Started with a green hat for Verlaine

It is not difficult to complete the "Color Painting Collection".

Arthur Rimbaud relied on his memories to bury himself in correcting Paul Verlaine's mistakes, and then filled in those incomplete places. Occasionally, when he saw the words modified by the other party for him, he would not cross them out, and there was a little warmth in his eyes. Feeling sad and sad, let the other party leave traces of participating in poetry collections during their lifetime.

This "color painting collection" is the result of their joint efforts.

Without Paul Verlaine, there would be no "Paintings". Artille Rimbaud can leave so many works, but also depends on the help of the other party.

Arthur Rimbaud dragged his sick body, and used the poetry collection to divert his attention from the pain. His face was sometimes serious and sometimes soft, and his dimmed blue eyes once again bloomed with the poet's dreamy color.

In his pupils is a ring of irises like flower vines, with shades of blue converging in it.In France, most people who see him for the first time will be attracted by his eyes, and they will be disappointed by Rimbaud's temper before they have time to marvel.

Arthur Rimbaud is not an easy person to get along with, and Paul Verlaine is often slammed out of the door by Arthur Rimbaud.

Even Aso Qiuya had had enough of his childish temperament in the early days.

Those are youth.

Those were Rimbaud's stabs at outsiders.

Peeling off this layer of thorns, Rimbaud is just a stubborn dreamer. He will be as despicable as a normal person, he will be as greedy for love and family affection as a normal person, and he will be as afraid of death as a normal person.

When Arthur Rimbaud sorted out the last poem "Elf", his eyes unexpectedly met the side face of Aso Shuya sorting out the letters.

Quiet and safe.

The man's downcast black eyes were like black pearls.

It was hard for him to imagine that the other party had experienced such a colorful past, deceit, benevolence, night, day... an undead traveling between two worlds.

"He knew us and loved each of us."

Full of longing, Arthur Rimbaud wrote the follow-up with the tip of his pen.

"You know, on this winter night, from the cape to the horizon, from the turbulent pole to the castle, from the flow of people to the beach, from gaze to gaze, tired strength and emotion, call him, watch him, respond to him...follow Watching his eyes, his breath, his body and his years."

At the end of Christmas, Aso did not return to England, this was the first Christmas that he and Rimbaud spent alone.

Aso Qiu also did not force the sick Rimbaud back to Europe for treatment.

He respects Rimbaud's determination as an adult.

This person will die under his own wish.

"Am I that rebellious in your eyes?"

Arthur Rimbaud complained about Mr. Wang Qiu's "prejudice" towards him, how could he be so stubborn, he had nothing to say if he really tied himself back.

"Because I treat you like the wind." Ma Shengqiu also replied, "I hope you are like the wind and won't be trapped by me."

Arthur Rimbaud said with a playful smile: "The person you are talking about with the same name and surname as mine does not seem to be Feng. How could you mistake his soul?"

Ma Shengqiu also said: "I don't know what's wrong, a leaf blinds my eyes, and my own brain is also confused."

"He was the wind at first, because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to catch him."

"He is also the wind in the middle, because he is gentle and lingering to me, he is warm when he is close to me, and cold when he is far away from me."

"He ended up leaving me and I thought he got rid of me completely."

"Actually, he was never you."

"Otherwise, we would have been arguing endlessly for eight years, and it would be difficult for us to survive."

Aso Qiu also looked lucky and nostalgic.

Rimbaud's character, he really can't bear it, fully proves that some writers are only suitable for viewing from a distance, not for close contact.

Arthur Rimbaud: "..."

Arthur Rimbaud hid the Christmas present behind his back again, and said angrily.

"I won't give you any gifts!"

The black-haired man stood in front of him, dragged out a wheelchair with a smile, and seduced Rimbaud who was handicapped: "Do you want me to push you out to play? On this day, I allow you to call my dad outside."

Arthur Rimbaud turned his head suddenly, his eyes were astonished.

He has always called Dad unilaterally, taking advantage of the other party, and Mr. Wang Qiu has never directly admitted this title.

"Father, you heard me wrong." Arthur Rimbaud walked with him, changed his face very quickly, and sat on the wheelchair cheeringly, "I love you the most!"

Ma Shengqiu also pushed him out, "Come on, I'll take you to shave your hair first."

