Blade and Poetry

It's dark here, only the corridor is illuminated by wall lamps with some light.There is also a small prison with iron railings two steps away on the opposite side, the structure is about the same as mine.From here, I couldn't see whether there was anyone in the depths of the opposite cell, so I first observed my residence with the only light.Behind me are three dark gray walls covered with dirt and yellow stains.There is a wooden barrel in the corner, which can be used as my only furniture; and the other is a rag with a rotten corner, or a thin mattress stuffed with poor-quality cotton, crumpled and spread against the wall, As a unique bed in this prison.

Looking at this scene, I couldn't help but sighed, returned to the edge of the iron gate, and pressed my face between the two fences.

I called out to the dark cell over there, "Sir? Ma'am? Is anyone there?"

There was still stagnant silence.I was quickly discouraged, but thinking of the "freak" rhetoric mentioned by the soldiers, I cheered up again.

"Would you please answer me? If you're awake—I need help..."

Someone seemed to have moved in the darkness opposite.All I could hear was some cloth rubbing noises.

"Oh, here comes a kid at last," a sleepy voice whispered softly, "Those guards didn't start stripping him of his clothes—it seems to be soon."

I patted the bars and yelled, "Sir! Come on, what are you being sent in for? Can we have time to get out?"

I waited for a while before the voice over there sounded again.

"What day is it today?"

"Week—Sunday." I calculated the number of days I was stuck.

The commotion over there was a little louder.A few turbid coughs came towards me accompanied by someone's dragging footsteps.He walked slowly to the cell door, his face exposed to the light.

The man had broad shoulders, a long and thick beard and hair, most of them gray-yellow, and a few gray ones, which were unkempt and knotted on half of his face. savage.His forehead was engraved with a few wrinkles that seemed to be born in response to suffering, and a pair of half-open eyes were buried under thick and messy eyebrows.He didn't even look at me, he hit the prison door harder than I did, raised his neck and shouted:

"Sunday's Tobacco! These lazy bastards—it's Sunday! Tobacco!"

The sound was simply deafening.I frowned, watching the man yell without knowing it.Not long after, a man wearing the soldier's uniform came down from above, and walked towards here quickly, cursing and talking nonsense.

"Immortal thing, the blood-sucking bug on the mummy! Let me tell you, no matter how much welfare there is in this prison, I shouldn't give you such a bastard."

He tossed a small bunch of tightly bound things at the man, and threw another copy at me, and turned away without any time.The man got the tobacco leaf, calmed down, stuffed half the amount into his mouth, and started chewing.I recognized the soothing properties of the leaf, but the flavor was so strong that I chewed a little and spat it out, leaving a handful in my hand.

"Please do what you want." I airdropped the remaining small bundle of leaves to the man, "I used this thing and wasted it."

The man didn't say thank you, just sat by the door and chewed his leaves in silence.

I gave up waiting for a response and decided to take a nap by the door; I didn't like the mattress very much.

"What crime did you commit?" the man suddenly asked at this moment.

I just felt sleepy and had to open my eyes.

"Theft," I said, "they were supposed to try to charge me with theft—but then they promised..."

"Ha!" The man slapped his palms and interrupted me rudely, "So, you are like those street pickpockets who scratch someone's wallet. When your hands were itchy, you picked up some jewelry, and when your feet turned, you sneaked into a bakery by mistake." shop, or took a few extra glances at the lady’s chest and waist, and for some reason stretched out her hand inadvertently—”

"I'm not." I felt my face burn, "I didn't steal any of those things."

"But you must not be innocent, right?" the man said. "The boys who grow up in Puguo have to have that kind of virtue, and I don't mind it at all."

His first question can only make me nah nah.I noticed some clues from his expression, took a breath, and answered the second half of his sentence: "I'm not from Puguo."

His messy beard and hair trembled together, and there seemed to be a few laughs in it.

"Whether it's true or not, it's reassuring," he said. "Those people have bad roots."

