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二哈和他的白貓師尊

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肉包不吃肉

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“No one in the world knows the real you; that you were good, that you were innocent. They do not know that you were troubled by the rain to save little earthworms, that you were filled with smiles for blooming lotuses. Everyone in the world resents you for being cold-blooded, but they don’t know that you once shyly scratched your head and said, 'I… I don’t have much ability. If I have some spare money in the future, I should build more houses and settle down with people who live in the same condition as I was before.' Everyone hates you for killing and slaughtering, but they don’t know that you had told me before, 'Shizun, I want a holy weapon that is like Tianwen. It can distinguish between black and white, and can save lives.' Everyone was cursing you, they want to punish you. I know the truth, but I can’t give you back your dignity.”

“In that moment, even if his chest were to be torn open, and his heart ripped out, veins, flesh, and all, it could not hurt as much as this. He saw Chu Wanning’s hands—raw and bloody from crawling up more than three thousand steps carrying him when he was still alive, he saw those hands slowly feeling along the table. On that table sat flour, seasoning, and mincemeat filling. And next to the table was a pot heating up water. The water was already boiling, but Chu Wanning, the dummy, didn’t even know to lower the flames a little, and the thick covering of steam made everything look hazy and blurry… (...) Mo Ran wished he could cut open his own chest and give him his heart, just to hear his heartbeat again. He wished he could drain his own blood to fill his veins, just to see color on his face again.”

“Ever since, holding onto the resentment he felt that grew by the day, he'd kept provoking Chu Wanning in attempts to get his attention, his praise, his astonishment. During that time, if Shi Mei had praised him with "well done", he would've flown into the sky with happiness. But if Chu Wanning had been willing to give him a "not bad", he would've gladly given his life.”

“There are not a lot of women out there who will publicly admit to being sex and love addicts, because it sounds pretty gnarly. In fact, it is gnarly. I won’t get into salacious details here, but I will say that my addiction manifests as a sincere yet deeply misguided belief that somebody outside of myself will miraculously be able to heal me on the inside—thereby making me feel safe, cherished, and whole at last. In real-life terms, this translates as a desperate need to have my existence constantly authenticated and re-authenticated through a romantic partner’s touch, eye contact, verbal reassurance, acts of love, or mere physical presence. How much reassurance is enough for me to finally feel secure? There has never been enough, frankly. There can never be enough.”

“Mo Ran, why is your face so cold…' It was as cold as ice. If I could, I would like to be a torch, waiting for you to turn back at the crossroads of the long winter night. I’m willing to burn my entire life away to light your path home. But why are you so cold? I don’t know how long I can burn, but what if when I’m exhausted and burnt out, and if when I’m extinguished, you still walk in the dark and refuse to look back?”

“Shizun visits my dreams, for he knows I think of him often.' When Mo Ran had high fever, he dreamt that Chu Wanning brought him a spark of flame in a cold dark night. Mo Ran said 'where his shizun was, there was a flame. Where Chu Wanning was, there was light.”