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After hearing Lumian's question, Anthony Reid, whose face had grown fat and his skin was slightly shiny, stared at him with dark brown eyes for a few seconds and said, "I don't understand what you mean."
The intelligence dealer was in a calm mood and had a normal expression. He really didn't seem to care about the death of Hugo Artois.
Lumian smiled, did not inquire further, pointed downstairs and said: "Let me buy you a drink.
"You helped me before, and we fought together. I'll treat you to a drink as a farewell."
Anthony Reed touched the receding light yellow hairline with his right hand that was not carrying the suitcase, thought for a moment and said, "Okay."
The two entered the basement bar along the stairs with only one gas lamp and sat at the bar.
"What do you want for a drink?" Lumian said in a comfortable tone as if he were back at home. "
"Anise vermouth." Anthony Reed responded succinctly.
"Absinthe..." Lumian laughed, took out a silver coin worth 1 felgold and four copper coins worth 5 kopecks, and threw them to the ponytailed bar owner Pavard Nissen, "Two glasses." somersault'."
"Somersault" is bar slang, referring to a double shot of fennel absinthe and a "little mummy."
The latter requires 7 Ricks and the former is 12 Ricks.
Pavard Nissen opened a normal cup and poured a dreamy green liquid into Lumian and Anthony Reed.
Lumian just took a sip and felt the familiar bitterness and refreshing feeling when he saw Pavard Nissen, who had a dark brown beard around his mouth, saying in a flattering voice: "Char, you have that kind of medicine" ?"
The bar owner and amateur painter believed that "Lion" Charles, as a well-known gang leader, must have two or three channels to obtain illegal drugs.
"What kind of medicine?" Lumian's thumb rubbed the body of the cup and asked with an unchanging smile.
Pavard Nissen knew that Anthony Reed was an intelligence dealer and was often exposed to various illegal incidents, so he did not avoid him and explained in a low voice:
"Psychiatric illegal drugs. Hey, when I was affected by the strange tree before, I drew the draft that I was most satisfied with. No, it was not only the most satisfactory, but also the aesthetic level and perfect expression that I had always pursued but could never reach. After I came up with my ideas and concepts, I never felt that way again. Everything I drew was bullshit! I thought I would try psychotropic drugs, hoping that I could get that experience back."
Lumian took another sip of the blurry absinthe and said with a sarcastic smile: "If I were you, I would choose never to paint again. You have no talent as a painter at all."
Without waiting for Pavard Nissen's response, he laughed "haha" and said: "The fact that you can draw acceptable works by relying on drug stimulation proves that you have no talent!"
"But many famous painters have used it..." Pavard Nissen was forcibly interrupted by Lumian before he could finish his sentence.
He clicked his tongue and said, "That means their creative ability has begun to decline and their inspiration is no longer abundant.
"Isn't this cheating? Compared with the works painted normally by other painters, the works stimulated by drugs barely won, were selected for the exhibition, hung in the exhibition hall, and loudly announced to every visitor, 'Look, I am a despicable person. I am a person with low self-esteem, medicine is my gift and the devil is my parent'."
Seeing Pavard Nissen's face gradually turning gray, Lumian opened his arms slightly and asked further: "Would you be proud of this?
"If you were talented, you would no longer be an amateur painter. Even if you failed to pass the review and were not selected for the exhibition of works of living artists, you should still have a private gallery to look for you. But what the reality is, you know better than me."
Speaking of this, Lumian smiled:
"You can't succeed with medicines like this. If you can use it, everyone can use it. This is not a technical thing. When everyone uses it, what's the point of fighting for their original talent and level?" 189 Pawar Nissen pursed his lips for a while, unable to speak.
With a gloomy expression, he took two steps back and sat down, as if his soul had left his body.
Anthony Reed had been quietly drinking fennel absinthe, and then he turned his head and looked at Lumian: "You don't really agree with the use of banned psychotropic drugs."
"Otherwise?" Lumian sneered.
Anthony Reed looked at Pavard Nissen who was struggling with himself and said thoughtfully: "You seem to have convinced him."
"I just ignited the shame in his heart." Lumian replied calmly.
Anthony Reed nodded slightly: "What if I can't be convinced?"
Lumian suddenly smiled: "I'm not his godfather."
If you are not convinced, you are not convinced.
Anthony Reed was silent for a few seconds and looked at Lumian again: "The way you dissuade is somewhat different from your usual style. Is this acting?"
