Started with a green hat for Verlaine

"Qiu, this is the novel I finalized based on your suggestion."

Oscar Wilde's writing speed was not fast, he played casually and focused on participation.

He leaned on the back of the sofa and introduced his works to the sitting black-haired man with a smile, as if dedicating a flower of art to his sweetheart.

"The protagonist is a young aristocrat who came to the London social circle. He has the brilliant blond hair that the British love most, and his blue eyes are like pure lilies. The socialites are all amazed by the appearance of this beautiful boy..."

"His name is Dorian Gray."

"Dorian Gray's artist friend painted a beautiful portrait of him, retaining the amazing appearance of the beautiful boy. Even Dorian Gray fell in love with his own portrait, and he swore he would betray him. The soul must also retain youth, his oath has been fulfilled, and he will always be displayed in front of people in a beautiful appearance..."

"The portrait was locked in the cabinet by him, and it became uglier and uglier every day."

"The soul of Dorian Gray has fallen in this city."

"The portrait reflects his soul."

"People in the whole city are guessing that he has made a contract with the devil, otherwise how could he remain young forever..."

Ma Shengqiu also read out the title of the novel: "The Portrait of Dorian Gray."

Oscar Wilde changed his posture and said comfortably: "Yes, a protagonist who is completely different from Qiu, simple, selfish, reckless, and crazy in pursuit of beauty."

Aso Shengqiu also opened the directory, and the directory had ripples like lake water.

The gaze of the traveler looks through the ripples, just like the protagonist in the book looking at the portrait, and the book becomes a mirror that reflects different abilities.

The Supernatural Ability of Oscar Wilde - "Portrait"!

Ma Shengqiu was also surprised to find that the perspective had changed this time. It was no longer viewed from the eyes of the transcendent. What appeared in the book was a mysterious and spectacular studio.

The dense portraits hang on the wall, half covered by the curtain, the emotions are lifelike, and a faint sense of terror emanates from behind the curtain.

Hundreds of portraits of characters represent the hearts of all kinds of characters.

They are doomed not to see light in the dark.

but--

Will they be willing?

If ordinary people with supernatural abilities would have died under the backlash of the "portraits", Oscar Wilde, who was able to seal them, was naturally a transcendent.The human heart is like a devil, and few people can be pure and innocent forever. Oscar Wilde, who can draw the human heart, is tortured by supernatural powers. Over time, he learns to ignore the hearts of others, thinking that he will not be troubled if he only pursues the surface.

The screen rotates from time to time, jumping from one portrait to another, and occasionally you can see the figures of many distinguished British people.

This is one of the secrets hidden by the British government.

"Portraits" can kill people, and they can also give living people incredible power.

For the shocking portraits, Aso Qiuya's eyes hurt. With some strange looks, will people doubt that this world is a human society?How did human beings make their minds look like that?

[There should be no portrait of me. 】

[I only met that Mr. Wilde once. 】

Ma Shengqiu also looked at all the portraits with a fluke mentality.

A portrait that appeared in a private house completely shattered his self-deception. After all, Oscar Wilde, who was as good as a dog, had a "bad hand" on him.

Ma Shengqiu also closed the book expressionlessly.

He was lucky enough to see a portrait of himself, shaped like a ghost, retaining the face of a corpse, in a gorgeous frame inlaid with jewels.

Is that how you are?

After resentment took possession of the heart, it's good that the person in the painting didn't degenerate into a strange species...

Oscar Wilde asked, "Qiu, why didn't you watch it all of a sudden?"

Ma Shengqiu also said deeply: "It's kind of scary."

Oscar Wilde thought that he was not writing horror novels, and his idea was aimed at the general public, but he didn't want to scare Wang Qiu, so he hesitated and said, "May I revise it?"

Ma Shengqiu also laughed and interrupted Wilde's thoughts.

"I lied to you."

How could it be possible for the other party to modify it for this reason.

"Well written."

Good enough to be Oscar Wilde's signature, Transcendence-level abilities.

He put the "Portrait of Dorian Gray" on the table, and could not bear to look at his own portrait, which would embarrass him to social death.

"Let me take it easy, I need to calm down and read your work."

"All right……"

Oscar Wilde's nose was a little itchy, unaware that the people in front of him called him a good-looking dog in his heart, and he wanted to draw someone who was good-looking.

Ma Shengqiu also thought horribly: [My famous name in my life. 】

The way he died was miserable, but it was the way he chose to die, the only way to defeat Paul Verlaine—to engrave the most profound death on the hearts of important people, and turn all feelings into the most intense hatred , to avenge him.

How should people who have seen his portrait understand his choice?

It is estimated that it will... anger Arthur Rimbaud.

