Florence, the weather is cloudy. The air is fresh today and the sky is high, suitable for expressing love.

Florence's unofficial radio and television broadcast for you.

"Ah - what did I just want to say? Oh, by the way, being a woman is really amazing."

Boccaccio, who had caught a cold a few days ago, sneezed and watched a girl in the distance happily handing the knitted flower in her hand to another boy. He couldn't help but mutter to the people around him.

"I just can't understand how patient and gentle they are to be able to stay at home docilely and spend centuries with these boring knitted things."

In the end, the bard did not break his promise, and rushed through the knitting tutorial to meet the deadline. In the past few days, he helped the girl knit a large handful of colorful daisies with wool.

——But I also suffered a lot in the process. Fortunately, the knitting needle is not as sharp as the embroidery needle, so it will not be punctured.

Boccaccio has always been a man who is not very likely to refuse a girl's request - in a sense, the gentleman's demeanor is particularly obvious in this Italian who has lived for centuries. Like

It's like he could go out of his way to learn how to weave a flower because of a girl's playful request.

"It's really amazing."

The child beside him bit the straw of the milk tea and replied lightly, with tolerance and calmness in his tone.

"But for today's girls, preparing this kind of thing for the person you like is actually a very happy thing in itself."

The child looks to be only twelve or thirteen years old, with eyes that are composed of silver gray and dark gold respectively, and silver-gold shoulder-length straight hair hanging down. On the top of his head is a wreath made of olive branches and laurel flowers.

Except that the milk tea in my hand really ruined the atmosphere a bit, it actually smelled like an ancient Greek sage.

He sat on the roof with the Florentine bard, using his pair of different eyes to gaze gently at the men and women looking at each other downstairs, seeming to reveal a subtle smile.

"By the way, I remember you wanted to add some background music to enhance the atmosphere, didn't you? How about "Praise of Love"?"

"Wait, if I remember correctly, this should be a violin piece..."

Boccaccio held the harp in his arms, closed his eyes, and murmured something in a weak voice.

"The harp is not suitable for all music, Mr. Alighieri."

But despite this, he still sighed and plucked the strings lightly with his fingers.

The first note from the harp was like a drop of dew, rolling down from the sky and falling on the eaves.

A drop of dew can also reflect the entire vast universe, reflecting the flowing time from ancient times to the present.

The sound of musical instruments from the second millennium BC resounds in this era.

A couple who were confessing their love downstairs raised their heads and looked at the sky with surprised eyes.

People around him also stopped and stopped for the sudden sound of the harp.

——It seems that in this man-made city, people once again heard the light smile of the nymph goddess from the mythical story by the stream, touched the white and delicate pebbles by the river, and even saw the water nymph raising her eyes.

The bright moonlight I saw when I saw it.

The harp is an instrument in the hands of the gods. In their hands, it can move flowers, plants, trees, animals and birds, and be played by the gods.

Its voice is as soft as water waves, as gentle as moonlight, and as high and free as the sound of wind.

Kitahara and Kaede, who was arranging the ginkgo leaves and preparing to press them onto a piece of dried straw paper, paused slightly and looked in the direction where the sound came from.

Anthony held his own roses, sat on a chair, swung his legs to the melodious singing of the harp, and softly hummed lyrics that he didn't even know what they were.

"This guy..."

On the street, Cervantes, who was helping another girl carry shopping bags, muttered, but said nothing.

After all, the music flowing from the harp is indeed beautiful, and no one can deny this.

"Whose jade flute is flying quietly, spreading into the spring breeze all over Luo City." Beiyuan Hefeng clamped the ginkgo leaves again, his eyes were slightly curved, and the golden ginkgo was clearly reflected in the orange-gold pupils.

Through the window, he also saw the man and woman confessing to each other on the street, and couldn't help but smile.

Speaking of which, the last batch of ginkgo specimen paintings he finished was because there was really no place to place them, so he finally set up a stall in the square and gave them half to the boy.

Now think about it, he bought this painting to give it to this girl, right?

And it seemed that the other party actually had the painting he sold on him.

The traveler blinked and looked at the boy holding the drawing board. Suddenly he was very much looking forward to the outcome of today's confession. He simply opened the window and became a part of the onlookers with relish.

——If there is any pity, the watermelon in Florence is relatively expensive, so I didn’t have a suitable melon to eat while watching the show.

But then again, is Boccaccio so idle? He actually plays a song here to cheer for other people's love confessions? Could he be a foreign aid invited by the woman?

"Ah sneeze!"

Boccaccio sneezed again, but he was very dedicated and did not mess up the rhythm of the music. However, his whole body seemed a little wilted, and the golden color at the end of his hair was dimmed a lot.

"I hate colds - is this kind of thing contagious? Then don't stop me, I will definitely pass this on to Cervantes! Let him sneeze three times a minute in front of his princess

!”

