Started with a green hat for Verlaine

They stared blankly at each other for a few seconds.

Rolling his eyes, Tolstoy fell successfully.

The ghost stories Ma Shengqiu also told during the day turned into reality at night!

Ma Shengqiu also took a stride in a hurry, stepped forward and supported one of the greatest Russian writers firmly, without letting the opponent's body hit the floor.

He supported Tolstoy and walked towards the bed. After putting him down, he bent down to check his breath, heartbeat and pulse. I don't want to be charged with murder.

At the door, Maupassant's posture of squatting close to the ear has become another way of resting his head on the crack of the lower door to look inside.

Through the leather shoes under the candlelight, one can clearly distinguish who Wang Qiu is.

At first, the two kept a distance from each other.

A shirt fell to the ground.

Maupassant covered his open mouth with his fist, and the blood rushed from the soles of his feet to his forehead. He deeply regretted that he did not devote himself to writing. Otherwise, with the relationship they met first, he would have had a lot of opportunities to curry favor with Wang Qiu with his works!

Immediately afterwards, Maupassant's eyes were red, his breathing was heavy, and his brain was full of fantasies, almost forming a story of readers seducing a writer late at night.

"hiss!"

Maupassant suddenly saw Wang Qiu's leather shoes walking forward quickly.

Wang Qiu is too proactive!

Do you throw yourself into your arms without waiting for the other party to come forward?

Damn Russian writers, take advantage of their French writers!Why is it Tolstoy? Maupassant has no reputation in the literary world, so he couldn't get Wang Qiu's enthusiasm, but Mr. Flaubert didn't enjoy it either!

This hatred is inseparable!

Maupassant's expression kept changing, and he was so excited and angry that he wanted to beat the ground.

The other writers were so anxious that they couldn't hear the movement, and they cursed the sound insulation effect too well, so they had to secretly observe Maupassant's every move at the door.

Maupassant looked more and more heartbroken.

In his bottom view, Wang Qiu helped Tolstoy to the bed, and gently took off his shoes for him, but Tolstoy, an old man, did nothing but waited for Wang Qiu to serve him. In a word, be patient.

Tolstoy's father was an earl, and his mother was the daughter of a duke. He lost his parents when he was young, but was brought up by noble relatives and inherited the title of earl.Ten years ago, Tolstoy also married the daughter of a tsarist physician. He wanted wind and rain, and the scenery in Moscow was not good. It is normal to have this kind of fluffy habit.

[No, Wang Qiu!We also have aristocratic writers in France! 】

[Please don't lower your status! 】

Maupassant waited and waited, but he didn't see Wang Qiu take off his leather shoes. He was relieved, but his dirty thoughts were dreaming again.

[Could it be sitting by the bed...doing that? 】

Maupassant took another breath, and then choked on the dust from the crack of the door, which must be criticized for Mr. Flaubert's servants, who did not clean up carefully at all.

[Why is there no sound? 】

Maupassant tried his best to stretch his ears to eavesdrop.

Not far away, Flaubert came out of the bedroom and looked at Guy's dog lying posture with a dark face.

Let you participate in the salon to make friends in the literary world!

Not here to spy on guests!

Flaubert was about to reprimand Guy for his behavior, when he suddenly noticed that there were many people with the door open, all hiding behind the door to observe Tolstoy's room.

Flaubert: "???"

He was the one who least believed that Wang Qiu would give Tolstoy benefits.

Wang Qiu's character, to put it bluntly, is a devil reader!It would be difficult for him to see the naked feet of an Oriental, let alone let Tolstoy take advantage of it.

Flaubert pinches Guy by the ear and lifts him up.

Maupassant: "It hurts, it hurts!"

Flaubert said angrily, "Young man, go back to my room."

Maupassant suppressed his voice: "Wang Qiu is inside."

Flaubert said: "That's their private matter, it has nothing to do with you, don't think about it, Wang Qiu hates gossip the most."

Maupassant widened his eyes, moved his mouth, and said silently.

【They are making love! 】

fart!

Wang Qiu could beat Tolstoy to death with one punch.

Flaubert wanted to spray back, but he endured it, this is the child he watched grow up.

"Let me go!"

