【Shadou】Alternative of the same kind

He himself didn't live very long.

Shelan Udos knew that in the era when he was alive, singing and dancing dramas had not been replaced by novel amateur life, he wore elegant suits, and for various purposes, subjectively or objectively, waited for the "beauties" who had been dressed up for a long time, walked into the In a magnificent or technological theater, thinking about how to open up the topic and let the other party's thoughts twist and turn according to their own goals...

And the damn jokes he was reluctant to prepare.

He had a sense of humor forgot how many fucking jerks gave him advice.

But now, Silan Udos doesn't know how to dress...

Well, largely because he hasn't had the chance to go to the theater for decades, and of course, because he has expressed no interest in it.

Ruyi someone asked him, these decades?Is it the ten years you died?

He won't admit it, he chooses to deny it, he told himself many times:

"You've always been alive."

He said it again to himself, like the majestic theocracy of the Middle Ages, the pope holds the royal staff in his left hand, his right hand points to your lips, and the crown on his head is shining brightly.

What he said was dogma to those believers, it was authority - ridiculous, isn't it?Shelan Udos has no faith.

Then his own hypnosis and suggestion are his own truth.

He stopped thinking and stared at the emptying of the closet.

"Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom"

Salaman heard the knock on the door. He didn't know that this regular sound should not belong to him. It was just a damn child's damn habit. Those who accepted the habit would have died in the crack of falling from high altitude.

"Oh, it's you, sir."

Salaman wondered why this man, who should be meticulous in his temperament, wore a pair of home clothes and a pair of suit trousers...a collar...and why there was another shirt with a gilded pendant vest inside his shirt ...?!

"Pfft—" Salaman couldn't help laughing, and then covered his mouth as if realizing something.

"What are you laughing at?" Shelan Udos pretended not to understand, but he put on a poker face and tried hard to maintain his image.

"Ah, no... I'm sorry for being so rude... What's the matter, sir?"

"You can tell by looking at it?" He said while tugging at his messy collar, "tell me what to wear."

Salaman really thought that this was an Englishman from the distant Middle Ages, and he also thought he was really cute.

The train ran with a roar, leaving behind a blurred car body that disappeared in front of people's eyes at the speed of light, and the fiery red hair was blown.

There are already a few lights on the street, and people walking hurriedly carry bags or hold documents, or just tighten their clothes, all of them are walking quickly towards their destination, as if the surrounding things have nothing to do with them, regardless of the wind. Slapped himself in the face.

"To be honest, I didn't expect you to agree to watch the drama." Salaman's body temperature was not blown away by the cold wind, and he was so happy that he couldn't stand it.

"Oh? Then if I don't agree, who are you going to invite?" Shelan Udos was curious about the kid's thoughts.

"Well... Mom... But she won't be back in time, and she won't be attending... You know she's busy as hell... And I have a nice store owner... Or Dad, but I haven't seen him in a long time..." The more he said, the lower his voice, "Ah...and mom is busy with his things..."

"I'm sorry." He knew he had asked the wrong question, that a person's scar should not bleed again for words.

"No...it's nothing, you see, that's why I want to thank you." Salaman was happy again.

The road became lively, with children shouting loudly, and parents of various professions, some telling their children to be graceful, and some began to talk about the history of drama, as if they wanted to teach their children a lesson.

Shelan Udos can scoff at that education.

"Hey, isn't this Salaman!" Ke Moqi rushed over enthusiastically. At first, Shelan Udos thought it was a classmate who often bullied him, but he dismissed it after seeing Salaman's helpless and embarrassed expression Think about it.

"You are really amazing! The script was actually selected, did you let your family see your results?"

"Ah, no..." Salamander paused, "No... I did bring him to see it."

Saying that, Salaman turned his gaze to Sandraar.

But Mo Qi saw a young man with an ultramarine color standing in the crowd, but he was different, he was not close to strangers, and he was alone for a hundred years. He looked at those golden eyes and his facial features, and felt that despite his temperament, he Just a child, the same age as them, a student sitting in the same classroom.

"This is, your brother?" Ke Moqi had doubts about Shelan Udos' age.

"No." The unexpectedly deserted voice played with a little teenage rhythm, which is the sound of nature.

"Ah...Ke Mochi, he's my...neighbor."

The door of the theater was pushed open with a bang, and parents entered one after another, led by their children. The children showed their student ID cards and went in to find their own seats. There was a bustling crowd, the smell of luxury perfume, the smell of new shampoo, and various The smell of thick rouge, all, all mixed together, kneaded into a ball, as if to be wrung into the bone marrow, and can no longer be separated.

Elshid crushed the marrow and separated it.

He smelled those once cold, bloody, proud... those... smells that can last forever just once.

He knows that that person is here, in this theater, and someone is sitting safely in a seat that does not belong to him, or watching with a cold eye, or watching with the world.

—He had been waiting for that smell for a long time.

"France, you know where my country is!"

Shelan Udos rested his head in difficulty as if he was about to fall asleep. He didn't like these empty lines, or in other words, he simply hated these blind patriots who were always involved with the country.

"The author of this play is Fronster, who is in Class C of the second grade. It is mainly about a person who has received American military education to be favored by the United States, and then..."

"Then offered him a lot of money and beauties to stay, but that silly boy sneaked back to France because he said he was patriotic, isn't that true?" Salaman felt that Sandraar's face was uglier than that of black people.

"Ah... how do you know?"

"Do you think everyone is stupid?"

"You mean I'm stupid?"

"Did you understand?"

Salaman was so trained that he couldn't answer a word, so he simply sighed and watched the drama without saying a word. To be honest, it was really boring.

