He remembered that she always liked to draw things.

From a distance, she looks no different from an ordinary painter, but up close, everything she paints melts into the paper piece by piece in an almost abstract and exaggerated brushstroke.

She's not normal. That was his first reaction.

The bespectacled man, a governess that his father had hired for him, reminded him categorically that you should stay away from the girl.

Why? He always had to ask.

Because......

A melody of piano disrupted their conversation. Attracted by the strange sound of the piano, he stepped along, stepping up a few stairs with ease.

Twelve years old, it's not an exaggeration to say that he is in adolescence, and he likes to pretend to be handsome and cool in front of girls. No matter how strange the girl was, he still showed his charm.

So he wanted to make a cool turn, but he didn't stand still and rolled down the stairs. Listening to the sound of 'clucking', his heart also went up and down. Oh, the boy really can't care about the itch easily, so his first reaction is not whether it is broken, but that I am not cool enough.

Immature. She held down the keys, dragging a long, grotesque tail.

Immature. She said it again, saying that she had long since seen through his intentions.

But he was only twelve years old, and he couldn't mature immediately. Speaking of which, she is seventeen years old. Talking to a person who is five years younger than herself about whether a man is naïve or mature, she can clearly feel that she is also, how to say, naïve.

Ah, forgive her lack of words, who let her grow up in Japan since she was a child, and did not reverse the order of a sentence, and said it appallingly, it is already worthy of our thumbs up, what flowery words do you expect to pop out of her mouth?

As she thought, he quickly stood up and sat on the handle of the stairs in a bohemian young master posture, cool and tugging. Actually, it's stupid, it's just because he's good-looking, not so stupid.

But still stupid.

For dinner, he said he wanted to go out for a walk. The night sky in Ireland is always a thought-provoking place to be inspired to write poetry. The ghost also knows that he hates this kind of crepe thing the most, and he is very good at some logical knowledge, composing poetry, who is he fooling?

My father didn't eat him, and reminded me not to forget how you were festering all over your body in the summer of five years ago.

Porphyria. He also specially said it in French, and he also said that it was yin and yang.

Another of his governesses in Ireland told his father that you should be glad that he was still looking forward to the outside world and that he still had a desire to explore.

This sentence was to wake up his father, who was only twelve years old.

His father relented once and let him out. Of course, he didn't compose poetry, nor did he appreciate the night sky that he had been complimenting like a sycophant just now, he was just looking for it.

Looking for someone in this world who can accommodate him, oh no, you see, his vocabulary is also not very appropriate, it should be, looking for someone who can accept him.

As for why he said acceptance, it's not that he blames it. He's very good-looking, with a standard 'handsome face', who doesn't like to laugh, but is eye-catching enough. Height is also dominant, and the personality is lively. At the age of twelve, you can get offe in well-known competitions

What is this concept? It's genius.

However, there was one thing that bothered him. He suffers from a rare disease, a terminal illness for which there is no cure, porphyria.

Speaking of which, someone doesn't know how to pronounce these three words at all, don't worry, you can't pronounce it, and he is not in the mood to teach you how to pronounce it. He will just give you a disdainful glance and then explain to you what the disease is all about.

Forgive him for his arrogance, after all, he's only twelve, isn't he? Who hasn't been twelve yet? Who hasn't rebelled at twelve?

Night, always silently. It is a color that is almost black, but it is not all black. The darkness was all-encompassing, mixed with mysterious, unknown colors waiting for him to explore.

Because of porphyria, his life is diametrically opposed to that of others. Someone else's day is his night, and someone else's night is his day.

From the time he could remember until he was eight years old, he didn't think there was anything wrong with that. But you have to know that when a person begins to become conscious, to be able to perceive that he is contrary to everything around him, he will waver. He wants to be like everyone else, he wants him to be in other people's daytime, he doesn't want him to be alone in his daytime.

Of course, he is working tirelessly to do what he said.

I forgot to tell you a secret, his idol when he was a child was Rainie Yang, the gentle singer and actor with beautiful tear moles. He bought her photo, and there was a sentence on it that said: "Hard work may not have results, but no effort will definitely not have results." ”

He relied on this sentence to constantly change himself, but the result almost killed him. Porphyria is destined to wrap themselves in darkness, and that's where they go. Like vampires, when exposed to sunlight, their whole body will fester. Of course, this is serious, but the symptoms are milder, and it is not much better. So, how hard do you say he works?

He has been to the United States, Ireland, Switzerland, Canada, England, France, and even Cape Verde, a country where he doesn't often hear names, and all the doctors have told him to avoid it as much as possible, or to say it strongly, to avoid direct contact with the sun, so what do you think he should do?

Fortunately, his thoughts were not as sad as we adults see, after all, he was still a child.

As his tutor said, he still has expectations for the world.

And what he didn't know at the time was that she, the girl he was going to pretend to be cool in front of, had lost the purest thoughts of all things in this world.

She had nothing to want and nothing to be interested in. Her paintings, her paintings...... She didn't know what she was drawing, in short, when she was painting, her heart was always tugging at her, as if someone had opened a long hole in her heart, spilling blood.

But you can't die, you can't die.

From the day of her sixteenth birthday, she conspired with her adoptive mother to commit suicide and murder after murder, battling wits with her family.

Eventually, they were exhausted. They had a personal doctor and they said about her, what was going on with her, oh yes, she had a mental problem.

That is, on her seventeenth birthday, after her birthday, she really turned seventeen.

That year, July 19th, her birthday.

When Zhao Yilun walked out, he happened to run into Lin Weisheng.

Two people who are at the edge of the world are like each other, just like that, they meet.