Red dust kills beauty

[-]. Peekaboo ③

I think the witch merchant is a very contradictory child.He's surprisingly mature at times, but surprisingly childish in strange places.For example, he could frankly say that he would give himself to me, because "it is better to give to you than to father", but if I kissed his tender cheeks, he would blush instead, and asked me nervously if I would be pregnant.

"How could you be pregnant?" I laughed, "I didn't even kiss your lips."

He was even more surprised: "So it's true that kissing will make you pregnant!"

I scolded myself for having a brain twitch, and quickly explained: "No, you can't get pregnant anywhere! You can't get pregnant with a kiss!"

"That's good." He breathed a sigh of relief, then looked down at his flat belly worriedly, and said sadly, "I don't want to get pregnant."

I pressed my temples, feeling a headache and impatient for him to repeatedly pester this topic: "How - you can't possibly be pregnant, you are a little boy, why are you worried about this?"

The witch merchant wrinkled his nose—this little expression is very cute, but he hasn't done it since he grew up. I suspect that this guy is too smug, so he forced himself to correct it: "Aunt Yingzi said it."

Now I get annoyed when I hear Yingzi's name, so I frowned and asked, "What did she tell you?"

"I will definitely differentiate into an Omega, so if my father wants me, I must remember to take medicine... something like that." He curled his lips and quickly turned away from me, as if he was observing whether I was disgusted.Sure enough, even children who have never been taught will feel instinctive shame about incest.

I really don't know what to say.But should I keep silent and let his dignity and heart be distorted by such words?I can not do it.

"..." I pondered, carefully choosing my words, "I don't think your father...he would do this."

The witch merchant had a face of resistance: "Teacher, you don't think he is a good person, do you?"

"No, of course not," I replied, "It's just that there are many kinds of bad guys. I don't think he needs—" I swallowed the word "hungry and thirsty", "he needs to attack his own flesh and blood."

"But I'm a trophy—do you know what trophy means?" He nodded as a matter of course after asking, "No, you must know. Mother told me, and, besides, he likes—" His brow furrowed Get up, "Where did that word come from?"

"Sick? Deformed?" I answered.

"Yes, that's the one." He clapped his hands, parroting his tongue, "He likes sick and deformed things, and I, I am a deformed thing, a monster."

Fuck I can't hear him say that about himself!Why do I hate this statement so much?It hasn't been a day or two since the witch merchant has been scolded for everything. Why do I only care so much about this?

...because I am one of them too.In the future, I also called him a monster.

I couldn't help raising the volume: "You are not!"

The witch merchant refused to believe: "Mother said this, and if I am not, how can father like me?"

This logic doesn't work that way at all.What is deformed and morbid is the unethical behavior, not the witch merchants.I explained this to him, but the witch merchant only said indifferently: "But they all say I am."

I choked for a moment, not knowing what to say.The witch merchant raised his eyebrows, revealing a somewhat smug smile that I am familiar with.But it wasn't something to be happy about, and he shouldn't be happy about it.

I pursed my lips, knelt down in front of him on one knee, and gently cupped his face.

"Young master, you are not a monster. You are very cute. You deserve everyone's love."

lie.

"Maybe someone will say that, but they just don't understand you, they don't see your talent, they don't see your heart."

lie.

The witch merchant moved his toes a little uneasily, looked up at my expression, and asked softly, "What about you? Do you like me?"

"I like you." I said without hesitation.

He couldn't hold back a sweet smile, and quickly withdrew his unreserved smile: "Then will you always like me?"

I choked up.No, it won't.For a long time to come, I'm going to pretty much hate you.

"Yes." I said softly, "I will always like you."

fraud.You are lying, you lied to him.

The witch merchant's dark eyes instantly burst into brilliance, like little stars shining brightly.

I am so sad.

Sometimes I feel like I'm patching a broken glass in order to break it one more time.

But what can you do?Is it because you know that the cup is destined to be broken in the end, so now you just watch it scattered on the ground, shattered?

I was giving him basic mind control lessons when I realized this.Wu Shang's ability to control himself in the future is very good, not as good as Fu Baixue (I have never seen anyone better than Fu Baixue in this aspect), but better than me and Zhaoyao.

But what he's doing now is a mess.When he was four years old, his abilities rioted and he and Fu Baixue destroyed the entire research institute. Since then, his mental power has never been peaceful.Even if the memory of that time has been forgotten, the brain that once resonated with the spiritual sea is still too active, which is too difficult for a child.

I guess that's why the philistines said he acted weird.

A bug is something that goes wrong while the course is in progress.He did well in other subjects, but he always stumbled in this one.At that time, in order to let him look for that fluctuation, I asked him to relax and chat casually.