He leaned slack against the wall, shoulders slanted, as if about to snore.

While he was still awake, I briefly told him the story of my inexplicable transfer to prison.During this process, only my voice floated in the corridor.After the lecture, I was not sure if he had fallen asleep, so I repeated the previous question to him with the mentality that talking is better than nothing; I think he has been here longer than me, and he can always have some insights than me.

"Are we going to be released again?" I said, "When did you get locked up?"

The light in the corridor flowed to my side and flowed to his side, flickering brightly on and off.After the end of my words completely disappeared, I heard the sound of my breathing and his breathing, which sounded alone on both sides.He didn't snore.

"I was moved in about ten days ago." He said, there was a muffled muffled sound in his words, as if it was not spit out from someone's mouth, but rose directly from his chest cavity, through the visceral layer. It’s like spreading the dirty clothes, “but I’ve been in this prison for more than ten years.”

"Ten years?" I repeated in astonishment, and the glimmer of hope that had just risen gradually dimmed again.

"Well - 15 years," he said in a low voice, "can you imagine? I started counting on the wall, and then the marks on the wall faded, and I just remembered it in my heart. 15 years is enough to drive people crazy , From the beginning to the end, I was the only one. That was 15 years, little ghost, and all kind of spirits will be worn out in these 15 years. Have you lived for 15 years?"

"I'm 23." I moved my head closer to the railing.

He shook his head, as if he didn't want to believe it, or didn't care about the answer at all.

"When I was moved here, there lived an old guy opposite. He was so sick that he couldn't even speak. Occasionally, he tossed and turned on the ground, and died soon. I saw him being carried out with my own eyes—the corner of his mouth Stained with white foam, the nails are long and curved, scorched like eagle claws. I thought that one of the two underground rooms would be vacant from now on, and I would return to the usual silence, just like the day after day for 15 years. It’s the same as before. Who knows that a child will live in a few days later!”

I couldn't help thinking, at his age, how could he call other people "old guy" frankly; but he seemed to have sensed my thoughts, and then he let out a dry laugh that could be called stern.

"I'm only 47," he said. "It's all ruined. Nothing good! I was forgotten by them. They tried me and found it boring, so they threw me in prison and made me come and go in all kinds of darkness. Previous I stayed three years in one place, and five years in the next one. It's been a long time—everything is the same, everywhere is the same. But luckily, it's coming to an end. I tell you, this move is the most unusual , after hearing your story, I am more sure. The outside world has changed. They are going to clean us up, no matter suspicious or guilty, there will be no prisoners in this prison!"

I listened sympathetically, and argued with him several times.He was stubborn and insisted that we were going to die.He said: "The group of slobs don't even bother to search your outfit, it's because after you die, everything will be in their pockets, so naturally they don't bother to do it now."

I remembered what the soldier escorting me said before he left, and I no longer had the heart to argue with him.

"Then what were you locked up for?" I asked.

"There's nothing to say," he said, looking at me. "Especially to children. Anyway, it's certainly not the same crime as yours."

His sneer seemed to imply that I didn't need to press further.But he stared at me for a while, the eyes under the lamp seemed to have substance—then he seemed to have changed his mind suddenly, and was inexplicably pried off.

"I was locked up because of a friend of mine," he said.

"Friend?" I asked.

"The crime of theft," he sighed, "my friend was also executed for the crime of theft."

I'm still waiting for his story, but his thoughts seem to change very quickly, and he refuses to talk about himself in a blink of an eye.

He said, "Why don't I tell you about my friend."

"Alright," I said. "It's all right."

He moved his body and seemed to be trying to sit upright, but it was not much better than before.The gesture seemed comical even; like a bone trying to stretch itself out of shape before it decays in a cemetery, a half-human ghost wants to breathe life.Under the light of the flickering lights in the corridor, it is still difficult to hide, and it is not a climate.

