The blood moon has just ended, and the rusty and lonely Iron Tower stands in the city. In the sky in the background of the iron tower is the thick smoke in the city that has not completely dissipated.

When old tires are piled together and ignited, the effect is the same as that of ancient wolf smoke.

Paris at this moment is a city that is difficult to describe in simple words. Since the "927 bloody incident" two years ago, the largest city in Europe has embarked on the road of autonomy and has become full of "revolutionary atmosphere"

”.

All government agencies in the city have been evacuated and will never come back. It is extremely dangerous to appear in or around this city wearing government military and police uniforms and say that you are a government official.

It is generally difficult for such people to survive more than twenty-four hours.

The citizens of Paris who were abandoned in the disaster before, various strange organizations, prison escapees, gangs, foreign snobbery, and a somewhat capable summoner have completely taken over the city, and are extremely hostile to those who escaped during the disaster.

A government that built doomsday bunkers and killed thousands of citizens.

The surviving Parisian citizens described the tragedy as a massacre of Parisian citizens blocked on the road by cowardly and shameless politicians in order to escape.

The remains of armored vehicles on the streets still tell the story of the tragedy.

Those who survived the chaos and the Holy Spirit spent two years gradually building their own order in the city.

The Paris airport was reopened a year ago.

The terrifying space invasion suddenly came to an abrupt end. Although the monsters have not been eliminated, the evil and dark forces are still ready to move, and are even more raging in some places. However, after the disaster, human countries still got a short period of respite and recovery.

.

After all, as long as people live, they have to live.

…

To the southwest of the Tower, close to the Seine River and the outskirts of the city, is a large civilian area of ​​the city. When the first ray of sunshine in the morning shines on the pointed church roof in the civilian area, although there are still

The black smoke did not dissipate, but the entire civilian area gradually became lively.

All kinds of noisy sounds and all kinds of market atmosphere began to surge in the civilian area.

Countless people living in this city began to rush about life and survival.

The two fat pigs that were driven into the street by the butcher made the narrow street in the civilian area a chaotic place, causing a lot of yelling and scolding, and also brought a group of envious glances.

Due to the lack of energy and various living materials, the whole of Paris, to a certain extent, seems to have returned to the way it was two hundred years ago. Sewage flows across the streets in the urban areas, and people who can be seen on the streets in the city can still run.

There were only a few cars, the vendors who were doing business carried guns on their backs, and the butchers who drove the pigs had submachine guns in their hands. Everything was full of magic.

…

The butcher and the fat pig passed through a place called Rose Street and passed a small cheap hotel called the Old Man and the Sea. At this moment, at the end of the corridor on the second floor of the small hotel, the hotel owner Garcia was using a fat and slightly rude expression.

He knocked hard on the door of the room with the bronze medal No. 206 on it, shouting loudly in half-baked Chinese.

The poor door groaned in pain under the hard knocks of the hotel owner, as if it was about to fall apart at any time.

The hotel owner didn't feel sorry for him at all. His patience had long since run out. His screams echoed throughout the small hotel, and even people on the street outside heard them.

"Mr. Luo, I know you are in the room. You said that you will have to pay the rent for the past month after the blood month. I have given you a week's grace. This is the greatest kindness you can do considering your identity as a painter.

…”

No matter how the hotel owner called outside, no one answered inside. After knocking on the door for a while, he was probably afraid that the poor door would fall down and cost him a lot of money to repair it. Garcia, the hotel owner, gasped heavily.

Angry, he finally stopped torturing that door.

"Tomorrow, I will give you another day. If you can't pay the rent after tomorrow, I will call the security team. If you are thrown to the collective farm, I won't be able to care about your dignity at that time...

"

After saying these words, the fat hotel owner finally left the door of room 206 with a murmur, the old floorboards creaking under the owner's steps.

It seemed that the noise outside finally woke up the people in the room. At this moment, the people in the room faintly woke up from the floor and opened their eyes.

Xia Pingan looked at everything in front of him, his mind was temporarily blank. His last memory was still in the last image of the secret method of avatar left in front of him...

On the floor next to him, there was a chair that had fallen to the ground, a broken rope, two empty wine bottles, and a bottle of AM pills.

Xia Pingan looked up and saw another length of rope hanging on the beam.

The chair that fell on the ground, the half-cut rope hanging from the beam, and a burst of chaotic memories suddenly poured into Xia Pingan's mind.

In this memory, Xia Pingan saw that he had drunk a lot of wine, poured some medicine into his mouth randomly, then walked up to the chair numbly, put his neck in the hanging rope, and then flopped ashore like a

The salted fish stepped on the chair and began to struggle painfully and suffocatingly on the rope.

The rope broke, and he fell off the chair and hit his head hard on the ground.

The owner of this body, named Luo An, is a Chinese student studying painting in Paris.

A painter is one of the most difficult groups to survive in troubled times. Everyone can't even save their lives and they are still hungry. Who can care about painting?

