Times can create a lot of sorrow.

Many years ago, when there were children on the streets, people began to reflect on the problems of this society.

Afterward.

There are more and more children who are being abused.

People don't reflect anymore.

The cruel life robs them of time to think.

The boy sat on the side of the street.

That dirty face had a pair of beautiful pale blue eyes, and he was a half-race.

He looked down in contemplation, the galloping cars turned into horses and swept past him, the asphalt turned into soft grass, the streetlights were fireflies in the night, and the sweet smell of grass in the air.

"What's your name?"

"I don't have a name."

"Come with me, I'll feed you."

The boy followed the man.

He got into a car.

There were also many four or five-year-old children in the car.

They were all dirty, their clothes were in tatters, but their eyes were clear, and there seemed to be hope shining in them.

The man didn't lie to them.

They do have enough to eat.

But there is also one more task.

"Remember to pretend to be pitiful, those people don't give money, they keep pestering them......"

The man gave them some words.

Then he gave each child a tattered iron bowl.

They go out in the morning with empty bowls and come back in the evening with money.

Children who do not complete the assigned tasks can only eat leftovers.

The boy often fails to complete the task because he does not look pitiful enough, and his golden hair, fair skin, and thin face give him a different temperament.

There was a white-haired girl who would hide a little dinner for him.

"Why is your hair white?"

"I'm sick, so my parents don't want me."

The two are very good friends.

If time is still the same, this kind of life is actually not too bitter.

At least, not to starve to death.

But after a few years, the man called all the children over.

"Now that you have grown up a little bit, you can no longer arouse the sympathy of Don't Rao, and if you continue like this, everyone will not be able to eat......"

That night, the eldest child was called away.

When he came back the second time, he was pale and one of his arms was missing.

Later, some children were called away one after another.

Some came back with missing legs, some had their eyes gouged out, their ears cut off, and a little more scratches on their faces.

Others, never returned......

In terms of age, the next person should be the white-haired girl.

"Why hasn't she come back yet?"

The sun is setting.

The man looked impatient.

Until nightfall, the white-haired girl did not return.

That night.

The boy knocked on the door of the rao room, and he had a way to make money.

The man called him in.

"What can you do?"

"Uncle, come closer, this method can't be heard by others."

The man came closer.

So a sharp iron bar pierced his heart.

Hot blood spurted on the boy's face, and he smiled.

The man clutched his chest and staggered back.

He couldn't believe it.

A child, where did he get so much effort?

He was destined to get no answer to this question.

The fallen body smashed on the ground, and the blood flowed on the ground, and there was a strange blessing

The boy thought about it, but couldn't think of words to describe this good fortune

Maybe it's art.

He pushed the door open.

The pale moonlight shone on the blood on his face.

The strong smell of blood made the children look frightened and avoided them.

He began to wander again.

I also searched for the white-haired girl, but found nothing.

A life of being full and hungry made the boy look even thinner.

So, he picked up a box of watercolor pens on the side of the street.

He slowly opened the box, as if he was opening the door to another world.

"White Hair ......"

Silent streets, under the street lamps of the night.

He began to paint the image of the girl in his memory.

After the painting, a pair of wings were added.

Then he tried red.

Bright, as if flowing blood.

He painted his image in red.

Red and white.

This was his first painting.

The crooked lines are not awkward, they are a little abstract.

"Drawing for the first time? Very well drawn, endowed. ”

Very magnetic sound.

The boy looked up.

The man was dressed in a black robe, and his face was obscured by a black hood, so he couldn't see clearly.

"Want to learn how to draw?"

"Yes."

The boy nodded solemnly.

"Let me teach you."

The man smiled, and the magnetic voice sounded pleasant.

"Aren't you a great painter?"

"Sort of."

"Then I'll call you teacher."

"Yes."

"Teacher, do you have a name?"

"Zero."

The next morning.

The boy woke up in a daze on the side of the street.

He had a long dream.

He dreamed that he had picked up a box of watercolor pens, and that a teacher named Zero had taught him to draw.

But when I woke up, I didn't have a watercolor pen with me.

There is no painting from last night.

Nothing Sakura

The boy was stunned.

He broke off a branch, got a little water on the side of the street, tried to draw something in his dreams, and succeeded!

After that.

Zero always appeared in his dreams, teaching him all kinds of painting knowledge.

Although it was a dream, the boy always felt that his white self was getting more and more sleepy and had no energy.

It's as if I haven't slept enough at night.

As he grew up, he occasionally went to odd jobs to earn some money, bought back drawing boards and other tools, and started his life as a street painter.

"The young man is amazing, he draws very well, which training class came out?" A passerby asked.

"I learned it in my dreams." The painter smiled, very shy.

Zero appears less and less often in his dreams.

The painter's painting skills were enough.

But he always had a doubt in his heart.

this night.

When he saw Zero again in his dream, he finally couldn't help but ask.

"Teacher, what is art?"

He felt that his paintings could not be called works of art.

It's as if something is missing.

Zero smiled and pulled a very large statue from his pocket.

"Smack!"

He broke one of the statue's arms.

"That's art."

The painter suddenly realized.

From the big to the big scene flashed in front of my eyes.

Children with broken arms, those who lost their eyeballs, those who had their legs amputated......

Art comes from his life.

"I'll take you to a place where you can play freely."

The painter came there.

Red and blue blood flowed in wailing, and machinery and flesh began to collide.

He reveled in his Zheng

He didn't want to wake up.

But after waking up.

His heart was filled with pain and suffering.

The wails and begs for mercy seemed to echo in his ears, and he turned them into dead monsters with his own hands.

"Thankfully, it was just a dream."

Those dreams are getting longer and longer.

White he began to become unenergetic.

Reversed schedule.

Gradually, he began to sleep in white.

In this dream, there were two uninvited guests.

……

Good night, book friends!