Ch9 - It was an unfamiliar feeling; he had no way to stop it from igniting in his heart.

Sprawled on the bed, Morel held a metal-tipped dip pen in his right hand and carefully wrote each letter onto the paper. An English dictionary taken from the bookshelf was beside him, and from time to time he would scrunch his brows, trying to recall how to spell a word: if he remembered it, he would smile brightly, and if he didn’t, he quickly flipped through the dictionary before cheerfully writing the word down.

“Dear Hania, 

I’m sorry for not coming to see you, have you been well? Are you getting along well with your classmates? Have you made any friends?

Gege has two pieces of good news for you. One is, gege has completely recovered from his illness! As for the second…gege has found Bill!

Remember Earl Mephistopheles that we met on the ship? He was Bill after all! We finally found him! Gege is doing very well here and if there’s a chance in the future, I really want to show you around. There is an adorable black cat and although it’s very proud, it’s still quite cute. There are also beautiful plants here, like lilacs and tulips. And there’s also lots and lots of oil paintings…I wish I could let you see them right now!

Hania, I know you can’t write yet, so can you tell a teacher what you want to say and ask them to help you write a letter? Gege misses you a lot, so send a reply soon! 

From your loving brother,

Morel.”

He was finally done writing it!

After mailing the letter, Morel—imagining the teacher reading aloud his letter to his didi in the academy—broke out into a smile and his heart was warm and fuzzy.

But in reality, Morel’s life here was nowhere as great as his descriptions in the letter.

It was lonely every day. Auntie Karin’s daughter remained sick and although she came to cook, she always returned quickly. With only the company of a cat, Morel buried himself in the sea of books. He read the French books laboriously and occasionally he would get lucky, and find a book with a lot of pictures in it. Morel savored the illustrations with gusto and in turn, whittled away the long passage of time.

Bill was rarely home, and even when he was, he locked himself in his room and basically never came out.

Morel was curious about what he was doing inside, but he didn’t have the nerve to knock on the door. 

That day, Bill was inside his bedroom.

Morel stood outside the door sneakily, like a little mouse.

He pressed his ear against the sandalwood door…there wasn’t the slightest movement inside.

Was he sleeping? 

No…

He could hear rustling sounds.

Morel was so curious!

His heart was thumping…he reached out his fingers and gently pushed the door… 

Ah! A small crack actually opened in the door!

It was enough for him to see through!

Light from the setting sun poured in from the opened shutters, illuminating the floating dust and everything else in gold.

And Bill stood in the middle of the golden colors as if he was golden light himself! 

He was wearing a black velvet night robe and his exposed neck, calves, and feet looked exceedingly pale. Standing on the Anatolian carpet, in front of him was an easel and his left hand, pale and icy, held a paintbrush, moving it over the canvas with fluidity like music.

His movements were sometimes gentle, using dark colors to paint the outlines or light colors to brighten up a spot…then, sometimes, his movements were frenzied, he squeezed the paint onto the palette, he had no need for reason, he only needed to follow his instincts, mixing the contrasting colors together to create a new, beautiful color, and spread it onto the canvas…

At times he would step back, look at the canvas, and make corrections. Cans of paint were everywhere, some fallen some spilled, splattering onto his spotless night robe, but he didn’t care.

We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.

Morel had never seen Bill being so focused… 

Rb…

Lf tjv, tf tjv rffc la yfobgf!!

Ktf ragbcu rfcrf bo ojwliljglas oliifv tlr tfjga.

Olxf atlr, tf kjamtfv Dlii qjlca obg j ibcu alwf. 

Ktf ilnfis ragbxfr bo atf qjlcaygert mbibgfv atf mjcnjr rxs yief, ijxf yief, nlbifa, eiagjwjglcf, ilijm, jcv obgfra ugffc. Zbgfi mbeiv rff atf rmfcfgs ecobiv yfobgf tlw…

Finally, he watched as the other took out a thick brush and spotted deep poppy red onto it…

“Red Lotus in the Pond.”

Morel was shocked! He hastily blocked his own mouth! 

Why did he blurt it out!

Bill suddenly turned around and locked eyes with Morel!

He was done for…

Morel’s heart sank like a rock. 

He fiddled with his hair, “I’m sorry…I…”

“How could you tell?”

Bill’s voice was cold as always, but the purple luster in his eyes couldn’t conceal his state of mind.

“Huh?” Morel was stunned for a moment. “It obviously looks like water…and then the red added were obviously flowers…Bill gege, take your time, I won’t be disturbing you anymore!” 

Morel said this and quickly ran off.

The corner of Bill’s mouth faintly turned upwards.

The people who understood his paintings were few in between.

He enjoyed painting water. 

