pdf-ebookys Chapter 378 The Art of Death
Chapter 378 The Art of Death
a thousand years ago
Hive Bareley, Upper Hive
White staged his own death scene, which would be his final work.
He lay down in the grave he had chosen and took a last look at what was in his hand.
The only thing he held in his hand was a locket, old and plain, made of wood and brass, which contained a picture of a young girl.
He placed the locket on his chest. If nothing unexpected happened, within a few minutes, the flame he ignited would burn through the rope of the icon hanging from the beam. The sharp tip of the icon would pierce his heart, and his blood would spread along the lines on the ground, connecting with dozens of other corpses. If viewed from the air, the flowing blood and the position of the corpses would just form the face of the girl in the locket.
This is his last masterpiece.
He didn't know when death would come, which he did on purpose. The unknown wait made him more exciting. In the last moments of his life, he recalled his past.
He was born in Bottomhive, the most desperate place on the planet.
His father is a low-level gang member and his mother is an assembly line worker in a chemical plant. In a place called Dichao, it is a great fortune to know his father and mother.
His childhood experiences were not that terrible, or perhaps his mind was not able to understand the concept of "suffering" at that time. He and his father and mother were squeezed into a small space divided by broken plastic boards. There was no furniture in that space, not even enough space for a bed. There were only some cloths of indistinguishable colors spread on the ground.
Fortunately, his parents did not always come home at the same time, so the space was large enough for one person to lie down. If his parents came home at the same time, he could only curl up on his father or mother's legs to sleep.
On the one hand, he looked forward to his parents coming back because they would occasionally bring him some food, but on the other hand, he didn't want them to come back because they were always quarreling.
When his parents were not at home, he would sit alone and catch some insects to eat when he was hungry. The bottom nest was full of these small beetles with brown hard shells. When they were bitten open, a sour juice would always burst out. He liked to suck the head of the insect because it was the only place with a sweet taste.
When he was bored, he would collect these little bugs and soak different parts of them in urine to extract different colors.
After the urine dries, corresponding color lumps can be obtained. He used these colors to draw a mother's face on a plastic board. However, when his mother received this gift, there was no joy in her eyes. She stroked his head with worries and sadness in her eyes.
The turning point in his life happened when he was eight years old. That year, his father thought he was a man and could hold a gun, so he took him to the gang. As a result, the gang happened to have a conflict with a rival gang that day. His father shouted slogans on the surface, but actually took him to the back of the charging team. At that time, his father taught him a truth: when challenging, you should be the one shouting the loudest slogans, but in a gunfight, you should be the one who shrinks at the back.
However, before his father could give him more instructions, he was killed in the head by a stray bullet.
After his father's death, the gang did not give any compensation, but only returned his gun. After that, his mother worked even harder, and eventually fell into a reactor while dumping chemical raw materials.
The factory did send compensation to my mother for her death, which was a block of starch equal to her weight.
The starch was soon eaten up, and driven by hunger, he took his father's gun and left home, wandering around the bottom nest.
He traveled to many places and met many wanderers like him, including Xia Sha.
One day, he and Xia Sha encountered an unidentified but seriously injured lone law enforcement officer. They attacked and killed the nobleman's dog together and robbed him of all his valuables.
While counting the spoils, he took a photo of Xia Sha with the law enforcer's camera. At the same time, he also found the law enforcer's ID card. He could not read, so Xia Sha read it to him. The law enforcer's name was Morton Gunther.
He was very confused as to why his name only had one paragraph while the law enforcer's name had two.
Xia Sha told him that the last few words were his surname, and only a well-known guy was worthy of having a surname.
So he said, I also want to be a famous person, from today on, my name is White Gunther.
After hearing this, Xia Sha called him "Sir Gunther", and he heard a hint of ridicule in her voice.
If you want to become a big shot, you must have unique characteristics. White remembered the painting he drew for his mother when he was a child. He thought he was talented, and in fact, he did. He used the paint he picked up to draw a portrait of Xia Sha. He remembered Xia Sha's exclamation after receiving the gift:
"Oh my God! If you were born in the Upper Nest, you would have been a great artist!"
Then he remembered Xia Sha saying:
"But in this garbage dump, your skills can make you a tattoo artist who can make a living."
I don't want to be a tattoo artist, I want to be an artist.
At that time, Xia Sha just laughed it off.
But he became more and more persistent. He began to practice his talent and used all his spare time to practice his skills. For the sake of art, he would even exchange precious food and water for expensive drawing paper.
His talent did not let him down. He could easily master painting, sculpture, music and dance. He learned to read and compose. He became the unique troubadour in Dichao. Some nobles extended olive branches to him, and his income became more and more abundant, but he was never satisfied.
He felt a huge void in his heart that he could never fill. Money could not satisfy him. Painting, music and dancing were all things he was proficient in, but they could not satisfy him either.
He believes that an artist should engage in a career that resonates with his soul, and what he is good at now is just a means for him to make a living in this resonant career.
So he chose to stay in the Bottom Nest, looking for something to fill himself in this place full of violence and filth.
Xia Sha was very satisfied with all this. Once, after some tenderness, she suggested that they might accept the invitation of a certain nobleman and move to the upper nest to get away from everything in the lower nest.
I don't want to be anyone's slave, I want to be a big shot.
But Xia Sha just smiled:
"Art is not a way to make a living. Status and identity cannot be achieved with paint and brushes."
Xia Sha could accompany him to give up the comfortable life in Shangchao for a day or two, a year or two, but she could not stay with him for a lifetime. One day Xia Sha said goodbye to him.
"Lord Gunther, you are a genius, you are extraordinary, but I am just an ordinary person. I want to eat, I want clean water and air, I don't want to rot in this garbage dump forever."
He wanted to keep her, but an argument broke out.
He didn't understand Xia Sha's sadness. Hadn't he and Xia Sha lived happily in the bottom nest all along?
He was angry at Xia Sha's betrayal, and eventually he strangled the woman who had always been with him.
Faced with Xia Sha's body, he was at a loss, because it was obvious that someone's death in the bottom nest was a very common thing.
He felt the gap in his heart grow even bigger.
He held Xia Sha's body and sat there day after day until the body began to stink.
He wanted Xia Sha to stay with him forever, so he took out a knife and prepared to cut open the belly of the corpse, take out the internal organs, and make it into a specimen.
But when the knife fell on Xiasha's soft and rotten flesh, his hand changed the knife's movement uncontrollably. He used Xiasha's body as a canvas and the blade as a brush to complete his work.
The void in my heart is filled.
At that moment, he knew.
The art he truly pursues is death.