I put out his fire

Quentin's courtyard was packed with condolence guests.

Wearing muzzles, the slaves held their breath and lifted the stinking corpse out of the bed and put it in a wooden coffin.

They opened the windows to ventilate, sprayed rose water into the air, and then sprinkled sand on the ground to clean up the mess.

Julius jumped off his horse, his gray sideburns tangling with his long, tangled beard.His clothes were disheveled and he staggered when he walked.His gray complexion was very haggard, like an old and cracked candle.

With heavy steps, he pushes away the crowd like a mud flow.

When passing by, his cloudy old eyes stared at Nero as if they were glued, his walking movements were sluggish, and his face convulsed instantly.

A thick black shadow covered his trembling eye bags, and Julius saw Nero still alive with an expression of disbelief.

His livid lips moved, but he said nothing.

Messalina is unconscious on the bed.

She was filthy and smelly, and the doctor was smearing chicken blood and peppermint water on her face, which is said to make people who fainted wake up quickly.

"My poor Messalina..." Julius knelt beside the bed, with yellow tears streaming from his cloudy eyes.

He leaned towards the coffin again, took Quentin's hardened hand, and kissed a few times painfully.

Nero stood for a long time, his body felt unwell in the midst of the disease, and his face that was just a little bloody began to turn pale.

He slipped slowly at Rhodes' feet, his arms clung to his ankles, his heavy black cloak curled up like a ball of fur.

"I'm not feeling well..." He hugged Rhode's leg and said, a blush of grievance dyed the corners of his eyes.

Rhodes subconsciously wanted to withdraw his feet.But when he caught a glimpse of his fragile face, he didn't do it after all.

"Take him back," Agripina ordered.

She lowered her cold eyes, her expression was gloomy, and her voice was vigilant like a drop of blood: "Protect him, especially these days..."

Rhodes held the sword tightly.The black cloth bandaging the back of the hand was soaked with blood, bleeding drop by drop.

He tightened the loose black cloth, his face didn't change at all, his ice-white fingers were soaked with sticky blood.

His blood dripped under his nails and hit Nero's pale cheek with a thud.

Nero touched his face in a daze, rubbing a thick blood red.His immature face was mottled with blood, and misty heat filled his eyes, rolling past like thick fog on the sea.

Nero was helped into the carriage by Rhodes in such a trance.The two sat side by side in the dimly lit car.

Rhode's wound was not shallow.He used both hands and mouth, his knuckles moved nimbly, and he tied his arms tightly with ropes to stop the bleeding.

His chin was stained with a few thick bloodstains, and a few locks of soft sideburns stuck to him.Rhodes' neckline was slender and deep, and there was sweat and blood on it, mixed together, rolling down into the saw-like collarbone as his Adam's apple swallowed.His cinnabar-like red lips were dyed bright red, exhaling a hot breath, showing a kind of bloody sexiness.

The strong smell of blood is like some kind of fire-breathing monster, coiled in Nero's mouth and nose.Flame-like hotness poured into his nostrils, piercing his sensitive and young heart.

The bloodthirsty in Nero's nature suddenly boiled, and by the way, he aroused his unfamiliar sexual desire.

This is an evil virtue in which two phases are intertwined, like two snakes twisted into one strand.

Nero was struck by the awakening of this evil nature.His body was stiff, his breathing became heavy, the corners of his eyes were stained with sticky moisture, and his thin cheeks were covered with unnatural flushing.

Rhodes opened the curtains, and a beam of sunlight slipped in stickily, shining on his handsome and sharp features.

His sharp eyes swept away, and met Nero's bright eyes in the dark.

"Not feeling well?" He stretched out his hand, trying to touch Nero's sweaty forehead.Worry flashed across his eyes.

Nero grabbed his wrist violently, and threw himself in front of Rhodes with his strength.So his flushed face was also exposed to the light, and the freckles on the bridge of his nose faded due to his flushed face.

The distance between the two suddenly narrowed, and their breaths stuck together like glue.

Rhodes was only surprised for a moment.He could see Nero's expression was agitated, his breath was disordered like a mess, and there was a strong light in his eyes.

This gaze is like a thunderbolt, about to tear everything apart.His innocence, his shyness, were all quickly burned away by this sudden strength.

Rhodes turned his face sideways, and the line of his jaw that rushed towards Nero was very rigid, with a hint of stubbornness.

"What's wrong?" He squinted at Nero and said flatly.

The blood on the back of his hand dripped silently onto Nero's clothes.

Nero caught a glimpse of the back of his tragic hand, as if waking up from a deep dream, his heart ached like a burn.

His eyelashes trembled.The bloodthirsty desire disappeared because of this heartache.After all, he suppressed the dark wildness for Rhodes.

"As soon as I recover from my illness, I will go to the army immediately." Nero said suddenly.In his eyes, there is a tenacious will like molten iron solidifying and melting.

"What are you in such a hurry for?" Rhodes made a casual opinion.

Nero looked at his extremely thin arms, and said in a hoarse voice: "I hate myself for being so weak..."

Rhodes smiled, not taking his decision seriously.

He opened the door curtain, and there was a hint of hacksaw-like willfulness in his tone, "I have to go ahead and see the road."

Rhode's silhouette was embedded in the car door, and his black hair was stubbornly curled up, falling on his shoulder blades.

