Chapter 3 How did a world based on books mess up the literary world?
Before rolling up his sleeves to write a book, Qianjianmu recuperated for two months and then officially started activities in Leibo Street and its surrounding areas.
There is nothing wrong with his body, it's just that the physical model comes from when he was 7 years old. At that time, his physical qualifications had not yet been transformed to maturity, but now he has a mature physical quality. His overly thin physique gradually recovered.
He occasionally went out to rob the rich and the poor, and actually ate quite well, so he gradually developed a fair complexion. He was also a lot taller. Although not as tall as Nakahara Chuuya, who was two years older than him, he was still barely acceptable. Some fighting skills that were previously limited by the body began to be released little by little. Not much, but useful.
Qianjianmu began to build an intelligence network in the surrounding area.
The war of superpowers had just ended, and Japan had become a defeated country. Yokohama was the hardest hit area, and it was a mess. He has met quite a few people with special abilities recently, and found that the lower age limit for people with special abilities is really scary. This also made it convenient for him to roam around like a rat, eavesdropping, tracking, and obtaining scattered intelligence. Input to zero and further integrate.
Age gave him protection, but also imposed restrictions. At least no matter what he does next, he must have a channel.
Chuuya Nakahara hasn't been very interested in studying recently. After the superpower war ended, the local mafia entered a long period of chaos. Leibo Street is located at the junction of the port mafia and GSS. On the surface, the Port Mafia occupies Leibo Street, but in fact, GSS is trying to swallow up this territory. Zhongyuan Zhongye was busy taking the sheep's children to the warehouses of both parties to pick up leftovers, food, and military supplies. He fought the crazy mafia. The sheep pushed forward all the way and managed to bite off a piece of meat in the struggle between the parties.
Although I like the undercurrents brewing before a war, it is not very suitable for intelligence gathering when a real war breaks out. Chigenmaku planned to visit other slums. After saying hello to Nakahara Chuuya, he wandered around the slums of Yokohama for a few months. He returned to the container to settle down for a long time in winter. By then, the sheep had already occupied a small piece of land and a group of children lived together. The new houses are several small buildings close to each other. Two people guard the warehouse every day, and the other children each have a room.
Chuuya still remembered the agreement and reserved a room for him, but the other sheep looked unhappy. Qian Jianmu observed everyone's expressions and knew that things were beginning to change.
He chose to continue living with Chuuya. But I don't plan to stay here forever. The situation will change slightly next year, and I've almost got enough protection buffs from Zhongye. I'll find a house nearby, escape from the slums and find a place to stay, and then apply for an ID (fake ID). Without an ID, there are too many restrictions, and many things will be inconvenient.
The main feature of Yokohama's household registration system during the war was strict internally and loose externally. If you tried to use legal channels, you would never get ahead. The situation in Yokohama seems like a lawless place, with some rules in the freedom, and the rules are full of casualness. Mafia or outsiders can easily get an identity, but people in the slums may not be counted as part of the population until they die. Very realistic, but with a lot of room for maneuver.
After a year's accumulation, Qian Jianmu had accumulated about 1,000 energy points. He was very busy during this period, and reading was a way for him to take a break from his busy schedule. The 1,000 points were also accumulated thanks to my experience in a coffee shop. In that coffee shop, there was a book by an author named "Natsume Soseki". Most of the books were not published, but just written and displayed to customers. But the quality was very high. He spent a whole month to finish all the books and obtained a large amount of energy points. The most annoying thing is that some of the books have no ending at all. Books without endings will only give a part of the energy value. Even if there is just a lack of an ending, half of the energy value will be deducted, making people feel like they have been tricked into being killed.
1,000 energy points isn’t a lot, but it gives people some confidence. Energy value has a wide range of applications, and anything that has been analyzed can be created using energy value. But if the body is injured, the energy value can be used to heal the body first. 1000 points can probably pull it back from 8 points dead to 6 points dead. If it is just a case of a throat slit or a bullet shot into the brain, which is a minor trauma with a high mortality rate, it can be repaired directly and the life can be saved, which is much better than being severely injured, burned or poisoned.
Nakahara Chuuya brought all the books in the warehouse and piled them up into a mountain of books. Qian Jianmu looked at the pile of books as if he was looking at a pile of fuel for the winter. He brought a lot of paper and pens, and decided to do his first creation this winter, and also to add some heating facilities.
