the capital." He looked out the window, "Tuscaya King is dying."

I was so stunned that I couldn't speak for a moment.

"You mean His Majesty the King?"

"I thought you'd guessed who I was," said Coleman.

"I know." I felt the dryness in my throat, "but I thought the gossip about the king's health was limited to rumors."

"Never." Coleman half closed his eyes.He looks sleepy. "Please keep it a secret, even after leaving the palace, until the news is officially announced throughout the country."

"But why me?" I demanded. "I don't remember the Sean family having any dealings with him."

"I mentioned you to him," Coleman said. "He told me he wanted to see you too."

"Will your brother be with you?"

"He's still on a mission abroad, so he won't be able to see his father for the last time."

"And what about Lando?"

"She can't come at this hour," he said, with a rather forced smile.

I looked straight at him, trying to make sense of the words on paper.

Coleman slowly closed his eyes under my gaze.

"She shouldn't have come," he said.

The carriage landed steadily next to a side door of the palace.Coleman greeted several checkpoints in advance, and we walked straight into the main hall without any hindrance.The main hall was also brightly lit during the day, but at this time it looked extraordinarily empty, giving people the illusion of being extremely desolate.

He stood still in front of a door, and suddenly pulled me away: "Wait a minute."

I followed his advice, and the two went upstairs to a railing and waited.The big clock in the distance rang three times leisurely, and the red agate door inlaid with opals and golden stones below was opened from the inside, and a group of people in black robes came out one after another.None of them looked up, and they all walked out in a dumb manner.

"Senate." Coleman whispered. "He's going to say a prayer for his people—though he's the one who dies."

"'Prayer' in a broad sense?"

"It's just his arrangements for the funeral," Coleman said. "I don't care about that."

My eyes circled back and forth among the group of men in black, and suddenly I was attracted by the back of one of them.

"I might be wrong," I said hesitantly, "that man's back looks a bit like Minnelli."

"It's her." Coleman said calmly.

"How come?" I suppressed my voice, "Academicians under the age of 40 are rare—Minnelli is only 21 or 22!"

"Her parents died in the line of duty a long time ago. They were all good friends of Toskaia King in the early years. If you hear old people talking about the 'brave three swordsmen', it probably refers to them. Coleman said, "After her parents died, the academician title fell to Minnelli until she was an adult and could officially wear this status—it was like some kind of sympathetic reward."

I'm reminded of how the "Erma" crew used to roam around for the right venue before they actually settled on a rehearsal location.Minnelli hosted us at her home; on that visit, I did not meet her parents, and she gave us a brief tour for a week, including a gallery of art and craft knives in her house.

One of the exhibits is a short, narrow hanging painting.The drawing paper looks old, but the frame seems to have been re-framed. On it, two young men put their shoulders on their shoulders and looked out with bright smiles.Both are brunettes.One of them, Minnelli, had introduced her as her father; recalling the face of the other, it seemed to be somewhat similar to Coleman, perhaps it was the young Toscaia King.

"We should go," I reminded Coleman.

He got up from the railing and led me down.The luxurious door below closed slowly, and he pushed it open again before it was completely closed.

Half of the room was empty, there was a large bed next to the window, and a dozen black high-backed chairs seemed to have been moved here temporarily, surrounding the edge of the bed in a mess.A gray-haired middle-aged man was sitting on the head of the bed, his back stretched into a straight arc, so that the wide nightgown around his body almost seemed solemn.

Coleman picked a chair in the middle and sat down, and motioned for me at the door to sit down too.I had no choice but to drag the other chair next to him to the distance, silently expecting the father and son to forget my existence during the conversation.

"Don't you have anything to say to me, Coleman?" After a long silence, the dying king finally spoke first.

"I'll take care of your funeral," Coleman said.He looked like he was talking about a stranger's funeral, or the weather. "I try my best not to cause trouble to Du Ling Jin."

The king studied Coleman; I could see no sign of anger in his eyes.Immediately afterwards, he seemed to have settled his mind, and his posture was completely relaxed, and his head was slightly tilted back.

