Gun of Ashes

”Bald, obese, bad-tempered, no hope of promotion... I think it’s very difficult for him to win back his wife.”

The listener was heartbroken, tears welled up upon hearing this. Buscalo had just come to terms, but hearing Oscar’s words, he couldn’t help but feel sadness again. He leaned against the car window, breathing heavily.

”But well, divorce is a good thing!”

He vigorously patted Buscalo on the shoulder.

”After all, divorce is for the sake of marriage!”

Oscar laughed heartily, completely unaware of what he had just done.

Selyu was at a loss for words. She began to understand why Lorenzo was so excited and thrilled upon meeting him; it wasn’t some appreciation of knowledge or a favor of teaching, purely the mutual understanding between two maniacs.

Like two hateful Demons, they were cheerfully laughing at Buscalo’s sorrow.

As they chatted, they started talking about the past. In Lorenzo’s words, Oscar was that good teacher and friend, brimming with personal talent.

In Oscar’s mouth, Lorenzo’s image was righteous, loved his teachers and juniors, cared for classmates, did things proactively, an embodiment of positive energy, to the extent he could be selected as one of Ingwig’s Ten Outstanding Youths.

A bit of truth, a bit of falsehood, Selyu was unclear. However, in these few minutes, they had showcased their vile characters to the fullest.

”What kind of story will this be?”

After laughter, Lorenzo suddenly asked seriously.

He was curious about what story Oscar would write this time, as his works were well-received, even Lorenzo himself was quite fond of them.

”You know me, it must be a joyful comedy!”

The old chap replied cheerfully.

”Comedy?”

Lorenzo looked troubled after hearing this.

”What’s wrong?”

In Selyu’s understanding, comedy was a happy thing, but Lorenzo didn’t seem happy.

”Because the core of comedy is tragedy, my child.”

The old chap said.

Oscar rarely turned serious. His voice was steady, possessing somewhat of a teacher’s demeanor.

”Have you read my stories?”

He asked.

Selyu thought carefully, Oscar Wilde’s name kept echoing in her mind. She had an impression, her thoughts took her back a long time ago.

At that time, she had just arrived in Old Dunling, just became a child of the Stuart family.

Selyu remembered that period, stray cats by the roadside were thrown into a magnificent palace, she was frightened to death, rushed about, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get out.

Later she gradually adapted, because she was illiterate, Yawei taught her for a long time. She remembered a particular book she read while learning.

”The Nightingale and the Rose?”

Selyu tested the waters.

The old chap’s expression froze, then he couldn’t help but sigh.

”You really have read it!”

This reaction surprised Selyu; he seemed very insecure about his work. Lorenzo then explained to her.

”His stories are rather... special; you must have felt it when reading them.”

Selyu nodded, it was a good story, like a fairy tale, but with no happy ending, making people sad.

”Yes, that’s it. Everyone loves complete stories, loves beautiful stories. Pleasing the reader is most important, but he likes to challenge the world, writing annoying tragedies, so his work isn’t popular, with few readers.”

Lorenzo spoke while looking at Oscar.

”What was that line you always say?”

The old chap thought for a moment, then followed Lorenzo’s thread.

”A young man in his twenties, with no job, would likely imagine himself as a writer.”

”Yes, yes, that’s it!”

The two spoke and laughed again.

”But Lorenzo, that was when I was young, I’m almost fifty now, and I do have a job.”

The old chap emphasized.

”Isn’t it because you couldn’t make it as a writer?”

”People need to eat, after all!”

The two laughed in harmony again. This was no longer about mutual understanding, just collusion in crime.

”No choice, people have to make compromises. Otherwise, if I starve to death, then the story truly ends. I don’t think anyone now can inherit my love and beauty.”

After the laughter, the old chap spoke with a sigh.

”But... why do you want to write tragedies then? Don’t you like comedies?”

Selyu asked, a bit puzzled.

She still remembered Lorenzo’s words, that this old chap was a comedy enthusiast, and from his demeanor, you could tell he really was a very happy person. She found it hard to believe such a person would write those kinds of stories.

”Because only after experiencing beauty, can one bear to shatter it.”

He spoke slowly.

”Emotions are the strongest force, and among them, sadness is the most intense.”

The old chap looked earnest.

”Tragedy ends with a tragic outcome, intense pain makes everyone remember, like a scar that won’t heal.”

”But precisely because of such intensity can its beauty be manifested, like those numb people, enjoying self-abuse to feel the ’existence’ of living.”

At this point, Lorenzo whispered.

”Stay close, Little Nightingale, or the rose won’t be complete before dawn.”

Selyu remembered this line, it’s the words of the tree in that story.

The boy wanted a red rose, to fulfill his wish, Little Nightingale must dye the flower red with blood before dawn, but dawn was approaching, and the red rose still wasn’t complete, so the tree urged it, stay close, squeeze out more blood.