Chapter 191 PreparationTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2262 wordsUpdate time: 2024-12-15 17:30:02
When Grellint woke up in the morning light, his mind was not troubled by these chaotic thoughts.
He stood up, stretched, and looked out the window at the vast ocean. After a moment of silence, he calmly adjusted his breathing and gradually got rid of sleepiness. He knew that the road ahead was still unknown, full of challenges and possibilities, but no matter what, moving forward was the only choice.
Grellint walked towards the ship's study with steady steps, his eyes revealing contemplation and determination. In the study, rows of books and old maps were quietly displayed, and the air was filled with the fragrance of ink and paper, as if countless stories and unsolved mysteries of the past were recorded here.
He sat down and casually opened a thin logbook, but his eyes did not rest on the pages. Instead, he looked into the void and fell into deep thought.
The current situation made it difficult for him to calm down. The royal family was now being targeted by the Spiritual Cult, and had to use some of the power of the Beyonders to contain them. This undoubtedly temporarily slowed down their actions of secretly arresting people, but Greylint knew that this relief was only a temporary illusion. The royal family was still in control of the overall situation, and the threat of the Spiritual Cult to them was only slightly more difficult under the attention of the church.
He sighed softly, and recalled his observations along the way. From the East District of Backlund to the port town of Ilfracombe, the royal family had gathered a large number of manpower through various secret means.
This was not an ordinary overthrow trick or the training of death squads. Especially when Duke Drinker Augustus personally took action to kill him, Grellant finally realized that the truth behind it was far more complicated than he had imagined.
If the Duke hadn't appeared, he might have regarded all this as a common conspiracy to change the regime. However, in this extraordinary world, the power of an individual is sometimes far more powerful than that of a group. Why does such a huge existence as the royal family need to mobilize so many ordinary people? What role do these nameless people hiding in the dark play?
The royal family had enough resources and means to achieve their goals, and could even choose simpler and more efficient methods. However, they chose this complicated and secretive method. What was the reason?
Grellint took a deep breath and frowned. His spirit was shaking uneasily, as if some invisible force was approaching, lurking in the dark that he could not reach. He could feel that it was a crisis that enveloped everything, as if some huge secret was pulling all the clues. Even if he only glimpsed the tip of the iceberg, he could already smell the breath of death from the depths of his spirit.
He closed his eyes, adjusted his breathing, and tried to make his thoughts clearer. He knew that finding the truth of this secret was not only the key to survival, but also the premise for him to appear in his original appearance. This was not only about the game between the royal family and the Spiritual Cult, but also involved the deep undercurrents of the entire extraordinary world. He needed time, and more importantly, a reasonable identity as a cover.
Grellint's thoughts turned quickly. The education of the original nobles laid a solid foundation for him, enabling him to quickly sort out his thoughts in complex situations. After a moment, a simple and effective plan emerged in his mind.
"Architecture enthusiast..." He muttered to himself, with a faint smile on his face, "An ordinary and reasonable identity, but it is enough to allow me to get close to many key areas."
His eyes narrowed slightly, and his mind quickly constructed the background and details of this identity. He needed a story that made sense - one that could easily fit into Backlund's upper social circle, but wouldn't draw too much attention to him.
"Architecture, historical relics, restoration plans..." He muttered softly, tapping the table with his fingertips, the rhythm was slow and powerful, as if he was beating the rhythm of his own thoughts. "It just fits the current needs of this city. What else can arouse the interest of those noble ladies and gentlemen better than telling the secrets hidden behind Backlund's ancient buildings?"
His plan gradually took shape, and his mind began to quickly search for details and supplementary points. From the depths of his memory, the architectural art and historical allusions he had learned in order to prepare for the upper-class banquets began to emerge. With the blessing of his extraordinary identity "Reader", the information was like an open book, clearly and clearly displayed in his mind.
More importantly, the large amount of books and materials he had read in order to track down the origin of Backlund's underground world also became his secret weapon at this moment. This knowledge would make his plan more complete and give him the possibility of unlocking the hidden answers.
"The old house reconstruction project in the eastern part of Backlund..." He whispered to himself, a sharp light flashing in his eyes, "If I use this as a starting point, I can not only attract the attention of the aristocratic circle, but also infiltrate those key areas where resources are concentrated. Perhaps, through this approach, I can find the clues hidden in the shadows."
His fingers stopped, tapping the table lightly, with a faint smile on his lips. This was a familiar area for him. Although it was full of complexity, the rules were not unpredictable. The "game" of Backlund's upper class was complex but traceable, and as a pretender from an aristocratic family, he knew better than many people how to navigate the rules while ensuring that he remained hidden.
"The next step is to find a convincing background for this identity." His voice was low and meaningful. His eyes swept to the corner of the study. The books and maps were shining faintly in the moonlight, as if waiting for him to find the answers.
Grellint took a deep breath, his eyes becoming more determined. He knew that through this identity, he would not only be able to get in touch with the higher-level secrets of Backlund, but also buy himself enough time and space to gradually dismantle the crisis hidden in the darkness.
The sea breeze outside the window blew into the study with a hint of coolness, gently ruffling his hair. Grellint raised his head and looked at the deep night outside the window, as if he could see countless possibilities gradually unfolding in front of him. In the night sky, the stars were faint, as if indicating that the light of the future was vague but always there.
Just as his thoughts were wandering, a faint sound of footsteps was heard. Greylint came to his senses and turned to look.
Bernadette had walked into the study without knowing when, and stood by the door, her eyes fixed on him quietly. She was wearing a dark blue robe, which fluttered gently in the breeze. At this moment, she looked gentle, yet with a kind of majesty that could not be ignored.
As if she could see that the young man in front of her was ready, Bernadette said softly, "What help do you need from me?"
Her voice was calm, as calm as ever, as if she had anticipated this moment. There was no doubt in her eyes, only trust and unspoken support.
Grellant was silent for a moment, frowning slightly, as if he was weighing his next move. He knew very well that in order to successfully infiltrate Backlund's upper class society, he needed a perfect identity - an identity that could withstand a royal investigation and also had to fit in seamlessly with his background as an architecture enthusiast.
After a moment, his eyes flickered slightly, as if he had thought of something. Greylint whispered, "I need an identity, an identity that fits that of an architecture enthusiast. It would be best if I have some reasonable wealth and background, so that even if the royal family investigates, they won't be able to find any flaws."Chapter 192 DavisTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2175 wordsUpdate time: 2024-12-16 17:30:03
Bernadette nodded slightly, folding her hands gently in front of her, as if she had been prepared: "I understand. This requires a background with long-term connections in the field of architecture, and at the same time providing some credible 'assets', so that you can gain a foothold in Backlund more quickly." Her tone was as calm as ever, without any hesitation.
Graylint nodded and continued, "Not only that, this identity needs to appear harmless in order to attract the interest of the nobles in Backlund...historical relics, restoration plans, and even the collection of some artworks are all good entry points."
He paused, turned his gaze to the window, and said in a low and firm voice: "The royal family is secretly paying attention to all unusual movements. I can't take any risks, but I can't be too low-key, otherwise it will be difficult to get close to the real core."
Bernadette's eyes fell on his profile, and a hint of approval flashed in her eyes: "Your assessment of the situation is very accurate. Backlund is a complicated place, but the more complicated a place is, the more space there is for people to hide."
She paused for a moment and added, "I will help you prepare the background materials and support you need for your identity. In addition, if necessary, I can arrange for some trusted people to assist you in completing the initial character development."
Grellint turned to look at Bernadette, with a hint of gratitude in his eyes. His voice was calm but sincere: "Thank you, Bernadette. Your help is very important to me."
Bernadette smiled faintly and turned to walk towards the study door. Before leaving, she looked back at him and said with a slightly relaxed tone: "You know why I am willing to help you."