"Don't be nervous," I said, "Have you ever watched Harry Potter? It's very difficult for little wizards to control their magic power. It's normal to create a little disturbance. You don't have to think about it overnight. Oh yes, it means— "

"I understand what it means to do it overnight," he said bluntly, "and I'm not nervous."

"Lie." He froze for a moment, and I didn't intend to delve into it, "Then don't suppress yourself. You have to imagine, open your mind, and ignore the whispers coming from your ears. It is a symbol of high spiritual power, calm down, Imagine the web your mind weaves..."

But he was always stiff and couldn't relax no matter what.In the end, I was helpless: "Young master, don't think about suppressing yourself. I have only met one genius who can rely on suppression to control himself. Like you and me, the more you suppress, the worse the consequences of your mental power leaking." .”

"I'm not depressed."

"Then you are afraid?"

His voice suddenly rose, it was the voice of being caught with a sore foot: "I'm not afraid!"

"..." I slowly frowned and looked at him, "You know I can tell you're lying, right?"

He hurriedly packed his textbooks: "I, I'm suddenly a little hungry, can I go eat first, teacher?"

I frowned, staring down at him.He is lying.He is really afraid.

"What happened? Why are you lying?"

"I'm not." His lips were drawn into a stiff pale line, "I'm really hungry."

I ignored him.

"Why are you afraid? This is a very normal phenomenon, and every child with high talent will encounter it."

It wasn't PTSD, it wasn't the explosion in the institute, he couldn't remember a single bit of that past.So what should it be?I tentatively said: "...There will be no consequences, you will not be punished."

His eyelashes fluttered slightly.

I gasped.

"What did they do to you? How did they treat you because of your inadvertent leak of mental power?" I held his shoulders, "Did they scold you? Or did they do something else? It's a good thing, servants It’s just short-sightedness, will your father and stepmother really punish you for this!?”

"..." The witch merchant gritted his teeth and turned his head to the side, "...not them."

Who is that?The witch merchant is the master, besides his parents and the barely counted butler, who else is qualified to punish him! ?

"It's my elder brother. He... every time I behave better, my mother scolds him. After he is scolded by my mother, he will come and beat me."

He flinched again.It's the way the shoulders are shrugged and the head seems to be retracting into the shell.I used to think about why witch merchants would make this gesture habitually, but now I finally understand that this is a defensive posture.When you are being hurt by someone who is taller and stronger than you, all you can do is tense your body and keep your head back to avoid further blows.

That shouldn't be the attitude of the witch merchant. He has always been so beautiful, so arrogant, and so sharp.His elegant and beautiful figure, his slender fingers when he lowered his head to adjust his suit, and his light smile when he commanded Zhaoyao to destroy the enemy.How could he be like this—so helpless, like a real, hurt child?

He was originally a dazzling pearl, but they made him as mediocre as a fish's eye.

What's even more exasperating is that, until now, I have to admit that the weird and coquettish young man in the future is indeed such a weak and broken child now.

I want to pick up his heart in pieces, hold it in the palm of my hand, clean it carefully, patch it up, and then put up a roof over his head to protect him from bullets and guns, from snow and wind blow.

The child also asked anxiously, "Why are you so angry? Are you angry with me?"

I forced a smile: "No, I'm angry with myself."

He frowned: "You like to be angry with yourself."

This class is followed by lunch, then break time, a math class in the afternoon, and then today's homework is over.

Shaman propped his chin, lowered his head, and wrote the homework I assigned him.Every time I prepare for a lesson, I can't help but rejoice in my heart. Fortunately, I have the experience of teaching Zhaoyao before, otherwise I don't know how to get started.

Speaking of teaching Zhaoyao, it was the witch merchant who helped me.It is true that one drink and one peck has its own destiny - no, this aspect cannot be thought about carefully.I waved my thoughts away and stared at him intently.

Recently, he has improved a lot, his cheeks have become more rounded, and he looks more pink and cute, which makes me feel very accomplished.

The witch merchant's eyebrows suddenly moved slightly.I yelled inwardly, and sure enough, he raised his head and looked at me with bright eyes: "Teacher."

"Ok?"

He asked expectantly: "If I get all right this time, will you take me to play peek-a-boo?"

Who would have imagined that the thing that the witch merchant looked forward to the most when he was a child turned out to be hide-and-seek.

I laughed at him: "No, peek-a-boo is something that girls and children like, you are a man."

Lately I've been trying to figure out how to imbue him with a "masculine" notion, trying to erase the overly feminine influence of his biological mother.

The witch merchant took a step back and said defensively, "Nobody said that. I don't know what boys like."

