winter rose

In the train carriage, she closed the door.Just sit quietly.

Two people, the Winter Soldier and Dr. Lancaster sat on either side of a table.Outside the window is the passing, snow-covered roadside scenery.

The snow reflects the sunlight, and the clear sky is so bright that it hurts the eyes, and it also casts an illusory appearance on the carriage.

"This place is really just a dream." She laughed as she spoke.

"When did this scene appear? It's not a memory, it's a dream."

"There are the last three words left. Unfortunately, you don't know the answer to the question, so it's meaningless for me to tell you those words."

She opened a thick collection of handwritten poems, but after flipping through them, there were only two poems.

The first poem is repeated silently countless times, only the last page is another poem.The other song was written in a hurry, as if trying to catch a flash of inspiration, or writing it down randomly when I couldn't restrain the trembling of my hands when my mood fluctuated violently.

But what happened, only she knew.

A piece of paper with yellowed edges floated out from between the book, she glanced at it, and gave the Winter Soldier instructions to pick it up.

Flicking the familiar paper texture with his fingertips, the soldier paused.

His eyes turned to the more familiar handwriting on the paper, as if... he had written these verses with his own hands.

He said to his best friend, such a beautiful poem is to be given, it is to be given to——

"Soldier, you should obey orders."

The female voice is indifferent, a voice without warmth.

"Yes, doctor."

He'd have more to say, but his identity on set keeps him locked into the Winter Soldier and the code that's stuck in his head.

He had no choice but to obey.

"The first poem...you probably don't remember it."

She turned to a page on her own, and read the verses on it.

"In the spring

When the quiet park is covered with night nets

In vain the nightingale of the East sang to the rose..."

Halfway through the reading, she suddenly laughed.

"Do you know what the funniest thing is?" She added the second half of the sentence herself.

"The funny thing is that Pushkin who wrote this poem is a Russian. God, I don't know if fate has been doomed since you sent me this letter. And somewhere, this is a hint ?”

Maybe.

He answered in his heart.

"Don't forget the question and answer that saved you, remember to use your brain, soldier."

She continued to read the poem.

"The rose did not answer

hours of night

An ode to love cannot wake the Queen of Flowers..."

【"You're not hurt either."

"Who said that you can only come if you are injured.... Last time you asked me to get candy, and you will disappear when I come back."]

"Your song

poet

And so sang in vain..."

He looked at the woman who recited poetry with the light reflected in the snow in the window.She has a pair of clear green eyes, but at this time, it is more appropriate to say that they are dark green.

Why it was dark green, he couldn't figure it out either.

["No, no, that's not what I meant... I just felt like I was in Brooklyn."

"Isn't that what you mean?—But I mean that."]

The woman in memory leaned over and kissed, full of youthful vigor and brilliance.

And the woman in front of her read the poem softly, the light in her eyes dimmed.

He suddenly had a severe headache, and the shattered memories surged overwhelmingly, as sharp as shattered glass, about to burst out.

And the answer to three words and a question was tightly blocked at the door.

A question, the meaning of existence.

An answer, about me, not about you.

He endured great pain and looked up at her.

The answer has nothing to do with you.

How could it have nothing to do with you.

"Can't call joy and sorrow in cold beauty's heart

Her beauty astounds you

your heart is full of wonder

but

Her heart was still cold and lifeless. "

The first poem is finished.

"There's one more." She turned to the last page of the collection of poems. The train drove slowly, and the carriage was quiet and comfortable. She yawned lazily.

"Seriously, Bucky, you're good at picking up girls, but your love letter writing skills—ah no, it should be the skill of finding love poems is terrible, it's even more rubbish than Steve. So, it's time to show the British The art of writing love letters—I mean the art of finding love poems. Thanks Mr. Wilde."

She cleared her throat and added another sentence before speaking.

"Don't forget the most important thing, what is the answer to the question."

"The nightingale pressed her breast to a thorn in the rose tree

sing to the tree all night

This thorn will pierce her heart

And her life blood will flow into the tree's body..."

rose

The theme of these poems is the rose.But he didn't think it was a hint, but more like a preference.

Lancaster...he thought of the famous War of the Roses in history, but in fact, Lancaster fighters are more familiar——

Another flashback of memory.

He frowned in pain, the lights of the exhibition and the bright conscription billboards flashed in his mind.

