A bright and sunny morning.

What wakes you up is not the sweet chirping of birds in the morning, nor the alarm clock and mobile phone beside your bed, but the melodious sound of a harp.

It's like a gust of wind blowing into your dream, carrying the last fragrant grass and trees of late summer and the coolness of early autumn into your chest.

Beihara and Feng opened their eyes helplessly, already knowing in their hearts who was coming.

"It's true... I fell asleep at four o'clock, but I was woken up at seven o'clock."

The traveler covered his head and muttered something with a headache, but there was no accusation in his tone. On the contrary, after he finished speaking, he laughed.

After all, it is indeed a very nice song.

Thinking this way, Kitahara and Kaede yawned lazily and stood up from the chair they had been sitting on. They felt that even their dissatisfaction with being woken up early had faded a lot.

Well, having said that, if you sleep directly on the table, your neck will really hurt when you wake up...

The traveler held his neck, breathed out silently, walked to the window, and opened the curtains from one side.

The bright and bright sunshine in the morning fell through the transparent glass, illuminating the inside and outside of the room clearly.

On the window sill outside, a bard held his little harp in his arms and sat generously on the railing. The bright smile between his eyebrows looked brighter than the sunshine when summer and autumn meet.

He tilted his head, letting the sun shine on his face, lighting up his cornblue eyes into a beautiful azure color, and he still spoke in a lazy tone with a smile:

"Your Highness, long time no see. Is your knight here today?"

"He should have gone out by this time. Besides, it's still far from long time no see."

Kitahara and Kaede simply smoothed their long hair a few times, opened the glass window, and replied helplessly: "But don't you think this sound is disturbing?"

For Europeans who live a slow life, seven o'clock is not the time for them to get up, and not everyone is as good-tempered as him after being awakened by the sound of the harp.

"If I were somewhere else, I would be a little more worried - but this is Florence. People here are much more tolerant of good art than you think."

Boccaccio jumped down from the railing lightly and smiled calmly when he heard this: "And I don't want others to hear it, so don't worry."

"But it's a bit disturbing to come to you so early. You must have just gotten up..."

The bard patted his sleeves, without any intention of treating himself as an outsider, and walked straight in through the window.

Then I saw the bedroom, which was a little too tidy, and the desk lamp was on.

Boccaccio was silent for a while, and then showed a rather disapproving look: "You couldn't have fallen asleep just lying on the table last night, right? Your Royal Highness?"

Beihara and Feng were stunned for a moment, then rolled their eyes helplessly and laughed: "Let me say it again: I am not a princess, Mr. Boccaccio."

"Even if Cervantes doesn't know, you should know this to some extent."

He didn't even mention the fact that he just lay down on the table and spent the night together.

"Well..."

Boccaccio raised his eyebrows, but did not react at all: "But even if you are not a princess, you can't just spend one night like this. If that idiot Cervantes knew, he might want to

How much trouble it caused."

After the bard finished speaking, he glanced around with a critical eye, and his beautiful blue eyes reflected the flowing light from the lamp.

"And here...things haven't been put away properly. How long were you busy last night?"

The young man rearranged the books that were randomly piled together, and then breathed out: "If I had known, I would have come later today..."

Before, I was mainly worried that if I arrived late, the other party might have already gone out, so I got up so early and knocked on the window.

The traveler sat on the desk, holding his chin, watching the bard, who seemed to have no fingers in the air, helping to organize the books on the bedside table, tilted his head and smiled, and stuffed the things he had stayed up late yesterday to write.

Inside the drawer.

"Well, Mr. Boccaccio is a very gentle man."

"Yes, a super liar who specializes in deceiving girls' hearts - don't let Cervantes hear what you said, otherwise I'm sure he will come to trouble me."

Boccaccio paused for a moment and said nonchalantly: "By the way, you don't want to go wash up? Don't worry about me, I can read here for a while."

Beihara and Feng tilted their heads, and with a smile, they added the half-sentence they had interrupted before: "With such a gentle personality, he should be a friend of women, right?"

"...I told you so, it's not true!!"

The story ends with the traveler, the owner of the room, being kicked out by the guests.

But Beihara and Feng were not too angry. They just smiled and shook their heads, showing quite tolerance towards their guest who came uninvited and disturbed someone's peaceful dream.

In other words, he has always been quite tolerant and easy-going towards people with bright and shining personalities.

The traveler thought about the other party's reaction, and couldn't help but curling up the corners of his lips again, a soft look appeared in his orange-gold eyes.

