"Anyway, for me, I enjoyed a very good poem tonight." The traveler tilted his head slightly, looked at Pushkin who seemed to have not fully recovered, and smiled at this "passer-by" whom he met by chance.

"Farewell," "Anyway, I'm very happy to meet you tonight. May I see you again in the future?"

"Huh? Wait!" The emerging poet, who was a little confused by everyone's subtle enthusiasm, was slightly stunned by the sudden departure of the other party, and then quickly said, "Well, my name is Alexander. Alexander Sergeyev

Q. Pushkin.”

He quickly calmed down the expression on his face, which made him look a bit serious, and his eyes were shining - I believe no one could tell that he was drinking here a few minutes ago - as if there was a flame.

The life in his eyes spread endlessly.

"And," this young man, who has not yet been transformed by life into the pitiful appearance he will have in the future, smiled sheepishly, "Thank you."

Hmm? Kitahara and Kaede were a little surprised when they heard the unexpected thanks, and then they also laughed:

"Kitahara, Kitahara and Kaede."

As he introduced his name in this way, the expression in his eyes softened a lot - from a certain perspective, he finally let go of his grudge against the "literary version of Pushkin" and was able to look at the other person calmly and even with some appreciation.

Already.

Of course, the most important thing is that at least Pushkin is still a very cute, at least very pure person.

The young time traveler looked at the brilliant golden light that seemed to light up the entire light group in front of him, and he could hardly help but raise the corners of his lips.

so good.

He is not afraid that the other party will not have inspiration. What he is afraid of is that the literary giants in this world have really embarked on a completely different path. They no longer have that kind of pure love and have officially parted ways with literature.

But it turns out that no matter how much distance spans and how many differences there are between the two worlds - some things engraved on the soul will never be erased.

Thinking of this, the stranger's eyes curved happily:

What a miracle, isn't it?

but……

The young traveler propped up his chin with one hand and joked half-jokingly: "If you really want to thank me, how about giving me a collection of poems signed by you in the future? Of course, it must be a collection of poems written by you.

oh."

A collection of poems?

The young Russian looked at the other person in surprise, and then replied seriously: "I will remember it."

Publishing a collection of poems is a difficult goal for most poets - but this is also a subtle and tacit understanding between them.

After all, no one would believe that "Pushkin" as a poet would not be able to publish a collection of poems, right?

While thinking about this small "promise", Kitahara and Kaede had straightened their hats, walked out of the bar door, and submerged themselves into the cold Moscow air again.

"A very good experience, isn't it?" He curled his eyes and said to himself happily, "This is more interesting than going to a museum... at least you can't see real people in the museum!"

"Well, yes. The good thing is that today there is not only very good wine, but also very good stories..."

A soul that breaks free from pain, reveals the brilliance of its own essence, and finds its own direction.

Such a happy story is always very pleasant, especially when you know that the other person will have a very bad fate.

He doesn't know the other person's specific past, nor what the other person originally went through in this matter. But he likes the state in which the other person's whole person brightens up when he finds "poetry".

Just like the Phoenix in the West, every five hundred years he gathers incense sticks and burns himself, and then a new divine bird is born in the painful fire.

As a result, the old shackles were thrown off, and new wings were born. Destiny reached a completely different turning point, and a star that was going to be dimmed shined brightly - like the most incredible thing in the world, a miracle among miracles.

Kitahara and Kaede held the hot tea they had just bought from a certain store in their hands, took a sip, and then closed their eyes with satisfaction.

Although he can understand and even appreciate the existence of imperfections and regrets, personally, he will often lend a hand to help those who don't want to be buried and suffocated by these muds to break free.

Although the other party was just a casual encounter, it didn't matter. Anyway, the reason why he reached out was just because he didn't like to see those tragedies...

The willful and selfish traveler bit the straw of his tea drink, couldn't help but reflect on his nosy behavior just now, and then nodded with self-confidence.

[Sometimes, people seem to be able to hear the secret laughter and narration from fate, just like that moment. At that moment, I felt that I heard someone telling me that I will be a great poet, and this is my destiny.

The moment the first line of the poem came out of my mouth, I knew that I belonged to poetry, where my soul lies.

Whenever I think of this experience, I have to thank my friend who is a traveler - as everyone who has met him said, he is a person who can see people's deepest desires and desires.

A natural mind reader in pursuit.

But what is different from those smart people who can also see through people's hearts is that at the same time, he does not hesitate to reach out to everyone he sees and pull out those souls that are still bound by the world and unable to escape.
Chapter completed!