After Su Yizhana finished that sentence, the ambiguous atmosphere almost turned awkward.
The restraint wrapped in thorns led to unclaid evidence, yet the sour aroma of citrus continued to spread like a chain reaction, smuggling pheromones.
She frequently adjusted her hair, her gaze flickering, hoping Liszt wouldn't misunderstand; she was just too scared and also worried that Liszt might do sothing beyond expectations, extrely apprehensive.
anwhile, Liszt had already lost the baseline for asuring normal intimate distance.
It's over! Powerful techniques often have dangerous side effects!
People's ways of thinking are the sa; so things remain constant and unchanging.
Won are emotional and sensitive; sotis, they mistake sympathy for love.
Swap the genders, and it's the sa, just the percent damage of the effect differs.
It's not enough to just be like this; there are many miserable won, no selling point when singled out.
But Su i is too strong, the female of females, now truly like the wife of the three hundred Spartan warriors, dedicated herself, leaving Liszt in a ss.
Iron lady plus showing vulnerability after letting down her guard, and she's an exceptional woman.
It's over! I've practiced to the point of going mad from the deviation.
Now, my love for Su i is truly pathological!
Hurting Su i! I can't do it!
"Forget about a mont, take as long as you want. If you're willing, I can even postpone the ceremony for a day."
Liszt spoke quite restrainedly and calmly; this is the confidence brought by keeping Aran outside the door.
"You're being too kind, that's unnecessary; there are so many foreign guests, we can't keep them waiting. Let's not talk about this. What happened to you here?"
Su Yizhana sensed the aning contained in his words. She really didn't want to go back, but she was worried about crossing the line and quickly changed the subject by pointing at her nose.
This was terrifying: scars crossing the cheekbones on both sides, and centipede-like stitch marks.
"I fell down the stairs accidentally."
He used the usual response; too many had asked this question.
"The way you fell must have been quite exaggerated, did you do a perfect 180-degree spin?"
Su Yizhana coldly quipped, not believing it at all, seeing Liszt unwilling to elaborate, changed the topic again, "How did you plan such an incredible stunt with that mindset?"
Liszt smiled; now it was ti for the ultimate entrance of Mr. Charles.
"This was actually the most brilliant script I could think of, using the format of a final crazy bachelor's party to first dismantle your psychological defenses. The showdown location was in the library, proactively telling you it was a dream, proposing a remake of a famous heart-pounding scene, letting you fight against your subconscious, and then completely conquering you. I didn't expect..." Liszt paused for a mont, half-jokingly said, "I regret it!"
"Regret is too late."
Su Yizhana crossed her arms, her ears flushed with a rosy glow; she was the one who truly regretted.
"At the café, didn't you say you really liked so poets west of the Narrow Sea? Usually, people like you secretly write so yourselves; any chance you could share?"
"Or maybe just... forget about it; I'm afraid you'd laugh."
"Isn't it a fair trade? I've already shown you mine."
"Alright then, actually, this is sothing I just thought of today; I modified the one for you. By using verbs and more concrete expressions, I might have avoided the common pitfall of this the to so extent, and the content has been shortened a bit because brevity better reflects the the."
Su Yizhana held her hands to her chest; despite all she had experienced, she was still a young girl who had to abruptly end her studies abroad and return ho.
"Is it really that amazing?"
Liszt was truly shocked; even Tai Shen dared not claim to be more talented than T.S. Eliot, and yet you dare to say you're better than Tai Shen!
He single-handedly dribbled, but unlike those at Black Sail with abstract concepts, Su Yizhana was a relatively serious person who would not joke around.
"I don't know, maybe it's worse."
Su Yizhana lowered her head, her eyelids downcast, a bit shy.
"Please do show."
Liszt genuinely anticipated Su Yizhana's performance, looking directly at her.
"Don't stare at ..."
Su Yizhana barely audibly said, glancing at him without seeing a reaction, she lightly drew a breath.
"If it's really as the philosophers say, if falsehood incubates truth.
I think, the tides imprison the moon, monsoons translate the annual rings.
My lover, just like this mont...
The second hand mortgages eternity."
The youthfulness in her throat, and the stars beyond the library's glass façade willingly beca prisoners to her voice, perhaps for fear of Liszt's mockery, she added, "Don't look at like that…"
Liszt remained silent.
A fleeting dream, day and night.
The one who died...
Turns out it was .
It turned out I was the nimble navigator, discovered which kind of literary illness I had, and got precisely slaughtered by a surgical knife on the spot.
Liszt found himself slightly bewildered, looking at her cartoon-character-like blushing face; every slightly hasty breath seed like a warning of fragile items, and he had to use mirrors on every path she must traverse, reflecting every sharp angle's reflection.
This was far more precious than sixteen billion Golden Dragons, a treasure.
"You are much more talented than Glasses, and not just a little."
Liszt could no longer express the desires in his heart, instinctively mocking Fen; how Pedan National not only had morbid killers with daily deadpan expressions but also Su i—it was indeed incredible.
But Su Yizhana did not know who this Glasses in his words was; if it was the magician, he was a forr upper senator of the Tower Alliance.
"I'll take that as a complint." Su Yizhana tucked a strand of blue hair behind her ear, "I've never shown it to anyone else; thank you for giving confidence."
"Are there more? They're absolutely publishable level."
"Hmm..."
"I'd be willing to give ten Golden Dragons for a poem."
"Isn't it you who said it? Fair trades, Golden Dragons can't buy them."
Su Yizhana was indeed curious about Liszt's rhetoric.
Even though it was Liszt's usual tactic, but the creation through Heavenly Human Sensing by the illiterate murderer during a sea voyage; there's no more dreamy setting than this, better than a prisoner sentenced to life tapping away in darkness all his life, the unknown and the random are the biggest charms.
Liszt smiled, although a bit shaless, he didn't know much about poetry, but with Ivy's mory, his own chips are still unlimited.
He began to get aggressive, wanting to strip away everything from Su Yizhana, he was like a deranged person, excited, wanting to indulge in the intoxicating bliss and enchanting charm from her eyes likened to a sky pregnant with a storm.
The beast needs a lair, the pilgrim needs a path, the dead need a coffin. Everyone needs sothing.
Won need to lie, the Emperor needs to reign, I need to praise—your na.
He ntioned Baudelaire, Yeats, Rilke, Neruda, like another world outside the starry sky.
She also took out a pocket-sized notepad she carried, which was her personal poetry collection, engaging in a fair trade, recounting sights from her ti in Winter Country's Pedan, absurd stories, paintings on the wall, flowers by the street, pretty dresses, eccentric strangers she encountered.
Until they slowly strayed off topic, and the conversation beca casual.
They took the elevator to the observatory, discussing the universe, philosophy, music, religion, paradoxes, leaving nothing concealed, uncharted latitudes tilting against one another, it felt like a magnificent dream, a sweet death, experiencing the bliss of rational disintegration half-awake.
The ti-scale of words and language beca more ancient than centuries, eternity regrowing with barbed ti and flesh, their nas had beco the only legitimate south after all compasses failed in the dream, eternally existing… midsumr.
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