Conan: I'm just an ordinary novelist

The brave man realized that something might be wrong and took a sip of water.

He glanced at the two people, one large and one small, sitting opposite him and said casually:

"So, why did you two, Mr. Guang and Conan, get together at night? Did something difficult happen? Conan, how was your castle tour today? Did it go smoothly?"

"Well, it went smoothly, except that Mr. Qian Jiangyi wanted to steal the property by himself... Now is not the time to talk about that."

Conan, who had a strong desire to share his story, interrupted himself.

Yun Xianhe, who always felt something was wrong, was about to use some tricks like "I have something to do" or "I'm a little sleepy".

Zhu Fujingguang, who had not spoken, looked at him seriously.

In addition to being cautious, his tone also seemed a little tangled:

"Xianhe, who are you talking to today?"

"Ok?"

"It was in the studio this afternoon when I heard you talking to each other alone in the room."

Ah... so he repeated those words again according to his memory?

Wait, wasn't it the same thing last night?

So Conan felt like he was facing a formidable enemy when he saw that he didn't respond?!

God, he shouldn't have said anything that seems so immature in this world view, right?!

Yun Xianhe, who always felt like a social failure, felt a little embarrassed for a moment. His feet, which were forced to wear slippers, shrank inside helplessly.

The man with the heterochromatic eyes avoided looking at her, obviously not wanting to say more.

Seeing his reaction, Zhu Fu Jingguang couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart.

Could it be that he has a split personality? ! Or is it a delusion? !

As expected of a brave man, his ability of psychological comfort is truly strong.

After giving a few words of advice, Yun Xianhe looked up and saw two thinkers, one big and one small, sitting opposite him.

Yun Xianhe's mouth twitched. He felt that if he continued to let those two people imagine things, he would find himself in some psychiatrist's clinic when he woke up tomorrow morning.

Before Zhu Fujingguang's speculation in his mind develops to the point where it burns out the CPU.

Yun Xianhe flicked his finger and tapped his forehead gently, his expression seemed a little speechless:

"Mr. Guang, I always feel like you are thinking about something rude."

Zhu Fujingguang, who was suddenly awakened by this action, subconsciously shrank his shoulders, but did not refute:

"Xianhe you,"

"I'm not sick. It's just that my husband's birthday is coming up these days, and I was thinking of him when I was making handicrafts, so I kept mumbling to myself for a while."

"…real?"

"More real than pearls."

Conan on the other side saw that Zhu Fushigami seemed to be "taken down" so easily, and he was immediately disappointed.

The little detective looked Yun Xianhe up and down.

There was nothing serious wrong with him, just a scratched finger.

The wound is quite new. From what Mr. Guang said, it must have been scratched by a leaf this afternoon.

After solving one of the problems with his reasoning and emotional appeal, Yun Xianhe nodded imperceptibly and turned to look at Conan:

"Very good, Conan, do you have any questions?"

"…I think you need to see a doctor, even if you don't go to the hospital, you can go to a clinic or have a family doctor come to your home or something like that."

Yun Xianhe, who felt like he was being accused of having a mental illness, was so angry that he almost laughed, and a cross appeared on his forehead.

[Ding, 'darkness' ends. ]

Hearing the system prompt, Yun Xianhe raised his hand and rubbed Conan's head hard, gritting his teeth.

"Thank you for your concern, little detective. I'm fine. I can't be any better."

"Hey, hey hey! Hiss! Okay, Brother Xianhe! I was wrong!"

"Cuckoo?"

Conan felt his head hurting more and more, so he begged for mercy again and again, and at the same time he felt a little relieved in his heart.

It doesn't look like there's any big problem.

Gugu, who was brought back by Yun Xianhe and now has his own nest, lay in the nest and watched. He always felt that these humans were very strange.

The two men, who didn't sleep late at night and didn't have the heart to force the information out, watched Yun Xianhe go upstairs.

Until the sound of the door closing was heard, Conan put his hands in his pockets and asked seriously:

"Mr. Midorikawa, when is the birthday of the gentleman Xianhe mentioned?"

"He said it was the day in August when the moon was the biggest."

The little detective calculated the time and stroked his chin thoughtfully:

"That means it's No. 30 or 31? Mr. Midorikawa, do you know what kind of person that gentleman is?"

Zhu Fujingguang paused while clearing the dishes, then gave his reply with his head half lowered:

"A man who is both extremely gentle and extremely ruthless."

"Hey?"

"No, gentleness is just a gift given by the other party to his own people, a disguise to the outside world."

"Hey - Mr. Midorikawa knows it so clearly? Did Brother Xianhe tell you?"

"No, I saw it in my dream."

"???"