Graylint nodded, he understood what Bernadette meant. She had clearly told him that she helped him because her prophetic ability had hinted that he would play a crucial role in her future promotion ceremony, although she herself did not know the reason.
But this time, she brought it up more as a friend giving him an excuse so that he wouldn't feel burdened by her help.
The corners of Grellint's mouth slightly raised, and he said softly: "Whatever the reason is, I am grateful."
Bernadette didn't say anything more, just nodded slightly and left the study.
Not long after, Bernadette returned to the study with a man. It was a crew member that Grallint had seen on the ship.
He was of medium height and slender build. Although his face was ordinary, his expression showed some determination and calmness. At Bernadette's signal, he lowered his head slightly and looked at Grallint with a slightly inquiring look.
Bernadette introduced him briefly: "His name is Davis, a graduate of the Department of Architecture at Tingen University. He is an orphan who chose to travel after graduation. During the journey, he accidentally came into contact with a Extraordinary and became a 'Secret Peer'. He was discovered by one of our crew members during the voyage and subsequently joined the Dawn."
Grellint's eyes stayed on Davis for a moment, then he turned to Bernadette and said in a low and firm tone: "If I want to play him, I need to know all the details. His life experience, his speaking habits, and even his preference for certain things."
Davis was slightly stunned when he heard this, but soon nodded with a look of caution and awe. He obviously realized that the "guest" in front of him would take over his identity in the future, and all this had to be impeccable.
Bernadette nodded slightly, signaling Davis to speak: "Tell him everything, from your upbringing to your current experiences, even some insignificant details."
Davis cleared his throat and spoke in a low and steady voice: "I grew up in an orphanage in Tingen. It was a very small orphanage with few resources, but the director and volunteers were very kind to us. I liked architectural models when I was a child, and I always felt that every building had a story. Later, with the recommendation letter from the director, I entered the Department of Architecture at Tingen University."
He paused and continued, "During college, I focused on surveying and restoration of historical buildings. I often participated in professors' research projects and published several papers on architectural restoration on campus. After graduation, I decided to travel around the country and conduct field research on different architectural styles to enrich my knowledge."
Davis glanced at Bernadette, as if to confirm her attitude, and then took a deep breath: "During one of my travels, I found ancient symbols and traces in an abandoned church. They were the remains of some extraordinary rituals. I didn't know it at the time, but after getting closer, I felt the call, and then I gradually realized that I had come into contact with the extraordinary world."
He paused for a moment and added, "After that, I discovered some similar extraordinary signs during my travels and even learned some skills to spy on the secrets. Finally, during one of my voyages, I was discovered by the crew of the Dawn and brought back to this ship."
Greylint listened quietly, his brows slightly furrowed, his eyes sharp and cautious: "What is his personality like? His behavior habits? Davis, what are you sensitive to, what do you like, and what do you hate?"
Davis was clearly well prepared. He thought for a moment before answering, "I like architecture and art, but I am not good at dealing with people, especially the complicated social interactions in the aristocratic circle. I am used to speaking directly and tend to be low-key and independent in my behavior. I hate hypocrisy and empty flattery."
Graylint nodded and calmly concluded: "A man who is focused on academics and has a reserved personality, but because of extraordinary experiences, he has to get involved in a more complex world."
Bernadette added at the right moment: "If necessary, I can arrange for some trustworthy people to provide assistance so that your identity will be more natural and credible."
Greylint turned his gaze towards her, with a hint of satisfaction in his tone, "Davis's background is simple and true, but also has enough layers to be suitable as an identity to infiltrate Backlund's upper class. As long as the details are impeccable, no one will doubt it."
He turned to Davis, his tone polite but with a force that could not be refused: "Mr. Davis, from now on, I am you. Please teach me your life and habits without reservation."
Davis bowed his head slightly, and said firmly: "Yes, I will fully cooperate."
Bernadette nodded slightly, her expression calm, but there was a hint of reminder in her tone: "There is one more thing to consider - how to make this identity reappear reasonably. After all, Davis has been away from the academic circle for several years. He has not been in the Dawn for a short time either."
Grellint raised his eyebrows slightly, turned his head and looked at Bernadette, and after a moment of deep thought, he slowly said, "Indeed. Even if this identity's background is impeccable, his sudden appearance in Backlund will easily attract the attention and suspicion of others, especially those who are familiar with his past experiences."
Bernadette looked deep in her eyes and said softly, "Perhaps you can make up a reasonable reason, such as a scholar returning from a travel, or an architecture enthusiast who focused on a certain research during his seclusion."
Greylint nodded slightly, and then added: "More importantly, his 'return' needs an opportunity, so that people feel that his appearance is natural, rather than sudden and deliberate."Chapter 193 PortTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2233 wordsUpdate time: 2024-12-17 17:30:02
Davis said hesitantly, "Perhaps I can go back to Tingen first, visit my mentor and classmates, and then go to Backlund. After all, Backlund's architecture also has a history of hundreds of years, and Tingen is the starting point of my past experience. This is more natural."
Bernadette turned to look at him with a smile on her face. "That's a good idea. But you need more convincing details. For example, what have you been doing in the past few years? Why did you choose this time to 'return' to Tingen?"
Greylint's eyes lit up slightly, and he whispered, "You can make up a story, saying that you have been tracking down certain historical sites for an important study, such as unpublished architectural history materials. You have just recently completed this research."
Bernadette nodded slightly and continued, "Return to Tingen and visit former professors and acquaintances. You can naturally talk about Backlund. Having them endorse your return will make you look more authentic and avoid a lot of unnecessary doubts."
Davis thought for a moment and added, "I worked with several professors during college, and one of them was invited to Backlund to participate in an event of the Architecture Association. If I can use their connections, I may be able to integrate into Backlund's circle more smoothly."
Greylint's eyes became more determined. "Very good. Davis' identity can return to the public eye through this academic line. But we must ensure that the 'story' is seamlessly connected with the actual experience - travel routes, research results, publication records, every detail needs to stand up to scrutiny. I won't give anyone the opportunity to question it."
Bernadette's eyes flashed with approval, and she slowly said, "Your 'Reader' ability will come in handy. Davis' identity must not only be authentic, but also attractive enough to make his return a major event in Backlund's architectural circle."
Greylint smiled softly, with a bit of certainty in his tone: "Not just the architectural circle, but also those nobles who have no interest in architecture are willing to contact Davis. After all, only in this way can I gradually get close to those who are truly hiding in the dark."
Bernadette nodded slightly and said solemnly: "I will arrange for someone to organize your background details and ensure that it becomes a formal file. Time is tight, but we will make sure it is foolproof."
Davis took a deep breath, his eyes showing a hint of determination: "I will fully cooperate and organize all the necessary information to ensure it is flawless."
Greylint stood up, adjusted his cuffs, and said calmly and resolutely, "From now on, Davis's identity is no longer just your past, but my future."
The sea breeze outside the window blew through the study, bringing a cool breeze. Glitter looked through the window lattice into the distance, which was an unknown sea. He knew that a new chapter belonging to "Davis" was about to begin, and everything belonging to "Glitter" would continue to be buried in the fog.
Three days later, at the southern port of Whiteson Bay.
The cold winter sea breeze, wrapped in dampness and coolness, blew from the sea to the port, bringing bursts of biting cold. The sky was filled with gray clouds, and the sunlight was obscured by the thick clouds, leaving only dim light on the sparkling sea. A passenger ship slowly approached the shore, and the hull swayed gently in the cold waves, making a low creaking sound.
On the shore, the hustle and bustle of the docks was still the same. The crew shouted loudly to direct the unloading, and the workers pushed the carts loaded with goods through the narrow wooden plank road, making a creaking sound. Travelers wearing thick coats stepped on the wet stone road and hurried towards the town.
