Chapter 7 5

Worried, Blake fiddled with the flashlight in his pocket. He expected the dinner to be held in a large, deep refectory, full of ventilation and crackling candles.As a result, it was changed to the dean's dormitory, which was more comfortable but not less luxurious, hidden in a remote corner of the college.He wondered what he was going to do, or if there was a way to sneak into the library. A series of small lanterns guided them in the direction, and the light and phantoms emitted barely illuminated the road.Spiky plants caught Blake's clothes, and messy shadows crawled on the wall.

Ahead is a big house.He could already hear the noise of people coming from the room on the first floor, and wanted to desperately run back to the library to regain peace and tranquility.However, his mother put a hand on his shoulder and guided him on. Well, I want you two to behave, there are important people here.Whispering in a low voice, she led them up the stone steps leading to the gate, flanked by straight marble columns. In the center of the porch was a huge chandelier, hanging from the ceiling and casting a cold light.Dako danced under the chandelier, twirling on his heels, while the iridescent silk walls were decorated with paintings, and Blake stared at them.The largest one shows an old man in the desert with a disproportionately small lion at his feet.The man in the crimson cloak was scribbling excitedly in a book, though Blake couldn't make out a word.He felt the words had no meaning at all.In any case, the saintly figure reminded him of the vagabond.Blake wondered again what the hell the man was reading when the siblings bumped into him.

Juliet.Winters didn't stop to pay attention to the surrounding environment, but just led the two of them down the corridor and entered a small cloakroom.Along the walls hung rows of black burkas like lifeless birds.Blake noticed that his mother took off a black robe before taking off the coat on her body and hanging it on the empty nail.He hung his coat on top of her, and was about to reach out to grab a bod for himself when his mother reached out to stop him. Gowns are for graduate students.His mother warned him, throwing her arms around her body and pulling the black robe over her shoulders.

Blake didn't mind throwing away the norms, he thought Mom looked like a disheveled crow, but Dako was eager to try.She ran her fingers over those frilly sleeves and fancied herself an Oxford scholar.However, she still refused to take off her raincoat. Juliet.Winters glanced at himself in the gold-rimmed mirror, then opened the door to the adjoining room.Before their eyes, a large group of people gathered in a circle, discussing books as if conspiring.Blake moved around the fringes of the crowd, careful not to engage in conversation.Once or twice, someone nudged him with an elbow, and he apologized, but otherwise, no one noticed him.

It was not long before he found himself standing beside a cabinet lined with clusters of glasses, shining like jewels.He couldn't resist, and once his mother had turned her back, he reached for a glass of sherry.The amber liquid exudes an intoxicating aroma. He tasted it with his tongue, and it felt warm and sweet.Not too annoying.He took a sip, then swallowed. Immediately a fire burned in his throat and ran up his cheeks.He flinched instinctively.He quickly put the glass of sherry back on the tray, out of reach of his mother, and chose instead the unmistakable orange juice. He looked around the room, eyes dim.

A large mantelpiece dominated one wall, and supported a row of marble busts, roosting there like birds of prey; on the other three walls, portraits of more scholars vie for a place.No matter where he turns, there are angry faces looking at him from the dark canvas, as if envious of the living.He turned his head away, unable to bear their gaze. Mother is clearly in her place.She was at ease, chatting with the other professors, with a confident smile on her face.Socializing, that's what Dad said on the phone.He had called earlier that night.But Mom prefers stronger words: networking. Dako also made the most of the occasion.She stood in front of a small half-circle, all of whom seemed surprised by what she had said.Among them was a goose-like woman in a calico dress, heavily scented with gardenias, who clucked incessantly in wonder.Hey, hey, hey, so smart, hey.As she spoke, she tugged at the pearl necklace.Later, he overheard the woman tell his mother that Da was an amazing girl, so smart for her age except for the raincoat, which was weird.Did you say you have a son?

He made his way through the crowd, avoiding detection. At last he stood by a large window, drew aside the edge of the curtain, and peeped out.This is a great opportunity to sneak away.With so many people in the room, no one would notice that a little boy was missing. At this moment, he noticed a silver-haired woman standing beside him.She said: You are probably Blake.My name is Diana Gilels.Sir Bentley's wife.That beautiful voice made his skin tremble. The voice seemed to fall on his neck like snow, and he looked up in confusion.Instead of wearing a gown like the rest of the house, she had a beige shawl draped over her shoulders.The shawl is held together by a small silver clasp in the shape of a delicate butterfly.Bu Ai looked at the clip with a sigh.The thin wings are lifelike and seem to move.

