During the night, the team's snowmobile stopped on the side of the road to rest.

The headlights were still on, and the yellowish light silently shone on the snow on the road.

The wind was a little strong in the night, but De Rosso walked out of the carriage alone.

He stood in the snow for a moment and took out a medicine bottle from his pocket.

If it weren't for his pale face and trembling palms, perhaps no one would have known how much pain he had.

Of course, the same is true now, at least unbeknownst to the hirers that he will be dying in a few months.

"Click." De Rosso took a pill from the vial and put it in his mouth.

After taking the pill, he pulled out the oxygen tank around his waist again. After taking a few deep breaths of oxygen, his face slowly improved.

In the snow, De Rosso gasped feebly for a while, then put his hands in his pockets and stood quietly, looking up at the starry night sky.

At the end of the canyon, the endless snowfield seems to be connected to the sky, and De Rosso is the only figure on this snow-white surface.

What people looked up at before the disaster should be such a starry sky.

Standing between the Milky Way and the snow and ice, Derosso thought in a trance.

His gaze became more and more engrossed, as if he could see the former scene in the starlight.

"The world before the disaster must have been beautiful······

The boy muttered to himself.

"It's okay." At this moment, a voice suddenly appeared behind him.

This startled De Roso, and he hurriedly turned around, only to see Yanagihara sitting on the top of the carriage, his legs folded together in boredom, shaking gently.

At this time, Yanagihara looked quiet, his hands propped up by his side, and his face was expressionless.

"Hara, Ms. Hara."

De Rosso smiled slightly awkwardly and said hello.

"Hmm." Yanagihara replied, bowing his head and looking at De Roso.

"Haven't you told them about your dying?"

"Not yet." De Rosso smiled bitterly and shook his head: "Otherwise, I'm afraid they will refuse to accept my commission." ”

"Then aren't you afraid that they will give up the commission when they find out?" Yanagihara asked again.

"When we get to the eastern ice wall, I'll pay all the money and let them go." De Rosso shrugged his shoulders, clearly not caring about it.

This time, he didn't think about returning to the greenhouse alive.

The voices on the snow were silent for a moment.

Suddenly, Yanagihara patted the seat next to him and said, "Do you want to come up and sit?" ”

"Yes, but I can't get up." De Rosso glanced helplessly at the roof of the car and sighed with a smile.

"I'll help you."

With that, Yanagihara jumped out of the car and walked to De Rosso's side.

In De Roso's stunned gaze, she placed her hands on his waist and lifted him high. As if holding a child, he was lifted to the side of the roof of the car.

"Climb up." Yanagihara said.

"I, huh······" De Rosso came back to his senses and smiled weakly, but still put his hands on the roof of the car and climbed up little by little.

"Ms. Yuan, I'll be very shameless if you do this."

"Will it?"

"Hmm."

"Then you can climb faster."

"Aren't I working on it?"

······

After some time, Yanagihara and De Rosso were both sitting on the roof of the car.

Instead of standing on the snow, the view from the roof is noticeably wider, so much so that even the sky seems to be closer.

De Roso looked into the distance, and seemed to be in a good mood. This is obviously a rare thing for a patient like him.

"Listen to Maika, they say, you want to go to the Eastern Ice Mural for a painting?"

The evening breeze was blowing, and by De Rosso's side, Yanagihara asked out loud.

"Hmm." Speaking of this, De Rosso smiled again and nodded affirmatively.

"What kind of painting?" Yanagihara's tone was light, like an oncoming wind, with a hint of coolness.

"Ms. Hara, do you want to see it?" De Roso raised his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth slightly hooked, and a gentle smile on his face.

"If you can." Yanagihara did not deny it.

She really wanted to see what kind of painting it was, so that the young man in front of her was willing to give his last life for it.

"Give." De Rosso lowered his head, took a picture from his bosom, and handed it to Yanagihara.

"That's it, I'm going to paint it on that ice wall."

Yanagihara took the photo, and the view from it made her stunned for a moment.

It wasn't until a long time later that she blinked and returned the photo to De Rosso.

"It's beautiful."

Yanagihara's calm voice seemed to have a rare slight fluctuation.

She couldn't remember how long it had been since she had seen such a sight, and for a moment, she almost thought she was back in time.

Unfortunately, it's just a little bit.

"Really?" De Rosso smiled proudly.