Looking at Zhu Fushi Jingguang's expression of "I'm serious", Conan's mouth twitched.

He felt that the two people who lived here needed to see a psychiatrist.

How can you take dreams seriously?

·

On the other side, Yun Xianhe went upstairs and returned to the studio and stood at the door of the room for a while.

After making sure that the two men did not follow him upstairs, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"That was a close call. I guess I need to add a layer of soundproofing to the room next time."

Yun Xianhe muttered a few words casually and then turned his wrist. A few moonlight roses with dewdrops on them appeared in his hand.

The person who found a mortar and pestle to turn the Moonlight Rose into a paste poured it directly into the semi-finished product that had not yet solidified and mixed it casually.

Seeing the liquid color becoming brighter, Yun Xianhe nodded with satisfaction, turned around and went out to sleep.

·

The next day.

The brave man was stunned for a while when he woke up in the morning and found that the time had become No. 30.

He even prepared for the possibility that the world would skip this day.

But I never expected that it would happen this day!

After breakfast, Yun Xianhe held the prayer paper he had cut early this morning and planned to start writing the notes he would use tonight.

Yun Xianhe carefully mixed the colors on the palette, picked up the brush and moved his wrist.

Before he started writing, he turned around and glanced at Conan who was sticking to him.

"…So, Conan, you're not here for breakfast? By the way, have you finished your summer homework? School is about to start, right?"

"It's finished."

When their eyes met, the little detective chuckled and pretended to be stupid, turning his head to look at the pile of papers that Yun Xianhe had placed on the table.

The light linen-colored paper was nearly translucent, with a faint floral scent, and one could vaguely see one or two pieces of petals on it.

"These papers are so special. What do you plan to do with them, Brother Xianhe?"

“…This is a prayer paper. I plan to use it to make a prayer lantern. This is an ancient tradition in our area. It means praying for blessings.”

Looking at Yun Xianhe who took a pile of cut paper and was about to start writing, Conan rubbed his chin:

"So Brother Xianhe is planning to use the prayer lanterns to celebrate that gentleman's birthday?"

"Conan can call him Mr. Bai Yue, or the guide."

"White Moon?"

Conan remembered what Morobushi Keimitsu told him last night, "The day when the moon is the biggest in August."

Then he thought of the tradition of celebrating birthdays on "the best day in January" that Yun Xianhe had told him a long time ago, and he paused.

Could it be that... Xianhe and his group really celebrate their birthdays like this?

Seeing that Conan was sitting aside without talking or disturbing him, Yun Xianhe ignored him.

The brush was dipped in the golden light in front of me, and memory drove me to write the letter:

"I hope you can be carefree, feel the so-called love, and enjoy life better!" - The Sun

"Free and carefree, free from illness and disaster" - Ghost

"You can drink and chat with friends, and sing while drunk. How long is life!" - Uncle Shi

"Books that you follow never have bad endings, and the series are constantly updated" - Cotton

"I wish you all the best and good health" - Cloud

……

Each prayer note was outlined with different colored ink, and even the handwriting was different.

Conan, who was standing next to him, stared at him in amazement, and only now did he understand why Yun Xianhe had brought out a color palette.

He looked at the person whose eyes were filled with longing and tenderness, and swallowed back all the questions he wanted to ask.

Maybe... the other party really was reminded of someone by the sight of the object.

Thinking of this, he turned around to look at Zhu Fu Jingguang who was pretending not to care about him, and shook his head slightly.

Nothing unusual.

It just looks like one person's lovesickness at a specific time.

Zhu Fu Jingguang, who received the information, nodded slightly to show that he understood.

At this moment, the person they thought was extremely normal began to enter the illusion of first-person perspective again.

A group of five people sat around a long table. Uncle Shitou tapped his forehead with his pen and shook his legs so fast that afterimages were left.

The few people who felt the ground beneath their feet seemed to be shaking steadied themselves and got used to it.

Uncle Shitou was thinking hard, frowning and looking ferocious:

[“What to write…Wish Mr. a great fortune?”]

The ghost beside him twitched his lips when he heard this:

[“Uncle Shitou, sir, you don’t need to get rich, right?”]

[“Hey, this blessing is really hard to write. How about writing “May all your wishes come true?”]

【“Copy it ten more times?”】

The ghost teased, and Uncle Shitou laughed as soon as he heard it:

[“I know this. I used to mess up when writing essays in school.”]

[“You two should be more serious! Write quickly, the teacher will be back soon!”]

Cotton, who was standing by, tapped everyone's forehead with a pen.

Uncle Shitou tilted his head to look at the sun who was writing furiously.

The small prayer paper was filled with writings from the other party, which made me dizzy just looking at it.