Davis walked down the gangway slowly, carrying a simple suitcase in his hand, his cape fluttering slightly in the wind. He stood at the edge of the harbor, looking up slightly at the outline of the harbor town not far away. Houses made of red bricks and gray stones were connected together, and under the gray sky, the hands of the clock tower pointed to noon.
This is not his real hometown, but it carries important memories of his past. From an ordinary architecture student to a pretender with the identity of "Davis", those past experiences came to his mind like a tide, with some complicated feelings.
He took a deep breath, and the cold air mixed with the smell of the sea seemed to pull him back to reality. He murmured in a low voice, as if talking to himself, or as a reminder to himself: "Returning home must have such a complicated taste."
He stood there, staring at the scene before him. Under his feet was the familiar port cobblestone road, in the distance was the familiar building outline, but his ears were filled with strange and noisy sounds. A sense of alienation that did not belong here enveloped him, but also brought a strange sense of stability.
Davis' eyes flashed with a meaningful light. He walked slowly toward the street, the wheels of the suitcase vibrating on the wet cobblestones, blending in with the sound of his footsteps.
His steps were steady, his expression calm, and his eyes swept the streets and people around him calmly. The atmosphere of the port was gradually replaced by the atmosphere of small town life. Intermittent laughter and conversation came from the narrow alleys, and the air was filled with the aroma of coal smoke and baking bread.
Turning a corner, he glanced around casually and noticed a little boy about ten years old standing on the street. He was wearing a slightly worn coat and was squatting on the ground fiddling with a simple wooden spinning top.
Davis stopped, bent down slightly, and asked gently, "Little friend, can you tell me how to get to the train station?"
The little boy raised his head with a timid look, but seeing the kind smile on the stranger's face, he hesitated for a moment and pointed in the direction ahead. His voice was childish but clear: "Go all the way to the end of this road, then turn left. When you see a clock tower, turn right and you will see the train station."
Davis smiled slightly, took out a few coins from his pocket and handed them to the little boy: "Thank you, little guy, this is for you."
The little boy was stunned for a moment, then happily took the coin, whispered a thank you, and watched the elegant gentleman continue to move forward.
He looked away and continued walking calmly, as if the question he had just asked was just an ordinary matter. However, only he knew that all this was just part of his disguise. His polite attitude, reasonable behavior, and the coins were just the right amount, which were all to maintain his image as a scholar.
He walked in the direction pointed by the little boy, with brisk but not impatient steps, his eyes passed through the crowd, occasionally lingering on the low-hanging shop signs and the figures of pedestrians. There were a few old shops on both sides of the street, and the wooden window frames and yellowed signs revealed the unique sense of age of this small town. The hustle and bustle of the port gradually faded away, replaced by the typical life atmosphere of the town, and the bustling crowd seemed to have long been accustomed to this ordinary tranquility.
Davis did not look back. He knew that he needed to disguise himself more perfectly. Every step and every tiny movement must not attract anyone's attention. Whether it was the natural expression in his gestures or the appropriate gentleness on his face, he had to make himself look like an ordinary scholar with nostalgia and a sense of belonging to his homeland.Chapter 194 StationTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2108 wordsUpdate time: 2024-12-18 17:30:01
Soon, he reached the end of the street. The clock tower on the left stood in the morning light. The hands of the clock stopped at ten o'clock, making a low ticking sound. Just as the little boy said, turn the corner and turn right, and the train station will be in front of you.
In the open space in front of the train station, several carriages were parked and merchants were busy unloading goods. The atmosphere seemed leisurely but full of the atmosphere of busy life. He stood by the bench in front of the station and looked around, trying to sense the rhythm and atmosphere of this place. People were walking between haste and leisure, and everyone seemed to be busy for their own purposes, and he was still the scholar who had just returned from the sea.
He sighed softly and finally stepped into the train station. The air in the station was filled with the aroma of coal smoke and wood, and the traces of the steam age were clearly revealed here. The broadcasting sound intermittently echoed under the tall dome, with a slightly hoarse sound, making people seem to hear the echo of the passage of time. The crowd was bustling, travelers with suitcases, hurried businessmen, and mothers holding children passed by him in a hurry, but no one stopped to pay attention to this gentle "Davis".
He walked through the crowd, walked steadily to the ticket window, tapped the table with his fingers, and reported the train to Backlund. His tone was calm and firm, in stark contrast to the hustle and bustle around him. The conductor just mechanically handed out the ticket without even looking at him.
When he arrived at the waiting hall, he slowed down his pace and looked around with a slightly nostalgic look. The chandelier hanging high above the hall had long been covered with a light dust, but it still showed its former splendor. There were all kinds of people sitting on the benches, including workers taking naps, passengers chatting, and wanderers with tired eyes. He glanced at these people lightly, with a kind of emotion that seemed real and fake in his expression.
The emotion of "nostalgia" was a disguise, but Davis - no, Greylint - still couldn't completely hide the curiosity deep in his heart. This was a world completely different from the previous life, ancient and full of mechanical rhythms. The steam age was promoted to an unprecedented height by Emperor Roselle here. Trains, mechanical clocks, giant boilers... Everything was in operation, showing the power of industry, and behind this power, there seemed to be some kind of uneasy restlessness hidden.
"The roar of steam and machinery is also quietly changing the world." He murmured, his eyes falling on the train slowly entering the station outside the window. The huge steel body was wrapped in steam, and thick white smoke gushed out of the chimney at the front of the train, carrying an unstoppable force.
He casually placed his suitcase next to the bench and looked up at the clocks around him - the time was 11:27, less than half an hour before the train departed.
The bustle and noise in the waiting room did not affect him at all. His thoughts drifted away quietly, returning to his own plan: Backlund's architectural circle, those unsolved secrets, and the shadows of the royal family and the Spiritual Cult. He had to carefully navigate between these dangers, taking steady steps while also waiting for opportunities.
However, a young and innocent voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts: "Uncle, are you a scholar?"
Grellint's thoughts paused for a moment, and he looked up. A little boy of about seven or eight years old was standing in front of him, with innocent curiosity in his eyes. He was holding an old illustrated book in his arms, and his fingers were unconsciously stroking the edge of the pages.
"Scholar?" Grellint raised his lips slightly, revealing a gentle smile. He put down the suitcase in his hand and replied softly, "Well, I guess so. I'm very interested in architecture and I'm planning to go to Tingen now."
"Tingen?" The little boy's eyes lit up and he said excitedly, "I heard from my father that there are many schools there, and there is also a big library! Are there many people studying there?"
Grellint nodded slightly, looking through the window of the station at the gray sky in the distance, his tone calm but with a hint of nostalgia: "Yes, Tingen is a university town, many people go there to study and research. It is quiet and full of knowledge, it is a good place."
The little boy curiously opened the illustrated book in his hand, pointed to a crude picture of a cathedral and a bell tower and asked, "Uncle, are there houses like this in Tingen? Like the ones in the book?"
"Yes." Grallint looked at the picture, a trace of memory flashing in his eyes, "There are ancient buildings and many places full of history. These buildings are like silent libraries, recording the stories of time."
The little boy's eyes sparkled with longing. He grinned and carefully took out a candy from his pocket and handed it to Greylint: "Uncle, this candy is for you! When you go to Tingen, remember to help me look for the house there!"
Grellint was slightly stunned, and as he looked at the candy, a hint of tenderness appeared in his eyes. He took the candy and nodded solemnly: "Okay, I'll take a look for you."
The little boy smiled brightly, then ran back to the bench in the waiting room and sat next to his mother who was waiting. Grellint watched his back, holding the candy in his hand, the cold touch passed through his fingertips, and his heart was slightly shaken.
For some reason, the corners of his mouth unconsciously raised, and his smile was faint but genuine.
The station bell rang on time at this moment, deep and distant, as if announcing the beginning of a new journey. The train whistle then roared and echoed over the entire platform. Thick white steam gushed out, filling the air with soot, blurring the outline of the platform and bringing a strong industrial atmosphere.