Arthur Rimbaud asked: "Shouldn't you see my present first?"

Ma Shengqiu also said patiently: "When we finish Christmas, I will open your presents, and I will save the surprises for the last time."

On Christmas night, Arthur Rimbaud held a red apple, and casually accepted the custom that Mr. Wang Qiu learned from.He ate the sweet fruit, cut his hair into a crew cut, put on a beautiful Christmas hat, and passed the crowd in a wheelchair, as if he owned the whole world for a short time.

"Dad, Wilde would be jealous of me lol."

"He's grown up too, it's time to spend Christmas with his classmates."

"hey-hey."

"Does your leg hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt anymore, you are my painkiller!"

Arthur Rimbaud spat out the fruit core and wanted to throw it away without public morals, but was stopped by Ma Shengqiu: "Wrap it in paper and put it in my hand. Don't litter on the street."

Arthur Rimbaud handed it over awkwardly.

Ma Shengqiu also threw the fruit cores into the designated trash can. This behavior is no different from that of a real father. Arthur Rimbaud smiled brightly, and a touch of reluctance suddenly rose in his heart, but he was suppressed rationally. go down.

[I pursue freedom, Mr. Wang Qiu pursues family. 】

[The sense of happiness bursting out during the encounter... is enough for me to remember my whole life. 】

Arthur Rimbaud's eyes were penetrating.

Ma Shengqiu could see the young man's heart even when he lowered his head.

He laughed and said, "It would be great if Oscar was like you." After speaking, he thought of Rimbaud's love of adventure in his life, and changed his words, "Forget it, a person like you will always be unique and the best."

Arthur Rimbaud was praised as if he had returned to his childhood, and his tail could be raised.

"I am the most unique person."

"Dad, don't make a mistake, it will never be me who will stay by your side!"

The veins on Aso Akiya's forehead throbbed again.

Like running away from home, has it become your characteristic label?

Arthur Rimbaud winced.

Arthur Rimbaud said shyly: "When I have no money, I will go to you. You must take me in."

Ma Shengqiu couldn't laugh or cry.

In Africa without family and friends, on this Christmas without fireworks, Qiu Aso opened his arms to the sick Rimbaud.

"Christmas gift, do you want to hold it high?"

"No, how naive, I want my father...to write me a book too!"

Arthur Rimbaud had an idea and thought of a good way.

He gave an evil smile.

I asked you to urge your manuscript, now it is my turn to urge your manuscript.

Ma Shengqiu was also unmoved, and said meaningfully: "Novel, I have published it anonymously in the UK, you might as well find it yourself."

Arthur Rimbaud was stunned: "You wrote it?"

Ma Shengqiu also said: "Yes, as my son, let's see if you can recognize my writing style."

Arthur Rimbaud clenched his fists. He had to bring along Oscar Wilde to complete such a difficult task.

The two men, who were not much different in age and appearance, stunned the people nearby who could understand French.

The world's great wonders.

They do not have the same skin color, do not have the same nationality, and the two who are the least likely to have a family relationship have become father and son beyond blood relationship.

Ma Shengqiu also had a magical idea.

[Every child was his father's lover in his previous life, right? 】

[No, this seems to be referring to the daughter. 】

The Oriental laughed to himself.

……

At night, Arthur Rimbaud was snoring in bed.

Ma Shengqiu also lit the lamp, sat on the sofa and unwrapped the gift wrapping paper, and the boxy item turned out to be a handwritten poetry collection.

On the paper are the handwriting of Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine.

You have me I have you.

When Ma Shengqiu also opened the poetry collection, his throat seemed to be touched by a raging fire, and the blood was filled with scalding temperature.

——He saw Lan Tang.

The Frenchman with long black curly hair was walking in a country with heavy snowfall. His warm clothes were outdated, his white earmuffs were slightly yellowed, and his scarf was hidden in his collar, losing the bright colors of the earliest days.

There was no one around Lan Tang, without anyone's company.

Ma Shengqiu also gave Lan Tang the relics, as if everything had been covered up with the years except the earmuffs, scarf, and gloves.

The so-called happiness.

Like a waking dream.

Lan Tang lowered his head, rubbed his palms habitually, and let out a breath of white air, as if Ma Shengqiu had seen him in an anime for the first time.

"so cold……"

……

The one who hurt me the most is you, the one who hurts you the most is me?