On the day of Jean Genet's funeral, there were very few people, and a thin layer of snow fell in the sky appropriately. It was scattered in the wind into floating flakes that no one could understand, and covered the green trees.

After the heavy snowfall in New York, the earth seemed to suddenly realize that it had been immersed in the cold for too long, and it started to warm up little by little. All New Yorkers felt that this spring was too early, but this time

It is really a good thing, and everyone is full of expectations for the future.

Spring is here, and all kinds of flowers are blooming all over the place. Birds are making soft "cooing" and "chirping" sounds in their nests. The steaming warmth blinds people's eyes like the white mist in the morning. The wind blows

All bring the moist and gentle flavor of the East Coast.

The snow was also thin, and when it fell on my cheeks, it felt like I was touching the moist fur of a giant white seal with my face.

Therefore, even if everyone is on the way to work, they will smile when they see such a pleasant scenery occasionally, and their hearts will feel like thawing river water, suddenly softening.

Yes, even if the funeral home is busy recently, the construction team is a bit noisy in rebuilding, and gunfire and crying can be heard every night, but how can all this destroy the happiness that such a beautiful spring day brings to people?

On this day, Kitahara and Kaede asked a few people to help carry the coffin - she did have a body. Jean Genet probably wouldn't want to see himself burned into simple ashes. The gesture of death was too monotonous, and

It doesn't show her beauty.

Even though she had been burned beyond recognition by the flames, Kitahara and Kaede were willing to believe in her stubbornness in this regard.

The person who retouched the remains was worried about how to restore her face without a photo reference, until Kitahara and Kaede took out the painting they finally drew that day.

"Just follow this picture."

The traveler's voice was very soft, with a hint of tiredness.

——Kitahara and Kaede promised Jean Genet to paint her a painting worthy of her.

In that painting, a goddess with long hair is naked, sitting at the end of the endless universe of flowers. She has light red and milky white spots on her body that are made of flower juice or something else. Her stunning and beautiful eyebrows

It hangs low, showing a soft sense of sanctity in the lasciviousness, and loses its clear boundaries under the hazy light. Prosperous tea flowers bloom on her fingertips, and the large tracts of white are stained with the color of fire.

.

The distant view seems to be burning with the fire of hell, but also like the holy light in heaven. In the close view, a crystal ball with a completely blurred outline is placed, and you can vaguely see another bright and transparent flower blooming inside, dotted with stars.

of white snow falling.

In the marriage of hell and heaven, in the reconciliation of holiness and sin, in the entanglement of crimson and pale, it is like eternity.

The stylist who arranged the remains was stunned for a while before reacting to the painting, and nodded with complicated eyes.

He recognized the person in the painting as Jean Genet, the lunatic with a brilliant smile, who was lewd and wanton, and the terrorist who caused huge losses of life and property and disrupted public order in New York.

But he had to admit that she did seem like a saint.

The stylist didn't say anything, but tried his best to restore the other person's appearance. When Kitahara and Feng saw him again in the funeral home, the other party had already planned to resign, and just planned to hand over the last corpse in his hands to Kitahara and Feng.

Maple's hand.

"This will be my last work."

He said a little tiredly, his eyes a little distant and insubstantial, falling on the hazy green trees outside the window: "I will never come to New York again."

New York - sweet and attractive, plump and juicy bright red fruits, such plump and round big apples with smooth and delicate surfaces.

Who can imagine that such a rich and beautiful city has swallowed up all the youth and dreams of so many people?

Beiyuan and Feng didn't speak. He just looked at his friend's peacefully closed eyes in the coffin and the curve of his lips that were still raised. He touched it gently with his fingers and let out a somewhat sad sigh.

On the day of the goddess's funeral, she wore a snow-white dress and was surrounded by eternal flowers.

, they look like real flowers: sweet flowers, plump and juicy flowers, flowers with strong fragrance. If she were still alive, she would be biting a flower and looking at you sideways with a smile on her face.

Natural temptation and charm.

There was also an impatiens flower in her hand that the traveler had not given away. It was fiery red, just like the fire that brought her to the kingdom of death, but it did not burn. The transparent crystal glass ball that originally belonged to her mother

She held it tightly with her hands and placed it on her chest.

She obviously only thought of this crystal ball as something that could be used to exchange money, but in the end, when she fell from the building, she still curled up subconsciously to protect the small glass ball.

——It's really strange, isn't it? But there is no shortage of contradictions in Jean Genet.

On the streets passing by, there were still many people discussing that beautiful, lunatic-like man with gusto. They made "tsk-tsk" noises in their mouths and glanced at each other without knowing what kind of thoughts they had.

Others talked about the unprecedented fire in New York and the outright carnival at noon, saying that Jean Genet had become a new idol of a group of people, and some people had a fanatical look on their faces when they mentioned it.

“This is the flag of resistance in the new era!” a young man shouted loudly, waving a red flag with a white tea flower in his hand, “Jean Genet is our leader! We must promote sexual freedom!

"

When the coffin was carried over, the man who was talking eloquently showed a rather unlucky expression, and complained vaguely to the coffin and Kitahara Kazuka who was walking behind the coffin.