Grellant took a deep breath, as if taking the complex and familiar smell into his lungs. He picked up his suitcase and slowly walked towards the platform, his steps calm and firm, as if every step he took was measuring the trajectory of his future.
As he passed the little boy, he paused for a moment, lowered his head slightly, and gave the boy a polite and gentle smile.
The boy was stunned for a moment, then he smiled even more brightly and waved his hand: "Goodbye, uncle!"
His mother looked at her son in confusion and asked in a low voice, "Who is he?"
The boy just shook his head happily: "He's a scholar! An uncle who will go to see beautiful houses!"
Grellint listened to the little boy's voice, his smile unchanged, and continued to walk forward, his figure gradually blending into the flow of people and steam on the platform.
The train started slowly, and the wheels rolled over the rails, making a rhythmic clicking sound, as if to kick off his next plan. Through the window, the scene of the waiting hall and the platform gradually receded and blurred into a virtual shadow.
Grellint leaned back gently in his seat, the corners of his mouth still slightly raised, as if he was immersed in the innocent little episode that just happened.
Davis' journey begins from this stop.Chapter 195 Piano SoundTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2108 wordsUpdate time: 2024-12-19 17:30:06
"Sir, where is your destination?"
When Grellint was staring out the window in a daze, a young voice came to his ears.
Grellant came back to his senses, turned his eyes away from the window, and gently turned towards the source of the sound. He saw a young conductor, wearing a neat uniform and smiling, standing next to his seat.
The young man didn't seem to notice Greylint's contemplation, and still maintained a professional and polite attitude: "Sir, where is your destination? It seems that your ticket has not been confirmed yet."
Grellint adjusted his sitting position slightly, slowly took out the ticket from his pocket and handed it to the conductor.
"Tingen." He answered calmly, his tone neither hurried nor slow.
The conductor took the ticket, lowered his head and checked it carefully, then nodded slightly: "Okay, your seat has been confirmed. If you need any help, just let me know."
Grellint didn't say anything else, but just nodded politely, indicating that the conductor could leave.
Just as he leaned back in his chair and prepared to continue thinking, a brisk voice came from the other side, with a somewhat casual and familiar tone: "You are also going to Tingen, right? Since we are going the same way, why not get to know each other." The other party paused slightly, then introduced himself: "My name is Evans, a bard."
Grellint heard the voice, slowly raised his head, and looked across. The person who spoke was a young man in his twenties, wearing casual clothes, with a slightly open collar, revealing a small piece of leather pendant. His hair was a little messy, but his face was clean, with a faint smile on the corner of his mouth, and holding a somewhat old six-string guitar in his hand.
"Bard?" Grellint repeated softly, with a hint of interest in his tone. His eyes were slightly focused, as if he was carefully observing every detail of the other person.
Evans noticed Greylint's gaze, but he didn't seem to care. He plucked the strings and played a series of brisk notes. His eyes were filled with the confidence and casualness of a traveler: "Yes, bard. Although my reputation has not spread throughout Rune, I have to try to make my fellow travelers remember me first, don't I?"
Greylint smiled slightly, shifted his gaze away from his face, and returned to the scenery outside the car window. He said lightly: "It can be seen that you are indeed good at making people remember you."
Evans was stunned for a moment, then he laughed, obviously quite satisfied with Greylint's response: "Thank you for the compliment. What about you? You look like a scholar, carrying an old suitcase in your hand. Are you a scholar who studies something?"
Greylint turned around, looked him in the eyes calmly, and replied casually: "Architecture."
Evans raised his eyebrows, with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "Architecture? Sounds a bit boring. But maybe that's my prejudice - after all, poetry and bricks don't seem to have much in common."
Grellant smiled and said nothing. Evans's casual conversation seemed harmless, but he remained vigilant. This kind of self-indulgent conversation during the journey might really be just a poet who likes to be lively, or there might be other intentions.
He glanced calmly at Evans's strings and pendant, a polite smile still on his lips, and said in a gentle tone: "What about you? A bard, why did you choose to go to Tingen?"
Evans plucked the strings of his harp, his tone still brisk: "Oh, go find some inspiration. I heard that the college and library in Tingen have many precious story materials, and I just need a new poem." As he spoke, his eyes fell on Greylint again and he blinked, "Perhaps you are one of my inspirations."
The smile on Greylint's face deepened, and his tone remained calm: "I hope you can find a satisfactory story."
The conversation between the two ended here. Evans seemed to stop interrupting and lowered his head to gently pluck the strings of the piano, humming a melodious tune. And Grallint looked out the window again, his expression calm as usual, but there was a hint of doubt in his heart.
A bard, or a seemingly harmless character with hidden meanings, may ultimately be just a passing scenery on the road.
The gentle sound of the piano came to my ears, and the melodious notes slowly flowed in the carriage, dispelling some of the fatigue of the journey. Grallint looked out the window, pondered for a moment, and couldn't help but add a sentence in his heart:
"This seems better. At least it adds a little bit of different color to this boring trip."
The sound of the piano was particularly clear amidst the slow roar of the train, interweaving with the gradually receding scenery outside the window. The corners of Grellant's mouth slightly raised, and he leaned back in his seat with a half-smile, tapping his fingers lightly on the armrests of the chair, as if he was also following the rhythm of the melody.
The train slowly drove away, and the monotony of the journey became more brisk because of the embellishment of the piano music. However, he still did not let down his habitual vigilance. The guy who called himself a bard might really be a harmless traveler, or maybe not. But at least at this moment, these were irrelevant - the direction of the train was clear, and his goal was also clear.
**"The journey is long, and adding a melody can also be a nice scenery."** He chuckled in his heart and murmured, closing his eyes.
A bard, or a seemingly harmless character with hidden meanings, may ultimately be just a passing scenery on the road.
The gentle sound of the piano came to my ears, and the melodious notes slowly flowed in the carriage, dispelling some of the fatigue of the journey. Grallint looked out the window, pondered for a moment, and couldn't help but add a sentence in his heart:
"This seems better. At least it adds a little bit of different color to this boring trip."
The sound of the piano was particularly clear amidst the slow roar of the train, interweaving with the gradually receding scenery outside the window. The corners of Grellant's mouth slightly raised, and he leaned back in his seat with a half-smile, tapping his fingers lightly on the armrests of the chair, as if he was also following the rhythm of the melody.
The train slowly drove away, and the monotony of the journey became more brisk because of the embellishment of the piano music. However, he still did not let down his habitual vigilance. The guy who called himself a bard might really be a harmless traveler, or maybe not. But at least at this moment, these were irrelevant - the direction of the train was clear, and his goal was also clear.
"The journey is long, and one more melody can also be a nice scenery." He chuckled in his heart and murmured, then slightly adjusted his sitting posture, leaned back in the chair, and closed his eyes.
As the melodious piano music and the monotonous clacking sound of the train intertwined, Grellint's thoughts gradually relaxed. The scenery outside the window was receding rapidly, and the sunlight shone through the window onto his face, reflecting a warm feeling.
Gradually, the piano and the roar of the train seemed to merge into a background sound, like the hum of the sea. Grallint's breathing also became smooth, his thoughts were withdrawn from the waking reality, and he slowly fell into sleep.Chapter 196 DreamTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2277 wordsUpdate time: 2024-12-20 17:30:02
In the dream, time and space overlapped, and a blurry picture flashed through Grellint's mind - a brightly lit study, the air was filled with the smell of old paper; a young noble in a luxurious robe slowly woke up from a soft recliner, his eyes showing a little confusion; on the cold street, a detective in a windbreaker and with strange behavior shuttled under the street lights, and the sound of leather boots hitting stone slabs echoed in the silence; the sea of fire was boiling, blood dyed the black robe red, and the smell of burning almost penetrated the dream and spread to reality...