Flaubert dragged Maupassant away, and Maupassant was wronged like a big dog not trusted by his parents. He was strong and did not dare to resist a weak Flaubert.

Hearing the voice at the door, Ma Shengqiuya's eyes glanced over, and it was difficult to ignore it, but Flaubert came to help him drive those people away.

He will remember to thank Mr. Flaubert tomorrow.

Ma Shengqiu also picked up the clothes on the ground and put them on, so as not to frighten Tolstoy twice.He put his eyes back on Tolstoy's face, his eyes were burning brightly, and there was a strange light of thinking about the next step, as if Tolstoy was a peerless Russian beauty, lying helplessly on his bed before.

After a while, Tolstoy's eyelids moved and he saw Wang Qiu again.This time Wang Qiu was neatly dressed, buttoned up to his neck, without a trace of horror.

Sitting by the bed, Wang Qiusi was gentle, gentle and amiable, with worried eyes.

Tolstoy's face hardened.

"Did I just... have a nightmare?"

How he hoped that the other party would answer "yes"!

But Wang Qiu was smiling at him, no different from before he fell into a coma. The more he looked, the more he looked like a dead imitating a living person, and Tolstoy felt a chill behind his back.

"You think it is, and if you don't, it's not."

Ma Shengqiu also raised his lips, pushed the question to the other party, then helped the other party to sit up, and fed the other party with a water cup to relieve the burden of the fast heart.

Tolstoy drank water in despair, choked up and said, "Let me go..."

Ma Shengqiu also said: "Why are you afraid of me, I am your loyal reader."

I can't afford it, I can't afford it!

Tolstoy's body trembled, and he couldn't choose what to say: "There are so many writers in France, and there are many better than me, like Victor Hugo..."

Ma Shengqiu also smiled: "Mr. Hugo and I are friends."

Tolstoy: "Turgenev..."

Aso Qiu also said affectionately: "Between Turgenev and you, I choose you."

Tolstoy almost burst into tears.

Ma Shengqiu also maintains the identity of "undead", and gradually adds the setting: "I know it is difficult for you to accept the reality now, alas, I thought you would be a person who is willing to see the real world, but I didn't expect your courage to be so big .”

Tolstoy blushed, and his face was trampled on.

Looking at the surreal Wang Qiu, he admits he is scared, and feels that if he is trampled, he will be trampled. He misses his wife at home and wants to go back to Russia alive!

"How can you let me go?"

"I am an undead, an undead who had obsessions during his lifetime."

What Ma Shengqiu also said was all the truth, how to understand it is someone else's business.

Next, he turned horror films into supernatural films. The difference between the two is that one focuses on ghosts and scares people, while the other focuses on stories between humans and ghosts.

"I am an oriental person who loves novels and has read many literary works. After my death, for some reason, I became like this."

"Perhaps in response to my regrets during my lifetime, I came here to meet you."

"The novel I didn't read, I saw it."

"I helped publish the novels that had no chance of being published."

"I use money to support poor writers, collect copyrights of works, and watch writers who delay their drafts complete their works quickly. These have become my source of happiness."

"I have stepped out of the shadow of death little by little, and I am no longer immersed in sorrow and pain. This era is the literary prosperity after the Renaissance. The me you see now is the me that you have changed together."

Ma Shengqiu also used exciting words to communicate with Tolstoy.

Tolstoy was fascinated by what he heard, that there were such undead, who approached the writer only for the sake of novels, to help the writer concentrate on writing.

Tolstoy asked nervously, "How long have you... lived?"

It is rumored that the longer the undead live, the stronger it becomes.

Ma Shengqiu also wrote lightly: "I once traveled across the ocean, came to France, met King Louis XI of France, discussed Joan of Arc with him, and visited Notre Dame de Paris before it was rebuilt. I was unable to go to Italy at that time. Otherwise, I would have known the venerable Mr. Da Vinci, and later, I met a poor Mr. Shakespeare and supported him for a while."

This remark reveals the greatness of time and the scope of Aso Akiya's communication.

Tolstoy was struck by the experience of the Orientals.

Louis XI, the universal spider of France, met Joan of Arc when he was a child!

Da Vinci, man of the fifteenth century!

Shakespeare, man of the sixteenth century!

