Kitahara and Kaede stayed in Paris for a few days.

On the one hand, he still wanted to discuss with Hugo the plan on how to "save Notre Dame de Paris"; on the other hand, it was because Rousseau wanted to stay with Montesquieu for a while longer.

It's the same with Anthony: this kid who hasn't seen his friends for a long time still has a lot to say and a lot of stories to share, and even Kitahara and Kaede are embarrassed to disturb them.

So the traveler had no choice but to stay temporarily and called Roland and Fabre one by one to explain that he might have to come back later.

"Huh, it's really been the past few days... I guess I won't stay up until two or three o'clock today."

After finishing one matter, the traveler opened another book and rubbed his aching brow, opened his pocket watch, and complained softly.

But after he finished speaking, he felt a little funny:

He brought this workload on himself, but no one forced him to do it. Even if he was to blame, he could only blame himself.

Thinking of this, Beihara and Feng took a deep breath of the cool air, tightened his clothes tightly, and continued to write down various precautions and notes in the notebook - he would have to discuss it with Hugo tomorrow

What are the specific planning procedures?

For a moment, the only sounds in the room were the friction between the nib of the pen and the paper, the fabric of the clothes, and the "ticking" sound of the hands on the pocket watch.

It seems to be cut off from everything outside, so quiet that every movement can be clearly heard.

Outside the room is the early morning in Paris. The lamp district, the dance hall, the bar scene and the grand banquet.

Those strange lights shot upward from various buildings, like a child's bad prank, painting the night into dirty and gaudy colors.

There is no "natural" beauty here. On the contrary, when different colors are mixed together, they always look particularly dirty: like a torn rag that fell into a colored paint bucket, which is simply synonymous with a mess.

Kitahara and Kaede just raised their heads and closed the curtains, then continued with their plans. When they were really sleepy, they drank some coffee and managed to continue working.

"So sleepy..."

The traveler said something vaguely and closed the pocket watch pointing to half past three with a click. His fingers subconsciously stayed on the photo inlaid on it for a few seconds - this was taken by Cervantes as a gift.

The photo given to him shows several people laughing together under the camera.

The sun was shining brightly, the house behind was a beautiful beige color, and everyone was smiling brightly.

Beihara and Feng looked at each other in ecstasy for a while, and seemed to have found some strength to continue working, so they put their pocket watches back into their arms and continued to check whether there were any logical errors in what they wrote.

"When the primary plan does not meet the reality or is not highly feasible, Plan F will be adopted... Things here should be modified."

The traveler whispered to himself, then crossed out a few sentences and added them in small letters next to them.

It seemed that it was because of the wind that a "squeaking" sound suddenly came from the closed window. It even sounded a little cautious, as if it was afraid of waking the people in the house from their sleep.

——Of course, maybe you are really afraid of waking someone up.

Kitahara and Kaede, who felt that this voice was slightly familiar, thought this while writing.

Soon, the "squeaking" sound of the window turned into a "click" indicating that the lock was unlocked.

The wind from outside took advantage of the opening of the window and suddenly poured into the room, blowing the curtains everywhere. It looked very imposing, like a rooster with high energy.

Kitahara and Kaede looked down for a few seconds, first slowly holding down the pages of their books that were blown up by the wind, and then turned to look at the uninvited guest in their room at night, raised the corners of their lips, and laughed:

"Good evening, Charles."

"Uh, good evening, Kitahara?"

Baudelaire waved awkwardly towards the room, obviously not expecting that the other party was still awake at nearly four o'clock in the morning. He could neither go in nor leave.

Kitahara and Kaede held their chins and looked at the Transcendent who looked a little embarrassed - he had one foot on the window railing at this time, and the other foot was even outside, and his long black curly hair was a little messy by the wind: In short

, a not-so-excellent appearance.

"Come in, I have coffee here."

The traveler yawned, took out a pack of instant coffee from his drawer, stretched out his hand and threw it to Baudelaire: "The hot water is in the metal thermos cup next to it, drink a little more."

"The temperature is already low tonight, and you are still walking up and down at a high place. It would be bad if you catch a cold."