The images were intermittent, but the emotions were as vivid as ever. Scene after scene, like a runaway slide show, projected in his mind, fast and heavy, suffocating him. Grallint's brows unconsciously knitted slightly, and his fingertips tightened slightly on the armrest of the seat, as if trying to grasp those fleeting fragments.
The train was running smoothly, with a regular roar echoing in the carriage, and the surrounding atmosphere was quiet and peaceful. The sunlight outside the window sprinkled on Grellint's face, bringing a hint of heat, as if trying to pull him back from the abyss of his dream.
Even so, the corners of his mouth were pursed even tighter, his breathing was slow and restrained, and there was no trace of emotion on his face, as if the storms in his dreams had nothing to do with reality.
However, a faint sound of piano sounded in his ears, and the melody spread like waves, as if an undercurrent was surging, pulling his thoughts back to reality. The sound of the piano was sometimes high and sometimes low, like a whisper in a dream, touching the depths of his heart.
Grellint opened his eyes suddenly, and his breathing quickened instantly. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his disturbed mind. The scene in front of him was blurred for a moment, and then gradually became clear - it was still the familiar carriage, the familiar seat. The passengers around him were either leaning on the seats to take a nap, or talking quietly, the atmosphere was as calm as water, as if nothing had changed.
The sun poured in through the car window, and the warm light hit his face, reminding him that it was already afternoon. At this moment, a low and gentle voice pulled him back from the aftermath:
"Sir, it looks like you had a bad dream."
The voice was not deliberately raised, but it had just the right sense of proportion. Glint turned his head and saw Evans sitting opposite him, looking at him gently, holding a violin in his hand, with the bow resting on his legs, looking relaxed.
Greylint raised a smile and quickly adjusted his mood, saying calmly and politely, "Yes, it was just an insignificant dream."
His words sounded light, but Evans's eyes did not move away immediately, as if he wanted to capture more details from his expression. In the end, Evans just nodded, lowered his eyes, and continued to adjust the violin in his hand, the bow crossed the strings, and produced a few slow notes.
The notes seemed to be a test, but also a silent comfort. The carriage regained its calm, and the sound of the piano and the roar of the train intertwined into a subtle background, seemingly surrounding Grellant. However, his thoughts were not completely calmed down. The afterglow of the dream turned into hidden ripples, slowly spreading in the depths of consciousness, and those blurred images were still circling, like an unsolved puzzle, and like a long-dormant fate being awakened.
He stared out the window, his eyes wandering with the ever-changing scenery. The train passed through fields, the sun shone on the snow-covered hills, reflecting soft light; the occasional chimneys of the villages passed by emitted faint white smoke, indicating the warmth of life. Such tranquility and harmony seemed to form a sharp contrast with the turmoil in his heart.
Those fragments in the dream were not simple illusions, but part of his memory - whether it was the melancholy of the noble youth, the coldness of the detective, or the blood and black robes in the sea of fire, they all showed everything he had experienced. These pasts had not really left, they lurked in the depths of his memory, waiting for the opportunity to reappear.
Grellint knew that this seemingly peaceful journey was just a moment of calm before the storm. Backlund, the city known as the "Capital of All Capitals", was like a bottomless whirlpool, hiding countless dangers and unknowns. Whether it was the goal he was shouldering or the challenges he was about to face, this journey was destined to be difficult.
"The past is a foregone conclusion, and the present is the key." Grellint whispered in his heart, his eyes gradually becoming deep and firm. He knew that he could not be bound by those memories, and he could not let his emotions disturb his judgment. The goal in front of him was still clear. Whether it was the hidden crisis in the city or the task he had to complete, he needed to face it in the calmest state.
The piano music in the carriage was still melodious, accompanying the rhythm of the train, like a prelude to this journey. Grellant took a deep breath, temporarily suppressed those lingering memories, and focused on the scenery outside the window and the upcoming challenges.
"Backlund." He muttered in his heart, with an unshakable light in his eyes. That was the end of this journey and the beginning of a new adventure. No matter what was waiting for him, he had to set foot on that unknown land to meet the test of fate.
He withdrew his gaze from the window, nodded slightly, and said to Evans in a calm tone: "Thank you, Mr. Evans. You are really good at taking care of people."
Evans smiled gently, and without saying much, he continued to tune the violin in his hand. The bow gently slid across the strings, producing a soft and crisp melody. The atmosphere in the carriage returned to tranquility with the sound of the violin, and the melody echoed in the air like flowing water, as if injecting a touch of calmness into Greylint's slightly disordered thoughts.
The train moved forward slowly, and the scene outside the window kept changing. At first, there were crowded streets and thick smoke from industrial chimneys, symbolizing busyness and noise. As the track extended, the view gradually widened, and the tranquil countryside took its place. Glellint stared out the window, his eyes swept across the fields and villages covered with frost and snow, and those simple and quiet scenes seemed to bring some peace to his mind.
The train passed through vast fields, and the sun shone through the thin clouds onto the snow-covered ground, reflecting a soft light. The air seemed to become fresher, and the warmth inside the window formed a sharp contrast with the winter chill outside. Although it was winter, the scenery in front of us made people feel a rare tranquility and peace.
As the train continued forward, the villages became increasingly sparse, and the outlines of the mountains gradually became clearer in sight. Looking out the window, Glitter saw that the snow-covered mountains looked particularly majestic, as if they were telling the power of time in silence. The carriage gradually became quiet, and the passengers' attention was attracted by the scenery outside the window. Evans' violin was no longer the only melody, and the sound of the wind and snow outside tapping on the window seemed to add a natural accompaniment to this journey.
As the train passed through an empty plain and gradually entered a larger station, Grellint stood up from his seat and slowly sorted out his clothes. He picked up the suitcase beside him and glanced at the platform outside the window. There were not many people on the platform, and the snow covered the ground and the surrounding buildings. The entire station seemed quiet and solemn.
"Tingen." The station broadcast sounded, clear and mechanical, with an emotionless and indifferent tone, indicating that the train had arrived at its destination.Chapter 197 SnowTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2210 wordsUpdate time: 2024-12-21 17:30:03
"Sir, I wish you a pleasant journey ahead."
Evans' voice was like a breeze, gentle and calm, with a hint of unchanging elegance, slowly coming from behind Greylint.
Graylint smiled slightly and turned to look at him, with a polite response in his eyes. He nodded, and said in a calm and proper tone: "Thank you for your company along the way, Mr. Evans. I wish you all the best."
Although the words were plain, there was a slight alert in Grellant's eyes. Evans was elegant, calm, and seemed harmless on the surface, but Grellant could not completely let go of his doubts during this accidental journey. The occasional flash of inquiring eyes and the emotions vaguely revealed in his piano always made Grellant feel a little uneasy.
Evans still had a faint smile on his face, seemingly unconcerned about Greylint's vigilance. He gently put away his violin and nodded gracefully: "The journey is always full of unforeseen elements. I wish you success."
His tone was still calm, but for some reason, there was an elusive meaning in his words. Grallint paused for a moment, then turned around, picked up his suitcase, and slowly walked towards the exit of the station. Behind him, Evans' figure gradually merged into the blurred light and shadow in the carriage.
The cold wind outside the station was biting, as if every breath could condense into a wisp of mist. Grellint walked out of the station with the crowd, and the snowflakes fell gently like feathers, instantly dyeing the world into a pure white canvas.
He stood at the door and took a deep breath of the cold air. The biting cold seemed to penetrate his skin and reach his bones. The scene before him was both strange and vaguely familiar. This snow-covered city overlapped with the hometown he remembered so far away. A complex emotion quietly surged in his heart.
The street outside the station was cold and silent, with only a few pedestrians in heavy coats hurrying by, leaving a series of deep footprints. Occasionally, a vendor would pass by with a cart, and the steam from the cart would rise in the cold wind and dissipate in an instant. Grellint was not in a hurry to leave, he slowed down his pace and walked forward slowly, his eyes wandering around, as if looking for some long-lost connection.
