Port Mafia Play House

Fyodor first met Hayakawa August in the vast and barren land of Siberia.

The ground was frozen by the heavy snow, the fingers and soles of the feet were red and festered, the soles of the boots were sticking to the frozen skin, and the thin clothes could hardly resist the coldness that reached the bottom of my heart.

Consciousness gradually became dizzy, breathing was scorching hot, and eyelids seemed to weigh a thousand catties.

He doesn't want to die.

How to be born in this world no longer follows his will, at least, he wants to decide when and where he will die.

If——if there are gods in this world.

Please grant me redemption.

In the gradually blurred field of vision, a child in the same ragged clothes appeared.

The white-haired and red-eyed boy stood in front of him with a smile, holding a sharp sharp stone in his hand—cutting his wrist without hesitation.

His voice was very soft, but Fyodor still recognized the shape of the words from the shape of his lips.

He said.

"I heard your wish."

On the snow-covered land, the eyes are full of hot bright red.

Definitely not a normal guy.

This is Fyodor's first impression of Hayakawa August.

Just like his prayers, Fyodor survived.

It even comes with a little follower.

"Feijia Feijia!" The child grabbed the hem of his clothes and looked around curiously, "Where is this place? What day is it today? Has anything important happened recently?"

Fyodor answered patiently.

"This is Russia, Siberia, a small town beside the Irtysh River."

"Today is November NO.15."

"For the past few years, there has been a war in Europe. Recently, it is said that people with supernatural powers have entered the Omsk Prison Fort, causing the prisoners to flee en masse."

The child tilts his head.

"Supernatural powers?"

Fyodor replied.

"It's a person with abilities that are different from ordinary people."

"Is that so..."

He was thoughtful.

"Then—Fei Jia must also be a person with supernatural powers!"

Fyodor was taken aback.

Just listen to the child continue to speak.

"Because...Fei Jiayi...is so cute..."

Fyodor: "…"

Speaking of being different from ordinary people, Hayakawa August may be the uncrowned king.

He was always elusive, and at the beginning, he would disappear for more than half of a month.

Every time he disappears and comes back, he will have different wounds on his body.

Sometimes it's burns, sometimes it's a cut, sometimes it's just gone and an arm or a leg is gone.

Dragging his bloody body, this man smiled and gave him a blood-stained gift as usual.

Sometimes it's a knife, sometimes it's delicious ham, and when it's really tragic, I pick a few wild flowers on the roadside.

He didn't seem to know what pain was.

Fyodor was utterly perplexed.

Sorrow for pain, smile for joy.

This is how life is born.

Why is this person so abnormal?

"Eh? You ask me why I'm laughing?"

The child was astonished, as if he was asking something for granted.

"Of course—it's the pain of not wanting Fedya."

"Fetya is a good man."

"When seeing others suffer, Fei Jia will feel pain too."

"Is not it?"

Good people.

No one ever called him that.

Fyodor has lived to this day, whether he is forced or voluntarily, he has already carried too heavy shackles.

Blood and stains can obscure a person's appearance.

Most people would run away screaming at the first sight of the guilt he bore, leaving obscenities mingled with horror and disgust.

If the flowers growing in the mud are not stained with mud, how can they break through the ground?

But if it is wrapped in mud, the soft flower heart will never see the light of day again.

At that moment, his rotten and necrotic heart seemed to be touched for a moment.

On the day of Fyodor's sixth birthday, wandering the streets hungry, he met a missionary priest.

The priest felt sorry for him, and gave him a small piece of black bread and a torn Bible.

"I'm going, you can't reach the place I'm going to." The priest read slowly, "I'll tell you a road to salvation—you must love each other as you love yourself, and love others*."

The boy had a bright smile, and his dark jewel-like eyes seemed to be filled with only him.

Fyodor was distracted.

Is that so?

Is that so?

The so-called love - is it really like this?

Thinking of this, Fyodor stretched out his hand to the boy for the first time.

Perhaps, this is the redemption sent to him by the gods.

Maybe a little late, but here it comes.

His voice was soft, revealing divine compassion.

"It doesn't matter if you don't smile."

