People in Tokyo, the world is clear

Lin Sen was blocked at the entrance for a long time.

He took the towel handed to him by the woman in front of him with a disgusted expression, and first cleaned the water droplets on his head and face.

Then comes the outer garment.

The pants were a little tricky. I could only soak them up with a towel and find an unused sheet to wrap around them.

Only after putting on shoe covers was he allowed to re-enter the house.

"I walked around the area in the rain, and there wasn't a single store selling umbrellas." Lin Sen continued to soak the moisture off his shirt with a towel. "Who on earth chose the house in this shabby place? It's ridiculous."

"..."

"Well, it's me, bro."

There is no need to talk about this now.

But I still managed to find some way to divert my complaints.

"So Editor Sasagawa doesn't even have an umbrella at home?"

"Even if I had it, I wouldn't lend it to you, the wet chicken. It's the rainy season these days, and if it doesn't stop tomorrow morning, I won't be able to go to class."

May is indeed the rainy season.

The gloomy rain always plays a little tune.

The sky always cries bitterly before the hot summer arrives to consume its sad energy.

I just didn't expect the rain to come so suddenly and heavily that even the weather forecast didn't have time to react.

Putting the towel on the table, Lin Sen glanced at the coffee cup in front of Sasagawa Rimei.

The almost revealing expression made the other party frown.

"I can probably guess what Shameless-kun is going to say."

"Although I'm indeed strong, I still need a warm drink to avoid the risk of catching a cold. Besides, you don't want your beloved coffee machine to be touched by outsiders, right?"

"You, a scumbag who can make the words he orders people around sound so natural, really don't know what shame is."

But in the end, Flamingo still ran to make a cup of coffee with a disapproving attitude, carefully selected a broken cup with a chip on it to put it in, and placed it in front of him with a disgusted look amid the clanging sound.

"grateful."

It has to be said that Flamingo has a pretty good taste in coffee. The coffee they choose is a slightly bitter variety with a rich aroma, which is a level that can satisfy even non-coffee enthusiasts.

Boundaries are meant to be broken. Now that the coffee is brewed, opening the bathroom is just a matter of a few seconds.

Flamingo originally planned to make another fuss by saying that there were no men's clothes at home, but after Lin Sen took out a complete set of spare clothes from his backpack, he rarely opened his usually indifferent eyes and was slightly dumbfounded.

"What kind of psychopath would you have to stuff a whole new set of clothes into your backpack on a normal trip?"

"It's just a habit left over from the past."

In my previous life, when I was down and out, I experienced times when I couldn't even find a place to shower in unfamiliar cities. To accommodate my own mild obsession with cleanliness, I always packed an extra set of clothes in my backpack. Even now, I often subconsciously follow this travel plan.

It was indeed a rare habit, and unsurprisingly, it earned some wary looks.

"So, when did Scumbag-kun start planning his evil plan?"

"Now that things have come to this, let's take a shower first."

"Are you ready to start your dirty work?"

"I know of a hospital that specializes in treating mental illnesses, especially paranoia. I'll take Editor Sasakawa there someday when I'm free."

Flamingo pulled out a pair of scissors from somewhere.

The mutual attacks that had become almost daily finally stopped with a sneeze.

For the sake of his own health, Lin Sen got up and went into the bathroom and took the red plastic bucket that was handed to him.

"Is this where you put your changed clothes?"

"I'd rather Dirty-kun cut them into pieces and flush them down the toilet. You could volunteer to donate a pair of scissors."

Simple rinse and replace, no hassle.

Then it naturally transitioned to the issue of sleep.

In response, Sasagawa Rio just threw a quilt over and pointed to the small study next to the bedroom.

"Just make your own bed on the floor. Also, here's a broom. When you get up tomorrow morning, remember to sweep the study thoroughly."

"Wow. Did they skip the heartwarming scene where the owner of the house offered to give up the big bed in the bedroom and the guest graciously declined? I waited so long for nothing."

"Are you not pretending anymore? How far do you want to fast-forward to, Mr. Maggot?"

The study in Flamingo's new home was indeed decorated with great care. Notes were stuck on the glass of the bookcase doors, and the books were arranged in different categories.

After Lin Sen had taken care of his sleeping arrangements, he stood at the door and identified a few books that he remembered, then turned around.

In the living room, a woman was writing something on the desk under the light of a lamp.

He opened the window, picked out a novel, and ran to turn on the light.

When I opened the book, I unexpectedly found that the blank spaces were filled with densely written notes.

The handwriting is not very neat, probably from her teenage years.

Read a few sentences softly:

“I seemed to hear a gust of wind blowing in my body, hissing, and swearing to roar and cry out against this cruel and wrong world.”

Then a hand reached out and covered the childish-looking middle school characters.

Then came a cold voice mixed with some shame:

"Did Beast just throw away all your human manners and respect in the bathroom? Only reckless instinct remains?"

"I just felt a strong connection. When I was little, I always felt this strange sense of resistance when watching literary works. It was as if everything around me was wrong."

Sincerity is probably a good medicine to dissolve vigilance and hostility.

The hand that was tensely covering the text relaxed a little.

Only Lin Sen's voice continued to slowly echo in the living room.