She pointed to the man standing in the center of the arena, surrounded by a large group of people, wearing a special robe with gold trim on the sleeves.Blake took a deep breath.That's Gilles.Sir Bentley: With a disheveled white hair, a pair of gloomy eyebrows, and a pair of eyeballs as hard as jewels.Folding his arms across his chest, he snarled and blew his beard and stared at the other scholar, who was cowering in an ill-fitting toad-colored suit.Librarian Paula.Ms. Richards stood between them, trying to separate the two. They disagree on the Goblin Market version.Diana.Bentley said the sound of tongue grinding between teeth seemed to be scratching the back of Blake's neck again.

What market?Blake asked, not understanding what she said. "Elf Market," she said again, a poem I particularly like, Christina.Written by Christina Rossetti in 1862.The content is that a pair of sisters were lured by the elf vegetable vendor and ate the beautiful fruit he sold.Come and buy, come and buy.They sang to the two girls, one of the twins succumbed, haggard with lust.This verse is fantastic.Gorgeous and charming.Of course, you can read it on different levels. What she said made Blake even more confused and began to lose his mind.He could vaguely hear what she said in his ears, but his eyes wandered around the room.

More members of the Exlibris Association arrived at the venue.All around him there was a buzz about the future of books: a future that seemed threatened by a new project to digitize the collection of the Badri Library.One of the leaders of this digitization project is Bosibo.Ma Xiong, holding two glasses of wine with open hands, walked straight towards his mother under Blake's gaze. Suddenly, Sir Gilels growled furiously: "It's purple, I tell you!"Christina's version is fuchsia!Sir, you are an ignorant fool! The room was full of foam and confusion.A diminutive, middle-aged woman with thin, straight brown hair who looked as if she had just come off a broom was slightly startled: she commented to her companions in a voice like a squeaky balloon: Really wish he didn't.Scared the hell out of me!

