Chapter 48: Picking up flowers in the morning and evening 18
The copper bell on the eaves suddenly rang without any wind, startling the night owl perched on the beam.
The footsteps echoed in the corridor, and the person stopped at the corner.
The candlelight in the corridor suddenly shook violently, and the jumping flames cast a distorted halo in the air, cutting the scene behind the screen into fragments of light and dark.
A man in a dark-colored feather robe stood with his back to the door, his wide sleeves hanging down like crow wings spread out in the night.
His bony fingers were stroking the white eyelashes on the lime-colored Rubik's Cube.
The movement was as gentle as touching fragile porcelain, or as if soothing a dying butterfly.
The pocket watch chain hanging from his waist swayed slightly with his movements, and the family crest of the double cherry blossom pattern wrapped around the silver chain flickered in the candlelight.
Suddenly a draft blew through the hall, and the candle wax meandered down along the lampstand.
In the flickering light and shadow, the suture line on the man's forehead looked like a fresh wound, with an eerie bluish-white hue.
The suture line extended obliquely from above the left ear to the brow bone, as if someone had used rusty iron wire to piece the broken face back together, eventually forming the current appearance.
"Sir!" A low and respectful voice came from outside the corridor.
"What's the matter?" The man withdrew his finger, slowly stood up, and turned his head to ask the source of the sound.
A dark figure stepped out from the shadows, knelt on the ground and reported: "Sir, the Gojo family has indeed begun to panic as you expected!"
The man raised the corners of his lips slightly, his smile was shallow but revealed a hint of coldness.
"Then go give them some more fuel! This is a matter concerning their Six Eyes, how can they be kept in the dark? After all, that's the lover that their Son of God risked his life to protect, how could they let him down?"
He raised his hand to press the corner of his mouth, and intermittent laughter escaped from between his fingers.
The candlelight cast a strange shadow in his eyes, and his half-closed eyelids suddenly lifted up, revealing two poisonous green pupils.
"When the time is right, and they accidentally discover it, we can eliminate this evil creature that almost caused them to lose their protection.
"Their Son of God will wake up again, and even return to his former selfless and indifferent self. How can they not be grateful to me?"
As he spoke, the corners of his lips first curled up slightly, like a poisonous snake gathering strength before spitting out its tongue, and then a smile exploded.
The fine wrinkles were like twisted spider webs, stacked at the corners of the eyes, and every muscle was embedded with the malicious intent of successful calculation.
When the earth-shaking laughter exploded, the gray swallow, who was leaning against the old cherry tree and was drowsy, suddenly opened his eyes wide and jumped up in shock.
The branches were full of cherry blossoms that were about to fade but not yet, falling like an avalanche. The dewdrops on the buds crackled onto the mossy stone steps, creating circles of inky ripples.
At the moment of circling and rising, the glass-like eyeballs reflected the face of a person who suddenly looked up from under the tree. The fierce light in that person's eyes was like the dark clouds before a storm.
The rhythm of its flapping wings was like a broken shamisen, and suddenly it became rapid. The wind it brought up made the copper bells on the eaves jingle, as if a box of rusty bells had been knocked over.
It hurriedly dropped a few petals from between its tail feathers, flew over the eaves of the ancient house, passed through the mountain ridges, and finally folded its wings and landed on the twisted branches of the century-old cherry tree in the corner of the yard.
The bird's beak lightly tapped the tender leaves covered with morning dew, and its glass-like eyes reflected the swaying figure in the paper window.
"You're just going to watch him boss things around?"
In the room half-hidden by a paper window, someone pounded hard on the low table, causing the samurai helmet hanging on the closet to buzz.
The man's voice was hoarse and difficult to understand, but it was filled with anger.
Gray Swallow tilted his head and saw the man with the family crest embroidered on the cuffs of his kimono throw the secret letter into the lacquer tray. The edges of the letter paper were burned into the shape of a ferocious animal claw by the sealing wax.
The flower stamens outside the paper window cut across its sight obliquely, and in a trance, it seemed as if something flashed by.
The honey color slanted into the conference hall through the carved window lattices, stretching and distorting the shadows of people in the room.
The white-haired old man half-closed his eyes, his skinny fingers unconsciously stroking the armrest of the mahogany chair.
"Master Wu trusts him. During this period before Master Wu wakes up, I am willing to trust him as well."
The white-haired elder hunched his back slightly, his wrinkled hands gently stroking his beard, his eyes calm and firm.
"Trust?" The young man in his thirties suddenly stood up, and the metal seat made a harsh sound when it rubbed against the ground.
Veins bulged on his forehead and his neck turned red. He rushed to the table in three steps and pounded it hard, causing the remaining tea in the cup to spill out.
"Have you all been drugged by him? Master Wu is unconscious because of him!"
His red eyes burned with an almost paranoid anger, and his Adam's apple rolled violently as he swallowed the anger.
"So what do you want?"
The elder, who was playing with a walnut in his hand, slowly raised his head, his cloudy eyes staring at him casually, cloudy but sharp, and his tone was calm.
The young man took a half step back in shock, loosening his tie violently, leaving his collar askew as he breathed heavily, his leather shoes pacing back and forth on the blue brick floor, each step making the ground thump heavily.
"Of course, restrict his activities!"
He suddenly stopped, digging his nails into his palms. "We can't let him appear next to Master Wu again. Only in this way can we ensure that Master Wu can cultivate peacefully."
At the end he was practically roaring, his saliva splashing onto the table.
The middle-aged man sitting below the great elder had his arms folded across his chest, his brows furrowed, and his eyes stern.
"What we want is a powerful and clear-headed Six Eyes Gojo Satoru, not a fleshworm who can only lie in bed forever."
The young man paced back and forth anxiously, turned around suddenly, and his face showed no sign of concealing his anxiety.
"Then we should separate him from Master Wu, right?"
The old man sighed softly and shook his head slowly, his aged voice carrying unquestionable majesty.
"Too many people are watching the Gojo family right now. If he uses it well, it could be a great help. In that case, why should we abandon the technique?"
The middle-aged man frowned slightly, a trace of worry flashing in his eyes: "What about Master Wu's health?"
The old man looked into the distance, his eyes deep and distant, his tone firm.
"He'll be more anxious than us."
The midday light slanted across the trembling cherry blossoms on the branches. The pink and white petals were like crushed clouds, filtering tiny spots of light onto the off-white paper window.
When the wind blows through the treetops, the spots of light turn into leaping stars, dancing a silent waltz on the plain paper.
Occasionally, a few fallen petals stick to the edge of the window frame, as if someone had lightly applied ink marks with rouge on rice paper, smudged out a hazy crimson outline, which overlaps with the bamboo shadows of the Ukiyo-e pattern on the inside of the paper window, weaving a breathing spring painting.
Geto Xia Yu tightly grasped both ends of the towel with his hands, his knuckles turned white due to the force, and water flowed down along the lines of his palms.
He gently placed the half-dry towel on Gojo Satoru's cheek, his movements as gentle as touching fragile glass.
The falling hair brushed across his eyelashes as he trembled slightly, casting fine shadows under his eyes.
The falling hair brushed across his eyelashes as he trembled slightly, casting fine shadows under his eyes.
The wind outside the window carried the cherry blossoms across the gauze curtain, causing ripples on the curtain, like the surface of a lake wrinkled by the wind.
The wind suddenly changed direction and blew towards the white ceramic potted plant by the window.
A few crimson petals that were drooping gracefully were pulled off violently, swirling into the house, landing lightly on Geto Suguru's shoulder, and then sliding along the drooping hair to the back of his slightly trembling hand.
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