"Ang, thank you Beiyuan. But why haven't you slept tonight?"

Baudelaire carefully observed the expressions on Kitahara and Kaede's faces, and found that the other party didn't pay much attention to "Why did Baudelaire climb through the window and come to his room late at night?", so he relaxed a little and turned to ask

Another issue he was very concerned about.

——Normally, no matter how hard Kitahara and Kaede stay up, they usually go to bed at this time. They have never been burning the midnight oil on the table at this time.

"Ah? This... I have to go to Mr. Hugo to discuss something tomorrow, so I have to prepare in advance."

Kitahara and Kaede, who were reading their notes, were stunned for a moment. It took them a while to react, and they replied in a dazed tone. Their left hand subconsciously went to find the coffee on their table.

The coffee cup is empty.

The traveler stared blankly at the bottom of the empty cup for a few seconds, then slumped down on the table weakly and let out a frustrated sigh.

"So bad, so bad..."

He said something depressed, looked up at Baudelaire standing in the night, and shook his head as if he thought of something: "Char."

"Huh?" Baudelaire, who looked at him with some worry, quickly replied, gently placing his cold fingers on the back of the other person's hand, hoping to make him wake up a little in this way.

——Although he was also worried about the quality of Kitahara and Kaede's sleep, he knew how important this matter was to Kitahara and Kaede just by looking at the other party's unwillingness to sleep.

So he won't try to stop it.

"Charles, tell me about the poem you wrote."

Kitahara and Kaede leaned their faces on the table and spoke slowly in a sleepy tone. Those bright orange-gold eyes seemed to be shining in the night.

It's that kind of bright, hazy light, like the tiniest firefly on a summer night. It's so subtle that one suspects that this light is just one's own illusion.

"Any poem will do. I think this should make me sober up...a ​​little bit."

He tried hard to hold his head up with his hands, and his voice still sounded sleepy: "Or you can make me a cup of coffee. It's true, I've only been in Paris for a few days, and I feel like I can't stay up late.

It’s moving.”

"Don't feel sorry for something like this, idiot."

Now it was Baudelaire's turn to feel a little helpless, so he simply reached out and hugged the other person from behind, holding the other person's fingers with his left hand, and asked hesitantly:

"But is anything really possible?"

"Yeah. Tell me, I'll listen when I'm reading my notes."

Kitahara and Kaede pulled the note in front of them with their right hands, looked at the messy French words recorded on it, sighed deeply and said.

"Maybe it's not good. As you know, I have just started writing poems, and there are only a few complete poems."

Baudelaire whispered something, feeling a little embarrassed, because he found that his poems seemed a bit inappropriate to be read in public.

After all, the content either promotes negative energy, contains vocabulary that needs to be blocked, or contains various deformed aesthetics that cannot be accepted by the public... If it is posted on the Internet, it will be reported in seconds.

But there are also a few "normal" poems: at least we should compile a few normal poems now!

"Whenever a poet speaks

Birds came out of his throat

In the early hours of four o'clock, it flew over Paris."

Baudelaire first said a paragraph, and then he was slightly relieved when he saw that Kitahara and Kaede seemed to have no reaction. Then he continued to use his imagination and improvised:

"It flew over Notre Dame

The child whose umbilical cord was cut screams and looks at the gray sky

Amniotic fluid ripples in the Seine

It's like steel nails driven into its throat bone.

The poet's vocal chords were nailed to the cross

There is no blood, only a rose instead of his head

——Because he is dreaming, dreaming of another Paris."

When talking about this, Baudelaire's voice paused slightly - he found that the direction of the poem seemed to be heading to the wrong place again, so he made a tough turn:

"Well……

Where roses grow on the crown of Paris

Laughing at the Bible read by another iris

So the poet let the king of another city

Drinking in one's own body

His head flew up like a bird

Woman at party shaking head of perfume lily

(They finally stopped wearing extra perfume for men)

Man using siphon to kiss dead lilac and camellia

(Finally they no longer need to care about women’s nagging)

At four o'clock in the morning, a flying bird climbed to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
To be continued...