But What did the Novelist do Wrong?

21

Chapter 21

    Discuss who will wake up first among the two people who are equally addicted to drugs.

    Answer, the one with the inner ghost.

    Qingchi Lianyang was awakened by Miss Yuzi's shaking. The three-headed little guy condensed a dozen threads into a small strip and wrapped it around the novelist's ankle. But it couldn't grasp the speed of the force, and almost lifted the owner upside down.

    Qingchi Lianyang, who was still asleep, was dragged and subconsciously grabbed the corner of the table, thus avoiding the tragedy of hanging upside down from the golden hook.

    Miss Yuzi saw that her master was awake, she retracted the black thread innocently, and looked at him with big dark eyes.

    Aoike Lianyang rubbed her temples.

    The purpose of Osamu Dazai looking for this medicine is to paint on his face, the quality is very good, so even if he is suddenly awakened, his brain is still in chaos. But no hangover-type headaches and dizziness, just simply not getting enough sleep.

    After more than ten seconds, he slowly opened his eyes, and the blue-green pupils were still stained with mist.

    "What's the matter, Miss Yuzi?"

    When the words came out, Qingchi Lianyang couldn't see things clearly, but when he regained consciousness, he smelled the strong rust smell in the air, and he roughly guessed the situation.

    "Assassin?"

    The master guessed what he wanted to express, and Miss Yuzi nodded cheerfully.

    Qingchi Lianyang was completely awake.

    Because he was prepared in his heart, he was very calm when he saw a 'corpse' sitting on the porch connecting the chief's room and this room.

    "How many people?"

    Miss Yuzi gestured: "3"

    Lianyang Aoike stood up and looked back at Osamu Dazai who was lying on the table sleeping peacefully.

    He who is sleeping soundly is another scene. Without those kite-colored pupils full of calculations and fake smiles, the young leader was as quiet as a rotting corpse, and his whole body exuded dead silence, out of tune with the life and beauty of the world.

    "..."

    Qingchi Lianyang couldn't help raising her hand, hooking a stray strand of hair beside his face that was suppressed. When moving, the fingernails touched the side of the boy's face, the slightly raised cheeks, and couldn't help turning over his hand, and gently pressed it with the pulp of his fingers.

    No wonder Osamu Dazai likes to press his face.

    That warm and soft touch is really... weird.

    Osamu Dazai is very thin, so the hand feel is definitely not as good as cotton and soft rubber, but there is an inexplicable feeling of hanging his feet on a newborn seedling. Under your feet is a life that can be easily destroyed, and under your hands is a life that is as fragile as the wind.