Started with a green hat for Verlaine

William Shakespeare left his attendants and ran out of central London in one breath.

Stay away from right and wrong.

Otherwise, even he would have difficulty keeping the portrait.

Avoiding the government’s monitoring and eyeliner, William Shakespeare broke into a thin layer of sweat holding the portrait, and secretly complained that Oscar Wilde inlaid the portrait with so many miscellaneous things, including diamonds and gold frames, which greatly increased the weight.

When William Shakespeare went to see the portrait covered in black cloth, he sighed a little, and returned to his hometown that few people knew——the town of Stratford, a hundred kilometers away to the west of London.

His parents had died and left him a building on the north side of Henry Street.

The building is a slope top structure with a brown tile roof and light-colored walls. There are two floors in total. It has its own attic. William Shakespeare skillfully found the hidden key, opened the door, and walked upstairs sideways to carry the portrait. to the bedroom on the second floor.

"Fortunately, I developed the ability to run in France."

"To save the portrait of a friend, the great opera singer is going to die."

With a "huh" breath, William Shakespeare opened his neckline, untied his cumbersome coat, and threw it on the bed, cooling off more than one degree.His back was soaked through his shirt, but he didn't bother to change his clothes. He took off the pastoral landscape painting he had painted on the wall when he was a teenager, carefully stood it in a corner, and replaced it with a portrait he snatched from the auction.

He was born and grew up here, and he does not want to destroy the original items of the house. The items that can be brought to his hometown have always had unique meanings.

With what could be called a gentle move, he blocked the sunlight and lifted a small part of the black cloth.

Gorgeous operatic arias appeared.

"My dear Esmeralda, there is no Quasimodo, no Gringoire, your old friend Shakespeare has come to pull you out of your absurd farce."

"..."

"Are you used to the light?"

"..."

"If you don't speak, your old friend will treat it as if you can accept it."

William Shakespeare half-closed the curtains and revealed his portrait in a shady place. As soon as the portrait came out, the frame carefully crafted by Oscar Wilde became a foil.

A ray of sunlight falls next to the picture frame, separating the day and the dim room.

His fingers wiped the blood and tears from the cheeks of the people in the painting.

It's obviously paint, but no matter how much you wipe it, you can't wipe it off, and the tears keep flowing.

The portrait of Oscar Wilde is a portrait of the soul and can only be painted for the living.On the battlefield, Oscar Wilde usually draws people with supernatural powers. He can forcibly pull the people in the painting out to fight, and has all-round functions such as attack, defense, and logistics.

This is the last supernatural portrait in the world.

Oscar Wilde could no longer paint a portrait of the dead Akiya Aso.

William Shakespeare wanted the portrait to speak, but he couldn't find a way. The supernatural abilities of the transcendent level kept each other secret, and all we could know was the superficial information.

"This 'you' is a few years younger, not calm enough, it seems that Britney has seen you in your youth." William Shakespeare touched his chin, observing the portrait, trying to make the person in the portrait fluctuate, "Britty Sweet is not good, I have never seen you when you were 16 years old, if it were me, now I can see the Esmeralda that Hugo likes."

The dark-haired man in the portrait is indifferent, looking at the world with cold hatred before death. William Shakespeare slapped himself on the mouth, not like a middle-aged man, but an opera singer who is always young .

"Ah, I made a mistake. Quasimodo likes you. How can I say the name of Senior Victor Hugo? Wouldn't that be the other party's old cow eating young grass?"

"Esmeralda, talk to me, don't you only remember your lover?"

"I believe that Xiao Tiantian painted you to preserve your most beautiful side."

"You cry like this..."

"Mr. Shakespeare can't help it."

William Shakespeare approached the portrait, his pupil color changed from dark to light, as if he could see through the soul of dead things, his eyes revealed the color of request.His eyelashes did not blink, and his breath sprinkled lightly on the delicate texture of the oil painting. Apart from his realistic eyes, the black-haired man in a painting gave a little movement, and he avoided the breath of William Shakespeare.

William Shakespeare gave a narrow laugh, went back to bring a small table and chairs, made tea for himself, and prepared to sit in front of the portrait and have a long talk.

"Almost short of the biscuits you made for me."

William Shakespeare snapped his fingers, and "A Midsummer Night's Dream" made him biscuits, which tasted exactly as he remembered, freshly baked, with the heat of the fifteenth century.