Water by itself was colorless and transparent, but when the surrounding light and colors passed through its body, it would be dyed erratically, becoming kaleidoscopic and full of charms. There were no solid lines in Bill’s painting, his brushstrokes molded and conveyed tirelessly, using patches of different hues to form objects.

His attention to the lighting had surpassed his attention to the shapes of the objects, and the objects on the canvas would gradually disappear into the light.

His style of painting didn’t coincide with the current popular art trend. If other people saw his paintings, they would think of it as “tasteless art”, not to mention, there were few people that could identify the focal points of his paintings.

But Morel, 12-year-old Morel, how easily he named the objects in his painting! 

That was a first…

Changed to anyone else, they would think he was painting will-o’-the-wisps, or perhaps spirits from hell.
***

That night, the wind howled loudly and sounded particularly frightening.

Morel hugged the cat and stood in front of the window. 

The ocean breeze rattled the windows. Outside, the crows and the bats hovered aboveboard, the moon hung in the sky like a yellow skull, and the dark tree branches looked like long spider legs ready to crawl over at any moment!

Suddenly, a flash of lightning streaked through the sky and struck the ground. The world turned white for a split second!

Morel and the cat’s hackles were raised in fright!

Morel raced down the stairs and curled up on the sofa, hugging his legs. He stared into the fireplace, wishing the warmth would placate his fear. The minute hand on the wall clock ticked and tocked. The shadows outside the window swayed wildly in the room, and Morel was reminded of the ghost spoken of by the pastor that would come to steal people’s souls at night! 

Lightning streaked through the dark sky.

The petrifying sound of thunder boomed again and again!

Oh no…

Morel’s biggest fear was thunder. 

Back in England, whenever Morel heard thunder, he would always run into his grandma’s arms, and his grandma would pat him gently on the back and tell him funny stories to chase away his fear.

But it was different now!

This residence was too big! Other than Morel, there was only Bill who ignored him…Morel suddenly felt like crying!

Although he ate and dressed well here, he didn’t have a single friend or companion. 

Morel would rather be together with his didi, polishing shoes on the streets and selling flowers in the plaza. He would rather count those oily and dirty copper coins all day, be overjoyed by a little bread and milk, and be over the moon to be sleeping in a hotel instead of the streets!

He could bear being alone at any other time…

But he didn’t want to be alone when there was thunder!

He was scared! 

Thinking this, thunder resounded in the sky like bombs going off!

Morel couldn’t think anymore!
……

“Knock, knock, knock—”

The knocking came from behind the sandalwood door. 

The door was pushed open.

Sloppy from crying, the youth hugged a giant pillow, his feet wearing plush slippers,  and he stood at the door glancing nervously at Bill on the bed.

“I…can I sleep with you?”

“…” 

“J-just for tonight!”

Bill’s heart felt a stab of pain!

He clenched his fists, controlled the urge to go hug and comfort the other, and lightly nodded his head.

Seeing Bill had agreed, Morel cautiously approached the other side of the bed, lifted the silk comforter, and climbed onto bed timidly. There was a flash of lightning. He was frightened so badly, he turned his back to Bill and curled up into a ball. 

Bill closed the window, drew the curtains, shut off the carbide light, and returned to the bed.

Morel had his back to him and his entire body was trembling faintly.

Everyone knew that after the lightning was the dreadful thunder.

Morel clenched his teeth. 

At this moment, a slightly cold pair of hands reached over and pulled him backward.

The fingers carrying the faint fragrance of flowers gently covered his ears…

Morel widened his eyes!

He felt warm breaths on the back of his head and his back was touching Bill…close, so close! 

Morel’s mind went blank.

He stopped trembling.

The thunder was nothing compared to his thumping heartbeat.

The only thing left on his mind was widening his pores and heightening his senses to perceive that person. 

Other than him, nothing else mattered.

Then, the sound of thunder became smaller.

The lightning also gradually disappeared.

A rainstorm came, replacing them. 

Bill retracted his hands.

A strong feeling of loss rushed through Morel’s heart.

He suddenly had a bizarre thought; if the scary sound of thunder never stopped, how great would that be? That way, Bill gege who was always cold to him would cover his ears forever and stay at this distance that was close as a hug!

Bill fell asleep with his back to Morel. 

Morel couldn’t sleep at all.

He rarely had insomnia.

But this bout of insomnia, it was unlikely he would forget for a lifetime.

Bill’s even breathing sounded like music to him, one that he’ll never tire of. 

Countless times.

Countless times…he wanted to sneak a peek at Bill’s visage.

Countless times…he wanted to reach out and lightly hug Bill.

But he only thought about it. 

He couldn’t understand himself, why did he long so much for a person?

It was an unfamiliar feeling; he had no way to stop it from igniting in his heart.

The night was sleepless; it was troubled, yet it was beautiful.