Chapter 28 Who Is Arachne?

The attendants left with the crowned man, leaving only the workers who were dismantling the platform to start working.

When Kaliphon showed such obvious respect to an ordinary citizen, Perturabo seemed to finally realize something. He first subconsciously breathed a sigh of relief, then his anger suddenly rose. He folded his arms nervously in front of his chest, stared at Morse intently, and pouted his mouth.

If Kaliphon and Andos were not still here, Morse felt that the child would pounce on him in the next moment, interpreting the vivid shape of the statue into reality.

"Please continue your story, citizen." Kaliphon said to Morse, her eyes flashing.

Morse faced Perturabo, lowered his eyes, and spoke in an elusive and mysterious tone: "It is said that in Lydia, there was a girl with extraordinary talent named Arachne, whose brocade craftsmanship was famous throughout the land of Olympia; when she wanted to embroider clouds, the clear sky would stop for her, and when she wanted to weave springs, the fairies would admire her."

"However, the girl often said that her skills were more exquisite than the goddess of wisdom. The goddess came to persuade her not to be arrogant and to forgive her arrogant words. Arachne did not give in, so they had to compete."

"Arachne Arachne not only refused to admit defeat, but also provoked the goddess with embroidery, weaving patterns of contempt and rebellion. "Perturabo glanced at his double stone statue at this time, "so the goddess was angry, destroyed the embroidery, and touched her forehead with her hand, asking her to repent. Arachne couldn't bear it and committed suicide. After her death, the goddess let her soul ascend and turned her into a weaving spider with mercy. From then on, she became a kind of beast and wove her web every day. ˜”*°•.˜˜.•°*”˜”

Perturabo's originally pent-up anger gradually transformed, and more panic accumulated on his face. His high-speed thinking was enough for him to compile a complete story for himself. When Morse's words fell, he had already decided in his mind the answer to the question on the thin white paper a few days ago.

He has compared himself to the fragile insect that Morse said was fighting against the gods.

"I..." Perturabo's lips and teeth were raw, as if there were rough gravel scratching in his mouth, "but this is the question you set..." he whispered in rebuttal.

Andos had a different understanding. Although the prince was unfamiliar with socializing, he and the incomprehensible were completely opposite ends of the same tree.

He asked curiously: "Citizen, are you saying... my competition with Perturabo is just like the competition between this weaver and the goddess?"

Then the prince shook his head, his words full of gentle disapproval: "Our competition... is just an exchange between two people, and Perturabo... he will not turn people into animals. He is a good man."

Kaliphon was almost choked by her brother's last few words, and Morse smiled generously, leaving Andos puzzled, wondering where he was wrong.

"But I have heard another story, citizen."

The princess reluctantly found the rhythm of her language, her eyes exchanged with Morse's eyes, and her eyes flashed with a smile.

"I saw another version in a letter, which is similar in general, but with many minor differences."

"The immortal gods heard the rumors of the mortal's skills, and her anger was about to come to the earth. The goddess would not let others despise her without being punished. The goddess's hands moved on the loom, weaving the shapes of the gods in the sky, and wanted to use the feather helmets and golden shields of the gods to symbolize her power; she embroidered the arrogant mortals being punished in the four corners of the pattern to show her magnificent majesty."

"Arachne wove four disasters created by the gods: the first woman was burned to blood and bones, and the second girl was deceived by an eagle. Go, the woman turned into a cow and wandered around, and the noble queen was defiled by evil. "

"The goddess saw that she was weaving well, so she tore the ugly thing of the god into pieces, and the shuttle hit the girl's forehead. Arachne couldn't bear it and committed suicide. The goddess was still angry and cursed her race to be punished from generation to generation, and from then on they would hang on the net forever to spin their yarn. "

Caliphon paused and asked kindly: "Whose story do you want to tell, respected citizen?"

Perturabo fell into more confusion. He looked at the young man in blue robes from time to time, and looked at Califon.

】

Compared to not understanding what tricks Morse was playing, he didn't understand when Morse and Califon had this unspoken tacit understanding.

How did they know each other?

Morse shrugged his shoulders, and the blue cloth robe rippled like water, and together with his fake skin color, it condensed into several cold trickles, rolling away into the void along the contours of his body.

The real pale cheeks and his constant black clothes and strips of cloth were washed and reappeared, and the ironic curve of the lips remained unchanged.

Andos was surprised and said softly.

Perturabo immediately approached Morse and looked up at him without looking away.

"What do you mean, Morse!" He clenched his uneasy fist and weighed the weight of his own words. "What is the answer to the riddle you designed?"

"My answer?" Morse put his palm on Perturabo's shoulder and patted the boy. "I don't provide the answer because I haven't prepared it."

He half-knelt down, the corner of the black robe fell to the ground, his eyes were level with Perturabo, and he looked at the boy's face.

As he said, he had never designed a definite answer to the story itself; who is the weaver in the story, who is the supreme god in the story, he has no intention of setting a standard.

"When I wrote this question, I was not thinking about who is the person in the story, but who wrote the story and who gave the puzzle." Morse said, "After all, in the real past, neither Minerva nor Arachne existed. So, who made the characters in this story turn good and evil twice?"

Caliphon nodded slightly.

"You tell it." Morse said to Perturabo. "You are a smart child."

Perturabo pondered for a few seconds and said, "The person who wrote the story."

His clenched hands relaxed, replaced by a complex expression and a sad silence when facing absurd and false things.

He said: "Your story is written by Harkon, and Calliphon's story is written by citizens."

"The story of God tells the four sufferings of man, and the story of man records the four evil deeds of God."

Morse nodded calmly.

The boy continued, "You have to tell me that people who can speak can be heard, you have to tell me that false glory is always false."

He turned his head away stubbornly, unwilling to accept: "But I didn't let the citizens flatter me, they still chose me, I am still a little better."

Morse decided not to tell him now, the subsequent voting tendency is closely related to the choice of the first person to come to power.

"And..." Perturabo's question has a follow-up, "And even if the glory is fake, you still haven't told me what my statue is like! You never lie to me, I have to tell you directly, what do you think of the statue I carved?"

Morse sighed and praised gently: "Very good, Perturabo, I praise you."

If you must talk about his shortcomings on the spot, then you can't talk about it without the limitation of three hours, it is better to go back and talk to him in detail.

What's more, the child is about to fall.

Perturabo puffed his mouth to suppress his smile.

The next second, the boy fell into Morse's arms and fell into a coma.

"Look, even if you don't want to think about it, you are already in this vortex." He whispered.

He had chosen to tell the child too much of what he knew.

Then, Morse stood up with Perturabo in his arms, and he used all his gentleness today on the boy.

"I want you to tell me which city-state the ceremonial officer who presented the golden pot came from." He threw the empty box on the ground and ordered, "His accomplices have been caught, go to the street to find his ice statue."

Let's set up a reader group...

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