"……"

(Professor Baimeng, he is a good father, isn't he?)

(Perhaps when he abandoned Merka before, he was just clouded by Oedipus' law.)

(But now he has repented.)

Paris sat quietly on the top of the carriage canopy, blowing the warm afternoon breeze, using a messaging spell to talk to Dunkirk inside the carriage.

(And he is probably a devoted man.)

Taking off the shiny golden pipe hanging from his waist, Paris filled it with tobacco, put it to his mouth, lit it, and skillfully took a puff.

A warm and crisp spring breeze blew over, flattening the smoke Paris had just blown out.

(Otherwise, he wouldn't have refrained from remarrying for so many years after his wife's death.)

(…)

Dunkirk listened to Paris' words, feeling a little dazed for a moment.

It was the first time she used a backdrop for something other than her mission.

Looking at the gloomy and deeply meaningful face of Baimeng opposite her in the carriage, Dunkirk suddenly didn't know what to say.

After killing so many people, torturing countless prisoners to death, her hands stained with blood, she suddenly, one day, wanted to pursue her own happiness.

Isn't that a bit strange?

She couldn't even remember how many times she had used her husband or children as leverage for her missions, killing traitors and undercover agents.

To prevent herself from feeling guilty, she subconsciously numbed her heart, hoping never to understand the pain of losing a wife or a child.

And now, how could she possibly...

"Through the blue mountain peaks, the soul is enshrined, the lingering melody of the zither in the ears."

“If insects and snakes hear, they will not bear to refuse the grace.”

“Professor, you still understand musical instruments.”

“You are truly a scholar of encyclopedic knowledge.”

“Hehe… I am not as knowledgeable as you think, just a little familiar with clichés.”

Paris chatted with Baimeng again, and to her surprise, she discovered that this scholar understood almost everything about astronomy, geography, humanities, and social sciences. And it was not just a superficial understanding, but a depth that outsiders could not fathom.

After chatting for a while, Paris immediately felt that talking to Baimeng about knowledge was like using a reed to measure the depth of a river—it was impossible to touch the bottom.

(This man is really great.)

(If he were brought as a partner to a banquet, it would be quite prestigious.)

(Apart from having been married once, he has almost no flaws.)

Paris expressed her satisfaction to Dunkirk.

(He is great...)

(It's just that I might not be quite suitable.)

Dunkirk clearly did not share Paris' optimistic mindset. She sat opposite Baimeng, looking out the window with him.

A sense of loneliness emerged naturally, quietly rising in the lonely atmosphere between these two, feasting on Dunkirk's heart.

(That's not true.)

(Being suitable or not depends not on your judgment, but on the other person's judgment.)

"Professor Baimeng, may I ask what kind of person you like?"

"Uh..."

Paris' direct question almost left Baimeng stunned.

"Hehe, don't be nervous."

"My eldest brother is also a noble intellectual."

"He has some similarities with your temperament. It's a pity that he is quite old now and still unmarried."

"I just wanted to know your preferences, for reference, is that okay?"

Paris provided an explanation as soft as spring sunshine, nearly perfect to the point where it was hard to find fault with it.

"Ah, I see."

Baïmon leaned one hand gently against the window, while the other hand brushed his forehead, seemingly lost in deep recollection.

"I dare not compare myself to Paris's brother. However, now that I am older, I'm not so sure of my true feelings anymore."

"But if I had to say what type I used to like, I can still come up with some content."

Paris, sitting on top of the carriage, became interested and asked in confusion, "Are you referring to your former lover?"

"Well...something like that."

Baïmon seemed to be touched by Paris's words, his eyebrows and eyes trembling slightly, then lowering like a burnt-out candle falling over.

"I like someone who is diligent and dedicated to their work like the Germans, tender and caring towards the family, and very serious and responsible in everything they do."

"If he is knowledgeable, well-read, and understands many foreign cutting-edge theories and ideas, that would be even better. The love I yearn for is a mutual learning process."

"It would be even better...if he could cook well too."

"I also enjoy studying culinary arts, especially foreign dishes like roasted pork knuckles and baked lobsters. If he shares the same interests, that would be even better."

"Ah, I'm sorry for rambling on so much, it probably doesn't have much value after all. I might have disappointed you."

Nodding slightly, Paris took another drag of the cigarette and then said, "Not at all, don't worry about it."

(How about that? Diligent and responsible at work, good at cooking, aren't you precisely describing yourself.)

(Do you still believe you have no chance at all?)

(Forget about all that, when you two are at the concert hall watching a performance together, I'll be sitting behind you. I'll pass on messages to you, just speak to him the way I tell you, and you'll have it in the bag.)

(Can that really work...?)

Dunkirk blushed, carefully studying Baïmon's profile in front of him. At this moment, even this killer who had been steeped in blood couldn't help but have high hopes for the future life.