As winter slowly approaches, I took some time to rest for a few days. The knife wound on his body when he took off his clothes when he just came back scared Nakahara Chuuya, but the wound had basically scabbed and healed, so Nakahara Chuuya could only stop talking and secretly prepared thicker clothes for him.
Winter is nature's killer, and people's activities are significantly reduced. The whole of Yokohama fell silent, struggling to survive this cold winter. The new room still had no electric lights or any heating facilities, and could only light a stove. But in this way the windows of the room cannot be closed. When I was woken up by the cold in the morning, I heard someone calling downstairs. I leaned over the window and saw that it was the sheep's children driving away the beggars.
The malice that the children were venting was even more difficult to watch. Qian Jianmu closed the window and watched the group of children viciously driving away the seriously ill woman, mumbling foul language that was very smelly. I thought that at least Chuuya was well educated. He seemed to have an immunity program and rarely used overly harsh language. Just as he thought of this, Zhong Yuanzhong appeared downstairs. He took some food and secretly stuffed it into the beggar's hand. He returned to the house awkwardly. The other children were still laughing loudly at the beggar's overestimation of his means, but he just said nothing and methodically checked the remaining food and clothes in the warehouse. Then there was another argument over whether food should be distributed among the thousands of people.
Qian Jianmu listened to the children's meaningless shouting, slowly and sleepily climbed out of bed, took out manuscript paper and pencil, and placed them on the small table in the room which was made of storage boxes.
【
I was born to be silent.
Same with everyone I met.
The time when humans are allowed to speak is when they are born and before they die, because life is pure and innocent, and after death everything is empty.
We communicate by writing and always carry paper and pen with us. Translate language into words, carefully crafting every period.
Rules are established in words and information is conveyed in periods. The world is clear and clean, and the order stands silently and solemnly.
For me, communication is a somewhat unfamiliar social behavior. Whenever I meet my lover privately, I never communicate with her. We please each other in silence. We don't say a word, but we can feel each other's love flowing in our eyes and fingertips.
Read and think. Breakfast in the morning, handling of housework, and distribution of power. She remained quiet, and I remained silent forever. I enjoy this kind of quietness, love is wrapped around me, and we are like chains wrapped around each other. I hugged my wife, I kissed her, and I was sure that we would be together forever.
We never communicate, we are always silent, we instinctively love each other's souls, as if we should know nothing about each other except love.
Silence makes us pure, silence makes us peaceful. No quarrel, no argument, no misunderstanding, no whispering. There is no filth, no meaninglessness.
Silence is the highest virtue, and the transmission of words limits everything. We use newspapers and books to spread ideas, we use words to convey messages, and we use our eyes to communicate with each other. The distance between people is infinitely close, as if they were born to accompany each other.
The wife was pregnant for ten months. The delivery room was silent. The wife gave birth in silence and the newborn baby kept his mouth shut and did not cry.
The world is a silent tomb.
"If you don't say anything, will you pretend you don't see it?"
My newborn son whispered in my arms.
I looked at him in amazement and tried to cover his mouth, but his voice still came through, like the echo of a demon.
My wife's death notice had just been signed and the pen was still in my pocket. I threw away the notice and tried to tell my children to keep quiet.
"She didn't utter a word until she died."
My kids say that.
"She hates you, can't you see?"
He said:
"As long as I don't make any noise, can I pretend I didn't see anything?"
He said:
"I was just born. What right do you have to force me to remain silent like you? What reason do you have to force me to turn a blind eye like you?"
——Prologue to "Quiet Syndrome"
】
The children's noise is limited to the early morning. When the sunlight shines into this place, the children scatter, stealing, robbing, and doing all kinds of evil.
Winter brings with it a contraction of power, less conflict, and more suffering. Chuuya counted the remaining resources in the warehouse and went upstairs to rest. When he pushed open the door, Qian Jianmu was writing the last paragraph. He was sitting sideways at the window. When he turned around, his golden eyes were filled with morning light, soft and clear like melted gold, while his red eyes were sunk in the shadows, dark like dried blood, which made people's hearts sink suddenly.
The white-haired boy's long hair was tied loosely behind his head, with slightly curled ends, looking fluffy and soft.
Although Qian Jianmu's actions are always purposeful and he seems to be extremely intelligent. But every time he looked over suddenly, Chuuya always realized that he was just a child, about the same age as he was when he regained consciousness.