"Drinks."

Fifteenth-century fishy-smelling milk dropped in a cup.

Esmeralda paid great attention to diet and often let them drink milk instead of raw water. However, the milk of that era was far inferior to the taste of modern times.

William Shakespeare pinched his nose and waved his hands comically, "That's unnecessary."

After a while, he set up a table of afternoon tea sets, and poured a cup of black tea for everyone in front of him, acting dreamily.Facing a painting, the scene where human beings invite each other to drink afternoon tea is like an unreal Alice in Sleepwalking, attracting people who long for supernatural powers.

This is the supernatural world.

This is the power beyond the reach of ordinary people, turning decay into magic.

In the painting, the black-haired man who was always frozen in despair and sadness did not step out of the frame, avoiding the cup of black tea that he could not drink, and the blood and tears clotted on his eyelashes were still hanging in the air.

He stopped crying a little.

William Shakespeare looked at him pityingly: "Tell me something that pleases you."

William Shakespeare: "He who draws you shall go to prison."

The expression of the person in the painting has changed.

William Shakespeare sang: "Leak the transcendent's supernatural ability, sell portraits, and attract the attention of people all over the world to Britain. Next, France will worry about you revealing the secret, and Britain will worry about you exposing Oscar Wilde's supernatural ability. Who is the person you sent to the auction house, but it must have a lot to do with him—”

William Shakespeare's indifferent smile has an inconspicuous dimple.

It's like a nobleman from centuries ago sipping black tea and eating biscuits. His handsome face is unpredictable, and the fleeting light in his eyes is like watching an opera called life.

"Love."

"It's like you, it's fragmented, and it's like him, it's broken when you poke it."

"There will be another pair of people who broke up in this world."

In response to the situation at the auction, MI[-] was dispatched.

The superpowers of the country's transcendents are leaked, and the severity is greater. It is equivalent to the disclosure of the secrets of the nuclear warheads. The enemy can make a fuss about the nuclear warheads at any time and carry out effective defense or strikes.Furthermore, the special ability portrait is too special, it is easy to cause panic, and the ability users will doubly cover up the outflow of photos in the future.

Not to mention people with supernatural powers, the rich, politicians, and elites of all walks of life have to worry about whether they will be painted in portraits and manipulated by transcendents.

At this moment, the efficiency of the British government has never been improved.

Block the auction house, control the guests present, interrogate the three Bronte sisters who presided over the auction house, find the seller, contact Oscar Wilde immediately, and closely monitor the suspicious objects that leaked directly or indirectly!

Once it is found out who did it, it will be punished as a crime of leaking state secrets. If the other party has no reason to explain, then a secret execution of treason cannot escape.

"Miss Agatha? You are so beautifully dressed today, but you should wear high-heeled sandals instead of high-heeled boots, which tend to remind people of strange things, such as whips..."

In the Port of London, on the lower reaches of the Thames, Oscar Wilde on the yacht was surrounded by officials, wondering for a second, causing Posy to evade temporarily, and then greeted the visitors with a smile.

The bell tower attendant was in charge of contacting the transcendents of the country. Agatha Christie came to see Oscar Wilde in person. The red tight skirt was the color of blood, and a pair of beautiful legs were exposed under the black skirt, with a pointed heel more than ten centimeters.

Even so, Agatha Christie's "Blood Queen" aura in front of Oscar Wilde still fell short.

This "dog man" Oscar Wilde in the eyes of Agatha Christie is 1.9 meters tall and also wears high heels with heels. The pattern is leopard print, which is too coquettish.

Agatha Christie had no time to discuss fashion aesthetics with him, and said bluntly: "You are in a good mood? I want to peel you alive now and throw you into the Port of London! You have caused our country to suffer losses, and you actually Know nothing!"

Oscar Wilde stopped joking, and his face became serious.

Agatha Christie said in an official tone: "Mr. Wilde, I officially inform you that the supernatural portrait you created appeared at the Bronte Auction House, and the auction price exceeded tens of billions, attracting the attention of many countries. Fortunately, Mr. Shakespeare promptly The auction was stopped and the portrait was taken away, otherwise the country's transcendent-level supernatural items would fall into the hands of others."

"Painting? What painting?!"

Oscar Wilde stood up in astonishment, unable to cock his feet leisurely.

People sit at home, and the pot comes from the sky.