"That friend of mine is a charming man," he said, in a gentle tone that was not the same as it was a moment ago. "I have known him since childhood. He is talented, intelligent, and hardworking. Most people When he was still immersed in the college, his name spread to the outside world early. The professors who taught him cherished him one by one. The most beautiful and lively girl in the college, he can blink in the blink of an eye Got it. I was so far behind him. I looked up to him a lot, and I always felt like I wasn’t good enough—but I’m so glad we were best friends. Everyone knew at the time, If he pats his chest, I can give him my life; if I question his integrity, he will definitely show me his guts. To be honest, the difference in talent is nothing between us Nothing hinders."

"Of course not," I said.

"But whatever you have," he whispered, "I can't do anything about it. It was about my fourth year at the academy, and my friend met a big guy. He's been a fool ever since." —he said to me: 'Little Shatton, from now on I'm determined to serve him!' I saw ambition gleaming in the eyes of the great man, but he told me it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. So I looked at him Getting closer and closer to that dangerous man, they talked about their aspirations and ideals, about tomorrow, and exchanged sword skills—ah! I have to admit that the talent of that big man is much better than mine. It is inevitable to make achievements. At that time, another person from the academy joined them, and they quickly caused a little disturbance in the field of swordsmanship. People gave them a nickname, and they often joked about it to themselves: called' Three Swordsmen'."

I said "ah" and thought: "So his friend is Mr. Minnelli—so he is from Columdunan?"

What I said was: "Let me guess: Is the great man whom the friend is loyal to the king of the time?"

He seemed a little stunned, and then said: "Okay, the kid's mind is still sharp. You are right."

He lowered his head, repeating "King, King" over and over again, and in the end he gritted his teeth in a voice that seemed to be filled with hatred.

"And then?" I said.

He woke up as if from a dream, and began to talk about his friends again.

"My friend is very convinced that the king can do some real things. After graduation, he officially joined him. He doesn't discuss politics in the king's institutions. No one knows what he is doing privately for the king. He is very busy , Sometimes I don't see anyone for ten days and a half months. Out of confidentiality, he never said anything to me in detail. It's just that he slipped his mouth once, and revealed before he left that they were looking for something called ' password string' thing, and he is the main person in charge of it.

"At that time, he was already married to the person he wanted, and the child was still very young. I intuitively felt that the things he was responsible for were very dangerous-he would not appear on the bright stage, and was willing to hide in the dark for his loyalty. Even if he was Such an upright person... I tried to persuade him, but he insisted on going his own way, so I have no position to hinder him. I never knew the real content of his busyness. This is the first time I know..."

He coughed violently.My heart inexplicably clenched in this coughing sound.

"It was the first time I knew about it, and I learned about it from other people. I bought a newspaper, that is, a tabloid on the street, and suddenly saw his face in the middle of the newspaper. It was painted with a fixation spell and enlarged. Takes up half the page, with his lips tightly shut; his face is bruised. The bottom of the paper quotes a Puguo spokesman saying that they have captured a 'disgraceful thief engaged in espionage'. Thief! They use this Words to describe - my friend - thief - my friend!

"They didn't name them by name, and they didn't dare to confront my country head-on. They only checked my friend's identity and showed off their power in the media in an attempt to spread this information into our country and trouble us a little bit. They promised to leave room for negotiation, waiting for our sovereign to compromise and bring back his loyal servant in desperation.

"I waited anxiously for a day. I was restless throughout the day. I waited for something from the king's men to say about it, but all I got was a big silence - all the papers that carried Puguo Withdrawn that day, it became what people called a ban, and its influence was minimized. When the country woke up again in the morning sun, there was no slight stain. Of course, the king stood He came out, and he still wanted to stand up—his spokesperson clarified to his people that the news that was mistakenly scattered into the country was nothing but deceptive rhetoric. He begged everyone to return to stability and not to listen to one side.

