There are no stars visible at night in Chicago. In other words, all the stars are gathered on the ground in this city.

The light of the dancing light blue screen advertisement fell on the traveler's hair, disappearing quietly in an instant. Kitahara and Kaede were arranging their scarves, and then their eyes followed a pigeon landing on the wire in front.

On the pole, I also saw the silhouette of a helicopter in the sky.

"Let's go, Sigma!"

He raised the unfinished taco in his hand and shouted to his children through the crowd.

Country music, accompanied by the smell of barbecue and beer, filled the complex buildings on the streets and alleys. The audience's shouts were heard from the concert venue not far away. Many people were dancing in the open-air barbecue queue, with staggering but cheerful steps.

The painter on the street was painting a fountain, and he also painted the traveler in his painting.

"I got it, Kitahara!"

Sigma turned his head and replied, putting the souvenir he just bought into his arms, holding a particularly large portion of rainbow ice cream in his hand, and ran to the other party's side.

"What did you buy?" Kitahara and Feng naturally pressed each other's raised collars and asked with a smile.

"It's a miniature Cloud Gate!"

Sigma's eyes were bright, and he couldn't wait to open the box. Inside was a handicraft that was exactly the same shape as a silver cashew nut. It was about 13 centimeters long. The surrounding neon light was constantly flowing on it, almost making people think it was a handicraft.

A solidified liquid.

"Same as the original Cloud Gate, it is made up of 168 gadgets. From below the waist hole, there are many sections - isn't it particularly beautiful?"

Sigma raised this small souvenir and stared intently at the magnificent and distorted dream scene created by the countless facets on the silver surface, as if this small thing distorted light and space, bringing a fantasy color that transcended reality.

Kitahara and Feng also came over to look at it with him. The two of them admired the work of art contentedly like children for a while, and then they remembered what they wanted to do.

"I'm going to melt if I don't eat ice cream."

Beihara and Feng rubbed each other's hair and reminded them with a smile.

Only then did Sigma notice the ice cream in his hand, and hurriedly ate the layer that was about to flow out. He mumbled something in his mouth, grabbed the traveler's sleeve, and followed him through the noisy crowd around him.

Today, they planned to set off at night, heading for Route 66, and drive all night on the road to welcome the sunrise on this historical road in the west. For this reason, they also specially adjusted their schedule.

Fitzgerald, who sent them back, had already gone back. After spending a few days in Chicago, Kitahara and Kaede were ready to take him to the western part of the United States.

——But even after setting off, Sigma was still a little reluctant to leave this city.

Because it is really beautiful, even too beautiful.

The young man couldn't help but turn around while following Kitahara and Kaede. He saw the bright smiling faces of Chicagoans on the screen of the Crown Fountain, and the white water sprayed out from the woman's red lips. A boy with or without a shirt was being beaten.

Playing on the wet ground, the wet ground reflected the boundless lights all around.

He thought of rowing a boat on Lake Michigan with Kitahara, and riding a bicycle around the city amid the fragrance of flowers;

They also sat on the world's first Ferris wheel here, watched the fireworks bloom in the night sky, and heard the music of an open-air concert in the distance;

They also watched the sunset over Chicago from a helicopter and saw that the setting sun was like a hot heart, buried deep in its center.

The entire city composed of countless high-rise buildings is like a steel forest, but it has soft outlines and dreamy colors of pink and blue intertwined in the gray and white clouds, and for a while it looks like a mottled and hazy wonderland.

"Kitahara." After they ran to the starting point of Route 66, among the high-rise buildings, Sigma pulled Kitahara and Kaede's hands and looked up at the traveler.

Beiyuan and Feng tilted their heads, blinked their orange-gold eyes, and uttered a word of doubt in their mouths.

I heard the sound of "Hmm" and didn't rush to use the car key to open the door.

"What's wrong?"

"Well, it's actually nothing."

When Sigma was asked this question, he suddenly faltered. He felt that what he was thinking was a bit stupid, and he wanted to retreat, but was stopped by Kitahara and Feng.

"..." The young man was silent for a while, knowing that there was probably no possibility of escaping, so he asked in a very light voice:

"Will you remember every city you pass through, Kitahara?"

"Yes."

Kitahara and Kaede seemed a little surprised, but in the end they smiled and shook the ponytail on the back of their heads, looking like a traveler with a chic and light attitude: "You like this city very much?"

"Maybe... I like it here."

