He Holds a Rose from the Abyss - Chapter 12

Maybe it was because the starlight was too gentle, and Sheffield felt that his heart was also touched, and he lowered his head and just wanted to say something.

Chi Lang started singing that song again.

No matter how beautiful the words were, they gradually changed their taste under such singing.

Finally, when Chi Lang sang “You are an angel among the devils” for the third time, Sheffield said to him, “Shut up.”

The ears are finally clean.

Chi Lang was very obedient, he didn’t sing any more, he was just muttering and croaking, he didn’t know what he was talking about. Sheffield pulled him back into the dorm in silence.

Chi Lang suddenly pointed to the ground: “Sheffield, look, there is only one shadow!”

Their shadows almost overlapped.

After Sheffield finally settled Chi Lang, he also lay down. But he didn’t sleep at all, he just stared at the ceiling, and there was an urgent desire to prove something in his heart.

So he didn’t sleep all night.

When Chi Lang woke up the next day, Sheffield first said good morning in a friendly way, and then pretended to ask casually, “Did you last night…”

Chi Lang yawned. He had a headache now and replied blankly, “What happened last night? I shouldn’t have done anything since I was drunk, right?”

Sheffield could hardly hold back his smile: “You don’t remember anything?”

Chi Lang instantly sobered up: “I don’t remember…I probably didn’t do anything…I remember when I was drunk before, my friends said that I was very law-abiding when I was drunk.”

Sheffield smiled: “Nothing, you just sang for a while.”

Chi Lang deeply experienced his humbleness as a soul singer, and bowed his head sincerely: “Ah, sorry, sorry, I like to sing sometimes when I’m drunk…”

Sheffield interrupted him: “It’s okay.” He stood up and walked to Chi Lang with a smile on his face.

Then he reached out and poked Chi Lang in the face.

Chi Lang stiffened and heard Sheffield say, “But you’d better not get drunk in the future.”

OK Long thought. He always felt something was wrong with Sheffield this morning, but he couldn’t see what was wrong.

Sheffield had already reached the door, and suddenly turned his head to ask him, “Do you usually like to sing to others?”

Chi Lang shook his head quickly, and he didn’t take the initiative to embarrass himself.

“Then do you like poking people in the face?”

Chi Lang hesitated for a moment and shook his head. He felt that he should not have this hobby.

Sheffield smiled: “Very good.”

Because it was a holiday, the students in the school were almost gone, and many part-time jobs were vacated. Chi Lang found a lot of part-time jobs, such as helping Mr. XX take care of his cat, and helping Professor XX to rearrange his manuscripts. Anyway, he can do whatever he can, and make money as the first priority.

So he didn’t have time to think about what was wrong with Sheffield for a while.

He also wanted to go to Zeffner with Sheffield and play around, but when he brought up the idea with Sheffield.

Sheffield: “I go to the Opera every day, do you want to go with me?”

Opera… Theater… Chi Lang pretended to think for a while, and categorically rejected this proposal. He is not very interested in this aspect of opera, and more importantly,

Opera House tickets are very expensive QAQ.

So Chi Lang devoted almost all of his light and heat to money. In his spare time, he went to the library to continue reading materials on this continent, and he had a fulfilling life.

Of all his part-time jobs, delivering meals to the alchemist Ruth was one of the strangest.

Alchemist Shilus spent all day in the laboratory and hardly went out, and very few people in the academy had seen his true face.

When Chi Lang went there for the first time, he couldn’t even get in the door of the experiment.

He knocked on the door, and then came a hoarse, low voice from the laboratory, “Put the meal at the door.” It sounded like an old man.

Chi Lang put the lunch at the door of the laboratory, and then walked back slowly. He walked a long distance, and then looked back, the laboratory door was still open, and there was a lonely lunch box on the ground.

Chi Lang has been like this for several days. He left the meal at the door of the laboratory, feeling like a prisoner.

Until one day when he knocked on the door, he didn’t hear a response from inside. Chi Lang felt strange but put down the meal, but when he went the next day, he still didn’t hear a response from Luth.

Chi Lang couldn’t help but started to make up his mind again. For a while, countless modern news flashed in his mind, “Single man lives alone in an apartment, no one found out about his strange death.”

Chi Lang thought that this Mr. Ruth didn’t go out every day. If something really happened, maybe no one would find out. He knocked on the door again, slightly harder this time, and then tried to push the door.

The wooden door suddenly opened.

Chi Lang walked into Luth’s laboratory, which was beyond his expectations.

After entering the door, there is almost no place to stay, the ground is full of scattered parts and dirty garbage, and there is only a huge table and a chair in the laboratory.

The desk took up almost half of the entire lab, and was piled high with everything from potions to books to scattered pens and scraps.

