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Afternoon. Flamebringer smelt green pepper and curry in the corridor. He pressed the smoke on the wall, leaving a concentrated black spot. He carefully examined his nails and soles, then took off his coat, swung it vigorously, and sniffed it to make sure that the extra smell was not obvious in the smell of green pepper. Behind the door, the sound of cooking went down; Flamebringer coughed, vomited blood in the corner, and then opened the door.
Executor came out of the kitchen with a plate of beef in his hand. Flamebringer changed his shoes in his silent gaze. The TV in the living room was broadcasting the noon news, and the background sound was noisy, mixed with the sound of gunshot and broken glass.
“I have called you five times.” Executor asked, “Where did you go?”
Flamebringer smiled at him. He pulled down the rolled-up sleeve of his right hand and showed him the plastic bag in the other hand: There were two boxes of imported cookies from Vitoria, five boxes of white biscuits from the East Nation, and a lot of Ussas purple candies.
“My friend's shop. It closed and he asked me to clean it up.” He said, “I brought back something you like.”
“I have told you that you shouldn't go out, let alone see……your friends.” Executor didn't accept his affection and turned off the gas. He stared at him worriedly and stubbornly: “Why didn't you answer the phone?”
Flamebringer put down the plastic bag and said, "Sorry, I muted it."
Executor stared at the crystals on his side face and asked in a nervous voice, "Have you worn a mask?
“Yes.” Flamebringer turned on the tap, “It's dirty so I left it in the dustbin downstairs.”
Executor continued to ask, “Have you met those people on the way?”
“No.” Flamebringer smiled, “I went to the fifth street, bypassing the third district.”
Executor finally put down his shoulders and sighed, looking at him with a complicated expression. Flamebringer shook off the water in his hand, walked around him, pulled off the apron lace, and hung the small floral cloth back to the hook on the wall. “Have a curry today?”
Executor nodded and opened the lid of the pot; The warm fragrance filled the room. They sat face to face at the table, and the TV camera on the back of Executor kept shaking, broadcasting the morning riot to the whole world. Flamebringer picked up a fried egg with chopsticks, and accidentally saw half of his side face flashing away at the edge of the restless crowd: He was coming out of the biggest supermarket entrance in the third district, counting the things in the plastic bag, and then rolled up a piece of paper into a ball, kneading into a roadside trash bin.
Flamebringer paused and calmly sent a mouthful of rice; Executor looked up at him and asked, "Do you want beer?"
He turned his body and was about to pull his legs out of the gap between the table and the chair; He was only sixty degrees away from the scene that Flamebringer on the screen was tearing the tickets in the corner. The Flamebringer outside the screen immediately stopped him and said, "No, I don't need it today."
Executor turned around and looked at him in confusion. "Won't you drink today?"
"No." Flamebringer cleared his throat and coughed, "I choked on ash today. I have a sore throat."
Executor immediately catch his tripping and said, "I said you shouldn't go out so easily."
"Yeah, yeah." Flamebringer said, "I won't do it again."
Stepping on the end of his words, Executor warned in a low voice, "it won't happen again."
"Okay, okay.” Flamebringer replied, staring at a corner of the TV from the corner of his eyes until his shadow completely disappeared from the camera. He cursed the TV station in his heart and took a big mouthful of rice. When he raised his head again, the face of Executor appeared on the screen.
Flamebringer was a little surprised, "you're on TV?"
Executor looked back, bit his lips and buried his face into his bowl. In the video, he was wearing a riot proof police uniform, with his back to the crowd who was blocked by the shield. Later, the electronic badge showed his position, and the scrolling subtitles in the bottom column showed his life. Executor knew nothing about it. He just looked at the reporters expressionlessly: "We will guarantee the safety of citizens."
A sharp female voice came from outside the camera, "do you mean that the citizens you mentioned include Sarkaz and the infected people?"
Executor paused for a moment and said, "All the people who have legal ID cards of our country are legal citizens. We will guarantee the safety of all the citizens.”
The woman said, "then what effective measures do you have to deal with such a riot now?"
Executor remained unmoved. "Continue to suppress them. If necessary, use force; So far, the effect was obvious.”
Outside the camera, Executor suddenly stood up, and the chair rubbed a long mark on the ground. Flamebringer stared at his thin body wrapped under his shirt.
“What exactly do you mean by using force?" The reporter is reluctant, "During the shooting on the spot, your attitude towards Sarkaz and the infected people......"
Executor turned off the switch and the route. His shoulder fell, and his back was contradictory and fragile. He stood there for a while, then turned around and sat down next to Flamebringer. No one spoke or picked up food. The last piece of beef on the plate was dipped in sauce and squeezed by their silence.
After eating the last mouthful of rice, Executor picked up the piece of meat, and sent it to the bowl of Flamebringer.
"Eat it," he whispered. "It won't taste good if it's cold."