Ma Shengqiu was also taken aback, recalling the mentality he had at the moment of death. If the "portrait" could speak, the words he said would definitely be hurtful.

— let me die.

—I will never forgive you, Rimbaud.

--kill him!Kill Paul Verlaine who dismembered me!

A similar thought clearly appeared in Aso Qiuya's imagination, and suddenly there was continuous tingling in his heart, as if it had been sliced ​​into thin slices.

A "portrait" is a dead thing trapped in a frame.

The biggest difference between humans and supernatural powers is that there are infinite possible futures.

According to his review of that day, his death may be problematic, and the [book] may have played the role of sending him directly to his death.

Ma Shengqiu was also absent-minded, and used cooking as an excuse to go to the kitchen to clean up fruits and vegetables. A pair of unscarred hands were extremely white in the water.

His mind was drawn back to Wenye World.

The wonderful and cruel supernatural society has shaped who I am today.

"Gabe's identity and position are not suitable for exploring the events of the year, and Mr. Flaubert never mentioned the process of the incident. At most, I saw operas through their masterpieces, and operas cannot 100% explain such a complicated event. "

"I, Arthur Rimbaud, Paul Verlaine...there are only the three of us who can tell the truth. Even if we walk in disorder, it is impossible to solve all the mysteries."

"No, there is one more person!"

"If Ah Zhi goes to find [Book] and triggers the 'singularity' between [Book] and [Book], it is possible to obtain the memory of parallel time and space!"

"Azhi is the person most likely to understand me..."

"He's my brother..."

Ma Shengqiu also felt sad and proud. Even if he died, his younger brother would spend the rest of his life searching for the truth for his elder brother.

Ranpo and Chuya will be brothers who accompany Aji.

He will not justify his own death, he has abandoned his children, and he has been a selfish person for a while, and these sins of abandonment are waiting for him to pay.He thought for a long time, and found that the exhaustion and pain accumulated in his life were all sequelae left by immature behaviors. If he were now, he would definitely not have reached such a deadlock.

For example, when it's time to beat Luanbu, he must not spoil him.

For another example, while protecting Zhongye, he must come up with a [shell] solution in advance, and give the person next to the pillow a plausible reason.

His panic will only push things to an unpredictable conclusion.

—Passive waiting is wrong.

Ma Shengqiu also put a simple meal on the table, and picked out a washed red apple for Oscar Wilde, gaining the wholehearted trust of the other party.

Aso Qiuya's lips moved slightly, but he didn't say anything like you should grow up.

What a precious thing people's trust is.

He said: "Oscar, you need to meet more friends, work hard and create."

It's time for him to prepare for Oscar Wilde's retreat, so he doesn't have to worry about the other party's end in poverty.

Money is enough.

The work that should have been obtained is almost obtained.

Mrs. Tolstoy's malice brought him a creative boom all over Europe. He thought he should thank her, and hoped that Mr. Tolstoy would not talk to Mrs. Tolstoy for the sake of his children when he returned home. Get a divorce.

Ma Shengqiu also looked at Oscar Wilde's meal with full eyes, and listened to the other party talking about which friends wrote works for him while eating.

The years are quiet and good, and I hope all the pigeons that fly out of the pot can fly back.

Welcome to Pigeon Stew Publishing House.

……

In the world of Wenye, "Aso Akiya" in the portrait froze as if struck by an electric shock, his eyes rolled, and he saw another self with a gentle expression.

"He" couldn't figure it out, couldn't understand it.

——How can you not hate?

At this moment, the confusion in the eyes of the person in the painting overwhelmed the resentment.

When William Shakespeare came back from the opera house, he noticed the change of the portrait at a glance, and asked in surprise, "Did anyone touch you?"

The person in the painting is silent, turns around, and turns his back to others without saying a word.

Annoyed, William Shakespeare held his heart and said: "Don't do this, dear friend, I think your face with blood and tears is much more charming than your back view."

The people in the paintings are different than they have ever been before.

"He" covered his ears.

Too noisy.

William Shakespeare closed his noisy mouth, feeling very heartbroken, as a famous opera singer standing in front of you, you don't even give face as a fan!

[Esmeralda, you fake fan! 】

……

At the end of the nineteenth century, the long-awaited news came to Aso Akira.

However, there is bad news.

Isabel came to London, England, and told Mr. Wang Qiu helplessly: "My brother is sick, and he won't let me tell you, but I can't go to Africa alone. My brother said that there is a huge temperature difference between day and night, and his legs hurt every night." Pain, here’s his letter to me—with poetry in it for me to send to you anonymously.”

It turned out that after Arthur Rimbaud fled England and the Netherlands, his travel plans kept changing, and he went to Ethiopia in northeastern Africa.