"I really like what a poet once said about this: 'I force myself to express sorrow in order to write new words.' As a child, I loved to express myself, always trying to grasp at the wrong things, anxiously and anxiously nurturing excessive longings, unwilling to gently walk into the good night. Editor Sasakawa, is that the same thing?"

"..."

"But when I grew up, I suddenly seemed to become mute."

Lin Sen tutted his words twice. "Somehow I slowly began to allow everything to happen. It's no longer so sharp, but gradually becoming softer and more reserved. I only look up occasionally. When I vaguely catch a glimpse of the stars hidden like amber in the night sky, I feel something blocking my throat. But I can't say a word, so I lower my head again, cloak myself in the old night again, and disappear into the dust of the world."

As he was telling the story, the fingers that were covering the handwriting gradually curled up.

Then there were a few seconds of silence, until—

“So, sometimes, when I look back at my childhood notes, I get a different perspective.”

Flamingo lowered his head, took a deep breath, and as if stirring up some emotions, he began to tell the story bit by bit and in a disjointed manner.

The night is still very long.

Chapter 50 Life is an addiction

The book in front of you, which was read by Sasagawa Rime when she was a girl, is a collection of several reincarnation stories.

Several young men who must have died at the age of twenty are identified by an observer in the story as the reincarnations of the same person.

Therefore, in the cycle of life and death described in the work, young souls always sense a certain inevitable fate in various ways, and then endure this ending with a splendid death.

The bystander can only cowardly bear witness to the cycle of reincarnation over and over again. As he grows older, he gradually loses the meaning of life, and the reason for existing in this world is to seek a new reincarnation for the soul that will surely die at the age of twenty, rotting away bit by bit in the process.

"When I was little, I thought I would be the one who died at the age of 20. I didn't even have any doubts about it."

Flamingo's voice was trembling.

Perhaps because she had never revealed these hidden thoughts to anyone, she was as nervous as a student answering a question for the first time.

With eyes downcast.

"At that time, I felt like a prisoner who had just been put in a cage. If life had no meaning, I would no longer be willing to live in such a humiliating way."

The woman began to take deep breaths.

"But as I grew older, I realized I had become a bystander. My life became mean and mediocre, and as the book said, it slowly rotted into nothingness. I spent my 20th birthday in confusion, timidity, and a daze."

She propped up her chin:

"I was terrified and uneasy, and I began to search for something to sustenance. I was like the rotten old man in the book. Like a madman, I searched for one young and passionate soul after another. They were something different from me, something truly brilliant."

Exhaling slowly, she seemed unaware of Lin Sen's gaze and just bit her lower lip.

"Then, like him, I began to witness death again and again. I watched those words filled with passionate emotions being put into the commercial market, cooling, freezing, and dying."

Probably never really confronted these thoughts in a voiced way.

Unconsciously, the female editor slowly curled up in the chair.

"Sometimes I have this thought. Are those sincere things in their prime bound to die? In the end, only old age and decay remain, which are then glorified as the fittest who have successfully survived."

She turned her head, and her flickering eyes, driven by some emotion, met his gaze.

"Itsuki-sensei. If one work after another falls by the wayside, will you still persevere? Such a blazing passion will eventually die out, right?"

The words faded away.

The living room was so quiet that the only sound was the ticking of the clock hands.

Then, the trembling of the pupils gradually stopped, and the turbid and sad eyes gradually became clear again.

There was another few seconds of silence.

Sasagawa Rie pursed her lips and lowered her slender neck.

"I suddenly... lost my composure. Sorry."

The young writer next to her didn't respond, and she suddenly closed her eyes tightly.

"It's very troubling...ah!"

The object that forced her to let out a small cry of surprise was a pair of chopsticks that she was holding in her hand.

She was gently tapped on the head like a child.

"So."

It was a helpless tone. Or was it indifferent, yet somehow, it had a certain simplicity.

Then a hand patted the shoulder and shook it gently, conveying the same warmth.

"It's not that I don't recommend reading the works of those extreme writers, but don't get carried away. Remember how the guy who wrote this story died? He kidnapped a politician, stood on a platform, raised his arms and shouted, 'Everyone, look at me!' He tried to imitate the twenty-year-old boy in his work. But that's not a brilliant death; it's a forced death."

The firm voice made Sasagawa Rimei look up blankly again.

A determined expression and a serious demeanor.

"If you ask me, no life is meaningless. Life is like an addiction. Experiencing life is satisfying. From small things like eating a meal or reading a book to big things like a career, a love affair, or a journey to pursue a dream. Death at twenty isn't fireworks exploding in the night sky, but escaping an addiction and losing your way. Editor Sasakawa, now, think of something you hope to witness in the future."

"..."

Sasakawa Rie was stunned.

Chihiro ⑨⑹○㈠樲⑹㈡⒎Miao

Coming back to her senses, she stared at the face in front of her again and found a hint of a smile.

Tentatively speaking:

“I hope that the works I like can be recognized by the literary world.”

"very good."

The young writer snapped his fingers. "Now, do you see it?"

"No."

"very good."

So in her surprised eyes, the man in front of her smiled, which was rare.