"It's going to be a great piece."

As he spoke, the young man looked at the snowfield in the distance again, his eyes distant and peaceful.

"And how honored I am to be able to write for it."

The galaxy shines, and everything is quiet.

Ryu originally thought that the conversation between her and the boy was over.

Who knows, Drosso suddenly asked again.

"By the way, Ms. Hara, have you seen the scene before the disaster?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because you just gave me an answer."

While I was talking to myself. The boy thought helplessly.

"Well, I've seen some." Yanagihara paused for a moment and gave an ambiguous answer.

De Rosso subconsciously thought that she had seen the pre-disaster records in some books, and then asked excitedly.

"Was the world really warm before the disaster?"

"Hmm." Yanagihara silently recalled it in his heart, but he couldn't recall that warm feeling anymore, so he could only state lightly.

"Before a big hole appears in the sky."

"A big hole in the sky?" De Rosso apparently didn't know what it was.

"Right in that direction." Yanagihara raised his hand and said calmly, pointing to the south.

"The sky was once cracked, and there was a hole that stretched out as far as the eye could see."

Is that so?

De Rosso looked in the direction of Yanagihara's finger, and it seemed that there was nothing there, at least for now.

"And then?" De Rosso continued.

"Then the sky was covered with smoke and ashes, the planet lost most of the sunlight, the cold snap came, the ice and snow buried everything, and humanity had to enter a dark age."

Yanagihara said slowly, his voice unfazed, as if he was really just recounting a piece of history.

It's just that her eyes are always lowered.

In those dark eyes, it seems that people can see the dark years.

"Did the darkness last long?"

De Rosso was a little distracted by Yanagihara, who had never known about the history of mankind, so he had never known about the past, which had been sealed in the dust for too long.

"For a long time." Yanagihara put down his hand: "It's been so long that people have almost forgotten what the sun looks like. ”

It was a full century, the darkest century after the catastrophe.

The funny thing is that people at that time still believed in themselves and believed that they could change the fate of the race.

So in the darkness, greenhouses were built and the first rays of light were lit on the ice sheets.

That light was once called faith.

Countless people burst into tears, countless people fought for it, countless people gave their lives for it, and countless people went forward to succeed it.

In exchange for now, this almost dead silence continues.

It's a pity, isn't it, the light finally came.

But on the eve of the dawn, the faith of mankind also collapsed.

"And what happened then?" De Rosso's voice rang out again.

"Later, there is no later." Yanagihara sat on the roof of the car and raised his eyes to look at the night sky.

It seems that the age of mankind has come to an end at that time.

"That's not right." At this time, De Rosso suddenly retorted.

Yanagihara was stunned for a moment, then turned his head to look at him.

"What's wrong?"

"Later, it should have been the light."

De Rosso said with great certainty, looking back at Yanagihara and smiling and giving a thumbs up.

"After all, all stories deserve a good ending, right?"

He believed so, because at this moment, there was a bright starry light in front of him.

He believed so, because he had seen the sparkle of this era.

In his teacher's paintings, in his own eyes.

Yanagihara looked at him in amazement, half loudly, but suddenly smiled.

In that smile, there seemed to be some helplessness, like some compromise, and like some recognition.

"Whatever you want." She said.

He turned his head to look into the distance, and gently brushed the hair from the side of his face.

This time, it was De Roso's turn to be stunned.

In his eyes, Yanagihara's face was reflecting a white glow at this time, his slender eyelashes were hanging low, the corners of his mouth were tightly closed, but they were slightly upturned, and his three-dimensional facial features were bright and dark.

The wind ruffled her hair and swayed the corners of her clothes.

Those dark eyes seem to be able to sink into all the emotions in this world and return everything to peace.

The beauty of movement and stillness is vividly combined in this moment, making it impossible to take your eyes off at all, and it is even more unforgettable.

It seems that everything is just right, and any superfluous embellishment is a desecration of the beautiful scenery in front of you.

It must be admitted that Yanagihara is very good for quiet and good at silence.

De Rosso was so engrossed that he even forgot how he got out of the car, only remembering that it seemed to be carried down by Yanagihara.

He lay down in his coat and did not fall asleep all night.

The next morning, he had prepared his pen and paper early and drew a picture. It was a portrait of a person, and it was painted with great beauty.

But the name is very simple, it's called.

Dedicated to Venus.