"Shit, someone died again. It's really unlucky. I saw a group of people opposing our ideas a few days ago because of these people."

He muttered and did not dare to continue to publicize it in front of the relatives and friends of the deceased, especially after he noticed that the clothes on Kitahara and Feng were definitely not mass-produced low-end goods.

Beihara and Feng didn't pay attention to each other's complaints. He pulled Sigma, who had to follow him when he heard that he was attending the funeral today, and followed the dark coffin quietly and silently, without speaking a word from the beginning to the end.

Sigma raised his head with some worry, glanced at the adult who seemed too silent, and firmly held the other person's hand.

"Kitahara." He called the other person's name softly, and felt the other person's hand holding his hand slightly increase in strength, and then suddenly loosen it.

Kitahara and Kaede lowered their heads, looking at Sigma with worry in his light gray eyes. They reached out and touched each other's head, showing a soft smile.

"It's okay." He said softly and rubbed Sigma's fingers soothingly, "I will recover."

But Kitahara, you look so sad when you smile...

Sigma opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end he chose silence. He just squeezed his master's hand harder and looked up at the coffin in front of him.

He didn't know when Kitahara and Kaede met this friend, nor did he know his personality in life. He only knew that he was probably one of the people who died in the terrorist incident in New York a few days ago.

But he smelled the smell of death from the coffin, a sad, agarwood-like, cold smell. This feeling made him feel uncomfortable almost subconsciously, and his mood gradually became heavy and depressed.

Before people come into contact with the heavy atmosphere of death for the first time, most people have no concept of death.

The same was true for Sigma before. Although he and Kitahara and Kaede had seen many people die inexplicably when they were traveling in South Africa, most of them had no real feelings and could not even imagine that people close to them would die one day.

But now he has gradually felt... Death is a very quiet, very heavy, and something destined to come, just like a cold finger touching you at the end of life.

The coffin entered the cemetery.

It snowed that day, so the cemetery was very quiet, and almost no one came to express condolences to the souls of those who had died.

Many people died these days, but few were buried, probably because the dead people had no relatives in this city. They were buried in this city during their lifetime.

The city was forgotten, and people did not remember it for a long time because of a fire after death - but at this time, they probably no longer feel sad about it.

There was no host, no pastor, and no family members at Jean Genet's funeral. There were only two people, Kitahara, Kaede, and Sigma.

One of them was a friend she met during her short time in New York, and promised to bring her flowers and paintings every day; one person had never met her, but he had watered the flowers he gave her.

Kitahara and Kaede wore a black woolen suit today and stood quietly in front of the tombstone where a hole was dug out enough to accommodate an urn. He held a snow-white tea flower in his hand, and the petals were dripping as white as frost.

The melting snow water seems like the flower is melting in the cold air.

The coffin was placed in the dug pit by the hired people, and then they began to spread soil on the coffin and smooth it. Kitahara and Kaede whispered to the tombstone in front of the pit, as if they were still there.

Chattering.

"It's finally almost spring in New York, Jean."

When he said this, he curled up the corners of his lips, bent his orange-gold eyes, and smiled quietly:

"I also saw many wild flowers in bloom on the road, and I also saw many many people talking about you, but I know that you don't care at all."

"In the spring, I may have to leave New York and go to the wilderness on the Mississippi River. Although my rich friend is very reluctant to part with me, considering that his company has to sort out last year's report and make New Year's plans in the spring, he doesn't have time.

He reluctantly agreed to stay with me. But this summer, when he has time, we agreed to go to the beach together."

"I remember you said you wanted to go see the sea, I will watch it for you."

Beiyuan Hefeng bent down and placed the snow-white tea tree next to the tombstone, showing a helpless smile: "Mr. O. Henry, he is actually not very willing to believe that you are dead. He would rather think that you are playing a trick on him.

So, how many times did you tease him back then? No wonder you are so confident that he can't recognize you."

"Also, I didn't tell you at the time. In fact, the little detective Quinn I know has confirmed that the person he is looking for is you, but I don't know where you live. And..."

The traveler's tone was still brisk at first, but later he spoke slower and slower. He stared at the coffin that was mostly submerged in soil, his eyes were blank for a moment, and then he exhaled.

"Fool."

He lowered his eyes and tried to make an arc with the corners of his mouth, but in the end he failed and could only show a somewhat sad expression.

"Idiot." He repeated again, raised his head and looked at the falling snow sky, and then closed his eyes.

There were cold snowflakes falling on his eyelids.

The very subtle and soft touch melted into rain almost as soon as it touched the body temperature. The wind gently swept across his face. It was a silent comfort. Kitahara and Kaede knew it.

Kitahara and Kaede always know. He knows his friends and every being he loves, but sometimes he would rather be a fool who doesn't understand anything.

"Kitahara."

Sigma, who had his eyes widened in surprise at what Kitahara and Kaede said, noticed the traveler's mood, and shook the traveler's hand hard, pulling him out of his sad mood.

However, is Kitahara's friend the same Jean Genet?

Sigma was a little dazed and shocked, and didn't know what to say for a moment. He actually had no way of thinking about how Kitahara and Feng were connected with a person who caused terrible chaos in New York, let alone how they could imagine that they were

How did we become friends?
To be continued...