"I hope you were stolen by someone, and not so stupid that you lost the painting." Agatha Christie stared at him fiercely, so angry that her eyes were murderous, "MI[-] is already investigating, God, How did the country allow you to keep your portrait in the past!"

Oscar Wilde anxiously explained: "I keep all the important portraits in a special place. Even if I go there in person, I have to report them for records. Only some paintings that have nothing to do with the world of supernatural powers will be kept at home. Those ordinary portraits usually don’t move or speak, at most it proves my superb drawing skills, how could it possibly reveal my secret—”

Oscar Wilde froze suddenly, seeing Percy walking out of the door.

His forehead was about to emit blue smoke.

He remembered.

There are two high-end portraits that have been devoted to painstaking efforts in his room.

One is a portrait of Posey, which has been neutralized.

One is a portrait of Aso Qiuya, which is placed inside the wall of the house and protected by the track mechanism. If you want to get that painting, you have to smash the wall and trigger the alarm.

During this time... Percy dragged him out and allowed him to meet other people.

So, he didn't go to see the portrait for a few days.

What about the alarm?

There is only one person who can turn off the alarm.

Oscar Wilde suppressed his uneasiness, and the greatest possibility surfaced. He asked Miss Agatha to wait here for a while, pulled Posey back to the room, locked the door, and asked anxiously, "Posey, are you Have you ever moved my painting?"

Alfred Douglas was not guilty at all, he shook off his sore hand and said, "I don't know what you are talking about."

Oscar Wilde pressed him to speak out, "No one can get my painting but you—! You don't have to hide it anymore, it's a serious matter!"

Alfred Douglas smiled at him like a kid who gets candy.

"lost."

"...Where did you throw it???"

"Didn't you say you loved me the most? I gave the painting to a middleman to dispose of, maybe in the trash can, maybe in the dirty black market, keeping it away from you."

"Do you know what you're doing! That's a portrait I drew with supernatural powers!"

Oscar Wilde thought the sky had fallen in half.

"I know something, have you told me? Have you introduced your superpowers to me?" Under Oscar Wilde's questioning, Alfred Douglas broke out, blushing and roaring, "You Looking at portraits in the living room in the middle of the night, cheating on a portrait, you have the face to say that you love me the most in front of my brother’s grave? You called other people’s names when you were sleeping with me!"

Oscar Wilde's ears were about to ring, and the bell tower attendants outside could hear Douglas arguing with Wilde no matter how evasive they were.

On the seat outside, Agatha Christie's silver teeth were tight, and her eyes were gloomy and dripping, "I knew it had something to do with Douglas Jr. The Douglas family is the scourge of the United Kingdom. They have not made any contribution in the past three generations. They have contributed to the United Kingdom more than once. shame."

The bell tower attendants all lowered their heads, unable to answer the conversation. After all, Douglas was a British nobleman, but he suppressed the angry expression on everyone's face.

They are proud of Britain and are willing to sacrifice their lives for the interests of Britain.

Agatha Christie met the former head of state, a man of great talent and means, the leader of the main combat faction, very in line with the model of British supremacy, but such a person fell in love with the Douglas family. Sadly ended.

Agatha Christie took out her mobile phone and waited for the next call, "Is MI[-] a waste? Who hasn't been found in an hour?"

Soon, the phone rang.

Agatha Christie showed bloodthirsty eyes.

The clock tower attendant gave Oscar Wilde enough time for a private conversation, and after learning that Alfred Douglas was the one who stole the portrait, Agatha Christie sent people to surround Alfred Douglas, where he separated from his subordinates Stepping out, even though she was furious, she still gracefully saluted the wayward son of the Marquis.

She engraved respect for British rules into her bones and maintained the face of the aristocracy.

"Next, ask Lord Douglas to come with us."

"No—I'm not going!"

Was Alfred Douglas sick of her pretending to pretend she couldn't see the murder?He hid behind Oscar Wilde and calmed down at the scene, "Oscar, are you going to watch someone take me? Just because I took one of your paintings? You said everything about you is mine , are you going to break your promise?"

Oscar Wilde closed his eyes in pain: "I said so."

--As long as you want, as long as I have.

Living in a protected world, Posey couldn't understand the importance of the portrait and regarded it as his property, even if he took it away, he didn't think it mattered.

In theory, that's right.