"The people below are convinced, but I still remember this short-lived half-truth. I went to see him in a rage, and asked him if he sent someone to rescue my friend in private - because of my friend, I can still be in front of him. It makes sense. But the answer I got was vague. From those official languages, I recognized a few words with clear positions: there were 'responsibility', 'can't give away in vain', and 'manpower is limited'.

"I was trembling with anger, and my head was foggy. I grabbed him by the collar and said to him: 'But he is your friend!'

"I've never been willing to admit it to his face, and I've always had to take two stings with irony when he said a word to my friend; then throw it out as a bargaining chip. However, he still rejected me and stepped on the chip on the ground.

"That was the first time I did what I wanted to do: I hit him. He didn't use a knife, and he fought me hard and demeanor. He didn't ask me for my faux pas, just forced sent me out the door.

"My friend's wife probably didn't know about it at the time, and most of his acquaintances were also kept in the dark. I walked out of the palace, thinking: If no one is willing to be involved, then I will go to him alone.

"Compared to my friend, I'm really far worse - I don't have such a useful brain as him, and I have no courage. All I know is to try my best to get a horse. If the winged horse doesn't work, I will replace it with an ordinary horse. , I don’t know how many horses ran to death along the way, and all the trains that stop and go are not as fast as me. I was lucky, and I was not checked by too many guards, so I miraculously entered the Ninth City. I follow the I searched for my friend's whereabouts according to the newspaper. But there are too many patrolling guards, and it has been surrounded into a fortress, one after another. That cold-blooded careerist is the wisest—the traitor of Puguo is waiting for someone And I changed from dodging to fighting, from being interrogated to being imprisoned, I don't even know if there are really my friends in the encirclement.

"I spent a few days in prison, fidgeting, unable to sleep, and then I heard the news: my friend had been executed.

"My friend...he is still so young, half his life has been dedicated to the object of his allegiance, but his contribution will be sunk in the dark, but he himself will be buried in a wasteland beside the wall of another country, being sent to The onlookers jeered and pointed. As a... thief! My friend—a thief!"

It's clear to me now that this story must have been buried in the deepest part of his mind for a long time - because at this moment he seemed so out of control.He held his head with both hands, and was silent for a while, with a low choked moan coming from his throat.

"I know you may not believe it," he looked up. "You don't have to believe a prisoner's excuse... you just take what I said as a story."

"I believe it!" I said to him, suppressing my emotional jitters. "I know your friend. I know his daughter—I know little Minnelli. We went to school together a few years ago."

"You mean Trace?" said the unkempt man. "It's not that one, it's the other one."

"Yes," my tongue tied, "but apart from the king, there is only Mr. Minnelli. The last of the Three Swordsmen is a woman."

"I don't understand what you're talking about," he said, "my friend's name is Redmonton Sean. He deserves to be the head of the three..."

As he said that, the clear eyes under the beard and hair showed some confusion for a moment.Then he jumped up and walked quickly around the small prison a few times, his back was tense, and he bent an arc as if he was overwhelmed, as if he was enduring great pain.

"Okay, those wolves!" He slammed on the wall angrily, "It's not enough that Toscaia has harmed him, he has to erase his name from his glorious history!"

My tears flowed immediately.I just stood up, but now I fell back to the ground.His distant story overwhelmed me for an instant.

"My father, my father—I don't know!" I whispered, running my fingers through my hair.

The man on the opposite side trembled heavily when he heard this, and suddenly calmed down amidst the extreme rage.He rushed to the door and locked his hands on the iron railing, the shriveled skin of his face was red.

"Come here, get closer to the door, into the light," he whispered beggingly, "can I see your face again?"

I moved to the door like a walking dead, pressed my face against the cold iron gate, and took off the ring on my hand.His eyes seemed to grab my five senses.I heard him murmur, with quivering lips, "Yes. Brown eyes—nose too. Lips maybe more like his mother, dark hair exactly the same. I should have found out—I should have found out!" "

I was full of confusion, thinking only of my father's death he mentioned, and the newly mounted old painting of Minnelli's house, and the two faint regrets of the old king before he died.