Crown of Silence

The church reception room was in a mess.

Everything on the table was swept to the ground.

Lang Di lied on the table, naked. Under the candlelight, the tragic wound between the waist and abdomen was exposed. The wound was white due to excessive blood loss, smooth as a mirror, as if it was cut by a sharp blade. From the waist to the chest, the bones were vaguely exposed.

The priest poured half a bottle of strong liquor on Lang Di's wound, and he screamed in pain. Then, he roasted a crochet needle over the candlelight until the tip of the needle turned red, then strung the thread and began to sew the wound.

Gradually, he noticed that Langdi's pupils were dilated: "Have you used medicine on yourself?"

"No way, it hurts too much." Langdi pulled the corner of his mouth: "I injected half a mandala, it only relieves pain, it won't be addictive, don't worry...but don't we have better medical conditions?"

Bane responded indifferently: "There is no gel, no blood transfusion equipment, and no shadowless lamp here, we can only suture and bandage you."

Another shot went down, Langdi howled in pain, reminding Bane of the dog that Ye Qingxuan raised.

Langdi's expression twitched: "Father, don't you have a hymn to heal the wound?"

"I'm just an ordinary clergyman, you have to find a 'chanter' who is proficient in 'hymns'." After that, the priest injected another shot, which made Langdi couldn't help but take a breath again: "Can't you help me find one?"

"The nearest one is two hundred kilometers away." Bane said calmly: "I'm the only priest in this town, give up."

Langdi's eyes suddenly went dark.

"How is the war situation at the front?" the priest suddenly asked.

"It's still so bad, still in confrontation, because of the relics, this war has been fought for a hundred years, it seems that it will continue..."

He panted: "Now the people on both sides are in an arms race. It is said that the contemporary Mr. Chopin has secretly arrived at the front, and the contemporary Mr. Brahms is organizing talks between the two sides on behalf of the neutral country... but there is probably no result yet."

After listening, Bane did not ask any more questions, but just said lightly, "Is that so." This made Wolf Flute, who had a lot of things to say, feel even more depressed.

While suturing, Bane's movements suddenly paused. He used tweezers to pick out a very thin piece of iron from the wound. The iron piece was sharp and thin as paper. It was stuck in the bone, as if it had grown there originally, and it was difficult to pull out.

"What's going on?"

"The wanted black musician."

Wolf Flute smiled bitterly: "I met him on the way here. He should be a follower of the evil god. I was careless for a moment and was ambushed."

"Can you confirm who it is? The followers of the Hundred Eyes are all out in groups."

"He was alone. I only heard the sound of the clarinet. Otherwise, I couldn't escape." Wolf Flute panted: "I remember that song..."

He recalled and closed his eyes. It was like returning to the fog where you couldn't see your hand in front of your face again, and there were countless flying water droplets, like a rainstorm, flying up in the sharp music...

"The song is based on Cromer's variations, solo, OP.74."

Wolf Flute gritted his teeth and finally recalled the information in the record:

"--He is the 'Rain Master'."

--

"Holy, holy, holy! Almighty God,

In the morning, my singing voices penetrate the clouds and reach the Supreme..."

Wolf Flute was awakened by the chanting of hymns in the church. He opened his eyes, only to feel the sharp pain of the wound, blurry vision, thirsty and hungry, the situation was so bad that he wanted to die...

"Teacher, you lied to me."

Lang Di's voice was a little choked: "Who said that they would not regret it after a trip!?"

"Sir, are you awake?"

In his dizzy vision, a white-haired boy appeared. He was holding a plate and water on the ground.

Lang Di had no time to pay attention to the boy's white hair with obvious oriental features, his eyes were attracted by the food.

After a hearty meal of eating and drinking, he was finally satisfied. Recalling the ups and downs along the way and the high spirits at the beginning, Lang Di couldn't help but sigh:

"Most people will find that the things they never regretted came from mistakes, but it was too late when they found out."

"Maxwell, "Refutation of Independence", Chapter 2."

Beside the bed, the silent boy took over the conversation.

"Hmm?" Lang Di was stunned. He just realized the boy's presence and felt a little embarrassed: "Uh, sorry... Have you read that book?" "It's in the library. I saw it when I was copying other books." Ye Qingxuan smiled: "I just read it. Many of the principles in the book are very profound and difficult to understand." Lang Di blushed a little. After all, this was a course he had to cram for last year under the supervision of his teacher, and he hadn't finished it yet... "The priest said you need to rest here for a while. If you feel bored, I can help you find some books to read."

"No, I get a headache when I see books."

Lang Di rubbed his forehead, feeling a little distressed, and soon his eyes lit up: "You know how to spell, right?" He grabbed Ye Qingxuan's hand, his eyes sincere: "Do me a favor! Otherwise I'm dead!"

"Uh, please. I'll try my best."

