I, Zhongli, Wander the World

What kind of children would the gods like?

Dazai Osamu still remembered that at the sacrificial ceremony that year, Guan Hui's obedient younger brother snuggled up in his mother's arms and asked innocently.

And their mother, the woman who was raised as a gentle Yamato Nadeko by her family since childhood, replied this way.

Of course, it is a well-behaved and kind-hearted child. A good child can be favored by the gods.

They had a dialogue on the topic of gods and filial piety, and the parents and brothers on the sidelines smiled. Only Osamu Dazai stood in the farthest corner, staring coldly at the fleeting perfunctory in his mother's eyes and the impatience revealed by his younger brother the moment he turned his head.

They talked about faith in the activities of worshiping the gods, but no one believed in the gods.

Even after a sacrifice, perhaps only Osamu Dazai remembered this performance that everyone knew well.

[God likes good children who are well-behaved and kind. 】

This sentence may be a beautiful word that my mother used for the scene, but it is the only reference for Dazai Osamu today.

"Goodness" he did not understand. But being polite and well-behaved is what he is best at.

So first of all, don't dress casually, but not deliberately, simple and clean clothes and shoes are fine; it's okay to have messy hair, the point is not to look crazy or sloppy; temperament should be gentle, but not too low in presence...

Humming a song, taking care of his appearance a little, and finally facing the mirror that was torn into several pieces and forcibly glued together, Osamu Dazai pulled the corners of his mouth with two fingers, pinching a pure and harmless smile.

The shattered mirror cut his smiling face into pieces.

Then the gods will like me.

This way I can get closer to Him.

With this thought in his mind, he walked out of this temporary residence briskly.

The sky in Yokohama was as dark as ever, and the sound of gunshots could be heard in the distance. Most of the shops on the street were closed, and the few that were open had no customers. Most of the pedestrians passing by lowered their heads and walked in a hurry, and the fallen leaves and discarded papers from nowhere flew into the sky.

The whole street looked empty and stagnant.

Dazai Osamu kept his adjusted tame temperament while walking on the street, but his eyes that reflected the scenery showed an inorganic indifference.

In such an environment, the temperament that is out of tune with Yokohama like Osamu Dazai is simply too obvious. Not long after walking, he noticed that someone was sneaking behind him.

Just in time.

Osamu Dazai tilted his head slightly, glanced back, and ran straight away. Seeing that the target had been discovered, the people who followed behind stopped hiding and chased after Osamu Dazai.

The passers-by watched this scene indifferently, and the biggest action they made was to make way sideways.

Of course no one will come to save me, after all, it is such a city where even hypocrisy seems superfluous.

The twelve-year-old boy was out of breath running a race with several adults, not forgetting to make fun of himself.

Someone behind him pulled out a gun and started shooting, and the bullets shot precisely across the knee. Dazai Osamu made a light "tsk" and ran across the street corner enduring the pain.

Then, unexpectedly, he bumped into someone's arms.

The arm was gently supported, and the pain in the knee was relieved because of the support point, and Osamu Dazai took a deep breath.

Ah, so the palms of the gods are also hot?

Such thoughts flashed in his mind, and he reached out and grabbed the other's sleeve.

"Sorry, but can you please save me!" he said in a panicked tone, raising his head.

Then face the pair of golden eyes.

Calm, transparent, as if all-encompassing. Just a simple look, but almost completely cut open the shell of the camouflage.

Dazai Osamu had the illusion that he had been seen through this time.

Or not an illusion.

But the **** said nothing.

He just looked away and looked behind him beyond himself.

Dazai Osamu didn't turn his head, but he could guess how terrified the pursuers behind him were by the sound of panicked footsteps. Sure enough, someone stopped and blurted out in shock, "Mr. Zhong, Zhongli! Why are you here?"

Jin Tong's **** said, "I just walked here in my spare time. What, what's wrong?"

It was just an ordinary question, but those people seemed to be greatly frightened, and said almost in a panic: "No! There is nothing wrong! Mr. Zhongli, please continue your walk and we will not disturb you!"

Saying this, Osamu Dazai, who was the intended target, was ignored, and a group of people quickly retreated at a speed faster than when they came.

Zhongli watched the group of people run away, and then looked at the silent boy who raised his head in front of him.

"But injured?"

The young man blinked slowly as if he had just reacted. With the strength of Zhongli's support, he carefully exposed the injured knee.

The bullet didn't hit the flesh, it just swiped, but it still left a long scar on the leg, and the spilled blood stained the surrounding fabric.

"It hurts." The boy whispered, "Mr. Zhongli—ah, I took the liberty to call them that because I heard them screaming like that—thank you very much for saving me, but I still have to deal with the wound, so I will lose it first. ... uh."

The young man tried to stand up by his own strength, but as soon as he left the fulcrum provided by Zhongli, his body softened and fell back as if his knees were stimulated.

Fortunately, Zhongli caught him in time.

"do not move."

Signaling the young man to hold his shoulders, he leaned down slightly and examined the injury carefully.

"The wound is slightly deep, but fortunately, the tendon is not injured, it just happens to be at this joint, so it has a slight impact on normal walking."

