Two of the three wishes were difficult, but the remaining one perfectly matched Xia De's conjecture about the match girl today.
In fact, connecting this Old God, who fell in the fifth epoch of 1068, with her title, it's hard not to think of fairy tales.
After a moment of consideration, Xia De looked at the owner of the toy store, a young man wearing a ridiculous hat, who was watching him.
"Time is short. Today, I'll fulfill the wish for a story. I'll try to tell a fairy tale. The wishes for growth and strength can wait until next time."
"Of course, from now until you leave, they can temporarily understand the language you use."
The Saint walked out from behind the counter, clapped his hands, and five high stools appeared in the empty space in front of the counter.
So the two men sat down, and the three children happily climbed onto the chairs, sitting there obediently with their hands on their knees.
This uniform appearance, for some reason, made Xia De think of manipulated puppets.
Even if a god holds no malice towards mortals, mortals still cannot be in contact with a god for long periods.
Everyone looked at Xia De with expectant eyes.
Xia De organized his thoughts and cleared his throat, understanding what he was about to do:
"Oh, children, I'm going to tell a very old story now.
The exact era in which this story took place can no longer be verified, but it is absolutely true."
The three children looked at Xia De with shining eyes; even the most mature-looking girl was captivated by such an opening.
"It was a cold winter, with snowflakes falling like knives and like goose feathers.
It was a dimly lit street..."
The Saint waved his hand behind him, and the light in the toy store suddenly dimmed.
Darkness enveloped the five people gathered together, and snowflakes fell from the sky.
Under the faint Moonlight, their surroundings transformed into a desolate, cold, and deserted street.
Xia De looked up, his eyes slightly narrowed.
Above them, there was only a silver moon, with no trace of the yellow or red moons.
He pondered, but the story didn't stop.
And, seeing the environment change, he highly doubted whether The Innocent Creator's claim of "no power" was true or false, but the young man smiled at him, prompting him to continue.
"The girl was barefoot, wearing a pair of slippers, her feet bruised and purple from the cold, and her clothes were patched beyond counting.
She wrapped her golden hair in a worn scarf, hunched her body, and walked along the street, carrying a small basket."
The three children looked around and indeed saw a girl slowly walking through the snow.
They all let out an "Oh~" of surprise.
Xia De paused, then hesitated before continuing:
"She was extremely tired, extremely hungry, and extremely cold.
But she had to sell the matches in her basket before her father would allow her to return home.
The girl stopped in front of a brightly lit display window, looking at the grand, glittering hall inside the window.
It was currently a holiday, and inside the window was a lively restaurant, with fragrant roasted chicken on the dining tables beneath decorative trees."
The dilapidated street around the girl suddenly lit up, and the display window showed her the lives of the rich.
The girl's hands, purple from the cold, clutched the basket.
She stopped in front of the window, her eyes shining as she looked inside.
The children's faces were filled with wonder, and Xia De suddenly felt a pang of pity.
"She was terribly cold, huddling against the wall to rest.
The snow fell heavier and heavier.
The girl took a box of matches from her basket, pulled out one, and struck it in front of her, wanting to warm herself.
In that light, she saw a warm fireplace, but just as she stretched her feet towards it, the match went out, leaving only a burnt matchstick in her hand."
The girl on the street struck a match, watched the flame, and then the flame extinguished.
This time, the Saint did not display the illusion that Xia De described.
What they saw was merely the cold reality.
"She struck another match, and a roasted goose jumped out of a plate, with a knife and fork stuck in its back, walking towards her.
But the match went out again, and before her was only a pile of cold snowflakes."
The children listened carefully to Xia De's story.
Only the Boy who requested a "story" looked at him, while the slightly older girl and Boy looked at the phantom created by the Saint.
"So, she struck a match for the third time.
This time, she sat under a beautiful tree, with gift boxes piled beneath it."
The Saint suddenly raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"the little match girl reached out to the closest red box, but the match went out again.
So, she struck a match for the fourth time.
This time, in the light of the match, her loving grandmother appeared, so gentle and kind.
She didn't want her grandmother to leave, so she quickly struck the entire bundle of matches."
The children saw the girl huddled in front strike the matches, and this time, the "illusion" that Xia De described also appeared.
But it wasn't the loving grandmother Xia De described; what appeared on the snowy street was a tall figure in a black cloak, holding a scythe.
From the cultural customs of this world, this represented death.
Xia De's pace of speech slowed, and he looked at the Old God, The Innocent Creator, in confusion; the latter shook his head.
Time was running out, so Xia De concluded the story:
"In the light of the matches, her grandmother embraced her, and they flew away in light and joy, flying higher and higher, to a place where there was no cold, hunger, or pain."
The black-robed figure reached out and took the girl's hand.
Xia De watched this scene, his tone unconsciously slowing down a bit:
"The next day, the sun rose, shining on her small corpse."
The phantom floated out from the girl, holding the hand of the black-robed figure, and together they vanished with the illusion of the street.
The warm and bright toy store returned to the five people, and the children were still immersed in the story.
Xia De looked at the Old God, who clapped his hands:
"A good story, although the ending isn't so beautiful, for children, such stories are the best."
The Boy who had asked Xia De for a story also looked at him.
He hugged his teddy bear and timidly said:
"Sir, this really is a good story.
Does this story have a name?"
"the little match girl."
After speaking the name of the fairy tale, Xia De hesitated for a moment and then asked a question:
"So, what is your name?"
"Sir, my name is Parker Chad."
Xia De nodded, making a note of the name.
The Saint had already returned behind the counter and said with a smile:
"Children, what did you all learn from this story?"
"Power!
We must have power to control our own destiny!"
The girl on the high stool said loudly.
"Growth!
Little children can't do anything!"
Said the Boy with the toy knife.
"Story, sir, a story doesn't need meaning, a story doesn't need to preach, a story just needs to touch people's hearts."
The smallest Boy looked at the Saint, who smiled and shook his head:
"Yes, you are right.
Child, you are destined to become an excellent fairy tale Writer.
This is my blessing to you."】
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