I warmed his cold blood

Under the scorching sun, the marble was tanned to a hot temperature.

People jumped up from their seats and pumped their fists.The shouts, like a fast-growing giant tree, took root from the amphitheater and rushed to the blue sky with few clouds.

Heron sat on the stage with a glass of wine in his hand.On the opposite side in the distance are civilians standing close together like sardines, and behind them are the laughter of nobles, mixed with the sound of cracking and chewing nut shells.

He was born again.The last moment he died, now he is sitting alive in the arena.

His temples were throbbing, his lungs were covered with suet, and he was suffocating.

Under the stage, a life-and-death wrestling has just ended.

The gladiator half-kneeled in the sand, holding his dagger to his opponent's throat.The brown-red leather armor was broken, and the torn leather turned out ferociously.His face was covered by an iron helmet, the tight mesh covering his eyes and giving him a narrow field of vision.

The opponent fell to the ground, the fatal bloody gash across the abdomen, forming an expanding pool of scarlet on the sand.

He took off his helmet and looked up to the stage.The audience roared with red faces, and pointed to the ground with their thumbs.

He seemed to let out a sad breath, and his lips moved silently, as if he was reciting some spell silently.With a sharp swipe of the sword, the neck that was a matter of life was torn apart.He gave his opponent a quick death.

Blood spurted out and splashed onto his face, and he wiped it away with his hands, frowning.

"Germanic...Germanic..." His parentage was chanted.Perhaps in the near future, his blood and sweat will be collected into cosmetics and become the new favorite of women.

Helen clenched the wine glass tightly, he recognized this person.

I also remember that when this man was dying, he lay on the ground with his face crooked, his face was smeared with blood and mud, his lips were dry and pale, and his fiery blue eyes were fixed on him.But at this moment, he is still a living, extremely aggressive life.He did not die, nor did he have any signs of death.

The strange feeling of being resurrected from the dead made Heron seem like a lifetime away.The wine in the glass dangled and spilled, and the clothes were soaked.

His female slave was quick-witted, squatted down quickly, and wiped the water stain with a handkerchief.

Herron looked up.Around her neck was a pale green emerald necklace that matched her blond hair and fair complexion.That's what he rewarded her with 4 dinars.

The soft and bright green light dazzled his eyes, and a painful memory struck...

He curled up in a cold and dirty corner, drywall and ash on his hair.He panted like a dry fish, humming like an old bellows.The persistent high fever made him lose his dignity, and the spider crawled on him and tried to spin silk.

The slave girl approached him with a torch.

"Didn't expect you to be here, so sick that you can't even speak. My poor master...you are as depressed as a rat in the sewer..." She smiled gloatingly, "You are Polio once What about my lord?"

She took off his gold ring and put it on her hand.

In a haze, he saw the emeralds on her neck, blurred into a ball in his blurred vision...

Helen pulled off her necklace and flung it offstage.The female slave's skin was circled red, and she screamed in shock, losing the calm demeanor she should have maintained.

"Sell her to the mining area, and she will no longer be my domestic slave." He said indifferently.

The waiting servant stepped forward and grabbed her arms.During the struggle, the slave girl begged for mercy, her shoulder straps slipped down to her arms, exposing half of her snow-white chest, and she was finally dragged away by stumbling.

"Little Polio is in a bad mood. Even a beautiful person doesn't look good when angry." Mrs. Slan held a small fan, and her gorgeous red hair curled down to her shoulders.She smears the precious oriental sesame oil, which has a compelling aroma.

Her husband had a hooked nose and black hair pulled neatly to his forehead. "This is really rare. He never treated slaves like this, as gentle as a lamb!"

"Oh, my dear. Human beings are not static." Mrs. Slan smiled, shaking her small fan, "Even sheep can eat meat."

After the gladiatorial fight, Herron did not go home in a sedan chair.Along the way, he braved the scorching sun, walked on the dusty streets of Rome, and finally returned home before sunset.

The wine on the hem of the clothes was dried at high temperature, leaving dark water stains.Although it is early summer, the weather is unbearably hot.He walked out covered in sticky sweat, like wearing a layer of impermeable leather.He wiped off the dense beads of sweat from his forehead, and only then did he feel some sense of returning to the human world.

The dome is supported by marble columns, floating in the air like milky cream.Sunlight penetrates the hollow of the dome and casts a spot of light in the atrium.The patio stores abundant rainwater and there are colorful murals on the walls.The house stands like a ruined temple among the crowded houses in Rome.

This is his home, where the Polio family has lived for generations.

He touched the marble pillar in a daze, and walked towards the bronze mirror at the door.

The person in the mirror has calm black eyes, delicate skin that doesn't weather the wind and rain, and slightly curly brown hair that hangs down to his shoulders softly.He is outstandingly handsome, with a high bridge of nose that jumps between his cheeks, a neck that is as white and elegant as a swan, and gentle shoulders that sink slightly, showing an indescribable elegance.He could even be called beautiful, though he resented the feminine description.

He stared at himself who was still alive, and he felt grateful that it was hard to be humane to outsiders.

Time went back half a year.He is still rich and healthy, and countless people envy his beautiful face and prominent family background.

He has tasted all the good things, and lost them helplessly.

God has always been scorned by him, but now he is in awe.If there is no protection from the gods, how can you be saved when you die?

The author has something to say:

The background of ancient Rome, ahem, seems to be relatively small.This article will not be too long, there is nothing cruel, it is basically a sweet article.