Diana seemed untroubled by the outburst. Gilels thought, taking Blake's arm, and went on softly that the first edition of The Fairy's Market is what scholars should cite, though I prefer the later edition because it has illustrations that make the fairies appear more evil , more alluring and therefore more dangerous.She was smiling, and Blake nodded back, thinking that was always the appropriate response. Unknowingly, she led Blake away from the window and walked towards a large table full of food.A head waiter was busily lifting the lids of pans and pans filled with lobster, monkfish and duck in orange sauce, and piles of steaming greens. What attracted Blake more, though, was the selection of fruit.Besides the usual pineapples, plums and peaches, there was something he had never seen before: fruits shaped like stars or spiky sponges.Also, there are orangeberries half-hidden between the leaves that look like paper lanterns.He especially liked the shape of these fruits, which seemed to come from Diana.The Fairy Market that Bentley has been narrating. As if to confirm his idea, the woman hummed, come and buy, come and buy, her eyes wandered around the table.What a feast.she said to Blake, and returned to her husband near a pot of pumpkin and coriander soup. Blake piled food on his plate and began to eat. I'm surprised she didn't bring you Turkish delight.As soon as Dako joined him, she muttered under her breath, I don't like her.She is cold and cold. Blake shrugged, you were just jealous because she didn't notice you at all. Yeah, that's right. By the way, what is Turkish Delight?He stuffed his mouth full of food and asked, trying to change the subject. That stuff, Dako said, pointing to a plate full of orange and purple jellies covered with icing sugar, only those evil characters in the book would like to eat it. Yeah?Blake said, grinning.Unable to resist the temptation, he dug a big scoop of the trembling thing and stuffed it into his mouth. don't eat!Dako screamed. It was too late to say it, and he wished he hadn't eaten.It tastes horrible!The pungent sweetness of the jelly made his teeth ache.He went to find a glass of water to rinse his mouth.When I came back, I found Paula.Richards and Da Ke were chatting vigorously, but Da Ke was still paying attention to the plate of Turkish delight. To avoid them, Blake moved to the fruit selection section.While the star-shaped fruit looked tempting, he took a lantern-shaped orangeberry and wondered what it would taste like.He hesitated for a moment, then stuffed it into his mouth with a snap. An old gentleman behind him gasped. Blake turned around, the orangeberry stuck in his mouth like a sugar ball.The man rested his cheeks, as if he had a toothache.He looked at Blake, then blinked, I'll see if you can swallow it, he said, it tasted like shampoo. Blake bit down, grimacing.The fruit split open and released the pulp, which tasted sweet at first, then sour, then slightly sweet, and left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.The word shampoo is apt to describe it.He liked the way it tasted and immediately ate another one. Commonly known as winter berries, the man explained in a low, gracious voice, I found the name to sound sweet and mouth-watering, leaving you unprepared for the horrible taste!Never trust a fruit with a very euphemistic name, this is my opinion. I like it.Blake said clumsily, though one side of his mouth felt strangely numb. You are probably Juliet's son.The man spoke as if such contradictory words proved it.My name is Dorion.I used to teach your mother. He stretched out a large, powerful hand that seemed to enclose the boy's.Blake could feel the bones in his hand pressing down on his hand like the pipes of a feather fan, barely escaping from his grasp.The professor fell silent and moved to a bulging leather armchair in the corner of the room, away from the crowd of exlibris members.Blake followed him, as if drawn by gravity.He sat down next to the professor and looked at the man carefully. Dorion's robes were worn, frayed at the edges, and long strands of thread dangled from his underarms like tangled spider's silk.Underneath the robe was a tweed jacket, a plaid shirt, and a stained tie.Except for his thick white hair that resembled a choppy sea, he looked like an old urchin in layers and layers of oversized clothes.Blake liked him. For a long time, the professor kept his eyes closed, remained silent, thoughtful.Blake knew he shouldn't bother him, but a question was swirling in his head, and slowly he gained the confidence to ask it. Well, is my mother a good student?He asked, the original shy smile widened, and he grinned with a naughty look on his face. The professor opened one eye and said teasingly: That depends on how you define good. Blake changed his sitting position uneasily and snorted a few times.The professor, like his parents, asked him to be more precise with his choice of words.He doesn't like the game because he's not good at it. The old gentleman noticed his distress and softened, sorry.I use this trick when I feel that the student's question is inappropriate.Sometimes understanding the problem is harder than finding the answer. Blake looked at him in bewilderment. Then your mother is Juliet.Sommers.The man said he didn't mind the confusion in the boy's eyes.I believe she was a talented, bright and very motivated student who completed her dissertation in due time, despite your father's efforts. Doryon glanced at Blake to see if he understood his last words, and met a pair of startling light blue eyes, as alert as a mirror. Startled, he continued in a softer voice, speaking more candidly than Blake expected, and I dare say even then she was more conscious of her career than her calling .I'm not sure if she loves books, but she's good at analyzing what's in them.However, without that enthusiasm, I am afraid she would never have been the best student I have ever taught. It was odd to hear someone criticize his mother, and Blake looked around the venue uneasily, only to spot her.There she was, still with Bosper.Ma Xiong was talking, and at this moment he handed her a glass of dark red port wine.Their relationship seems familiar.Perhaps, too familiar.Blake scowled. No, Dorion resumed the topic, that honor belongs to your father.He is the most promising of my students. Blake's eyes quickly returned to the old man's face.my dad?he asked, thinking he had heard wrong. The professor looked at him shrewdly, ah, yes, your father has an extraordinary imagination.I warn you, he didn't think everything right, but he had insights, which I rarely see. opinion.The word echoed in Blake's mind, reminding him of the wordless book he found in the library.This word appears in the last line of the poem. Suddenly, a grandfather clock rang and began to tell the time.It sounded so old and weak that Blake thought it would explode before the last knock.At seven o'clock, eight o'clock, and nine o'clock, the grandfather clock gasped and announced the number, accompanied by bronze echoes, which dragged on for a long time. Dorion followed Blake's gaze, and seemed to be alert, noticing the passage of time.For God's sake, he said, I've lost track of time. Blake was momentarily distracted. What?He said.He had just seen Dako pulling Gilels.Ser Bentley's sleeve.The old man looked down at her, hardly hiding his disdain.He might knock off a poor opponent with a single glare.Diana stood aside, watching them both from a distance. Dorion staggered to his feet.I hope you will forgive me if I leave too hastily.He held out a hand again, and this time Blake noticed that it was covered in ink.Nice to meet you, kid. Well, yes.Blake felt sorry to see him leaving.He wanted to know more about his parents. The man obviously sensed Blake's disappointment, because he said: You seem to have a lot of questions.Come back to my office when you know exactly what you want to know.He seemed to appreciate the charade of his last sentence, and he winked with a wink.He giggled lightly, and moved away. For some reason, the question blurted out, and Blake didn't have time to stop.At that moment, he really wanted to take back the words, but the words had already been spoken, the light had been seen, and it was hanging between the two of them. Endymion.What is Spring? Endymion.What is Spring?Surprised, the professor turned around and stared at the child intently.Obviously, this was not the problem he expected. Blake backed away.For a moment he thought he saw a faint flash of desire on the professor's face: a sharp, hungry look that reminded him of the bum outside the bookstore.Fortunately, that expression was wiped away almost immediately, replaced by kindness. Endymion.Who is Spring?The man repeated the question, the name trembled between his lips, and there was still a hint of worry between his brows. Blake nodded. Dorion looked around the room worriedly.This is the wrong time and the wrong place.At last he whispered, rubbed his hands, and tucked himself deep into the folds of his long robe.We'll definitely have to talk about this guy later. Then he hurried away, but Blake could see that he was still anxious because he had forgotten where to get out. So Endymion.Springer is a person, not a season, he thought to himself.In that case, he is most likely the author of the book, not the title.But how can there be an author in a book without words? There's only one way to find out.Blake must go to the library, find the book, and solve the mystery inside.Now or never. After making sure no one saw it, he moved towards the door.Just before he slipped out the door, he glanced at the plate of Turkish delight. No one seems to have touched it.