During his stay in Africa, Arthur Rimbaud would occasionally start to write some works, first sent back to his sister, and then asked her to send it to Stewed Pigeon Publishing House.

He never forgot his promise to Wang Qiu: continue to create and never close his pen.

Although...um...production is on the low side.

Ma Shengqiu also held Rimbaud's poems describing coffee merchants in his hand, full of sorrow and joy. Finding someone in this era is really hard work.

After this little pigeon spirit stopped eating pizza, it can be regarded as bubbling.

"Don't worry, just sit here for a while, I'll ask how to get to Ethiopia, and I'll go see the guide as soon as I find him."

"Mr. Wang Qiu..."

Isabel pinched the corner of Akiya Aso's clothes, but hesitated to speak.

"?" Ma Shengqiu also gestured for her to speak with his eyes.

"Brother is a little afraid of you." Isabel stammered, "Can you pretend not to be angry when you go to see him? Wait until he recovers, and then settle accounts with him. He said that he would dream of you chasing and killing him in his nightmares. Said he was going to be stewed."

"..." Aso Qiuya.

Under the pure eyes of the girl eager to protect her brother, Aso Qiuya's heart is broken. Isabel is a good sister of Rimbaud.

"Don't worry, I won't scare him away. After seeing him, I promise to let him recuperate well and come back to see you alive and well."

"Well! Thank you, Mr. Wang Qiu!"

Isabel got up quickly and bowed to Ma Shengqiu to thank him.

I found my brother's savior!

Arthur Rimbaud, who was staying in Africa, did not wait for the supplies sent by his sister. He became unconscious due to illness and wrapped all the money he earned around his waist. Under the psychological shadow.

He slept on a hard bed with mats, curled up and hugging his legs. The old disease of his right foot, which had suffered a penetrating injury, had recurred and was in excruciating pain.

It was hot during the day and cold at night, and the terrible environment made him suffer from rheumatism.

Sometimes he dreamed of Mr. Wang Qiu, sometimes his family, and sometimes... he dreamed of Paul Verlaine before he was alive. The other party looked at his sick appearance with distress, stayed by his side to ask his health, and his eyes were full of himself...

He does not want to leave Africa.

Here is the freedom he likes, and the wonderful environment where many countries live together.

Arthur Rimbaud has gradually mastered the ability to survive independently, no longer living as a poet, he can do all kinds of careers he wants to try, and find the secret of success in repeated failures.

Only, this body held him back.

"It hurts—Isabel—my leg is about to rot, and the doctors here are all so poor that they can't find out the reason—"

"Mr. Wang Qiu - I'm sorry - I don't want to go back to London -"

"Verlaine—Verlaine—"

Arthur Rimbaud was ill for half a month, and he paid servants to take care of him, so he didn't let himself be reduced to fend for himself.His spirit was muddled, he took medicine, but it was useless, his legs were swollen, his body smelled of sweat, and he lost his former glory like a beggar.

He yelled the names of those people in his sleep.

Until, a pair of arms embraced him, using the cold body temperature to save him from the pain of high fever, and the screams of the servants came from beside him.

"It's all right, Rimbaud."

Someone gently parted his lips with his hands, and fed him warm water and medicine.

The familiar feeling of being taken care of enveloped his whole body.

He immediately relaxed...

My own life was saved...

I don't know how long it took, Arthur Rimbaud sobbed half awake and half asleep, and whimpered: "You are here—I know you will always come—"

"But I don't want you to come—"

"I'm afraid—I'm afraid you'll hate me for being—"

Ma Shengqiu, who was sitting by the bed, also listened to his ramblings. He didn't know how many times he saw such a fragile Rimbaud. Every time he saw Rimbaud, he had a different experience: it was like raising a son who likes to run away from home.

He touched the opponent's spine, the back was not thick enough, it was very thin.

"You look independent, not ugly at all."

The child is growing up.

Know how to make money outside.

Ma Shengqiu also grabbed the money bag wrapped around Arthur Rimbaud's waist and tore it off to reduce the burden on the opponent's waist.Arthur Rimbaud instinctively blasted his hair, wanting to guard the property and fight down the people who took his hard-earned money.

After seeing clearly who got the money, Arthur Rimbaud curled up weakly in Aso Qiuya's arms again.

Arthur Rimbaud looked pitiful with red eyes.

"I don't have much money."

"It's okay, I don't think it's too little, these are your medical expenses."

Ma Shengqiu also counted foreign coins, they were really heavy, thanks to the fact that the other party had been hiding them on his body for so long as a miser.

"..."

You are no longer Mr. Wang Qiu who used to be happy to help others for free, woo woo woo!

Someone cries.

……