The feeling on his neck was very uncomfortable. Xia Pingan touched his neck and found that there was a burning mark just under his chin, near his Adam's apple.

In Xia Pingan's opinion, this body is really weak. A person who is not even a summoner. His physical strength is like an ant in Xia Pingan's opinion. This body is still slowly adapting to the intrusion into the body.

The powerful spirit within.

In addition to the burning sensation on the neck, the body's musculoskeletal meridians are also slowly changing. This adaptation process means that this body will gradually and slowly undergo a terrifying and long process of divine power empowerment and physical destruction.

, this process will take about half a month to a month, because Xia Ping'an's powerful spiritual body can slowly create and cultivate a powerful body by himself.

In just a moment, with the changes in his body, Xia Pingan felt that the burning sensation on his neck became more and more acute, which was a sign that the sensory ability of the body's nerve endings was increasing.

Xia Pingan struggled to get up and stumbled to a mirror in the room. He couldn't wait to see what he looked like in the mirror.

The person in the mirror turned out to be a completely unfamiliar Chinese face.

It was a Chinese man, wearing a white shirt, with somewhat messy black hair, melancholic and somewhat dazed black eyes, a straight nose, about thirty years old, with clear lines on his face, and even a little...

hansome.

It's just that the face of the person in the mirror has a sickly paleness, as if he hasn't seen the sun for many days, and his body is not strong, showing the frailty of a scholar.

The dark red mark was on his neck, which was very dazzling.

Looking at the man in the mirror, Xia Pingan touched his face and showed a smile, "Don't worry, this body will be left to me from now on, and I won't waste it like you..."

Looking at the face in the mirror, Xia Pingan felt that the picture was a bit funny, but he couldn't laugh.

The tearing pain in his head suddenly appeared, and the pain was still increasing. Xia Pingan held his head and let out a painful groan. His body shook twice. In the tearing pain in his head, more

Memories poured into Xia Pingan's head.

This is an inevitable process of the clone technique, and it is a bit uncomfortable. His spirit body is gradually adapting to this body, and at the same time, it will also "browse" some memories of this body.

A woman's face suddenly appeared in Xia Yang's head, oh, my dear Olivia...

This is not suicide, it is tragic, desperate and pitiful... Sacrifice for love, the lover got married, and the groom is not me. Since I can't stay with my beloved for the rest of my life, then let me use my life to make you remember it forever...

Xia Pingan looked at the pale and weak face in the mirror, breathing heavily, grabbing the table in front of him with both hands, his knuckles turned white. After seven or eight minutes, the tearing sound came from his brain.

The labor pain gradually decreased and eased little by little.

Xia Pingan glanced around the room, looking for some medicine for injuries. Unfortunately, the room was empty. This small hotel was too simple. Almost everything was visible at a glance, including a bed, a desk, and a

A wardrobe and a chair are all the furnishings in the room.

Moreover, in Luo An's memory, he had no money to buy expensive medicines for injuries. At this moment, medicines in Paris were more expensive than imagined.

Although this guy Luo An is poor, he loves to be clean, and he is probably still a patient with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Even if he wants to hang himself, everything in the room is neatly packed, and the quilt on the bed is folded meticulously, without a single wrinkle.

The red oak desk was spotless, the books, pens, inks and papers were all arranged in a straight line, and a mobile phone with a broken screen was neatly placed on the desk, opposite the books.

There is a piece of paper on the desk with a pendant pressed on it.

Xia Pingan walked to the desk and picked up the silver enamel pendant. The pendant could be opened, and inside there was a one-inch profile photo of Olivia's head. The Olivia in the photo was an exotic girl.

The beauty, Olivia, stood in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, wearing a peaked cap and a blue dress. She had a little baby fat on her face, but her facial features were very beautiful.

The piece of paper pressed under the pendant was Roan's last love poem written in French to Olivia.

As a painter, Luo An can write beautiful Gutling calligraphy, which is pleasing to the eye.

The love poem is as follows

What can I do to keep you?

I give you the streets of poverty, the sunset of despair, the blood moon of a run-down city.

I give you the sorrow of a person who has been looking at the lonely moon for a long time.

I give you my dead ancestors, whose ghosts are commemorated in marble: my father's father who was killed on the border, with two bullets through his chest.

He died with a beard, and the soldiers wrapped his body in cowhide;

My mother's grandfather was twenty-four years old and led soldiers to charge against monsters on the Loess Plateau. Now he has become a disappeared ghost on horseback.

I give you all the insights I can find in the books I write, all the manliness or humor I can have in my life, and all the humility I can find.

I give you the loyalty of a man who has never had faith.

I give you my chest full of fire and the sea water that can engulf the world.

I give you the core of myself that I have managed to preserve, a core that is untouched by words, untraded by dreams, untouched by time, joy, and adversity.

I give you the memory of a yellow rose I saw one evening many years before you were born.
To be continued...