His waist was streamlined and toned due to years of training, and now he jumped out of the curtain like a fish swimming.

Nero sat alone in the car.He silently raised his palm, which was dipped in Rhodes' blood.

He stared at it for a while, then suddenly stuck out the tip of his tongue, gently licking away the blood like a well-behaved kitten licking water.It's not so much that he's bloodthirsty, it's that he's just obsessed.

He was dizzy for a moment, and a sticky emotion flowed in his eyes.

……

Nero's malaria was getting better day by day.

This is undoubtedly a miracle.

Quentin died very suddenly.The court examined his food and body but found no toxins.

In the end, the cause of his death was determined to be a distended stomach caused by binge eating.

The tomb and tombstone originally set up for Nero are now Quentin's property.

His epitaph reads: "This lost soul has lived for 14 years, 6 months and 10 days. I hope the food on your body will not be too heavy."

This dramatic turn of events put Messelina in a bind.

In order to prevent things from being brought to light, she assassinated the female slave lurking in Nero's house, which made Quentin dead without evidence.She's digging her own grave.

At night, the incense seems to be pressing in the room like a puddle of oil, and the roses in the vase have withered to a dark color.With the shutters closed, the bedroom is like a sealed tomb.The candle flame was suspended like a ghost's eye.

The queen who lost her crown prince has no mind to dress up.

Messalina was seriously ill, and she lay in bed crying all day long.

She lost weight at an alarming rate, her face was pale, and her eye sockets were bruised from constant tears.The originally lustrous red hair lost its luster like a dragged rag.

Her daughter Octavia, dressed in mourning, was rattling on the loom in the corner, her sunken bulbous nose was bulging, and her face was full of mourning.

As Quentin's older sister, she was obliged to spin some black mourning dresses.And she and Quentin have always been at odds, and her complaints burst in her heart like soaked cotton.

A wind chime in the shape of a male genitalia swayed under the bed curtain, making a lonely sound.

Claudius lay sideways on the rocking chair.His slave carefully cleaned his ear canal with an ivory stick.

"My son..." Messalina yelled hoarsely, letting out a dry breath from her throat.

Her dark pupils slowly moved over, piercing Claudius's hunchback like needles, "Your incompetent father won't even give you a funeral..."

Claudius sat up and sighed helplessly: "Quentin is not of age, and according to the rules, he cannot hold a grand funeral..."

"I don't care!" Messalina screamed.

She kicked hysterically, like crazy, "I'm going to hold a funeral for him! I'm going to bury him in the highest place in the mausoleum!"

Octavia at the side finally couldn't bear it, and said bitterly: "If that's the case... people will say that father doesn't obey the rules!"

Messalina glared at her, and said in a harsh tone: "Shut up! You idiot who can't even spin cloth! If it weren't for the dowry we gave you, which man would marry such an ugly stupid pig like you?! "

Octavia kept silent, and the circles of her eyes quickly turned red.Her short chin moved a few times, and the tears of grievance wet the cloth just woven.

Claudius has always favored Octavia.

He bulged his eyebrows like meat balls, moved his dry lips, and said dissatisfiedly: "You can't scold her like that, Messalina..."

Messalina glared at her husband fiercely, her anger flared up faintly.

Claudius weighed it for a while, and finally said: "You can't just because your mother scolded you, you have to impose this kind of revenge on your daughter..."

"Oh shut up! Shut up!" Messalina sat up with a cry.Her expression was in pain, as if she had been poked into the deepest pain, so that point of pain split from her heart like a chasm, and spread to her haggard body little by little.

She said violently: "The guy who came to the throne by relying on my dowry has no right to tell me what to do!"

Claudius sighed tiredly.With his hands behind his back and his back bent, he paced back and forth on the ground.

"Quentin is gone..." he mused, his voice so low that he almost had no confidence, "it seems that I should adopt a boy of sufficient age..."

"How dare you!" Messalina shouted, her tone full of sharp threats.

Claudius was a little irritable.He suppressed his anger, weighed his words carefully, and said carefully: "The Roman and Giulian dynasties need a successor, Messalina. You are Quentin's mother, but you are also the queen of Rome..."

The narrow-sighted Messalina couldn't listen to him.Her heart, which was as small as a sesame seed, was completely filled with the pain of losing a child.

"Oh! You hunchbacked and lame old thing!" she cursed angrily. "Your heartless eyes have long since abandoned Quentin! You are a fellow more cold-blooded than a snake!"

Claudius suddenly stopped.He was tired of her endless abuse.

"The impeachment of the elders, floods, infectious diseases... and the war in Gaul. These upset me every day..." Claudius said irritably, "I'm as busy as a spinning top! Just Even when I get home, you can't let me rest for a while..."

Messalina raised her arms, with heavy eye bags hanging under her eyes, she looked like a shrew.She chewed carefully what her husband said just now, and a weird smile faded on her face little by little.

"Treasure your busy life as an emperor!" She suddenly let out a sneer, "Who knows how many years you can sit on the throne with this sick body..."

For some reason, Claudius felt tight.

The sound of the spinning machine echoing in the room, Octavia wrinkled her sallow face bitterly, stepped on the pedal reluctantly, and pulled out a piece of cloth with uneven stitches...