He would forgive Posey's caprice, and beauty would always have immunity.

What Posey took away was the portrait of Akiya Aso!

After Aso Qiuya passed away, the portrait became the only thing he remembered. Even he could only see "Autumn" in private, and could not give it to "Autumn"'s relatives.

"Posey, this matter is different from what you think. The person in the portrait has been dead for a year, and he was the one who introduced you to me back then!" Oscar Wilde asked Agatha while explaining the situation to Posey Miss: "Is there no way to communicate with the higher-ups again? Percy doesn't know my superpowers, and he doesn't know Aso Qiuya. It's my behavior that misled him..."

"No." Agatha Christie refused coldly.

"Is that person dead?" Alfred Douglas was dumbfounded. The person in the painting had been dead for a year, and Oscar missed a dead person?Is this the man who introduced Oscar to him?

Alfred Douglas shuddered, having successfully learned to be afraid under the unflinching iciness of the Clocktower squire.

He regretted it.

Because of a dead man, he made Oscar angry and offended the clock tower attendants.

"Oscar... I don't know, I really don't know! I don't want to go with them, I'm sorry, Oscar, how could I deliberately reveal your supernatural ability..."

The once-in-a-century beauty in England panicked and hugged Oscar Wilde's arm and kept apologizing, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Agatha Christie to her country's overachievers: "Get out of the way."

Alfred Douglas cries: "Oscar!"

Oscar Wilde was silent, caught between the country's responsibility and his lover's help, he knew the seriousness of this matter, because of his personal relationship, he couldn't let his lover out of sight, the clock tower attendant is the place to deal with all kinds of dirty things , the person in charge, Agatha Christie, is ruthless, and Posy can't keep a secret for a minute in the hands of the other party.

If you shirk now, you can also mitigate the crime.

If these people knew that Posey had destroyed the portrait and knew that it was his supernatural power, Posey would never be able to wash away the guilt of leaking state secrets.

He said with difficulty: "Miss Agatha, just treat it as a thief who stole the portrait. I will be responsible for the follow-up. Now that the portrait has been recovered, it means that the situation has not reached the worst stage..."

Agatha Christie smiled: "I recorded the content of his quarrel with you."

Oscar Wilde's face twitched slightly.

Oscar Wilde made up his mind and pushed Percy's hand away. The blond young man's face turned pale instantly, "Oscar...you bastard!"

Oscar Wilde said unhappily: "Posey, just shut up your stinky mouth! If you still curse at people at this time, aren't there enough people who think you've offended?" He ignored Posy's blue face, Go on, "Remember to go home and ask your father for help later! Remember today's lesson and don't reveal my supernatural ability to anyone."

Oscar Wilde stepped forward and snatched a pair of handcuffs from the page.

"Crack" sound.

He resolutely paid for the mistakes made by Posey.

【Sorry, Qiu, after all, I am not the Irish teenager in my dream. Percy is my lover, and I will protect him until the last moment I still love him. 】

"Take me away."

"It was I who hid the portrait of Akiya Aso without telling the government, and it was I who sold the portrait to the auction house to please Percy."

"It's all my fault, nothing to do with Percy..."

Oscar Wilde kicked off the extra high heels, stood barefoot on the deck of the boat, bent his knees, and apologized to Agatha Christie, "Please forgive my indecent behavior."

For the first time in his life Oscar Wilde was ashamed.

"I love my country and people, I am willing to accept punishment, and I will never betray my motherland. I swear that I have not violated the interests of any British citizen."

His eyes were slightly red, and he said with a deep breath.

"Long live Britain."

……

Under Oscar Wilde's forcible interference, the servants of the clock tower knew that they could not take Alfred Douglas away. Agatha Christie backed down and temporarily agreed with Wilde's statement, so as to avoid a confrontation between the two sides and let other countries see Lively.

Oscar Wilde, handcuffed, followed the bell tower attendants without looking back at Alfred Douglas.

The man is determined to go.

Alfred Douglas felt a chill.

Tears were hanging on his cheeks, blown by the wind, crumbling, reflecting the otherworldly appearance, and when they fell to the ground, they seemed to lose their meaning.

"Oscar..."

He tried to catch up, but his feet were nailed to the ground like roots.

Those people went by boat.

"Oscar asked me to go to my father, can my father help?" Alfred Douglas no longer lost his temper with his father in order to seek help from the family.

