Chapter 28【VIP】
The library was huge, and Opesa didn't dare to go far. She only dared to look at the books on the surrounding shelves.
Everyone feels uneasy in dark and unfamiliar places, and Opesa is no exception. She can only pay attention to the most familiar Sinderel and follow him closely.
But Opesha was stunned - Sinderel seemed to have grown taller.
More than a little, at some point, he no longer hunched over, and no longer kept a distance. Now they walked so closely together that she only reached his chin.
Is she wearing high heels? She glanced at the long hem of Sinderel's skirt. She had specially found a pair of flat shoes for easy walking today.
Maybe it was because it was a rare occasion for him to go out that he wanted to dress up, Opesha thought. After all, she usually exploited Sinderel like Zhou Paopi, so he rarely had the chance to go out and play.
But Sinderel was still very strange.
Opesha was not surprised that Sinderel knew the secret of the bookstore. He used to be a killer and could talk to animals, so it was easy for him to collect information.
She didn't know what book he was looking for, and thought he wanted to investigate the matter of the Chosen One. However, they passed by many books on religion, but he didn't even look at them.
What exactly is he looking for?
Sinderel stopped and looked for something on the bookshelf in front of him.
Opesa stayed in the safe zone at the edge of the candlelight, watching him search, take it out, and put it back. She leaned over to take a look, but couldn't understand it. The characters on it were still abstract.
The wait seemed incredibly long, and she grew bored. She began to flip through the ancient books that lay within her reach. The pages were yellowed, exuding a stale air, and the text was obscure and difficult to understand, so she quickly lost interest.
As she put the books back, a strangely bound album caught her eye. It was placed alone on top of a pile of books, the cover inlaid with strange gems, flickering mysteriously in the dim candlelight.
Opesha curiously flipped open the book, which was filled with unrecognizable characters and strange patterns. There were winged humanoids soaring in the clouds, giant monsters thrashing in the deep sea, and gilded runes gleaming with a strange light.
Opesa was instantly attracted by the atlas and read it intently, forgetting the heaviness brought by the darkness around her.
Turning to the next page, Opesa saw a picture of an angel.
As the first archangel on God's left hand side, that angel is different from the other six-winged angels. It only has seven wings.
She flipped back curiously and lost track of time.
As she read, she noticed that the light shining on the pages was much brighter than before.
She suddenly came to her senses and found that Xindrel had stood silently beside her without her noticing.
The distance was very close, so close that the back of the hand could clearly feel the slightly cool touch of the other person's clothes, and the coolness spread along the skin.
The young man held the candle steadily in one hand. The dim, swaying light was like a gentle embrace, outlining their figures and tightly enveloping the two of them in a quiet, isolated space.
His gaze fell quietly on the page in Opesha's hands, or perhaps, on her profile: "Amra, the Angel of Destiny," he said, "Eternally pursuing perfection, yet never finding a perfect angel."
"Do you know this angel?" Opesa held up the book and pointed at the angel on it. "What does it say?"
"Legend has it that Amra is the first angel on God's left hand, in charge of destiny. She was born with seven asymmetrical wings. A perfectionist, she is always striving for perfection, and therefore deeply disgusted with her appearance.
"So one day, she asked God: My beloved, Supreme Lord, why do I have seven imperfect wings? Please give me six or eight perfect wings!
"But God just smiled and said nothing. He neither answered nor fulfilled her wish."
After explaining the story from the book, Cinderella paused, his eyes drifting to the side. "What a pitiful angel! Even if he holds the fate of all living beings in his hands, he cannot control the fate of his seven wings."
"No. God has actually answered her doubts." Opesa shook her head. "I don't know if fate is predetermined. But fate is definitely imperfect. No one can have smooth sailing, not even the angel in charge of fate.
"I think this is what God wants her to know. She can decide people's fate, but she can't prevent life and death, nor can she prevent accidents. Everyone is affected by various factors." Opesa closed the book and put it back on the bookshelf. "As an angel in charge of fate, she should be more aware of this and accept her own imperfections."
Xindrel remained silent, his gaze returning to her profile illuminated by the firelight: "Then you..." He hesitated and said, "...Do you think I can do it?"
Don’t be entangled by the past and be yourself.
"Hmm?" Opesa turned to look at him, her purple eyes soft. "My daughter can do anything."
Sinderel's eyes darkened instantly.
He suppressed his emotions and lowered his head,
No.
He is not a woman at all.
No matter what, she wouldn't even look at him straight in the eye.
He suddenly had a morbid idea.
The candle wax was like beads that had broken off the string, continuously dripping onto his fair hands. His skin was visibly scalded red, and even had slight burns, but he never frowned.
He deliberately lowered his hand and turned back to continue looking for a book.
My wrist was quickly grabbed, turned, and then pulled. "...What's wrong with your hand?"