If you can't share the joy.

The black-haired boy thought so.

At least, let us sink into pain together.

The child's eyes widened, as if he hadn't expected such an answer.

But in the following days, he still did not bring pain to Fyodor.

Once a person has a companion, it seems that no matter how difficult the time is, he can endure it.

They resisted the suffering of fate together, exchanged black bread in each other's hands, and drank a glass of precious wheat beer together.

They slept on the same bed, skin to skin, embracing tightly, using each other's body heat to resist the cold wind whistling outside the window.

Children seem to know everything, but lack the common sense of the world.

In the long cold night, under the shining stars, Fyodor used the old wood that no one else wanted in the garbage dump, and traveled a long way, in exchange for an old rattan chair.

They looked at the boundless land, and the gorgeous aurora loomed by the skyline.

The child was weak, not tall, with slender arms and legs, and Fyodor liked to hold him in his arms and put his chin on his soft short hair.

It was as if this person was firmly held in his palm.

This is his treasure, and only his treasure.

The biting cold made the earth silent, only the chirping voices of children were heard, fresh and warm.

He said.

"Fei Jia, are there many people with supernatural powers in this world?"

"Fei Jia, people with supernatural abilities are so powerful, why didn't anyone establish a new country?"

"Fei Jia, the names of these people with supernatural abilities are so strange..."

The child seemed to think of something suddenly, tensed up, and asked seriously.

"Fedya... what's your full name?"

Fyodor replied: "Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoyevsky."

The book in the child's hand fell to the ground and rolled three times along the threshold.

"Crime...crime and punishment?"

Fyodor: ?

How did he know the name of his superpower?

The child remained strangely silent for a long time, then suddenly clenched his fists and said excitedly.

"Fedya—let's open an orphanage!"

Fyodor was puzzled.

"Why do you suddenly want to open an orphanage?"

The child said sadly.

"It must be the kind of real-name registration. If you include one more name, there will be one less person with supernatural powers in the world who is doing trouble!"

"Speaking of which, if I adopt a child and name him Agatha, will he wake up in the future and no one survives or is it Murder on the Orient Train?"

Fyodor: ?

This man's way of thinking is always so strange.

What Fyodor didn't even expect was that the orphanage was really built with great vigor.

You know, this person himself is only a child of six or seven years old!

It was another long disappearance, and when he came back, the child was covered in blood, and he carried a pile of gold from nowhere.

They exchanged part of it, took over the dilapidated churches on the edge of the city, bought milk and food, and assigned some tasks of picking up garbage and selling newspapers to the homeless children nearby as rewards.

In this busy city, the mice in the shadows come from all directions with the bread crumbs in their mouths.

While the children were busy in the orphanage, Fyodor gradually left home more and more.

Sometimes, there will be more wounds on the body.

They kept their secrets, and lived together tacitly, like two hyenas hugging each other for warmth.

The size of the orphanage gradually expanded. One day, Fyodor came home with several long cuts. He was dizzy from bleeding, and fell straight down as soon as the child opened the door.

In the next second, his consciousness gradually came to him.

The body seemed to have regained its vitality, and the incision on his body was no longer bleeding. He subconsciously touched it, and the skin was as smooth as new, as if the injury had never happened before.

"How about it, I'm amazing..."

The child's short white hair was stained with bright red blood, but there was a bright smile on his face. The cuts that had been made on his body appeared one by one in the same position as the person in front of him. dripped on the floor.

Fyodor remembered that night, the way the boy cut his wrist without hesitation.

Like a god of salvation.

Like the crucified Jesus.

Compassionate and tolerant.

Fyodor was in a trance, and he stroked the blood-stained cheek of the child almost obsessively.

This is his redemption.

His own redemption.

This is, love.

The boy's tone was blurred, and he sighed in the darkness.

"You are amazing, August."

"That's it... just continue to live for me."

The author has something to say: So this is actually the case.

August: I just came to this world, I met the first person, so I saved him Fei Jia: He loves me, if I don’t explain, I hope this chapter can pass the review... The update that the bald head rushed out at the risk of failing the exam seems to be what jesus said