Zhongyuan Zhong is also a very sentimental child. He is not good at changing, is kind by nature, and is used to sticking to one path until the end. But he is not a fool. His lead in force gives him more time to think and make calculations. He is very clear about many things in his mind, but he endures them out of a mentality of self-abuse to atone for his sins. He still unconsciously feels uneasy about his existence and feels guilty for the damage he caused in the year when he was just born and had not yet fully mastered his power. Because of atonement, or to repay the kindness of being accepted by the human community, Nakahara Chuuya is always extremely tolerant and patient towards people.
"Did I bother you?"
"No, it just ended. GSS has been very peaceful lately. Is the dispute over?"
Chuuya frowned. He sat on the chair, resting his right hand on the armrest, and put his left hand into his hair, combing the slightly long ochre hair to the back of his head.
"I don't know what they are doing. The port mafia has been acting strangely recently. Their behavior is very crazy. A while ago, they were transferring personnel and they happened to encounter an armed team of GSS. They killed more than a dozen people, all of them elite soldiers. GSS was stunned and stopped for the time being. It will probably be peaceful for a few months."
"Well... I think I know why."
Qian Jianmu placed the end of his pen on the corner of his forehead.
"The leader of the Mafia has only one legitimate son, who smoked that drug two years ago and is now useless. None of the five cadres are easy to get along with. The leader is old and his hidden injuries have relapsed, so he can't control his subordinates. The five cadres began to compete for power, making the situation chaotic. Extreme actions can temporarily suppress the surrounding forces and give the power transition a transition period."
Chuuya lowered his eyes and listened carefully, and then he heard Qian Jianmu pause for a moment and then said softly:
"...Of course, the premise is that he is willing to give up power."
"In general, the next few years will be very difficult."
"Chuya can always protect everyone." Chijianmaku raised the corners of his lips. “Chuuya’s ability is extremely powerful. With Chuuya here, everyone’s life in Raibo Street won’t get any worse.”
“…Yeah, oh. I understand.” Chuuya turned his face to the side, a light blush covering the junction of his cheek and neck.
"How insincere." Qian Jianmu muttered softly. He put the manuscript aside and pulled the blanket closer around him.
"Don't sleep over there tonight. The bed is big enough for the two of us."
Nakahara Chuuya was afraid of putting pressure on his wound, and it was not right to use the sheep's territory to give Chigenmaku a separate room. In recent days, he has been sleeping alone on a simple bed hastily built on the other side.
"That doesn't matter."
"I don't care, is Chuuya shy?"
“No way!” Chuuya stopped talking again.
Good children who don't act awkwardly should always be rewarded.
Chigenmaku took out a small box from his backpack and handed it to Nakahara Chuuya.
"This is a new phone, a gift for you. The phone card has been prepared. Use this for now."
The phone is a basic Nokia model, which can only make and receive calls, send and receive text messages, and play a few small games. It has very few functions. But in this era, mobile phones in Japan are still very expensive, and the price of mobile phone cards can be said to be incredibly expensive. Not to mention the poor penetration rate of signal stations in Japan, there is no signal in slightly remote areas. But electronic devices were rare and attractive gadgets to the boy. Chuuya's eyes lit up and he blinked a little embarrassedly.
“It’s expensive, right?!”
"I bought it too. Please include my reward in it."
Qian Jianmu picked up his cell phone and showed it to him.
"My phone number has been saved. You can call me later."
"It's been hard enough to teach me how to read and write...! Okay, I get it."
Nakahara Chuuya finally showed some of the childishness that a young boy should have. Chijianmu propped up his face with his palms and looked at him with his head tilted. He always felt that boys of this age seemed too mature. Perhaps it was because life was hard, so he was forced to grow up.
But on second thought, the children in this world seem to be very precocious, especially those with special abilities. Children mature mentally very quickly, and it is common for them to be exposed to society at the age of ten. The normal children that Qian Jianmu had come into contact with were only ten years old and were still ignorant. They could not distinguish between supply and demand, or love and hate. However, Zhong Ye was already able to distinguish between the pros and cons and the causes and effects.
It was early winter, the window was slightly open, and the blanket was just for warmth. After writing and reading for a long time, Qian Jianmu's palms fell on the table, and they turned slightly white due to the cold. His fingers were long and slender, with nimble joints, and his skin was cold and pale, against which his veins looked purple and winding like black vines. Nakahara Chuuya put down his phone and went to find the gloves he had used before to warm Chijianmu's hands. When he handed over the gloves, he lowered his eyes to the paper, his gaze fixed, but in the end he couldn't help himself.
“Are you writing?”
"Do you want to take a look?" Qian Jianmu patted the seat beside him and handed over the manuscript.