Tolstoy's face flushed suddenly, and he lowered his panic. Did the opponent choose him, did he put him on the same level as those great people?

"It's amazing! Only the mysterious East can have such a miracle!"

Tolstoy was in awe.

What a knowledgeable person Wang Qiu must be to live for such a long time.

"Except..." Tolstoy quickly glanced at Wang Qiu's chest, not daring to recall the dense sutures, "Do you have any evidence?"

Ma Shengqiu also held his hand, like old comrades joining forces.

"some."

"Is Mr. Tolstoy good at writing short stories?"

When asked this question, Tolstoy said modestly: "A little bit."

Ma Shengqiu also said: "Then write an article, take today's salon as the theme, and include me in it."

Ma Shengqiu also quickly arranged the desk surface for him.

Tolstoy walked over with limp feet, sat down, and was immediately stuffed with a pen in his hand.

Tolstoy:【Did I fall into some trap? 】

Ma Shengqiu also smiled slightly: "After you finish writing, I will let you see my changes. If your writing is strong and powerful, it can heal a wound on my body."

Tolstoy picked up the pen and felt the pressure of writing deeply.

"Is that your purpose?"

He realized the hope that Wang Qiu placed on himself.

"My wish is to remove the scars on my body, restore a complete and healthy appearance, and go to another world. But my scars can only be removed by writers writing. You don't have to be afraid of me, I will not hurt you."

"My wish is simple."

"Please write for me, Mr. Tolstoy."

Ma Shengqiu also adjusted the candlelight for him, and the oriental people under the lamp were gentle and charming, just like the people in the painting.

"--help me."

……

Sleepless all night, Tolstoy worked until the early hours of the morning.

He then fell asleep exhausted in Aso's care and missed breakfast.

This world opened the door to the supernatural for him.

After he finished writing the short story "The French Salon of 1874: Novel and Mysticism", Ma Shengqiu also read it aloud for him, waking up the sleepless writer next door.Those people felt incredible when they heard the bursts of reading aloud.

The scope of dissemination of the work is very small, but it has also spread.

A suture on Aso Akiya's body became lighter in front of Tolstoy's eyes, like a broken corpse being healed by mysterious power.

The power of the novel made Tolstoy cry, as if reborn.

He no longer needs to seek salvation from religion, and grasps the straw of "writing" that changes his life and soul during his ideological transformation.

【We have the mysterious power! 】

Ma Shengqiu also walked out of Tolstoy's room with a stack of drafts in his hand, because he discovered one of Tolstoy's faults: he particularly liked editing.Before he officially took away the manuscript, the other party snatched it several times, saying that he was not satisfied and wanted to edit it again. In order to perfect the work, he was not afraid of even a ghost.

Gustave Flaubert was breathing in the fresh air in the morning when he bumped into Wang Qiu head-on.

The owner of the estate went out of his way to show an open mind.

"Qiu, how was last night?"

"Very good, what I have in my hand is the result."

Ma Shengqiu also smiled at Mr. Flaubert, without saying anything.

Gustave Flaubert suppressed the fear of sympathy.

The next second, the French man said dryly, "When will you come to me?"

Ma Shengqiu also laughed, "Stop staying up late, actively treat your body, and wait for you to fully recover—"

In his eyes, there are romantic poetry and the ocean of literature.

"Let's travel around together!"

……

Writers who are so eager to be pushed must be treated with tenderness.

Protecting endangered animals is everyone's responsibility.

The author has something to say: a pigeon named Tolstoy flew into the pot.

【small theater】

Aso Qiuya: This pot of soup is very delicious!

Tolstoy: ...

Shakespeare: Hahahahaha, are you bragging about me?So funny.

Aso Qiuya: I already knew you.

Shakespeare: But I am not from the sixteenth century.

Akiya Aso: I didn’t say which era you were from, it was all made up by Mr. Tolstoy.

Shakespeare: Are we friends?

Akiya Aso: If you think it is, we are.

Shakespeare: Come on, revive.

Akiya Aso: Well, I am still waiting to collect the copyright fee for your creation of my story.

Shakespeare:  …

Aso Qiuya: Just kidding, I support your creation, anyway, you have never written my story correctly.

Shakespeare: QAQ too much!