The past events that Davis had mentioned involuntarily emerged in my mind - the years that the young scholar had spent in this city, the paths he had walked through the streets, and the traces he had left in his research and exploration. This city was not only the starting point of "Davis", but also the beginning of Grallint's disguise.
Grellint's eyes swept across the streets and buildings. The buildings covered in thick snow looked even more solemn, as if every brick and tile was silently guarding those unknown past events. He couldn't help but feel a chill in his heart - this familiar feeling of oppression, as if the city was not as peaceful as it seemed.
He walked slowly along the street, his steps light and steady, and his eyes carefully observed the surrounding environment. The atmosphere of Tingen was different from other places. Everything here seemed to be immersed in a strong academic atmosphere. The small bookstore on the corner, the cafe with warm lights, and the figures sitting by the window reading all revealed a passion for the pursuit of knowledge. However, under this surface calmness and rationality, Grellint could vaguely feel an indescribable shadow lurking deep in the city.
He knew very well that this trip was far more than a simple visit. Everything was a preparation for the future. Starting from Tingen, he would pave the way to Backlund step by step. The place known as the "Capital of All Capitals" was his real stage, where opportunities and crises would coexist.
In the distance, an ancient building gradually appeared in his sight. The blue-gray brick wall looked even more ancient against the white snow, and a few dead branches swayed gently in the cold wind, as if inviting him to come closer. Grellint stopped and stared at it for a while, and the fluctuations in his heart gradually subsided. He slightly adjusted his coat and scarf, took a deep breath, suppressed the waves in his heart, and then quickened his pace and walked towards the building.
That was the first stop of the trip - the residence of Davis' former mentor. The home of an elderly architecture professor carried countless academic memories and past events, and was also the first step for Graylint to reach Backlund.
As he approached, Grellant's sharp observation immediately noticed a figure on the second-floor windowsill, and that person's eyes happened to intertwine with Grellant's.
It was a white-haired old man, standing quietly by the window, gazing at the street with a far-reaching gaze, as if waiting for something. That gaze seemed to penetrate everything in front of him and reach far into the distance.
Grellint paused for a moment, and suddenly he seemed to understand why Audrey had such a complicated reaction after learning that he was not the original owner. At that moment, it seemed as if there was a deep emotion flowing quietly in his heart, complex and indescribable.
He couldn't help but take a deep breath, trying to suppress those complicated emotions, like suppressing a storm. That subtle resonance, those hidden emotions, were gradually forced back into the depths of his heart. Greylint's eyes regained calm, he raised his feet and walked forward quickly.
The professor's residence was within sight, and the chill in the air seemed even more biting, but Grellant had no hesitation in his heart. He knew that every step he took meant a more profound change, and the path he took was not only for his own goals, but also for the efforts and hard work that some people had put in.
Before he even reached the door, Grellant saw the professor already standing at the door, seemingly waiting for him. The professor's expression was still gentle, with a familiar intimacy.
"Davis, you've been gone for several years."
There was no blame in the professor's words, only a long-lost concern and a slightly joking tone, as if he was greeting an old friend who had not been seen for a long time.
"Professor Hartman, I'm sorry to have made you worry." Greylint, or rather, from this moment on he should call himself Davis, hurried forward and looked at Professor Hartman with a worried look on his face.
"It's so cold outside, Professor, why did you come out?"
Davis' words showed his concern for the professor's health, but also a hint of guilt. He knew that he had not been home for many years, and the professor was not only an academic mentor, but also an elder who gave him countless support and guidance, but he had never been able to repay this love.
Professor Hartman smiled slightly, his eyes full of love and warmth: "I am old now, I am not afraid of the cold anymore, but you, I haven't seen you for so long, you should at least let me greet you when you come back."
The words were understated, but full of deep meaning. Grellint's heart suddenly shook, and the turmoil in his heart surged into his heart like a tide, but he was forced to suppress it in an instant. He knew that the relationship between him and the professor was far more complicated than the superficial intimacy.
He is just a guy pretending to be Davis, and although everyone - including the kind old professor - sees him as the scholar who once had ideals and was positive, he understands that this identity is just a cleverly woven mask, a meaningless disguise.Chapter 198 HomeTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2514 wordsUpdate time: 2024-12-22 17:30:02
In Professor Hartman's eyes, Glerint is still the young scholar who once held an ideal and worked tirelessly, the young man who pursued the truth in the academic hall. There is no trace of doubt in the professor's eyes, only full of love and care.
He smiled and gently patted Greylint's shoulder, his tone gentle but with irresistible firmness: "You're welcome, Davis, come in quickly, it's too cold outside."
Grellant lowered his head, trying to suppress his inner fluctuations and make himself look calm and composed. He knew that he could not show any flaws in front of this old professor. So he raised his head, smiled, and tried to make his voice sound calm: "Thank you, professor."
But even though he spoke gently, he seemed to be shrouded in a heavy sense of oppression. He knew that the role he played was far from the real him. Professor Hartman still regarded him as the Davis who pursued ideals and loved academics, but he knew very well that he was not him. Davis was no longer the young scholar, but a person swallowed by countless secrets and pain.
What he couldn't let go of the most was Davis's request before leaving: "Mr. Glint, please say goodbye to my tutor and the dean on my behalf."
This sentence was filled with deep helplessness and despair, as if Davis had foreseen that he would never be able to return to the academic world that was once full of hope. More importantly, according to Bernadette, the extraordinary path of the Secret Peepers was extremely dangerous. Once Davis left the specific shelter, his spirit would be eroded, and his mind would be filled with those inescapable chaotic voices, which were the whispers of the ancient gods, an existence that was almost unbearable.
Grellant took a deep breath and tried to suppress those overly heavy memories in his heart. Every time he thought of Davis's request, the heaviness and oppression in his heart became stronger. But he knew that he could not stay in the past. Davis was no longer himself, and he could not continue to bear everything for Davis. Despite this, the inseparable connection was still deeply rooted in his heart - this was not only a responsibility, but also an invisible bond.
He did not stop, but walked forward more firmly. Although this road was full of confusion and unknowns, he had no choice.
In front, Professor Hartman spoke slowly, his tone still gentle, with the precipitation of years: "If you hadn't sent me some letters all these years, I would have wanted to look for you."
That understated sentence, like a thorn, pierced deeply into Grellant's heart. Letters - Over the years, Davis and the professor could only communicate through those simple pen and paper. He couldn't help but imagine what the professor would feel like without these letters? Would he be a little disappointed, or have doubts about the reason for his departure?
He couldn't help but pause slightly, and a wave of turmoil surged up in his heart again. But he quickly adjusted his emotions, took a deep breath, turned to the professor, and forced a smile: "Thank you, professor, you have always been thinking about me."
However, Grellant knew that he could no longer bear the professor's care and meticulous thoughts, nor could he repay them. Because he was not Davis, he had even forgotten Davis's image. He was standing under another identity, carrying too many unknown secrets and responsibilities. The heavy ties of the past and the future had already imprisoned him deeply.
"Davis," Professor Hartman said in a gentle tone, but with an inescapable intimacy, "there's no need to be so polite between you and me. Emma is waiting for you too. She was very happy to receive your letter about coming back, and she has been talking to me about it several times."
At that moment, Glint felt a sharp pain in his chest, as if something was clamped tightly. Emma's name was like a deep crack that cut open his long-closed heart. The professor's wife's care and expectations seemed to make him unable to bear the burden of this identity. He knew that Emma's expectations were real, full of warmth and sincerity, but it also reminded him more deeply that he was not Davis.