Zhongyuan Zhongye sat down next to Qianjianmu. Qianjianmu looked at him, spread the blanket over him, and the two of them looked at the manuscript paper with the ink just dried on it.
"I read a lot of books, but to be honest, they weren't very good, so I wrote some myself and planned to submit them for publication later."
The blanket still carried Qian Jianmu's body temperature. Zhongyuan Zhongye touched the blanket on his shoulders somewhat uncomfortably. He moved closer to Qian Jianmu and tried to hold the blanket tighter. After this year's influence, I still read books occasionally and can basically tell the difference between good and bad articles.
“…Amazing.”
"Would you like to write something together? Chuuya is very good at Chinese literature."
Chuuya turned his head and looked into those eyes, which were cold and intimidating when they were not smiling, but light and soft when they were smiling. He was stunned, and a hint of confusion flashed across his deep blue eyes.
"...Can I...?"
"Who can't? Words are our power, aren't they? If the article is too long, it's not bad to write some short poems."
The long, slightly curly white hair is fluffy, soft and fuzzy, and it feels warm and light when it touches the side of the face, making people feel relaxed like fabric that has been exposed to the sun. Chuuya complained softly, stretching out his voice:
"Poetry? Ahhh, I can't figure it out at all."
"What's the name of Chuuya's ability?"
Chuuya frowned.
“…Why do you ask that?”
"Supernatural powers are abilities that exist with you. Isn't the name of the supernatural power a manifestation of you?"
"Call... in the tainted sorrow."
The pair of heterochromatic pupils narrowed, and the little boy smiled like a cat.
"Isn't this perfect for poetry? Let's use this as the first line."
Is that so?
There was a hint of realization in those deep blue eyes, as if some shackles were slowly being loosened. The young man's eyes sparkled as he focused on the scene outside the window, and he murmured in a low voice, repeating the name of the supernatural power that had brought him sin and sorrow.
"In the midst of polluted sorrow... in the midst of polluted sorrow."
The cold wind blew, and the first snow fell in small pieces. The dim light passed through the dense snowflakes and landed on the blue sea like a meteor.
"In the midst of the polluted sorrow, ... it hangs in the air."
Qian Jianmu was slightly startled when he heard Zhongye's low voice.
Without stopping, Qian Jianmu vaguely realized some connection. That connection transcends the gaps of time and space, and transcends the barriers between the worlds. It was as if some voice was telling him: Hush, let him finish reading, let him finish writing.
"In the midst of the polluted sorrow..."
Ahh, is that so? Is there such a relationship?
Qian Jianmu wanted to laugh. He lowered his eyes, listened to Zero's broadcast, listened to the poet's words, and stared into the distance in a trance.
In fact, Nakahara Chuuya's knowledge is not enough for him to compose a complete poem. He has not experienced much and his experience is not sufficient. But talent, coupled with the catalysis of an unknown force, was like a spider silk hanging from the sky, lightly and gently falling on him.
He himself didn't realize what was happening.
"..., the setting sun eclipses everything.*"
After a long silence, Nakahara Chuuya suddenly woke up. He opened his eyes wide in shock, turned his head, and smiled helplessly at the thousands of people around him.
"Chuya, you are a poet."
"...But, I myself..."
Chikanemaku took out a piece of manuscript paper and wrote the poem on it. He wrote the name of Nakahara Chuuya in the poet's column. Then he solemnly handed the paper to Nakahara Chuuya.
"No, you are a poet, a complete poet."
There are no more sincere and true words than this.
"Then why do I feel familiar and strange at the same time?" Chuuya stared at the paper blankly, as if looking at a puzzle that is difficult to solve.
"Because Chuuya's life has just begun, when Chuuya looks at himself in the mirror, he will feel familiar yet strange, right? The relationship between an author and his work is like looking in the mirror. Strange yet close, this is the relationship between oneself and oneself."
Chijianmu looked at himself in Chuuya's eyes, a white ball, a young and beautiful boy. He suddenly realized why some people had regarded him as God's representative on earth and even worshipped him as a god.
The past passed by his eyes in a hurry, leaving only a few traces. He figured something out and simply used his appearance to his advantage. He rubbed against Chuuya like a cat, narrowed his beautiful eyes, and sorted out his emotions in a soft and gentle voice.
"Chuuya, please write down what you feel in poetry."
In his lowered eyes, there was a sober and cold emotion.
"Write in all your sorrow and pain, it is your thing (self)."
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