Lang Di waved his hands excitedly, and the movement pulled the wound, causing him to grimace in pain, but he still forced himself to smile: "As you can see... I feel like dying when I raise my hands now, can you help me write a few letters?"

Ye Qingxuan nodded, and after finding paper and pen, he listened to Lang Di's dictation.

Wolf Flute coughed twice and then brewed for a while, his expression suddenly softened, and his voice was soft: "Dear Milena, my rose, it has been a month since I left you..."

Ye Qingxuan couldn't help but get goosebumps from the moment Wolf Flute started speaking. A letter that was filled with all the disgusting words in English was three thousand words long, so much so that Ye Qingxuan couldn't help but relax after writing it. Take a breath.

it is finally over!

"Ahem, here comes the second letter."

Langdi blinked his eyes and looked at his green face: "Dear Ailian, my rose, it has been a month since I left you..."

"Wait! This is exactly the same as the content of the last letter, right? And Ailian and Milena are two girls, right?!" Ye Qingxuan was stunned: "You have two people?"

"No, no, I'm just dating three girls at the same time."

"……You rock!"

After finishing the three letters, Ye Qingxuan found that Lang Flute had no intention of stopping and continued: "Dear Mr. Sebastian, my..."

"...Your rose? You don't even let men go?!"

"my teacher!"

Langdi's face also turned green, he didn't know what he was thinking.

"Ahem, pretend I didn't say that."

Ye Qingxuan buried his head in copying in embarrassment.

The only good thing is that the letter this time was unexpectedly simple, with only a few sentences. However, after so many years of copying, this was the first time Ye Qingxuan felt a sense of relief that it was "finally over."

"Okay, thank you friend."

Langdi nodded with satisfaction and patted his shoulder: "I haven't asked for advice yet. Are you?"

"Ye, Ye Qingxuan."

"Oriental? No wonder." Langdi glanced at his white hair, nodded and said, "No matter who you are, you have helped me a lot. I will put in a good word for you at the priest's place."

"Good words?" Ye Qingxuan tilted his head and looked at him: "Do you think it is useful?"

"Uh, sure."

Langdi thought of the priest's cold and stern face made of copper and iron, and he felt helpless: "Then I have no way to repay you. You see, the priest helped me pay for the car when I came here." Right now, the only one poorer than me is Angelou, who has borrowed 60 million in national debt.”

Hearing what he said, Ye Qingxuan suddenly laughed:

"You are a musician, I guessed it right?"

Langdi was stunned. He recalled what he had said, but it seemed that he had not revealed his identity.

Ye Qingxuan stretched out his hand and pointed at the leather case on his bedside, and half of the metal flute was exposed from it. Although it looks simple, it has a special dignified texture and is obviously expensive.

"Okay, you guessed it."

Wolf Flute took out the flute, turned it skillfully in his hand to show him, and pressed the hole: "Do you recognize it?"

Ye Qingxuan shook his head: "The shape does not look like an Eastern flute, and it is also different from the ones I know."

"This is an instrument from my hometown, and it is not widely circulated."

The wolf flute plays the flute. "It is said that this kind of recorder was first handed down by the ancient Semitic people, called 'Nei'. They lived in the desert, so it makes the sound of wind and sand when played."

He saw some expectation in the eyes of the young man in front of him, and immediately smiled. He raised the recorder to his lips, played a few simple notes with the fingers of his left hand.

Then, a clear and simple voice sounded.

For a moment, all the noisy sounds that Ye Qingxuan was accustomed to disappeared. The sound of wind, water, distant footsteps, and even his own breathing fell silent.

Then the notes sounded, like wind blowing from a deep cave, carrying a desolate atmosphere. Just like dry reed leaves vibrating in the wind and sand, iron pieces rubbing against the sand and gravel, they vibrate in the room with lingering echoes before disappearing without a trace.

In front of Ye Qingxuan, silver dust emerged out of thin air and vaguely condensed into a vague shadow of a wolf. The wolf's eyes glanced at Ye Qingxuan as if they had spirituality, and then withdrew their gaze. As the notes vibrated, they turned around and disappeared in the breeze.

In an instant, everything ended, just like an illusion.

Silence returns.

Soon, Wolf Flute coughed in a low voice, and the movement of his heart touched the wound, making him take two breaths of cold air.

Next to him, the white-haired young man stretched out his hand to fish in the air, as if trying to find where the silver wolf was hiding. He found nothing, but he couldn't help but smile on his face.

Smiling with longing and satisfaction.

"That's great," he said softly.

"You want to be a musician?"

Wolf Flute suddenly understood and blurted out. But suddenly I felt a little sad. He understood why Ben asked him to take care of him - that bastard priest didn't want him to give him hope, but wanted him to expose it.

"That's right."

Ye Qingxuan held out hope: "Do you think it's possible?"

Wolf Flute pondered, and for a long time, he slowly shook his head.

"Sorry, Ye."

Langdi lowered his eyes, not wanting to see the young man's disappointed expression:

"——You have no talent."