Very keen and very observant... He is worthy of being a mid-level Extraordinary of the "Audience" path... If it can ignite the fire in the heart of an "Audience", it should be of great help to my digestion... Lumian sighed in his heart. After saying a few words, he held the wine glass with rippling green liquid in his hand, looked ahead and said:
Anthony Reed said nothing and drank the fennel absinthe quietly.
Lumian looked at the empty bar and continued: "I remember that you suffered from battlefield post-traumatic syndrome in the war a few years ago."
Gulu, Anthony Reed took a big sip of green wine.
Lumian did not mention the fact that there were campaign posters for members of Congress in the intelligence dealer's room. He looked at the soulless Pavard Nissen and said to himself:
"If you just hate Hugues Artois, you should be very happy after hearing that he has been assassinated, and get drunk in the bar.
"If you want to find out why Hugues Artois did what he did, why he can still enter politics and run for Congress after doing what he did, and find out who is supporting him, then you still have to We have to look for other clues to let the deceased sleep underground.
"Official Beyonders should be investigating this matter, but they have too many restrictions and are not as unscrupulous as wild Beyonders."
Anthony Reed maintained his previous sitting position and took another sip of fennel absinthe.
Lumian chuckled:
"This is indeed very troublesome. There are too many obstacles and dangers. Giving up is an idea that everyone will have. Anyway, Hugues Artois is dead. The murderer who directly caused the tragedy is dead. The deceased should also I can get some comfort.”
Anthony Reed stopped drinking, and there was no change in expression on his middle-aged and fat face.
Lumian glanced sideways at him, lowered his voice and said with a smile:
"People with serious mental illness should not be able to continue to advance on the 'audience' path, and even if they are no longer promoted, they may suddenly lose control due to the corresponding stimulation and turn into monsters. In this increasingly dangerous world, the need for defects For extraordinary people who obviously have serious problems, a stable life is just a luxury."
Having said this, Lumian calmed down the expression on his face, looked at Anthony Reid's side face, and asked in a deep voice: "
"Do you want to leave with regret and unwillingness, wait in pain to turn into a monster, and dare not face your former comrades, or do you want to risk your life, continue to investigate, and be your own hero?"
Without looking at Anthony Reid's reaction, Lumian jumped off the high stool, picked up the glass of fennel vermouth, and drank the rest of the wine in one gulp.
Then, he leaned into Anthony Reed's ear and whispered: "I made a certain contribution to the death of Hugues Artois.
"We are still pursuing his issues."
After seeing Anthony Reid tremble slightly, Lumian straightened up and left the basement bar without looking back.
He returned all the way to room 207, left the door open, and lit the carbide lamp.
He immediately turned over his chair and sat down, looking at the dark corridor with a relaxed posture.
Lumian waited unusually quietly, as if he was sure he could wait and see the person he wanted to see.
As time passed, the couple began to quarrel again, and drunks gradually appeared on the street.
Not too heavy footsteps sounded, and he approached room 207, where the light was pouring out, with obvious hesitation.
The corners of Lumian's mouth gradually turned up, he leaned back on the chair and looked at the door.
Not long after, Anthony Reed appeared there wearing a military green top, trousers of the same color, and strapless leather boots. His hair was very short and only a thin layer.
He stood in the area radiated by the carbide lamp and looked at Lumian, who was smiling and sitting at the wooden table. The muscles on his face were slightly distorted.
He said in a low voice: "I know you are stimulating me, I know you are pretending, but, but you are right..."
The middle-aged Anthony Reed raised his right hand, pressed his left chest, and said with a ferocious expression:
"In the past few years, my soul has been burned by the flames of pain and unwillingness."
Lumian laughed, closed his eyes, and felt that the "Arsonist" potion was digesting a little more.
He immediately stood up and said to Anthony Reed: "Facts are the most powerful weapon of persuasion."
After Anthony Reid said what he just said, he seemed to relax, and there was no longer any inner struggle or conflict.
He walked into room 207, closed the wooden door, looked at the surrounding situation and said:
"Did you really kill Hugues Artois? How far have you traced him now?"
"Assassinating Gange, Chelia Bello of Artois is my friend. I was the first to discover that Gange and Artois are supported by many evil **** sects." Lumian replied briefly, then said sincerely , "I'm sorry, I just lied to you."
Anthony Reed was stunned for a moment: "Which sentence?"
Lumian smiled: "We haven't actually started to trace the people and forces behind Hugo Artois yet."