Dante silently moved to the side, sucked up the remaining pearls in the milk tea, then put on a mask decisively, and continued to watch the youth love story downstairs.

If you ignore Boccaccio's meaningless howling on the roof, the painting style of the scene is still very beautiful, and even has a romantic feeling like a movie shot.

For example, the rain of ginkgo leaves falling gracefully along the street, the beautiful and distant piano sound as the background music, and the boy holding a drawing board covered with white cloth on the side of the street, with an expression on his face that looked a little surprised and embarrassed.

There are also the fluttering white doves startled by the sound of the piano in the background, the bright and dazzling smile on the girl's face, and the equally warm and bright knitted bouquet in her arms. The fluffy knitted touch makes people return to the warm summer.

.

——So Boccaccio was such a good person, why did he have a mouth?

Dante sighed a little, and a look of helplessness appeared on his childish face.

"But, Alighieri."

Relying on the fact that no one could hear him, Boccaccio strummed a light and sweet tune with his fingers while chattering beside him: "Don't you think there are some missing elements in this picture?"

Dante held his chin and moved his eyes away from these two people, looking at the orange-gold and orange-red Florence under the heavy clouds and mist.

On such a morning, people in Florence were busy with their lives, but when the harp sounded, they still couldn't help but pause.

People have always lived on the earth, but whenever music and poetry sound from the horizon, they can't help but look up at the legendary paradise.

This transcendent who had also experienced many years had his mind blank for a second, and suddenly thought of the names of people that Boccaccio always chanted, and subconsciously replied: "Uh, Cervantes?"

"Wait a minute, I'm talking about a gift from a man, how could it be that guy from Cervantes!"

The bard leaned back in horror and almost plucked the wrong strings in his hand.

"If it really happens, what we see before us won't be the beautiful love story we have now. It will probably be some kind of battle between a brave man and a dragon."

"Is that so?"

Dante touched his chin thoughtfully, his gold and silver eyes blinked slowly, and he finally looked a little innocent like a child: "Well, it's quite romantic to put it this way..."

Boccaccio quickly turned his head and looked at the other party with an incredulous look, "Dante, you betrayed the revolution so quickly."

"You don't have to ignore Cervantes so much - don't you actually like him very much yourself?"

Dante tilted his head, looked at Boccaccio's shocked eyes, and gently smiled at the corners of his lips:

"No matter what the circumstances, you can stick to your ideals as a knight and have the courage to protect what you want to protect - it is indeed admirable, isn't it?"

Even after centuries, there are still people who stubbornly ignore the changes in the world, do not agree with others' denials, do not fear the future of failure, and resolutely raise the knight's javelin.

For this transcendent man who is no longer a knight, Cervantes is like another version of himself in a dream.

"Are you kidding? It's just that this kind of idiot idealist is really fun to tease."

Boccaccio turned away his face, but the look in his cornflower and sapphire eyes suddenly softened, but he still stubbornly muttered: "After I give that gift away, how far away do I hope this guy is?"

Just stay as far away from me as possible..."

The melodious sound of the harp is coming to an end, and the ending notes drag out a series of complex and smooth arpeggios, like a silver waterfall splashing down on a pond filled with floating petals.

The shadows of the trees all around were whirling, the branches and leaves were swaying, and they made a "rustling" sound in the wind.

Downstairs, two young men who had successfully confessed their love held each other's hands tightly. The man blushed and looked at the bold girl opposite, and coyly took a large bouquet of flowers from the other party.

Then he handed over the drawing board he had been holding in his hand, and at the same time pulled off the white cloth covering it, revealing a golden peacock made of golden ginkgo leaf specimens.

"Well...didn't you say you like ginkgo very much?"

He coughed a few times and did not dare to look into the eyes of the girl in front of him: "I just thought you might like this one better."

The girl was stunned for a moment, took the painting from the other person's hand, and then put a big smile on her face: "Well! I really like it!"

Kitahara and Kaede looked at this picture that seemed to only appear in movies. When they saw that their painting was finally sent out, they couldn't help but sigh a little by the window.

Suddenly, I felt a sense of honor and honor that led to a marriage.

But compared to the movie, maybe it lacks a little bit of atmosphere.

The traveler thought carefully, jumped down from the table, and pulled out the bubble-blowing device that had not yet been used up of soapy water from the drawer.

At that time, if a group of bubbles fly over, it should also be very atmospheric...

Well, the distance is not a big problem, but there is no sunshine today, so the visual effect of the bubbles may be a little worse.

"Well, the cloudy day actually doesn't quite fit the atmosphere of this confession. Obviously young people's stories should be more sunny and lively."

Dante held his cheek and looked at the two young people downstairs looking happy and nervous after exchanging gifts with each other. He didn't know what he was thinking and laughed softly.
To be continued...