"Hey."

"what happened?"

"If your kid's script is that boring, get ready to die."

Salaman is a little proud, not arrogance, but true strength brings confidence from the bottom of the heart.

Yes, in his script, the history and the past were all told by the person in front of him, and they were deeply imprinted in his mind in a personal tone. Salaman felt that the strong sense of the picture was not any teacher. Can catch up.

—So, what exactly does he do?

This question came from an instant, like a bolt from the blue.

He doesn't know this neighbor, but the other party seems to know him very well. This is an unfair communication process, and no one knows who is taking advantage.

Elshid leaned quietly against the load-bearing stone pillar, and he was very happy, not because those bad plays gave people a mocking pleasure.

The ultramarine-colored young man was very familiar to him. To put it absolutely, he remembered every word and every action of that person, which area he commanded in the first few wars, how many civilians he cried for, and why he He was beaten up by his superiors and his companions.

This is hindsight memory, this is faith.

They have lived for too long, so long that everything has settled down, thinking that they have forgotten everything, but those forgotten pasts buried in time are all dug out one by one by themselves in the long and boring life, and they are completely remembered.

"It's you."

Elshid heard the protagonist on the stage meet a lover he once knew.

Ah, so did he, his teeth creaking, and he found the same lonely kind in the long solitude.

"Oh, okay, thank you for the provider of this drama..." Shelan Udos' thoughts were pulled back by the host's voice.

"The following is the last performance of this New Year's drama performance..."

The lights searched for targets, and the last six lights shone on Salaman at the same time, which frightened Shelan Udos. He hurriedly retreated, for fear that the light would shine on him.

"We are very honored to have such a talented new star of masterpieces. In my personal opinion, he is an existence beyond Shakespeare!"

There will be no one in Western Europe who disapproves of Shakespeare, and Salaman received not only applause, but also admiration.

He introduced himself, saluted slowly, but sat down hastily. It could be seen that this young man was still unable to calm down after receiving the honor. Shelan Udos saw in his eyes that this young man who was like a beam of light was not good. heat.

The story takes place two months before the battle of Verdun. A soldier who has experienced the war participated in the recruitment of the new campaign. No one will worry about him because he has nothing.

Lonely people are often strong because they have nothing to lose, in other words, they never lose.

He was sent to the general headquarters, a small soldier who has gone through the battlefield but did not leave. If the high-level, he does not need to fight anymore, he just rushes to sort out the information and make plans. There is no chance of brushing against death. Instead, it was empty.

Maybe it's a different kind of post-war post-traumatic disorder.

"Miss, do you know that during the civil war in the Middle East, every underground air-raid shelter I walked through was strewn with corpses?"

"Brother, my military uniform is not clean. The smell of blood is so strong that it will never go away."

With no war, no reason to live, he sat in his place in the accusation room, a rag doll, with empty holes for eyes and cotton stuffed brain.

Shelan Udos smelled a familiar smell, fresh and liquid food, exuding a bewitching and threatening smell.

There was nothing in front of his eyes, only his sense of smell was searching for the direction—from the outside.

"Salaman, stay here and don't go out."

Shelan Udos put his hand on his shoulder, and before Salaman could answer, he ran a long way.

There is nothing on the bustling streets, and the rows of houses block the moonlight, and the cast shadows divide the land into sharp edges and corners.It seems that everything is just an illusion, there is no blood, no killing, because everything is cut by the shadow together.

He looked around, his hair blowing in the cold wind.

Shelan Udos' body temperature is not high, but for the zero-degree air, it is enough to form a warm current of a smile. A few strands spread upwards, and a few clusters fall down, but they all surround him and will not leave.

Elshid envied the air that surrounded his body.

"Sandral!" Elshid's eyes were filled with indescribable surprise, he looked for the sound, and the fiery red boy rushed over panting.

"Why are you here?"

"Didn't I tell you not to come out?"

When Salaman confronts him, he always chooses to compromise. From the bottom of his heart, he feels that every bit of the person in front of him is more important than himself, and he doesn't know why.

"Forget it, it's nothing, just go back."

Speaking of Salaman took Shelan Udos's hand away, he was not surprised by the coldness that was not unexpected, but the coldness transmitted by the skin made him shudder reflexively.

Returning to the stage, the spotlight turns cold, and the holy faux snow covers the horrific post-war corpse.

"Great, we caught up with the ending."

He saw Sandral nodding.

You haven't described the appearance of the male lead yet, have you?Ordinary, brown-orange hair is clean and neat, deep-set eyes, tall and strong, this is a standard soldier, he carries a dilapidated luggage under his cloak, with a lot of bullets in it, a war, he took away The supply of the dead, that is the proof that they lived.

He survived in the end, unable to bear the loneliness of commanding, and the other kind of sequelae made him set foot on the battlefield again.

"You said, how did you survive?"

He heard someone asking himself, and then the audience was silent, waiting for the protagonist's answer, he spoke—but the curtain fell.

This is a battle without an answer.

"He survived, this is a happy ending." Salaman is used to the applause, which is his affirmation.

There is dust of history in the golden eyes.

People came out of the theater one after another, chatting, tentatively setting today's performance as a day-to-day chat in the future.

Elshid's memory lingered on Salaman's words.

"Candral."

"fraud."

"robber."

"The thief."

That's not his name, he's committing a crime.

"Mr. Cendral thinks... how will the protagonist respond?"

The one called Cendral did not hear.

"Shelan Udos, why are you alive?"

He gritted his teeth.

"Live, in order to know why you have to live."

------------TBC------------