"Emma..." Grellant repeated the name in a low voice, but an indescribable complex emotion surged in his heart. Emma's expectations and warm care made him feel deeply oppressed, as if every interaction with the Hartman couple made him fall deeper into the false identity of Davis. He felt that his position in this relationship was becoming more and more blurred, as if he was no longer Grellant, no longer the person who once wandered in the dark, but completely Davis, the young scholar who never existed.
The emotion was beyond relieving, and his heart felt heavy. Grellint sighed silently: "Ah..."
He looked up at the gentle Professor Hartman in front of him, and the fluctuations in his heart gradually subsided. The heaviness and confusion were finally suppressed by him bit by bit. He knew that since he had inherited this identity, continuing to hesitate and struggle would only be futile. No matter how reluctant he was to admit it, he was now Davis, the Davis who once had ideals but was now entangled in countless complex emotions.
He took a deep breath and tried to make his eyes look more determined, as if he had made some kind of decision: "Yes, I am Davis." This sentence is not only a response to Professor Hartman, but also a final recognition of his own identity. Although his heart is still complicated, full of inescapable entanglements and doubts, he knows that this is the only way for him to move forward.
Davis raised his head and smiled, trying to make himself look more relaxed, as if he wanted to get rid of the heavy self-recognition. He gently changed the subject, his tone was soft and a little warm: "Mrs. Hartman, I haven't seen her for a long time. For a while, I have been missing her cooking."
"Just for a while?"
Suddenly, a gentle but somewhat teasing voice came from not far away. Davis couldn't help but be slightly startled when he heard the voice, and then turned to the source of the voice.
A woman with silver hair was walking out of the kitchen door, holding a plate of freshly baked snacks in her hands. She had a gentle smile on her face and a familiar concern in her eyes.
That was Mrs. Hartman. Her figure appeared in front of Davis, as if a door quietly opened, bringing him back to the memories described by "Davis". In the heart of "Davis", the memory of her was extremely clear - it was a warm time, full of simple but profound daily fragments. She always patiently prepared delicious meals for him, and smiled and told him every bit of life, as if every moment contained profound meaning. Her care was like a long stream of water, warm but delicate.
These conversations in the cabin seemed to be frozen into pictures at this moment, slowly unfolding in his mind. Each memory was filled with a hint of nostalgia and warmth, as if pulling him back to that warm home, back to those ordinary and fulfilling days spent with Hartmann and his wife. Whether it was the professor discussing academics with him, the light in the study at night, the scent of ink floating between the books; or his wife standing at the kitchen door, smiling and asking him if he liked today's dishes, all these details intertwined into a warm picture, both beautiful and heavy.
"Ma'am, I..." Davis smiled slightly, his tone soft, with a hint of long-lost emotion. He slowly walked towards Mrs. Hartman, his steps were a little hesitant, but soon returned to their natural state. "Over the years, I have often missed your dishes."
His words were simple but full of genuine warmth. Mrs. Hartman greeted him with a smile, and the warm light shone on her face, as if everything seemed to become calmer at this moment.
"Come in, it's cold outside." Mrs. Hartman's tone was soft, with a hint of motherly concern.
Davis nodded, smiled, and followed her into the house. The complex emotions in his mind were gradually replaced by the warmth and stability of daily life.Chapter 199 Roselle Architectural StyleTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2301 wordsUpdate time: 2024-12-23 17:30:10
A sumptuous meal was already laid out on the dining table. The air was filled with warmth, and the fire was emitting red light in the cold air, as if completely isolating the snow and wind outside. Davis took a deep breath, feeling the peace brought by all this, and his inner fluctuations gradually subsided.
"Come and eat!" Mrs. Hartman greeted gently with a warm smile on her face, "The food is getting cold, don't keep them waiting for you."
Davis smiled slightly, walked to the dining table and sat down, his tone was filled with a hint of relief and nostalgia: "Madam's dishes, I have always missed them. For several years, I have always wondered when I could taste your cooking again."
Mrs. Hartman laughed, with a hint of teasing in her tone: "Then you have to eat more, otherwise I'll be sorry for your concern."
"Of course." Davis picked up the cutlery and looked at the dishes on the table. The familiar taste seemed to bring him back to those old times. He lowered his head and tasted it carefully, and a long-lost sense of satisfaction appeared in his heart. "It's still the same taste, ma'am, it's really delicious."
Professor Hartman smiled and said, "You have been traveling around for so many years, but you still miss the food at home. It seems that next time, Madam will have to cook more for you to eat on the road."
As soon as he finished speaking, Mrs. Hartman kicked him lightly. She smiled and glared at him, with a bit of reproach in her tone: "How can food be so easy to bring? If you are really hungry, you should come back to eat it, don't always think about taking it away."
Davis couldn't help but chuckle, looking up at the interaction between the two, feeling a little warm in his heart. Mrs. Hartman then turned her head and looked at Davis with a gentle smile on her face: "Don't listen to his nonsense, eat more if you like it. You are always welcome to our home meals."
"Yeah," the professor touched his nose and muttered softly, "Come back more often next time, and the lady won't kick me."
Under the warm lights and the fire, the three of them sat on the sofa, and the atmosphere was still warm and relaxing. Mrs. Hartman smiled and cleaned up the table, gently pushed open the kitchen door, and signaled the two men not to help anymore and to handle it by themselves. The relaxed and pleasant feeling after the meal filled the air, and it seemed that even the air became warm.
On the sofa, Professor Hartman put down the cup in his hand, his eyes revealing a trace of concern and expectation: "Davis, how has your research progressed over the years? The letter said that you have made many new discoveries in architecture?"
The professor's tone was not harsh, but full of academic concern and warmth. After all, he was Davis's mentor back then, and he understood the student's talent and his academic persistence.
Davis smiled slightly and adjusted his sitting posture. Although he was a little nervous, he tried his best to make his tone sound steady and calm. "Indeed, Professor, in the past few years, I have been studying some emerging architectural styles and structural designs, especially the impact of the Industrial Revolution. By analyzing some historical buildings, I have discovered many structural features and style evolutions that I had not noticed before."
He paused, as if preparing his next words: "I have always believed that architecture is not just a space for living and working, but also a carrier of culture. Behind every building there are stories and backgrounds belonging to that era. Some of the content of my research attempts to express these stories in a more precise way."
Professor Hartman nodded, obviously knowing something about Davis's research. Davis's academic vision has always been unique, especially in the history and function of architecture, and his discoveries are often refreshing.
"Very interesting." Professor Hartman said softly, with a look of satisfaction in his eyes, as if he was proud of Davis's insights. "You have always been able to think about problems from different angles, which is very rare. It seems that your travels during this period have also been very helpful to you."
Davis nodded, a gentle smile on his face, and a thoughtful tone in his voice: "Indeed, this trip allowed me to see the evolution of architectural styles. From the solemnity of temple-style buildings, to the grandeur of the palaces during the Four Emperors period, to today's technological buildings in the style of Emperor Roselle, cultural changes have left deep traces in architecture."
Professor Hartman listened carefully, his eyes becoming more focused: "Emperor Roselle-style architecture, can you talk about how it is performed in detail? What impact do you think it will have on future architecture?"
Davis adjusted his sitting posture slightly, with a hint of excitement in his eyes: "Emperor Roselle's style first appeared at the peak of the empire, emphasizing the combination of 'power' and 'function'. Its architectural appearance is full of geometric sense, and symmetrical design is often used, highlighting the grandeur and cold momentum. It rebelled against traditional architectural styles, especially when expressing power and order, often using straight lines and sharp angles to convey a sense of rationality and control. In modern technological buildings, this style has become more flexible, adding more functional designs and modern materials, such as steel, glass, etc., which not only enhances the beauty, but also strengthens the practicality and technological sense of the building."
He paused and continued, "This style is not just an aesthetic expression, it reflects the rapidly changing needs of society. Modern architecture increasingly emphasizes the practicality and sustainability of buildings. Many architects refer to this style when designing, striving to add innovative elements based on rigorous structure."