He tilted his eyes slightly, pulled his hand away, and said nothing.
His hand was grabbed again, "Don't you feel the pain?"
"It doesn't hurt," he said. "I'm used to it."
As soon as he pulled his hand out, Opesa grabbed his collar and pulled him hard onto the bookshelf.
The bookshelf made a crashing sound, and even a few books were knocked directly to the ground. His back pressed against the uneven bookshelf, and although he didn't feel any pain, he still subconsciously frowned.
Opesa stood in front of him. He lowered his head and saw that her hands were supporting the bookshelf, forming a fragile circle.
She raised her eyes unhappily, her pearl earrings flickering in the flickering candlelight. "Listen, I don't know if you've ever tried to please anyone this way before, but to me, I'd think you're so incompetent you can't even protect yourself."
She is stunningly beautiful.
Sinderel could not hear anything and only looked at her hair illuminated by candlelight in a trance, like an angel surrounded by holy light.
Fortunately, he kept many traces of her.
He also succeeded.
In this way, he tests, asks, and pretends to be pitiful.
This method is heretical. Believers will not harm this body created by God, and this will not be allowed by God.
It doesn't matter. The days of pretending to be believers are long gone.
What is God? God has never shown him mercy.
He only believes in the people in front of him.
He was an extreme madman, stubborn, extreme, selfish, and he could only use this method to keep her, all her care and consideration.
He knows it, and he won't change.
This kind of pain is nothing. Compared with the abuse inflicted on me by those people before, it is completely painless.
He continued to pretend and whispered, "Okay."
Opesa put down her hand and breathed a sigh of relief: "If you understand, remember it. Even if we are not related by blood, I don't want to have a fool like you as my daughter."
Because she had no earrings to shield her, she could only choose her words carefully to avoid causing the system to lower its viciousness value and assign tasks.
She didn't want to be disturbed by the system anymore.
She didn't notice that Sindriel's expression, which had been relaxed, turned gloomy again.
After a while, he slowly withdrew from a certain state and his hands dropped naturally.
He simply brushed away the solidified wax tears on the back of his hand, paying no attention to the burns. The redness and slight burns on his fair skin seemed to have no effect on him.
He simply said, "It's time to go," his voice calm and low, as if everything that had just happened in the library was just a trivial matter.
His eyes were still deep and calm, making it impossible to peek into his inner thoughts. Opesa looked at him, her heart full of doubts.
She didn't know what Xindrell's true intentions were, nor did she understand why his expression suddenly changed.
The origins of these books are definitely not simple, and they are definitely not ordinary books.
She was not a fool. The abstract characters and images of various gods and ghosts were enough to show that these had nothing to do with her usual cognition.
He wasn't here to investigate the Chosen One.
He is investigating himself.
She couldn't be sure whether the direction of Sinderel's investigation was good or bad. Sinderel was too dangerous and too uncontrollable. Even if she had some trust now, she couldn't guarantee her complete safety.
Furthermore, she was a pawn forced into a sphere of influence. Once Sinderel knew the truth, she would surely break free and tear herself apart.
Thinking of this, Opesa clenched her hands.
Try to keep it secret.
Anyway, she will be gone soon, and what happens after that will have nothing to do with her.
Opesa and Sinderel followed the narrow passage and crawled out of the claustrophobic and depressing underground library step by step.
They sneaked out of the bookstore. The street was covered with dusk.
Perhaps because they were both worried, the atmosphere between them became tense on the way home. People were coming and going on the street, but they seemed to be in another world.
Opesa silently watched the crowds outside the carriage, while Sinderel drove in front, and their respective thoughts quietly spread in their hearts.
Sinderel remained silent and distant, and Opesa also remained silent.
This strange atmosphere continued for a while, and finally, someone broke the silence: "You, what's your name?"
Opesa looked ahead at the blond boy facing the setting sun, with a dark shadow behind him.
"Real name."
"My name is really Opesha." Opesha laughed at herself. "What a coincidence, right? But my name is really Opesha. But I also have a Chinese name, which I haven't used for a long time. It's called Jian Yue."
"Chinese?"
"Yes, that is the language of the country where I was born. It is a very large and happy country."
"What's your name? Jane..." Sinderel tried to pronounce the name which was difficult for him to pronounce, but after trying for a long time, he still couldn't pronounce it.
"Jian Yue."
Opesa taught him to pronounce his name, slowing down her voice and stretching out the syllables.
Under the setting sun, the boy clumsily pronounced her name like a child learning to speak: "Jian Yue..."
"Yes." Opesa smiled, "Jian Yue."
Jian Yue.
Her name took hold of his heart and brain with an almost morbid presence.
He didn't know which two words they were, nor did he know what Chinese was, but he knew that this was the only thing about "her".
He was the only person in the world who knew her name.
only.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