"Okay." He sighed peacefully. "That's enough, my son."

From a slightly behind perspective, I saw Coleman's back suddenly tremble slightly.

The king put his hands on Coleman's head, and smiled kindly as if he had noticed me belatedly.

"Little Vicente," he said politely. "I'm sorry for neglecting you. It's always inappropriate to call others abruptly to a dead person's sickbed."

"Hello, Your Highness." I was somewhat uncomfortable in the stiff atmosphere between the father and son.

"You don't have to be so reserved in front of me," said the old king. "I once hugged you when you were a child, and I picked lantern fruits with you in your garden before your brother was born."

I stared at his face, trying to search my memory.His face seemed to have experienced wind, frost and swords, but it was still not ugly, only the white hair made his whole face look much older than it actually looked.

"I really don't remember any of it," I regretfully admit.Mrs. Sean never mentioned the past to me.

"It doesn't matter, you were too young at that time. You still swayed left and right when you walk." The king said, "I remember that the lantern fruit in Xiao En's family is very sweet, and it always produces a lot of clusters in autumn..."

His sickly face shone slightly, his expression almost transformed into that of a young man.But his voice suddenly disappeared here, as if he was hoarse.

"I'm no longer at Sean's house, Your Highness," I said.

"Yes, yes." He whispered, showing some confusion. "Of course I know."

The afterglow of the setting sun coming in through the window sprinkled on his big bed.He looked straight into my eyes in the afterglow, as if feeling emotional.

"Time flies by so fast," he said.

He stopped looking at me and turned his eyes to Coleman, watching him rather patiently.We fell silent again.The silence was so long that I thought we should leave, but at this moment I suddenly heard Coleman's voice.

"I thought," Coleman said with his head lowered, his voice was flat, and he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, "you never recognized me as your son."

"Do you still hate your brother?" said the old king kindly.

"No." Coleman snapped his hand to the edge of the bed. "I never resented him. His fate has been fixed long ago. He can live as he pleases."

"Then you are resenting me?" continued the King.

Coleman kept silent—I thought for a moment that he was going to acquiesce.

He buried his head in his palms and took a deep breath.

"I don't hate anyone..." he said, "I don't know who to hate."

The king looked at him tolerantly, as if tolerantly forgiving his wayward subjects.

"Coleman, you are the second and last child in this family. Even though your mother died shortly after giving birth to you, it was never my intention to impose my grief and remorse for the cause of your mother's death. For you." The king said, "You have watched me instill all kinds of knowledge in your brother since you were a child, be strict with him, cultivate him, and give him all the attention I can give in my spare time. I prepared it for him from the beginning. Maybe in your eyes, I almost ignore you and let you go—but I always remember that your favorite thing is the knife."

I couldn't see Coleman's expression from here.He was completely still.

"I thought at the time, in my Tuscaya King family, there must be someone like me who is a brave and fearless swordsman. As a father, I am willing to provide the conditions within my power so that he can learn swords without distraction .”

Coleman clenched the hands hanging by his waist.His knife was not called out, but I could seem to see the handle of the knife making a sound under the squeeze of his palm joints.

"I know you don't like those political affairs, scheming, open and secret battles," the old king's voice was soft and deep, reminiscent of the long twilight bells that floated from afar, "you don't care about them, do you?"

"...Yes," Coleman said.The vague words were squeezed from the depths of his chest, "I never wanted to be king."

The old king touched his shoulder with his thin hand.

"Okay. It's all right here. Tell someone to come in and wait for me." The king said, "No farewell, no eulogy, just turn around and go out now."

He spoke decisively.I realized that the word he was waiting for had become very clear at this moment: "death".

When Coleman and I walked to the door, our steps disappeared into the thick carpet.I heard the muffled sound of a body slipping on the bed, and my heart suddenly tightened, thinking that the old king's life had ended too hastily; but it hadn't.He waved his hand towards us, and most of his head sank into his mattress.