Sigma's voice sounded a little hesitant: "I will never forget being on top of the Willis Tower, stepping on the glass under my feet, looking at my feet and ahead through the glass, and I can see the floating clouds below me, as well as the entire Chicago,

And four entire states in the United States.”

It's like standing high in the sky, like a bird overlooking the distant earth.

Beiyuan and Feng lowered their eyes to look at the people around them, looking at each other's eyes filled with some kind of longing, and then for some reason, they suddenly laughed, and their orange-gold eyes also curved gently.

"You will definitely stand on a higher place than this in the future, Sigma." He said in a firm tone.

Sigma raised his head. He didn't understand why Beihara and Feng were so determined, but he couldn't help but become happy after feeling the other's determination, and he also had a smile on his face.

He reached out and hugged the adult.

"Let's go!" he said.

Chicago is a great city, perhaps the last remaining great city in America.*

It raises its hands in the industrial age and laughs under the load of fate. It is so proud, so fanatical and brutal in shaping the sublime that breaks all harmony in art. It is also so pure and gentle.

In a car on the side of the street, under the neon lights of Chicago, the man was reading a poem to the girl next to him, while the girl was touching her lips with her fingers.

This is really a strange posture, but neither of them obviously thinks there is anything wrong with it.

“A city with iron shoulders:

They told me you were promiscuous and evil, and I believed it: I saw you, a woman with heavy makeup, seducing boys from the country under gaslights."*

The man read the poem, not very fast, but very seriously:

"They told me you were evil, and I replied: Yes, indeed. I have seen murderers get away with murdering people and then committing crimes."

"They told me you were cruel, and my reply was: I see the marks of raging hunger on the faces of women and children."

The girl tilted her head and listened quietly the whole time. After the other party stopped, she couldn't help but move her fingers.

"Then what?"

She asked, her voice sounded very soft and strange, as if each word was spoken with a lot of effort, which was completely different from the smooth and smooth way of speaking of normal people.

"Then?"

The man groaned and blinked at the girl with his olive-green eyes mixed with a gray feeling. The book in his hand suddenly closed, and his tone became lively and cheerful, but his tone was still the tone of poetry:

"And then he was like a reckless fighter who never lost a game,

Boasting, laughing, the pulse is beating under his wrist, and the people's heart is beating under his ribs, laughing!

Laughing out the irritability of young people, tall and boisterous laughter, naked

My upper body was covered in sweat."

"Okay, that's it."

The girl stayed for a few seconds, as if she didn't expect that the other party would force the end. She opened her round eyes in a daze, and the focus of her sight blurred away from the man and fell on the car window.

"Is it really over?" she asked a little reluctantly.

"Ah, you know, Sandburg has never finished his poems. You should ask him." The other party replied confidently, and at the same time glanced at the other party quietly.

The girl put down her hand regretfully and quickly raised the corners of her lips.

"You're lying to me again."

The girl said in a good temper. She seemed to have discovered the man's little thoughts, but her eyes were crooked, and she obviously didn't care much about it: "But I am still very happy that Mr. Faulkner is willing to accompany me for a walk.

."

"What does 'come out for a walk' mean? This statement doesn't sound professional at all."

Faulkner coughed and seemed a little embarrassed. But he still reached out and pressed the girl's golden hair, put her hand on his lips again, and said loudly and deliberately in a casual tone in the carriage:

"Ahem! Our little angel, little Helen, cute little girl - do you need me to remind you? We have a mission this time. Don't make it so easy, okay?"

Helen Keller tilted her head.

Her Nile blue eyes are not as clear as other blue eyes, but have a grayish feel, and the focus in her eyes is always slightly misaligned, as if she has not captured anything at all.

Indeed, she could neither see nor hear, and could only identify what the other party said based on Faulkner's moving lips.

"...I just said that everyone in the bureau loves you too much. Don't you know what you want to do even now?"

When Faulkner saw that the other party was silent, he subconsciously pressed his eyebrows, with helplessness in his voice, completely forgetting that he was also one of the people who doted on this little girl.

"To put it simply, this mission is different from the usual ones that require you to use your powers. The main content is vacation, ah, no, it's tracking. The tracking object is that, well, this car next to us - sorry, I

It means that if you turn to the left, it will be in that direction."

Faulkner suddenly remembered that Helen Keller was invisible, so he added another sentence before continuing:

"The identity of the person in that car is a bit complicated. To put it simply, he is a traveler who randomly grabbed ten Transcendents from all over the world and at least seven of them were his friends. Although he is expected to leave at the end of autumn, we have to ensure that he is not there.

America causes trouble, that's all."

"Huh?"
To be continued...