City of Burning Snow

The long memory is like the north wind slowly passing through the uninhabited land of Siberia.While he waits for Nikolai Gogol to prepare a bowl of porridge, Dostoyevsky pinches the dates on the tablecloth in his hand, further connecting with his surroundings through the rough touch.His mind is still a little dizzy, partly from the coma of more than four days, and partly from the synesthesia with Gogol.His state has not fully recovered. In order to adjust to the controllable range as soon as possible, he slightly closed the synesthesia with Gogol.Gogol's spirit is too tense, and Dostoyevsky's composure is like a bowl of ice water, and he is not very used to this sense of interconnectedness.Gogol was humming a staccato tune, and as he listened, he noticed that part of the sound was emanating from the inside of his head.

- Slow thinking.

This kind of experience is too rare for him, and there is no experience for reference.When he went to the kitchen bar and watched Gogol toss the bread, he picked out a bar chair for himself.His intestines and stomach have not functioned normally for a long time, and even a small amount of food intake can easily trigger a bad reaction. Gogol obviously considered this and was crumbling the bread and mixing it into the milk.Gogol lay across from him, pushed the porridge to him, and he looked at him with a smile.Gogol’s fatigue can be discerned by the naked eye, but he is very energetic. Dostoevsky took the porridge and drank it in extremely small sips. The cold water he just drank made his stomach feel uncomfortable. He took a few sips just stop.

"Reheat it?"

Dostoevsky nodded.

Gogol leans over to get the bowl.The light flashed through the light golden curly hair of the sentinel, and Gogol's hand accidentally deviated from the direction.His falling fingers touched the porcelain bowl, and the crumbs mixed with milk splashed out. Gogol hurriedly took the napkin on the table and tried to wipe the stain. Dostoevsky stared blankly, and he grabbed Gogol hair, gently pulling people over.

"Oh, what's the matter?"

The guide maximized the synesthesia between the two.Gogol grinned hastily, trying to avoid Dostoevsky's gaze, but even if he avoided the light and covered his eyes with his hair, Dostoevsky had forced his connection. perception.Dostoevsky's spirit merges with his as he looks out from the inside of Gogol's body at the blackened kitchen.When he woke up from a deep sleep, he was not fully aware of the problem, and now it finally surfaced—with Nikolai Gogol's character, how could he accept the established relationship between the two so easily?

It is the most appropriate way to strengthen synaesthesia without letting him know. The glass bead-like eyeballs block one side of sight. Gogol wiped his hands uneasily, and Dostoyevsky loosened him slightly.

"That's why you kissed me..."

Nikolai Gogol was blind in his right eye.

three days ago.

A basin of water was overturned to the ground.Gogol jumped up, blinking innocently like a cat in trouble.Tiptoeing carefully around the water, he slipped and slipped again on the smooth marble floor.Shibusawa knocked on the door panel beside him, seeing from the corner of his eye that the expensive furniture was soaked in water, he raised his eyebrows, but he didn't care much.

"Disturbing Your Excellency's mime performance, how is it now?"

"Aha..." Gogol rolled over and jumped up, his eyes bent.His look was completely different from two days ago, when he cast his gaze on Shibusawa, the fair cheeks that were already good-looking, combined with the loneliness hidden in his smile, made him look like a lost angel.

"Fedya is still awake! Come back tomorrow."

"Of course I know he's not awake." Shibusawa came over and sat down on the bed casually, "It's about your eyes. Can't you see it? That whitish right eye. It's a big loss for the sentinel." , of course, you can probably count on synaesthesia."

Gogol's fingers paused, and then he cleaned up the mess in the room. "Is that so... You see. Now that you're talking about it, I'd better ask what to do."

The water reflected the soft sunlight, and the chains of his cloak snapped against his collarbone.He took off the cloak that was in the way, and threw it on the bed beside him, taking off a little of his disguise at the same time.After he cleaned up the water basin and rebuilt it as the bedside of the sleepy person, the clear water in the brass water basin was basically gone.The sparrows sang melodiously outside the window, and he raised his smiling face.

"You are so kind to invite us to live here, you should have other plans?"

"if not."

"The raiders I met on the road, as well as you, seem to be related to something that happened two months ago—alright, question time!"

Shibusawa Tatsuhiko was unmoved by this trick to exaggerate the atmosphere.He looked up wearily at Gogol. The man had a hard time choosing among the many clothes he offered, but he chose a set of gorgeous costumes similar to magician's performance costumes, which were gorgeous but not serious.Gogol's smile, like his tulip collar, was created purely for show.

"Do you want to know our plans... or do you want to know Fyodor Dostoyevsky's real purpose?"

Shibusawa hit the nail on the head, covering his lapped knees with his palms.

"You're looking for a psychological buffer for yourself, Nikolai Gogol. In order to regain a little freedom of movement-know my purpose in advance, and then you can take this opportunity to consider whether you should stay, right?"

"Haha interesting guess—"

"Your Excellency is not someone worth discussing with me at all. Take care of Fyodor and wait for him to wake up. Cooperate with his actions. You can do these things, and ask about the plan. This is the plan you want."

He punctures Gogol's disguise.

He waits.Shibusawa Tatsuhiko cunningly extended his patience, pretending to visit the sleeping guide on the hospital bed.

"I am not interested in these things," Gogol said.

"Oh? Then what do you want to ask?" Shibusawa asked him.

He didn't think that Nikolai Gogol really wanted to leave. The conversation in the cafe had already made him understand that the Ukrainian youth in front of him hadn't thought about anything for himself. Dostoevsky's safety , his purpose, including whether he wants to confront New Russia, or to escape for the time being for other things in a roundabout way - Nikolai Gogol just wants to better cooperate with the other party, he cannot escape of their control.

As he expected, the blond young man sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over and kissed the guide's forehead lovingly.Shibusawa watched with cold eyes. If Gogol performed it for him, he would be too ignorant of how to distinguish and analyze human emotions.He is not a person who does not understand emotions, but he still cares about the two people in front of him, and he failed to steal all the samples before breaking away from the control of the tower according to the original plan.

New Russia did not really want Dostoevsky's life.They should be able to create panic inside the tower for a while before fleeing the tower.Why not take the opportunity to get a sample out?Shibusawa originally left a guess, that is, Dostoevsky had arranged for someone else to pick it up, and then sent it here a day or two later along a different road.Right now, this guess has also been rejected by him.Looking at Gogol's expression, he began to suspect that because of this sentinel, Dostoyevsky might use those precious minutes to detour and do some other stupid things...

"Mr. Shibusawa—"

Noticing the prying eyes, Gogol turned his face to the side, still smiling, as if since he was covered in scars, he let go of the guide's scarred body under the forcible pull of the Shibusawa family's servants, he would only Greeting people with such a false smile.

——Mr. Shibusawa, he asked with a smile, have you heard of AMCM?

tbc.