When he saw Boccaccio, he had a vague feeling in his heart: maybe the other person was not the libertine who deceived the girl's heart in Cervantes' words, but a man who simply appreciated the beauty of women and tried to

People who make friends with them.

The wind will be amazed by the beauty of a flower in full bloom, but this feeling is definitely not love.

Because love means staying, and the wind will never stop: once the wind stops, it will become the most ordinary air, becoming the same silence and suffocation among endless similar people.

"The colorful wind composed of flowers and plants seems to have a Mediterranean style when you think about it."

After washing up, Kitahara and Kaede looked in the mirror and didn't know what they thought of. They laughed lightly and then prepared breakfast skillfully.

A simple fried egg, toast with raspberry jam and milk should be enough, and the grilled sausage that was placed before can also be lightly fried in a frying pan.

I just don’t know how many servings I should prepare.

"Kitahara!"

Anthony, who had just woken up and looked a little sleepy, walked to the living room holding his own rose. When he saw the adult, he immediately cheered in surprise and ran over to hug him.

"I had a very good dream last night! I dreamed that I was surrounded by many flowers - every flower was so cute."

After finishing speaking, he glanced at the rose in his arms and added rigorously: "Of course, Miss Rose is the most beautiful and cutest flower among them!"

Rose snorted lazily - in fact, she didn't wake up very much, but her dazed mind could still hear that this was Anthony's compliment to her.

Beihara and Feng watched with amusement. While the child was still half asleep, they reached out and touched his soft golden hair, and then rushed to wash up.

Let's prepare for four people. Maybe Cervantes will come back soon... Although for the sake of the safety of this old house, he would rather the other party come back later today.

But you are really attentive... Since meeting Boccaccio a few days ago, I have really been very motivated to investigate the recent situation of young girls in Florence.

Although the feedback so far is not very satisfactory.

"Anthony, after you wash up and eat, remember to drink the milk. I'll call Boccaccio to come with me."

"Oh - and Beiyuan, I am not a child anymore. There is no need to worry so much..."

No, in my heart, you are my child forever.

Kitahara and Kaede retorted in their hearts, but on their faces they laughed softly because of this daily exchange that happened almost every day.

"Boccaccio——"

"I know, don't rush me, I'll finish reading this chapter first. This book is quite good... I mean "Resurrection"."

The bard responded lazily and continued to turn the pages of the book in his hand. He couldn't help but discuss the content of the book with the traveler enthusiastically: "Although I don't like the overly religious content in it, but

I admire the people described in it.”

"The theme is redemption and resurrection...The person who can write this kind of book must also be very gentle."

"He is indeed a very gentle person."

Kitahara and Kaede put breakfast on the table in order, and also prepared napkins. After hearing the other party's words, their voices softened a lot: "Speaking of which, you shouldn't be allergic to milk and eggs.

"

"Not at all."

Boccaccio replied quickly, turning the book to the last page of the chapter with his fingers: "Can you cut two slices of tomatoes for me, thank you."

"...You are really not polite at all, Mr. Boccaccio."

"Hey, there's nothing we can do about it. Who knows that Mr. Kitahara has such a gentle personality and won't reject others at all?"

Beihara and Feng picked up the fruit knife and paused slightly while cutting the tomatoes. They raised their eyebrows in surprise: "Oh? You don't plan to call me princess after all?"

"Um...this is it."

Boccaccio yawned, uttered a simple syllable from his throat, stretched out his hand and tugged on his hat.

Those beautiful cornflower blue eyes were slightly narrowed, and there seemed to be countless fireworks and streams of light flowing inside.

"Actually, it's all the same. Why don't I think there's nothing wrong with calling you princess sometimes?"

Kitahara Kazuka: "..."

The travel expert exhaled, raised the fruit knife in the driver's hand with a smile, and changed the direction of the knife tip. The meaning of this is self-evident.

"Well, I mean you are as gentle and kind as the princess in the fairy tale! There is absolutely no other meaning than that!"

Boccaccio felt his whole body tense up, quickly closed the book, and gave a standard French military salute to Kitahara and Kaede: "Really, I don't mean to refer to your gender as male or female at all..."

"Great, Boccaccio, you are out of tomato slices today. Not only that, I will remember to add pineapple to your Margherita pizza."

The traveler put down the knife calmly, ignoring Boccaccio's blank expression, and nodded to Anthony who had finally finished washing and ran to the dining table to look at him curiously.
To be continued...