There were some faint voices coming from there.It is so different from the stable voice of the old king before, it no longer belongs to a superior who is used to squinting and everything is under control, it is just like the vague ravings of any dying person facing a dream.

"I'm sorry," I heard him say vaguely, "I was too eager to produce a worthy heir . . . I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

One of his exposed eyes is open, but the vision has been blurred.Under such gazes, I seemed to have accepted the same apology that was too late, and I felt bitter.

Coleman stood at the door of the king's bedroom, and the guards of the royal palace walked in one after another.

"You wait here for me," he said to me, "I'll go outside and sit on the lawn on the left for 10 minutes, then I'll come in and find you, and we'll leave."

I waited for him for 15 minutes, then walked out, and saw him still sitting on the lawn with his knees hugged, the sky above his head was gradually getting dark.I sat next to him and didn't speak.

"Do you know," Coleman said suddenly in a low voice, "the king's children always have the privilege of running farther. Duling King and I—my brother, five years older than me—were able to urinate Sneak into various discussion centers to listen, whether it is the king's senate or the "people's magic society". Among them, the system of the senate is traditional and rigid, and Du Ling Jin and I prefer to run towards the magic society. During was very clever. He would point out to me which congressmen were lying, and then we would laugh at the holes in the plans they were trying to hide, and the real face of those hypocrites.

"Since then, I have been resistant to magicians who are full of lies, thinking that they are timid, telling stories, and only dare to move their mouths in the middle of the air-even after I recognize that Du Ling and Lan Duo are also magic. It didn't change after that. It was just a resistance. But when I saw that Du Ling, an adult, began to take his identity as a magician to drill into the magic society he had spurned, I saw that he was as polite as those politicians Talking nonsense politely, when I even turned to my father, who was always biased, trying to find in him the sharp shadow of wielding a knife in my childhood memory, but I heard the word 'assassination' from his mouth unintentionally— —I got more polarized. It was like something was pushing me further down the road, telling me I had to do something to prove I was right.”

"Of course I can't hate them. Of course, I don't hate anyone—maybe I hate myself. Because I still can't admit that Du Ling is right: a king who can only use knives can't govern this country well at all." Ke Erman's last words were barely audible, "And he carried the burden for me."

It was completely dark.Even the lights of the king's palace behind us were dimmed by the shadow of the trees.

I couldn't comfort Coleman's family affairs, I could only put my hand on Coleman's back.

"Is the politics of Columbus," I said, "that bad?"

Coleman shook his head.

"Do you still remember the three-week-long temporary transfer of the professors of the West Academy in the first year? Almost all the magic professors left the academy, and some even found substitutes in a hurry."

"I remember that time." I suddenly had a subtle premonition and couldn't help swallowing.That's when I got to know old Mr. Smith who came to take over as a substitute.

"It was a censorship of wizards," Coleman said.

A dark curtain seemed to pull a small corner in front of my eyes, revealing a malicious eye behind me.

"The Senate and the Magic Society no longer complement each other as they did ten years ago. They are almost separated and act independently. No one can tell why the conflict has expanded. Du Ling is looking for the deep reason inside. But in the Magic Society, After all, our people are a minority.” Coleman said, “In recent years, the status of a swordsman seems to be linked to ‘killing’ and ‘aggression’, and it is not as stable as the ‘peace’ brought by magicians; Wang Dian, who symbolizes his ancestors with swordsmen, bears the brunt of this change. I later found out that Wang Dian's admiration of Du Ling's magician image also has this purpose."

"So, you don't want Lan Duo to participate for this reason?"

"Now the behavior of many younger generations can already represent the attitude of the family behind them." Coleman said, "I hope she can have her own choice."

"Of course I know what her choice will be." I murmured. "You know that too."

The distant bell rang again, as if a gust of wind had been sent at the same time.He and I both shivered in the not-so-cold wind.

"This country is not as peaceful as most people think it is," Coleman told me. "Let's go, it's already dark, we still have time to go back before dawn tomorrow."