(One more question for me, please, just one.)
(Could you ask Turing what he thinks of me...)
Despite the warnings from Yorkshire not to use message magic again, Diana obviously didn't listen.
(What? Isn't that too embarrassing to ask yourself!)
(I only had fifteen minutes to chat with my sister, and now almost all of it is being wasted on you.)
After being scolded in her mind by magic so many times, even Yorkshire was starting to lose her composure. She put aside her previous reserve, summoned her magic, and faced off against Diana in the world of consciousness.
(Weren't you supposed to ask me something before you came?)
(Just ask already if you're going to ask, what's so embarrassing about it, can you show a little bit of contractual spirit?)
"What are you two... doing?"
Turing drooped her eyelids, looking at the two mischievous troublemakers in front of her who seemed to be communicating back and forth through magic, feeling weary in her heart.
In the past few days, she had been dreaming every night, and although they weren't nightmares, those vague dreams always reminded Turing of past memories.
Memories that had once been buried by Oedipus resurfaced in Turing's embrace, stirring up restlessness in her every day.
"Uh, nothing much, sister."
"Oh, by the way, Lord Dunkirk told me earlier that I shouldn't think about performing on stage at moments like this."
"But don't worry! I won't listen to her!"
"I will definitely prepare diligently until I become a pianist worthy of Sister Turing and Mr. Merka!"
Hearing Yorkshire's more enthusiastic tone than usual, Turing hesitated slightly.
"Oh... okay, good child."
"Then I need to find the fourth musician as soon as possible too."
Inspired by Yorkshire's vitality, Turing couldn't help but show a faint smile.
"Just ask already!"
Yorkshire was about to say something again when she felt uncomfortable being stared at by Diana, who had black lines all over her face.
With a slight click of her tongue, Yorkshire immediately turned to Turing and asked again.
"Sister, what do you think of Diana?"
Turing furrowed her brow, not understanding why Yorkshire suddenly asked about this.
(Idiot, don't ask like that... Irritating me.)
(By my words.)
"By my... Oh."
Yorkshire stopped talking. She fell silent like a puppet, waiting for Diana's next cue.
(Do you still remember who built snowmen and had snowball fights with you in your childhood?)
"Sister Turing, do you still remember who built snowmen and had snowball fights with you in your childhood?"
(Do you remember who watched shooting stars with you in Alexandria?)
"Do you remember who watched shooting stars with you in Alexandria?"
Turing's frown deepened... She suddenly felt a sense of unease. This feeling was stirring in a deeper place in her heart than her core.
Her subconscious reacted to Yorkshire's words, but she didn't know what memory this reaction was based on.
(Do you still know how to turn a flower rope?)
(Until now, I still carry a flower rope braided from a piece of ribbon with me, anticipating a serendipitous encounter for unforeseen circumstances.)
Do you remember how those hundred types of flower braids were woven?
Yorkshire fell silent, and Diana did not relay this message to Yorkshire, but directly to Turing.
She took out the broken and damaged hair braid from her bosom and placed it in front of a thick glass panel for Turing to inspect.
Seeing that hair braid, some deep memory trembled within Turing, sprouting in her heart.
Whether it was Altria back then, or Galleher back then.
The only difference now was the added thick wall between the two.
------------------------------------------------------------
"Met a friend?"
Turing, with a somber face, quietly left the oppressive visiting room.
Seeing Number 667 riding on her bike under the sunlight, layers of inexplicable sorrow surged in her heart.
"Mmm..."
She didn't know what to say at this moment.
"Something happened?"
When Turing slowly walked over and sat on the back of her own bike, Number 667, not rushing to start the bike, gently stroked Turing's back.
Noticing she didn't resist, Number 667 gathered her courage and boldly asked Turing.
"Did your friend say something inappropriate to you?"
"No, quite the opposite..."
Turing's lips quivered, her jadestone-like eyes slightly squinting. She buried her whole head into her arms, as if enduring immense pain.
"Opposite meaning... Did you say something to your friend?"
Pulling back her body and placing it on the handlebar, Number 667 cautiously inquired to Turing.
"Worse than that..."
Finally unable to hold it in any longer, Turing rested her forehead against Number 667's back and began to cry.
With a ring of the bell, Number 667 pressed down on the cold pedals.
The cold pedals stirred up a cutting wind in the air.
The cutting wind scattered the tender tears in Turing's eyes.
The tender tears dampened Number 667's collar, moistened his back, and penetrated his three parts of spirit, two strands of emotions, and one true heart.