Professor Hartman stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Your understanding of architecture has gone beyond the formal grasp and has touched upon the culture, history and social structure behind the architecture. Do you think this style will affect the planning and construction of future cities?"
Davis' eyes sparkled with thought, and he was silent for a while before answering: "I think it will have a far-reaching impact. As society develops, urban architecture is not just for aesthetics, it has been closely linked to technological progress, social needs and even political expression. I believe that with the development of industrialization and technology, more buildings of this style will be seen in the core areas of cities in the future. They will not only represent technological progress, but may also become cultural and social centers."
Professor Hartman nodded slightly, his eyes flashing with approval. "You are right, Davis. You not only master the skills of architecture, but also have an understanding of the deeper meaning of architecture. This is exactly what future academic research needs."
Davis smiled gently, his eyes calm. "Thank you for your affirmation, professor. In fact, these trips have given me the opportunity to examine the relationship between architecture and society from different perspectives, which has given me a more comprehensive understanding of this subject."
The professor's eyes softened. "I have always believed that you will go further in your academic career. You have not only acquired knowledge, but also insight into culture. Future architectural research needs scholars like you."
At this time, Professor Hartman suddenly mentioned: "Speaking of which, can you attend the academic exchange meeting in two days on my behalf? I am old, and it is inconvenient for me to go to Backlund on a snowy day. I believe you will bring more value to our academic circle."
Davis replied without hesitation: "Of course, Professor, I will definitely attend on your behalf and try my best not to disappoint you."
Professor Hartman smiled and patted Davis on the shoulder: "I know you will. When the time comes, you will represent us and showcase our academic achievements and ideas."Chapter 200 HomeTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2372 wordsUpdate time: 2024-12-24 17:30:02
Grellant was a little surprised. Things went more smoothly than he thought. He didn't even have time to speak. The professor didn't seem to hesitate at all and handed the responsibility to him effortlessly. At this moment, Davis' heart was filled with mixed emotions. Although he tried to remain calm on the surface, he knew that this was the professor's trust in "Davis".
He lowered his head slightly and remained silent for a moment, suppressing the fluctuations in his heart. Then he raised his head and said in a calm but thoughtful tone: "I will do my best, Professor."
Professor Hartman nodded, obviously having no doubt about Davis' ability: "I believe in you, Davis." His tone was full of relief and trust, as if he had great expectations for the student in front of him.
The professor paused for a moment, as if to organize his words, and continued, "The topic of this exchange meeting is mainly focused on the future direction of architectural development. The research results you will present at the conference will directly affect the views of many young scholars, so this opportunity is crucial."
"If you perform well, you can definitely use this opportunity to stay in Backlund," he paused, a hint of caution in his tone, and added, "Backlund is the birthplace of culture and the starting point of new things. I believe you can get the best growth here."
Davis' heart sank. He knew that Professor Hartman mentioned this not only out of his expectation for academic development, but also out of his care and concern for him. The professor hoped that he could settle down instead of continuing to wander around. Although he had always supported "Davis"'s exploration and travel in the letter, in the professor's heart, he obviously still hoped that this proud student could take root in a safe and stable place.
The world is dangerous, letters are always delivered slowly, and the delay in communication makes people feel more anxious when they are thousands of miles apart. The professor's concerns may stem from his deep anxiety about Davis' future.
Grellant knew that the professor's words were not just about academic development, but also carried a hidden worry that could not be ignored. He could not escape this responsibility, and this identity became more and more real, as if every step was moving in a direction of no return.
He could even feel that Professor Hartman did not fully understand the various pressures on "Davis". To a certain extent, his expectations and care made Greylint more clearly aware of the distance between himself and this world.
He lowered his head slightly and remained silent. The world before him was still full of unknowns, but he knew that at this moment, he had been deeply involved in it and could not escape.
"I'll think about it carefully, Professor." Greylint finally spoke, his tone calm but with a hint of helplessness, "I will do my best to complete this mission."
Professor Hartman smiled and nodded, obviously satisfied with Davis' promise: "I believe you, Davis." His eyes were filled with deep trust and expectation, while Greylint felt an inexplicable oppression.
"Come to think of it, you're not young anymore after coming back this time." There was a hint of joking in the professor's tone, as if he was trying to ease the previous serious atmosphere.
Mrs. Hartman also came over with a warm smile. She glanced at Glint and seemed to sense some of his inner fluctuations. She sighed softly and added with a smile: "The professor is right, Davis. Although you always devote yourself to academics, you should also have some other arrangements in life. You also know that when you are older, considering things other than academics may make you gain more."
Grellant was slightly startled, and then realized the meaning of Mrs. Hartman's words. She was not simply talking about her concern for academics, but her expectations for his future in this world. Life is not just about academics, and it seems to be hinting that he should pay more attention to interpersonal relationships, family and other matters.
"Ma'am, professor," Grellint responded in a low voice, trying his best to hide his inner nervousness, "I know you care about me. I will consider this carefully." His tone was calm, and although he did not completely agree with this expectation in his heart, he knew that all this was not only for his personal growth, but also about the role he played in this strange world.
The professor smiled, as if he didn't want to dwell on this topic for too long, and said casually: "Since you are back, you might as well think more about your future plans. Academics are important, but interacting with people and cultivating personal relationships are also crucial. Backlund is a place full of opportunities. If you can take root here, your life will have more possibilities."
Grellant was silent for a moment. He was not unfamiliar with these topics, and even felt a little oppressive. Although he had to admit that he seemed to be getting further and further away from Davis's identity, that did not mean that he could easily let go of the burden behind him. The professor and his wife's words only painted a relatively stable future for him, and this future was very different from his original plan.
"I understand, Professor, ma'am." Grellant lowered his head and responded with a subtle sense of helplessness. He knew how to deal with this complex situation in his life. Although it was full of challenges, he knew he had no way out and could only continue to play the role of "Davis" until the time was right.
"Well, Davis rarely comes back, and the guest room has been cleaned up. You must be tired from the journey, so it's time to take a rest." Mrs. Hartman said with a smile, her tone full of warm concern.
"Thank you, ma'am. I really need to rest." Graylin nodded, smiled slightly, stood up, and stretched his tired shoulders. He did feel exhausted from all the running around, but his heart was more exhausted than his body.
Professor Hartman waved his hand gently and said with a smile: "Go to bed early, Davis. There are still many things to do tomorrow, so don't tire yourself out."
Grellint said goodnight to the two politely and walked to the guest room upstairs. The room was warm and tidy, and the familiar furnishings made him feel for a moment as if he had truly returned to the past.
He sat on the bed, his eyes sweeping across the falling snow outside the window. The warmth inside the room contrasted sharply with the cold outside, but his heart was never completely at peace. The dangers and hidden threats in this world kept him on high alert. He sighed softly, pulling his thoughts back from the chaos of the past and the future, ready to take a break.
"One day, I will find my own way." He whispered to himself, then lay down on the bed, closed his eyes, and let the fatigue gradually invade him.
For some reason, he, who should have been vigilant in an unfamiliar environment, felt a long-lost peace this time, as if everything in the room exuded a familiar and warm atmosphere, which made his nerves relax involuntarily. The residual heat of the fire passed through the wall into the air, accompanied by the slight sound of snowflakes falling outside the window, like a soothing lullaby.
Grallint slowly fell asleep, his inner defenses gradually faded, and the anxiety and uneasiness hidden in his heart were wrapped by a gentle force, turning into a silent darkness. His breathing gradually became steady, and his tired body finally let go of the burden.
That night, he slept exceptionally soundly. His dreams were as soft as snowflakes, ethereal and distant, with an indescribable sense of peace. Perhaps it was the care of the Hartmans, or the familiar atmosphere in the house, or the responsibilities that supported the identity of "Davis", which temporarily gave him a false sense of belonging.
In any case, at this moment, he finally got the long-awaited rest.