"Such a painful sacrifice

just for a red rose

But she has no hesitation..."

When she read this, she smiled.

How can there be no regrets? Maybe it was like this at the beginning, but in the end of "no turning back", it's just because there is nothing for her to look back on.

There is no one behind, and if you don't move forward, it is really meaningless.

"Just because she believes that love is more precious than life

wiser than learned

stronger than rights

So she has no regrets. "

It ended with the sound of poetry reciting, and it was the sound of heavy poetry collection pages.

There was a dull bang, not at all like the crispness of opening a soda bottle.

"To be honest, I don't think the song I was looking for at the beginning was not good. However, at that time, I just thought it was appropriate and missed this song for no reason."

She threw away the collection of poems, and it disappeared in the illusory dream.

"Have you found the answer?"

Shaking his head.

"I made a bet with myself before getting in the car."

As soon as he raised his hand, a rose appeared on the table.She held the rose's thorny thorn, and the thorn pierced her palm, and the blood flowed to the table along the same red petals.

One drop, two drops.

It quickly merged into a small piece of scarlet.

"My bet is that you'll find that answer, or you'll be stuck on this moving train and never be free for the rest of your life."

She spoke again, with a matter-of-fact tone.

"I originally thought, even if you can't find the answer, it doesn't matter if we are all trapped in this dream until the reality is that my blood is dry. But now I don't think so."

She opened her palm, broke off the blood-stained red rose, and handed it to him.

"Now, I want you to leave even more. I shouldn't trap you, so we won't be free or happy."

His eyes moved, and he took the bloody rose.

"Sir—"

"It's a doctor. I never worked for Hydra."

It was quiet again in the car.

He looked into her eyes, black represented a content, but he knew nothing about it.

This time, he realized something belatedly.

That is, he doesn't understand her at all.

not at all.

"Bucky."

She read a name, and saw his momentary astonishment as expected.

But this is far from enough.

Far from enough.

"I have a way...it's kind of bad." She gave a nasty smile.

"Bucky, I don't mind. Just didn't know you..."

The second half of the sentence is sealed with a kiss.

He suddenly understood what she meant.

He felt that now was not the time, or that it was not an appropriate time.

It's like the charming incident in LWL, it was just an expression of her hysterical state.

He has always been clear about these things.He has lost his memory, but he is not a fool.

She's not either, she's just...

Just crazy.

It may be cruel to say that, but it is the truth.

Facts that are well known to each other.

Her movements did not stop, but under the reflection of the snow light, he could see the sparkling tears in the corners of her eyes.

In her memory, she had never cried, but after the so-called "reunion after a long absence" that should have been happy, tears seemed to be inevitable.

Why is this so.

He wanted to say something, perhaps to comfort him, but when he opened his mouth, his heart was empty.

But her eyes were full.

There was a bitter blackness in those dark green eyes, filling every corner of sadness or joy.

That's all her joys and sorrows.

Because all her sorrows and joys are one color.

And why is this so.

Finally, the clothes slipped off, and the moment his skin touched, he suddenly understood.

The train drove into a long tunnel, as in the past, the same long, dark, lonely years of waiting.

We are all waiting.

Waiting for freedom, and you.

Small grunts and heavy breathing sounded in the carriage.

Tears slipped down, from the end of the eyes to the corners of the lips, there were more.

I think there is still a long way to go in the future, but it seems that it can only stop here.

She smiled, and leaned over to kiss his forehead.

she says

"Soldier, have you found the answer to your question?"

The train pulled out of the tunnel, and the world was bright again.

He looked at those eyes under the sun, the first snow after the snow.

He saw all the joy and sorrow in her eyes.

All himself.

However, the meaning of existence under what name.

This answer is not only about me, but how can it not be about you.

"Perry..."

"It seems you already know the answer."

The whistle sounded.

"Soldier."

She said, tears rolling down her face.

"Get on this train and you can go home."

солдат soldier

грузовик train

домой go home

It's you.

not us.

"Do not……"

He reached out to grab her, but everything he touched was icy cold.

The train arrived, and the lights flickered in the dark.

Here's the 1942 Stark Future Exhibit.

The author has something to say:

To abuse or not, you tell me abuse or not!

Don't abuse me, I still have a knife!There is also a lot of glass slag!

ps

be

still is

he

Look what I can do with a double kill next door in Arkham

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thank you