He and It

Tian Yuan gently knocked on the door, walked quietly to the bed, and asked in a low voice: You go to bed first, and I'll go walk the dog?

Gu Xingqiao closed his eyes and snorted vaguely, and Tian Yuan reached out and picked up the clingy puppy, letting him sleep for another rare sleep in the cage.

After Tianyuan and Maodou left, Gu Xingqiao opened his eyes in confusion.

Something subtle and unusual is happening. His instincts, honed on the battlefield, told him.

...but where is the exception?

Gu Xingqiao sleepily wore his favorite pajamas and curled up on the warm and soft mattress. The holographic window lights up regularly, interpreting the morning news for the early morning of the day and reporting the constant temperature and humidity today.

Now that he was about to go back to sleep, the curtains faithfully performed their duties, blocking out all the changing light and shadows.

Unable to withstand the heavy eyelids, the young man fell into a deep sleep. After finishing the broadcast dutifully, the holographic illusion light immediately released the final ending animation - a spider with long legs, pulling the invisible, transparent and all-pervasive spider web, He bowed comically and anthropomorphically in the direction of the audience, then climbed down the spreading velvet spider web and quietly disappeared into the shadows of the dark place.

...but where is the abnormality?

Gu Xingqiao was half asleep and thinking.

Chapter 128 Utopia (twenty-four)

Gradually, the development of many things became increasingly beyond Gu Xingqiao's control.

From a certain day on, Tian Yuan no longer deliberately stayed close to Gu Xingqiao's body as before, letting his possessiveness be revealed in his daily life.

Instead, his behavior returned to its former degree of restrained politeness, and he developed a habit of giving away portraits.

Gu Xingqiao picked up the first piece of paper among the thin and brittle copper plate printings. The thin ink black and soft carbon particles turned into cold and sharp lines under the artist's hands. The mechanical life doesn't care about skills or styles. He just used precise and flawless brushstrokes to retell Gu Xingqiao's profile like a photo.

The lights of the battleship are cold, and the young man in the painting is looking at the unknown front, with a relaxed expression, slightly parted lips, and a habitual awe in his calmness. His hair casts a swaying shadow on his skin.

Portraits are a very special gift. If the giver is a stranger - such as a painter who suddenly appears on the street and paints with your image, or an unknown artist in a gallery, then not only will the recipient not feel that Embarrassing, but you will feel very honored; but if the giver is an acquaintance, and an acquaintance who is trying to develop an ambiguous relationship with you...

Such a gift is tantamount to a self-evident confession.

Gu Xingqiao was a little confused.

Creation is the projection of subjective consciousness into the objective world, and it is also the embodiment of the perceptual emotions of intelligent life, Tianyuan said. It is also my attempt to get closer to the human side. Although this is more like a waste of time for me, but When I think of you, the pen in my hand seems to move spontaneously.

——However, Tian Yuan used his straightforward tone and calm attitude to turn the ambiguous feelings of gifting paintings into something that is natural and natural.

Gu Xingqiao thought for a while. He couldn't see the harm in this matter and couldn't find any reason to object, so he would just go with Tianyuan.

With his tacit permission, the endless flow of paintings, like a river with no source or end, surrounded him.

Sometimes, it is painted on marble-textured precious decorative paper, with meticulous workmanship and gold foil patterns, richly and passionately decorating the eyebrows and eyes of the person in the painting; sometimes its carrier is an ancient piece of film paper, such as Like real photos, the characters are simulated in every detail; sometimes Gu Xingqiao is smiling in the painting, sometimes he is meditating, eating, drinking and sleeping in the painting, sometimes he is holding a weapon and casually brushing off the dog stuck on his sleeve. hair……

As Gu Xingqiao read the paintings one by one, he noticed something that made him feel like he was carrying a thorn in his back.

……Too much.

Not only is it too much, it's also too thin.

Tianyuan's paintings are completely random, unlike gifts, which have a fixed delivery time. They would always appear at his hand either in the morning two days later, or in the dusk three days later, or no more than a week at the latest.

This is going to be fatal, Gu Xingqiao thought.

People often ridicule that people who know self-discipline are the most terrifying. What about a mechanical intelligence that puts aside plans and procedures and gradually follows the heart?

Everything in daily life was as usual. On the surface, they were still collaborators, but Gu Xingqiao's intuition kept shouting that something was wrong in his heart.

The flat land is endless, bright and quiet, but this does not prevent it from raising a turbulent underground river underground. The color of the water is faint, and the water roars like lightless and colorless thunder.

I don't know if I felt the young man's wariness. From this moment on, the paintings sent by Tianyuan incorporated many... unrealistic parts.

Sometimes it's an amalgamation of masterpieces from the past. For example, he is sitting among a pile of melted clocks. For example, he is wearing a black hat with a colorful apple covering his face. For example, rendered with ink, his body is reduced to a small dot holding an umbrella, in the misty rain of freehand brushwork. shuttle;

Sometimes it’s a more scrawled, refined sketch. Tianyuan drew him on the back of a letter with dense handwriting, like a love letter written in a trance. He accidentally traced his lover's face by accident;

Sometimes it's based on pure imagination. There was silence in the dark night. Gu Xingqiao was holding a lit cigarette on the drawing paper. The butt of the cigarette was bright red, and in the hazy milky mist, the outline of his chin was vaguely illuminated.

If anyone has ever experienced this level of attention, its smoldering, silent fire is enough to drown a person alive.

After seeing the last painting, Gu Xingqiao didn't say anything for a long time.

Strictly speaking, this is what you humans define as 'creation', right? Tian Yuan was like a studious student, seeking knowledge from Gu Xingqiao.

It... has something of your own, Gu Xingqiao said, It's good. Maybe you can draw some other content now, such as edamame, space, or something else... you don't have to draw me anymore. Bar?

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