A calm voice rang in his ears, and from Osamu Dazai's point of view, only God's thin and thick black hair could be seen.

According to his observation, even if he knew that he was pretending to be weak, the **** named Zhongli would not leave the poor child who asked him for help. So next, the other party should use divine power to heal him, or take him back to the detective agency not far from here for processing...

Zhongli took out his cell phone and started to make a call.

Osamu Dazai: ?

"Fortunately, a friend of mine happened to be nearby today, and I asked him to take you to the hospital." Zhong Li said calmly.

The expression on Dazai Osamu's face was still dazed until he got into the car that was obviously a funeral home.

He didn't expect God to be so proficient with modern equipment, it's his stereotype.

Osamu Dazai, who has studied orthodox Shinto since childhood, reflects on himself.

And the man driving next to him was still chattering in Japanese with a distinct accent.

"Although I don't know why, but Yokohama is very dangerous except for Chinatown and the street where Mr. Zhongli lives. Children, don't go out casually if you have nothing to do in the future. Even if you go out, do you have to know with your parents? This time it's your luck. Well, I just met Mr. Zhongli after being scratched by a bullet. Who knows what I will meet next time? Ah, by the way, Mr. Zhongli is not the kind of physique that attracts children, right? Why do all kinds of things always appear around him? Child……"

Dazai Osamu gradually became expressionless from the casual response at the beginning, and even his eyes became empty.

This guy is so noisy.

And the enthusiasm made him a little uncomfortable.

So, when the man named He Yao was discussing with the doctor outside the clinic for a while to find his contact information for his family, Osamu Dazai, who had been bandaged, quickly slipped away from the side door.

The injured leg did affect his movements, but when Osamu Dazai stopped disguising, neither the injury nor the dangers in the shadows of Yokohama would pose a threat to him. Soon, he touched Chinatown.

When Zhong Li was found again, the latter was listening to a play in the newly opened Quyi Museum.

"Here I am Galileo Scholar

There is a bishop who sits in majesty

It is expected that this cruel law and punishment cannot be escaped today...*"

On the stage, the actors in the appearance of old students sang babble, and Zhong Li sat in the audience and listened quietly. And I don't know if it was intentional or unintentional, in this restaurant, which was not full but 70% to 80%, the seats beside Zhong Li were all empty.

Dazai Osamu limped forward and sat down beside Zhongli quietly.

The plays on stage are in Chinese, and Osamu Dazai has studied hard under the encouragement of his demanding father, and he also knows a thing or two about drama.

This play was not any one he knew.

"Go to court, why don't you make a cross?

I have a master in my heart, and I don’t care if you don’t plan…*”

The more he listened, the weirder it became, and Osamu Dazai, who was not as calm as he would be in the future, said with a subtle expression, "What the **** is this?"

"The Trial of Galileo in Three Churches." Zhong Li's voice was serious as if he was talking about "Jade Church Spring".

Dazai Osamu's expression became more subtle.

It was not until Hua Dan, who played Galileo's daughter on the stage, started to excuse her father with a babbling Xun-style singing voice, and Osamu Dazai recovered.

"Why?" He rested his chin in one hand and said coldly, "The church wants to convict it is not bad for her words, and then no matter whether it is a trick or fabricating evidence, her father will always be blamed. . And she who gave this testimony will be jointly punished for lying to the church."

"It doesn't make any sense at all."

"The so-called meaning is not measured by results or values." Zhong Li said calmly.

"Even if you get nothing in the end?"

"Ideal, pursuit, spiritual height, there is always something higher than material things that exists in the soul to guide people down."

"...I don't understand."

"Just think slowly." Zhong Li stared at the stage intently, but raised his hand that was lying flat on his knees, and gently stroked the boy's slightly curly black hair, "You see too much, so see too. too little."

"Young people deserve a wider world."

Dazai Osamu was silent, not avoiding Zhongli's movements.

By the time I finished listening to the play, the sky was already a little dark.

Zhongli walked straight out of the Quyi Museum, and the black-haired boy behind him followed like a small tail, but stopped before he was about to walk into the sky.

"Mr. Zhongli." He clenched his clothes and whispered, "I haven't formally introduced myself yet. My name is Osamu Dazai. Regarding the previous deception... I'm sorry."

"And, excuse my greed, but I want to see more."

He raised his head, with hope in his twinkling eyes, and said cautiously, "Excuse me, can I..."

"Sir! You are here!"

The brisk voice of a young man came from not far away, and Nakahara Nakaya, who got off work, was walking with Edogawa in a chaotic step, but his color changed suddenly when he saw someone in the shadows.

"Why are you here!"

He still remembered that day, this gloomy guy was in the dark just like now, mocking his bad eyes and eliminating his abilities, and almost made him fall on his back.

Dazai Osamu's originally depressed expression came alive like a clockwork.

He took a few steps out of the shadow area, carefully pulled Zhong Li's sleeves and hid behind him, only showing half of his head, and said loudly in a tired voice: "Wow, Mr. Zhong Li, this person is so fierce, he can't fight. me?"

"I, good, bad, afraid, oh~"

The final ending is repeated a thousand times, and more tea is needed.