This really caught me, and Zhaoyao's face appeared in my mind.When he was young, his favorite thing was to fight—I waved away the image of him grinning and raising his fist, and said decisively: "Boys like to play football."

So we temporarily added a physical education class to learn how to play football.It turned out to be a mess.

The Shaman held the football under his arm with one hand, his face was wet with sweat, his black hair was messily stuck to his cheeks, and he was panting heavily.

He said gloomily, "I hate sports."

"Even if you will differentiate into an Alpha when you grow up, you can't expect the muscles to grow on their own." I recalled the pale but perfect body of the Shaman, his beautiful bones and muscles, his graceful lines—no, can't think Now, you can't masquerade in front of a child when he grows up, it's too much.I stop my thoughts.

The witch merchant curled his lips and accepted my statement.I didn't think much about it at the time, and it wasn't until after a few days of class that I suddenly realized something was wrong: "Why haven't you asked me to accompany you on the swing recently?"

The witch merchant pursed his lips, lowered his eyes, and said in a low voice, "Because you don't like it."

"When did I say I don't like it... Ah." I suddenly remembered what I said to tease him last time, and cursed myself secretly.I suddenly realized that I was still a novice in raising children—why did I never have this trouble when I brought Zhaoyao?Because witch merchants are ten thousand times more difficult to deal with than Zhaoyao?

Ah, no, it's not.I remembered, because most of Zhaoyao's time was led by Fu Baixue and Wu Shang.Hold.I was just playing with Zhaoyao, but actually I didn't take care of Zhaoyao as much as I remembered.fuck fuck fuck.

I rubbed between my eyebrows to relieve the emotional fluctuations caused by the flood of memories.

"I'm sorry, young master, I said the wrong thing at the time. There is no distinction between men and women who want to play on the swing. I shouldn't give it a label definition, and I don't like you playing on that."

The hurt look on his face was so familiar, I couldn't help but search my memory hard and found that look, I'd seen it many, many, many times in the future, when the three of them had grown up.

14-year-old Zhaoyao was standing in the bathroom, checking her earrings in the mirror. I walked past him, looked at him, and said casually, "Change your style, Ah Zhao. You've worn this one for a long time. .”

Zhaoyao held it, showing a faint smile: "But this is a gift from you, I want to wear it."

"I gave it?" I rubbed my sleepy eyes, took it and looked at it, then shook my head, "I was distributing the spoils at the time, and I didn't think too much about it when I picked it. Your clothes are really ordinary, and the color of ruby ​​​​doesn't suit you. "

Zhao Yao pursed her lips: "But..."

I lowered my head to squeeze the toothpaste for myself, and said casually, "It's not good-looking. Change it. I'll give you a new one."

A 17-year-old witch merchant accidentally took a bullet. I didn’t forget to taunt him while stitching: “You’re so brave?

The witch merchant's forehead was full of cold sweat from the pain. I didn't give him anesthesia because I wanted him to remember: "I didn't think much about it at the time. When I saw someone sniping at you, I just..."

"You came here to stop the gun?" I pulled my face and said angrily, "I am the head of the family, your parent, the protector, not you. This is not what you should do."

"That's not what I meant! I meant—"

"—Go back. You are behind the scenes, the battlefield is not where you should be, and you are not needed here."

The 29-year-old Fu Baixue held his chin and kept his eyes empty. I stopped talking and kicked his calf.

"Old Bai? Old Bai? Why are you in a daze?"

He came back to his senses, "Sorry. What did you just say?"

I have to be more patient with him: "I said, last night I quarreled with Xiao Shang, and he ran away to you for the night, and now I am going to pick him up."

He pointed upstairs: "He's still sleeping. We had some wine yesterday."

I raised my eyebrows: "Complain about me?"

His eyes stopped on the skin of my side ear, I didn't think much about it at the time, but recalling it now, there should be a dark red hickey left there.He lowered his eyes and took a sip of tea: "Yes, I'm complaining about you."

I smiled. "Complain about me? Sparta?"

He smiled: "Complaining that you...have no heart."

I hurriedly said goodbye to the witch merchant after class, locked myself in the room, and immersed myself in the memories.I wonder how many times in the past I have broken the hearts of those close to me with my nonsense.

I always knew I had a bad temper and a bad personality, but I never took it seriously before.It was only today that I suddenly came back to my senses amidst a childish conversation.But what is this.I wish I never noticed it.

I accept my shortcomings. I used to be mean, sharp and self-righteous. It's okay. People who lack fate will always be like this.Just change it.Time will wash away everything, smooth all edges and corners, and when a person becomes mature, he will suture the wound