And on the right edge of the table, there is a person lying on his stomach.

The man’s whole body was lying on the table, engrossed in looking at the book under him, propping himself up with one hand, and calculating something on the scratch paper with the other hand.

“Hello, may I ask…” Chi Lang tried to speak.

“Don’t disturb me, it’s the critical moment!” The man looked very irritable, he ignored Chi Lang and kept writing on the scratch paper.

After Chi Lang waited for a while, the man suddenly threw the draft paper under the table, flicked the pen, and stood on the ground from the table.

He raised his head, his face was full of wrinkles, and he was still frowning: “Are you the student who delivered the meal?”

Chi Lang found that Mr. Ruth’s hair was completely white, but his hair looked sparse and dry, and there were not many hairs on the top of his head.

“Yes… You haven’t responded. I was afraid that something might happen, so I came in.”

Les took the meal from him and waved his hand: “Okay, let’s go, and help me throw away the garbage when you go.” After that, Les sat on the chair again, eating while eating. He took out a new stack of scratch paper and wrote on it almost feverishly.

Chi Lang thought it was too easy for Lus to summon him, but he picked up the scrap paper on the ground as Lus said, and prepared to throw it away as garbage. But when he saw what was on the scratch paper, he was stunned for a moment.

This scratch paper shows a musket, the gun isn’t very long, the grip isn’t too curved, and its trigger also protrudes from the gun face, it looks more like a work of art than a…killer weapon.

Chi Lang hurriedly scanned the scrap paper. Most of it was a calculation of some data, and occasionally a few words were mixed in, but Ruth’s handwriting was so sloppy that Chi Lang didn’t really recognize the words.

“When you come over at night, grab my newspaper from the mailroom by the way,” Luth told him.

Chi Lang replied “Okay”, lowered his head and continued to pick up a few scraps of paper. When he picked it up, he smelled a very familiar smell, just like the smell of gunpowder when he used to play with firecrackers.

This laboratory is very humid, and there is always a smell of decaying wood, and there is a strange smell, so Chi Lang smelled it at this time, and the smell of gunpowder was mixed with the many smells.

Chi Lang looked at Lus again, and Lus was still doing his work concentratingly, without any distraction to Chi Lang.

After walking out of the laboratory, Chi Lang was still thinking about Lus. Ruth is known as an alchemist, and he is only responsible for the production of magic potions and the processing of some magic materials, but he is actually studying muskets.

This gave Chi Lang an inexplicable feeling of being detached from the magical world.

He went to the mail room and found the stack of newspapers with Ruth’s name on them, and he saw the pattern of the musket in the newspaper again, but he couldn’t read the words on the newspaper.

Some newspapers are for a certain group to read, and some illusion magic is used in the newspapers to prevent people from casually peeking into the content.

Chi Lang could only send the newspaper he couldn’t read to Luth again. But he was still very interested in this newspaper about muskets. Chi Lang observed that after reading the newspaper, Luth threw it on the ground at will.

So Chi Lang picked up the newspaper and other scraps of scrap paper and took them out of the lab on the grounds of throwing garbage.

Chi Lang could only ask Sheffield about this kind of thing. Before going to bed, he handed the crumpled newspaper to Sheffield and asked him to translate it.

Sheffield took the newspaper: “This is the “Magic Research”, which part do you want to know?”

“About that, the musketeer.”

Sheffield recounted to him what was in the newspaper, probably about a hypothetical scheme for increasing the rate of fire of a musket. Chi Lang majored in mechanical manufacturing when he was in college, and because of his interest, he attended a lot of weapons engineering classes, so at this time he actually understood what the plan was talking about.

Fortunately, he could actually understand the contents of the “Magic Research Report”.

“Are you interested in muskets?” Sheffield asked him.

“Fortunately,” Chi Lang was a little stunned, “How is its combat power? Compared to magic?”

“If you enchant the musket, you can hurt the magician, but the fire rate of the musket is too slow. If there is a battle, the magician can kill the gunman before the bullet pops out of the chamber.”

The rate of fire, the rate of fire of muskets… Chi Lang felt that it was necessary to understand the development level of muskets in this world. He had a vague idea in his mind, although it wasn’t clear yet.

“Chi Lang.” Sheffield called him.

Chi Lang’s movements paused, why did Sheffield…

“When you were drunk that day, you said your name was ‘Chi Lang’.”

Chi Lang began to make up the reason: “Ah… that’s because one of my relatives is from the East, so he also gave me an Oriental name.”

Sheffield’s eyes were bright, and he asked, “Can I call you Chi Lang in the future?”

“…Fine.”

“That’s a better name.” Sheffield’s eyes curled into crescents.

The author has something to say:

This chapter begins to officially enter the mode of making up and adding YY.