He disappeared at the corner of the kitchen, and soon came the sound of water and porcelain colliding with each other. Flamebringer thought of the broken glass, the shell case on the ground; Everything returned to the fingertips of Executor. He ate the last piece of beef and sent the rest of the dishes into the kitchen, then leaned against the counter, watching Executor wash the dishes.
Halfway through the washing, Flamebringer’s phone rang. Executor fought against the oil stains in the water and didn't hear it. Flamebringer cursed secretly and immediately went to find his cell phone, and then went to the balcony to see the dialer: strange number, which he have never seen. Flamebringer glanced at it and took out a cigarette from his pocket. The phone lit up again: It was another strange number.
Flamebringer looked at the kitchen from a distance and answered the phone. The person on the other side immediately began to curse, mixed with Kazdale's vulgar words.
"You," said Flamebringer, "you."
The opposite side was quiet at once; The echo was empty, as if it was in a warehouse in the suburb.
"Don't come to me again." Flamebringer rotated the silver ring on his middle finger and said in a low voice, "I don't care who you are or what you are. Whoever dares to approach or kill him, will end up like those guys."
He immediately hung up the phone and threw it back to the sofa. Executor wiped his hands and walked to him. Flamebringer smiled at him and took out a piece of purple sugar from the plastic bag.
"Do you still want to turn on the TV?" He asked.
Executor shook his head and said in a vague voice, "I'll sleep for a while. I'm on duty this afternoon."
Flamebringer twisted away the new sugar-coated paper; the thin purple plastic sheet opened in his hand, spreading out, and the tinfoil made a faint sound. "Do you want some biscuits?"
Executor looked at the bag with reluctance and shook his head. "I'll eat it when I come back."
He put himself on Flamebringer's legs and covered himself with his coat. Flamebringer pinched his hair, hearing him say, "I will protect you."
Flamebringer bowed his head and watched Executor: He opened his eyes, with fingers clenched into fists on the sofa; the crystals on Flamebringer's side face were blurred on the black screen of the TV. On the table, the plastic bag was half open; Two pistols of Executor dropped beside it.
"Okay, I will too." Flamebringer smiled at him, "I'll cook tonight. Sleep."
Half of the summer passed. Executor became very busy and often needed to work overtime. There were more than three times of night patrols a week. Flamebringer was idle, becoming the full-time Master husband and empty nest patients. When he woke up, there was sometimes a simple breakfast on the table: sandwiches with half raw eggs, toast, fried Bacon and ham pieces. While eating, Flamebringer paced in the kitchen and opened the fridge which was covered with lots of stickers: The soda and beer disappeared and were replaced by a lot of coffee. Executor had to submit written reports after work, and the light in the study was on until the early morning. He was afraid that he would disturb Flamebringer, so he secretly set up a mobile bed in the study. It was torn down by Flamebringer the next day, so that he could be sold to the waste station.
"Don't worry about me," said Flamebringer. He touched the head of Executor in his arms and massaged his temples at midnight or early in the morning. Executor was lying obediently beside him, quiet and soft, like half a candy melted in a latte. He reached out his hand and grabbed the wrist of Flamebringer, with his little finger scratching the crystal on it. Flamebringer turned over the back of his hand and clasped his finger, "Be careful."
Executor raised his head, looking into the eyes of Flamebringer, and relaxed in his kiss. Only when he was by the side of Flamebringer could he completely take off his guard and temporarily forget the blood, politics and murders. It was raining in summer. Flamebringer moved the potted plants on the balcony into the room; Executor leaned against his chest, smelling a faint fragrance.
"Don't worry about me." Flamebringer repeated in the deep darkness, "Do what you think is right."
"Whether it's right or not，it's not up to me......" Executor bowed his head deeper. He said in a light and tired voice, "I just want this to end as soon as possible..."
"It will be over." Flamebringer stroked his back, which was too thin. He comforted, "When it's all over, you take the annual leave. We go out for a walk, celebrating your missed birthday."
Executor was born on July 7th. In the eyes of the people of the Rutland, it was a good day: seven was very perfect, and also very suitable for Executor. People thought he was a lucky man who was favored by the Lord. He would always stay away from fiends and diseases, pain and death. Maybe Flamebringer was an exception, but the two of them didn't care much. Flamebringer pinched the earlobe of Executor, waiting for his reply, but there was no response: He heard slow breathing.
In the distance, the glass was broken to the ground. The rain was still falling. Flamebringer turned up the temperature of the air conditioner and went to sleep with Executor. The moment he closed his eyes, suddenly tasting the bitterness in his mouth: He had changed a new number, and there was no longer a strange phone call; Executor was still lying beside him safely. But for the first time, he felt that summer was too long.
Evening. Executor opened the door. The room was quiet, and the smell of smoke came from the balcony. Flamebringer stretched out half of his head, seeing him in red and white. His cloak was soaked in blood, and the liquid fell on the door. Before Executor turned his head to look at him, Flamebringer put the half-burned cigarette on the railing in advance, and went over to take his coat. He saw Executor frowning and said, "you smoke again."