He had just dialed the phone, and suddenly remembered the price of leaking supernatural powers. As soon as he spoke, he faltered and said that something happened to Oscar Wilde, he was taken away by the servants of the clock tower, and his father was watching the game in the boxing club He shouted loudly: "Get out of here!"

Alfred Douglas insisted: "Father! We must go save him!"

Marquis Douglas scolded angrily: "He has an accident, what are you rushing to do? These years, the Douglas family has been humble and humble, and they don't owe Oscar Wilde any kindness. They finally regained their vitality. I will not let you get involved in political struggles again!"

"If you don't come back, I will send someone to arrest you!"

"We'll meet Wilde again when he's safe. If he loves you, he knows he can't let your stupid brain come up with ideas!"

Marquis Douglas made a decisive decision to take his only remaining son back.

The outside world’s impression of Oscar Wilde is only a flirtatious art connoisseur who occasionally paints part-time and lives in seclusion. Few people know that he is a British transcendent. There are even fewer people.

Without the outside world knowing, Oscar Wilde was in prison.

The turmoil at Bronte's auction house couldn't be dealt with.

Under the control of public opinion by the British government, the portrait of Aso Akiya at the Bronte Auction House spread to France, Germany, Italy and many other countries, but the supernatural portrait was described as a Bronte Auction To improve his reputation, he used high-tech means to create a portrait that blinked on the surface.

This is the first layer of smoke bombs.

At the same time, the UK secretly arrested all the famous painters in London and inspected them one by one, so that those who do not believe that the portraits are technological products have evidence that they are indeed supernatural portraits, and even the British government does not know who did it.

This is the second layer of smoke.

The British government announced to the outside world: Ma Shengqiu on the portrait also shed blood and tears, and there is a suspicion that the love in the golden house is a trap. In order not to create international disputes and disturb the rest of the dead, we will collect the portraits in the Royal Museum and seal them up. Open to the outside world is not considered.

To prove it, the British government took blurry photos.

The three layers of smoke bombs were put down to confuse the public's opinion. The British official forces cooperated with each other like lightning to barely settle the risk of exposure of transcendent level supernatural abilities.

When the French government asked for the portrait, the British government directly handed over a fake oil painting with blinking eyes. trace.

Charles Pierre Baudelaire dropped the portrait: "What is this painting!"

Victor Hugo hurried to catch the portrait, "It doesn't look like it, it's also a portrait in the name of Aso Akiya, you can't be so rude!"

Charles-Pierre Baudelaire: "It can't be this painting!"

There was a cold light in his eyes.

"This auction is unusual. You can communicate on the phone, but none of the photos are sent out, as if blocked by a shielding device. I interrogated a French businessman who returned to China. His memory showed traces of falsification. Nullify Osamu Dazai once, and we will know the real portrait."

After finishing speaking, Charles-Pierre Baudelaire reacted: "Oops, I was delayed by Britain!"

"It's not good." Victor Hugo felt a pain in his heart. If the supernatural portrait appeared at the auction, wouldn't it mean that Esmeralda really shed tears of blood.His goddess was exhibited in the portrait, auctioned off, looking at everyone with resentment.

This is the information brought back by the merchants at the scene.

Seeing is believing, hearing is not.

Victor Hugo's chest was full of anger, he would rather this incident was false, and in a flash, he worried about Osamu Dazai's safety for Esmeralda.

When Charles-Pierre Baudelaire contacted Osamu Dazai again, the Japanese government declined the request of the French government, and later said that Osamu Dazai went to England on his own initiative.

Charles Pierre Baudelaire cursed secretly: That brat!

Victor Hugo was bitter.

"Charles, I want to go to England through official channels."

"When will it be your turn, stay here, don't embarrass France, what will be revealed by then!"

"..."

"Victor—this is the Paris Commune, my people are more than yours, you dare to try! I will go to England, you guard Paris—stop for me!"

United Kingdom.

After the plane got off.

Osamu Dazai in a black suit said first: "I want to see my brother."

Black, ominous, like mourning on him.

In front of the attendants of the clock tower, the boy with half of his face wrapped in a bandage stood up straight, like an unyielding green pine, like wild grass spreading wildly underground.

His iris-colored eyes were empty, and he said the second sentence of the day.

"Don't worry, I don't help France."

……

Brother, are you here?