"A little closer..." The photographer's lazy voice came from under the black cloth behind the camera.

Bill and Wordsworth, who were standing a little farther from Tina, moved a little closer to the girl in the middle.

"Okay, look at the camera!" Bill stared at the camera. The lights and the sunlight outside made the light ahead a little harsh, and it took some effort for Bill to make sure he didn't frown.

The one-time flash clicked, as if creating a small lightning bolt, which made people tremble involuntarily.

"Okay." The photographer asked him to straighten up from under the black cloth.

Tina turned her head and smiled at Wordsworth.

After taking the photo, Bill was sitting alone in the photo studio, while Tina and Wordsworth were discussing something in a low voice in the distance.

Although Bill looks carefree, he is actually a delicate child.

He knows that some strange things have happened in Xiacheng District recently. Many children have received attractive invitations in their dreams, and many children have attended appointments...

He knew that Wordsworth and Tina should have accepted that invitation too.

In fact, Bill also saw the handsome boy standing outside the amusement park in his dream.

However, Bill, who has experienced major blows such as the death of his father, is more mature than other children.

He was wary of such an invitation. Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to report to the education officer. He just ignored the repeated invitations and tried to play a numb and dull child.

But he knew that Wordsworth and Tina were often in and out of the place in ways he didn't know about.

Children who have been there will become a little strange. Their eyes will become sneaky, it will become difficult to concentrate, and their faces will not be very good.

Bill has been a good friend of Wordsworth ever since he read Wordsworth on the park bench and asked the old man to use his father's name. Two boys with different personalities seem to be puzzle pieces with completely different shapes, but they fit perfectly. The friendship between the two can grow and thrive without much effort.

Bill also met Tina through Wordsworth. However, he didn't pay much attention to this tall and beautiful girl.

Although he knew that the two of them were involved in more troublesome things, Bill knew that he couldn't help, so he had to continue to pretend to be stupid and pretend he didn't know anything.

However, Wordsworth was a little different from other children after all.

After a while, Bill found that his good friend often looked into the distance for no reason and thought, and repeatedly showed an overly old-fashioned expression. Bill knew that Wordsworth had something on his mind.

At this moment, the two of them were sitting on the same park bench. The sun was setting behind them. In front of them, all objects, including them, were drawn out with long shadows. If you just look at the shadows on the ground, you may think that you have strayed into a fairy tale kingdom where all things are slender.

Bill knew that Wordsworth was the kind of person who didn't take the initiative to talk about something on his mind, so he naturally asked, "What's the matter? Something on your mind?"

Wordsworth turned his head and glanced at Bill. Bill felt that this partner who had always been clear-eyed suddenly felt a deep fatigue in the depths of his eyes, like a lamp that was about to burn out. Wordsworth, who rarely sighed before, sighed again: "Next, I have to make a very important, very important decision."

"I don't know what's wrong with myself - I should never hesitate on such a thing.

"But this time I really don't know how to choose."

Bill inexplicably felt that Wordsworth's vague words were referring to whether to leave the "place of joy" that the children kept secret.

"In the end, should I be like now, enjoy simple happiness, and spend my life like this...

"Still..." He blinked. In Bill's eyes, Wordsworth was painted red by the setting sun, and he was hunched over, very different from before, "Or stay away from those comforts and pleasures and do what I used to want to do?"

"It seems that you haven't written a story for a long time." Bill suddenly said, "How long has it been?"

Wordsworth shook his head in pain, as if he was a little remorseful, as if there were many contradictions: "Two months? ... Three months?"

"Not a word?" After the story of the old man in Dragon Quest, Bill also read four things that Wordsworth wrote-although he didn't have much knowledge, he felt that Wordsworth continued to write like this, He will surely become a great person in the future.

"Not a word." Wordsworth inserted his fingers into his hair.

"Why? Don't want to write?"

"No, I want to write." The boy's eyes looked ahead—passers-by in coats passed by, stepping on the shadows of them and the streetlights one by one, "But it's strange, I lost the urge to pick up that pen. I've been restless all day, filled with the urge to...go somewhere to play..."

"I want to write, but I seem to be controlled by something."

Bill remembered what his father once asked about his appearance. No wonder he felt that everything that was happening at the moment was familiar. He asked, "Then can you tell the difference? Is it the one who wants to write your deepest thoughts, or the one who wants to go somewhere? Playing in a different place is what you really think?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know..." Bill murmured, "I can't tell, but I remember my dad told me something.

"That's when I went fishing with him~lightnovelpub.net~ He told me--

"Always choose the harder path."

"Take the harder road?" Wordsworth turned his head in confusion.

Bill nodded and continued: "He said that when he was catching a mackerel.

"He said that taking the bait too easily is because of desire; and the inexplicable desire to make more difficult choices is the inner call."

It's because of desire to take the bait too easily; and the inexplicable desire to make more difficult choices is the call of the heart.

Wordsworth's twisted brows opened slightly.

Bill turned his face: "Dad said that the fish that bite the hook are all defeated by desire, and those who saw the bait and swam into deeper and colder water responded to the call.

"You said, should you bite the hook easily, or should you bite your teeth and swim in cold water?

"Do you want to be made into canned fish?"

Wordsworth's brows were completely undone. He was speechless for a while, blinking at his friend beside him.

The street lights turned on, and the setting sun sank behind the green hills.

He still looked at Bill the same way.

"I understand."

Bill felt that some ghost that lingered on Wordsworth suddenly evaporated. His eyes seemed to pass through the thick fog and could see the light in the depths of the past. It is also like a fish in the sea, it no longer looks up at the attractive bait, but chooses to lower its head and stare at the deeper and colder seabed...

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