"I didn't." Flamebringer said casually. However, the hand he stretched out was dodged by Executor: He looked down tiredly and didn't look at his expression. He only said, "You shouldn't touch the cigarette. You even can't light it.".
"Don't take this dress." Flamebringer said, "It was too dirty. What happened to you?"
Actually, he also thought about it: more and more news about the death on the spot, and there were many people he executed. But to his surprise, Executor shook his head and insisted on washing the coat that seemed to have been ruined in the Tomato Carnival. Flamebringer didn't say anything more. He watched Executor change his shoes (the blood even entered his boots and stained his socks), went to the kitchen with bare feet to bring a small box of salt, and then slammed the door of the bathroom.
Gunshots came from outside, and the riot was still going on. The glass was broken. There were infected people everywhere, including, more precisely, more and more Sarkaz. Flamebringer took the boots to the pool on the balcony to wash them. He looked down through the railing: protest boards were all in the leaves of plants. Screams, broken glasses, and occasionally blood, but they were not seen now (at least not in the urban area).The situasion of police team was getting more and more nervous and tried to maintain order in vain. Flamebringer held the brush in his hand and watched the blood mixed with mud being washed into the sewer. He took out the shoelaces from the holes and held them in his palm to absorb enough water. With a twist, a faint red color spilled out.
Flamebringer cleaned the shoes for Executor, hanging them on the balcony. When he saw the half cigarette again, he felt a little pity, but he didn't light it again. He just crushed it onto the railing again: There was a very shallow pit there. In the last protest, someone's bullets were fired, and the conflict immediately escalated. A large number of people were arrested, but fortunately, they did not hit the flowerpot.
The ashes were blown away by the wind. The door behind him opened. Executor came out wet, and his hand was stained with blood that had been diluted countless times. "I'll go out for ten minutes.".
Flamebringer: "What's wrong?"
Executor looking for his shoes: "Salt is not enough."
Flamebringer: "I just washed your shoes and they are still hanging to dry."
Executor raised his head, and his eyes reflected the two boots in the flowers on the balcony, with the shoelaces hanging on the railing. Executor pursed his lips and took a pair of canvas shoes from the shoe cabinet. Flamebringer remembered that he hadn't worn this pair of shoes for a long time. The last time he saw them was when they were dating. At that time, executor wore it to walk around the amusement park and tasted the dessert. In the family restaurant, the second three color ice cream cup is half price. Flamebringer force himself to eat half, and the other half went into the belly of Executor.
Looking at the tiredness on his face, Flamebringer said, "I'll go."
Executor shook his head and said firmly. He said, "I'll go."
He will go. Flamebringer saw the wet water in his eyes: some water flowed out and hung on his eyelashes. Executor bowed his head and tied his shoelaces. There were still bloodstains in the fingernails of his right hand. One was deep, and the other was shallow, standing naked in the eyes of Flamebringer.
Flamebringer suddenly said, "you'd better take your gun."
Executor didn't expect him to say that, and the unfinished knot was in his hand. After a moment of hesitation and confusion, he calmed down and said, "No, I think not......"
"I'm wearing casual clothes. It's okay. I can be back soon..." He asked, "Have you taken the medicine at noon?"
"Ah, I forgot." Flamebringer smiled, "I would take later."
Executor frowned. His shadow disappeared at the stairway. Flamebringer went back to the balcony and watched his white hair, white shirt and white canvas shoes fade away. His back was clean and light, and his halo was wiped bright. He looked like an ordinary young man. Like a university lecturer or a civil servant, he would not be checked whether he entered a shop or a pharmacy, because his appearance had no relationship with Sarkaz, an infected person or an infected Sarkaz. In fact, during the riot the races were no longer the only sharp needles. Because conflicts were always split, anger no longer had a clear purpose. The ore disease, suppression, resistance, and once again suppressed. It was just like that the Originiums crystals changed from one into two, then three, four, five, six, and finally became a complete one.
It was getting dark and the clouds were pressing on the top of the apartment. Blood solidified in the narrow crack of the floor. After Executor was gone, he disappeared like a silver moon coin at the end of the street. Flamebringer blinked his eyes, then the shadow of executor disappeared. From afar came the sound of gunshots. This time a white bird that passed through the garden in the middle of the street was shoot. The silver coins fell on the ground and made a crisp sound. The new liquid flowed from the new heart, along the gap between the bricks and stones. The water of the angel fountain was dyed light red. The radio waves soaked in the blood, broadcasting another killing incident. But Flamebringer never turned on TV, so he always knew it later than the news. He took out a few desserts, biscuits, pinching some mint leaves from the fridge, preparing to soaked them in lemonade, waiting for Executor's return. The sun set slowly, tearing out pieces of the broken bright red.
Fin.