Conan: When Shinjiu and Maolilan swap bodies

The big cat's pointed ears were sticking up, waiting for her praise.

She exclaimed in surprise, and even clapped her hands.

"Wow! That's amazing! This branch is also very special. Mr. Qingze has a great eye!"

Her expression was genuine, and the emotional value she conveyed was extremely apt.

Qingze's lips curled up as he twirled the branch on his wrist.

"It's just so-so."

Looking at the upturned corners of his mouth, Ran Mouri smiled with unusual gentleness.

A proud and childish brat.

Qingze held onto the branch and never threw it away again. He would wave it from time to time, chopping at the weeds by the roadside, knocking the leaves on his head, and even trying to raid the bird's nest.

Ran Mouri felt that Aozawa only had a living, breathing energy at this moment, with a playful spirit, like a real person.

"Mr. Qingze".

"Ok?"

Qingze turned his head to look at her, and the reflection of the red maple trees in his sunglasses gave her a warmer feeling than usual.

Ran Mouri stood under the red maple tree, her hands hidden behind her back, her eyebrows and eyes curved, her gentleness unbelievable.

I hope you can be this happy in the future.

Sunlight filtered through the trees, falling on her and casting a soft glow on her face.

I don't know if it's because I'm wearing sunglasses, but the sunlight isn't glaring at all.

Qingze looked at her for a while, then reached up and lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head, revealing his distinctive red eyes.

What are you hiding in your hand?

Ran Mouri hopped over to him in two steps, her trouser leg brushing against a few fallen maple leaves, and handed him a black velvet box.

"Gift."

"Is today some special day? There's even a gift."

"This is my apology gift. Mr. Qingze, are you willing to accept my apology?"

Ran Mouri handed over the gift with both hands and bowed 90 degrees to apologize.

This is a very formal apology.

Sunlight shone on the carefully tied bow on the box, showing that it had been made with exceptional care.

Qingze looked at the box and reached out to take it.

"What is it?"

It shook, but no sound could be heard.

Ran Mouri didn't say anything, she just looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to open the gift.

He untied the ribbon, which made a very soft "snap" sound. He peeled back the wrapping paper layer by layer, revealing a lighter with a matte black finish on the soft cloth, its rose carvings shimmering in the sunlight.

He stared at the lighter for a while, his fingertips tracing the carved patterns.

It's a very pretty lighter, but the engraving is too delicate and doesn't quite match it.

Seeing that he was staring at the lighter without making any move, Ran Mouri became a little nervous.

"I've been looking for a long time, I don't know if you'll like it."

"How long is a long time?"

"It's been almost two and a half hours..."

"Has this been a long time?"

Seeing that Qingze actually questioned it, Ran Mouri gestured with her hands.

"I tried each lighter one by one, and this one is very similar to yours in terms of feel, weight, and sound!"

"Really."

Qingze picked up the lighter, opened and closed the cap between his fingertips, and with a click, a spark ignited, illuminating the smile in his eyes.

"good."

He put the new lighter back in his pocket, then tossed the opened gift box to Ran Mouri, along with his usual lighter.

The box bumped into her arms with a soft thud.

"Give it to you."

Ran Mouri caught it in a flurry of activity.

She held the box between her fingers, her fingertips tracing the lighter engraved with auspicious cloud patterns, which still retained the warmth of her body heat.

"Don't you want this anymore?"

As he stroked the lighter in his pocket, Qingze's lips curled into a slight smile.

One is enough.

Chapter 142 This is very important

Ran Mouri stuffed the gift box back into her bag, rubbed the lighter in her hand, and felt a sense of joy and exhilaration.

"Mr. Qingze has forgiven me, hasn't he?"

Qingze gave a soft "hmm".

Looking at the lighter in her hand, he made a point.

"Keep it safe and don't lose it."

Ran Mouri was slightly taken aback. Qingze usually wouldn't bring up things that weren't important.

"Is this lighter important to Mr. Qingze?"

"It was a gift from someone, and I've had it for many years."

"Since it was a gift from someone else, I can't accept it."

Ran Mouri handed the lighter back to him.

Qingze didn't take it. "It wasn't a gift. That person just tossed it to me."

Who is it?

"stranger."

"what?"

"That was seven years ago, wasn't it? At that time, I had lost my sense of taste and felt that life was meaningless, that I couldn't find any meaning in my existence..."

It was rare for Qingze to reveal his past to anyone, but he spoke of it with unusual calm, as if he were telling a long-ago story.

"That year I went to China..."

That year he hardly went on any missions, and he was in a state of "not knowing what to do while alive, but not quite dead yet".

It was an ordinary night, nothing special.

He sat by the flower bed in the park, watching the elderly people doing square dancing.

He was like an outsider, separated from this vibrant world by a thick layer of glass; even standing next to him, it felt like he was thousands of miles away.

The white-haired boy was exceptionally unique, attracting the attention of many even while sitting in the dark.

However, the boy had a cold demeanor and little expression on his face, but he still gave off a fierce feeling.

"At that time, I couldn't control my breathing, and he spotted me."

"Who?" Ran Mouri asked with unusual curiosity.

"Urban War God, Retired Soldier King, Chaoyang Resident... God knows who he really is. Anyway, he followed me for seven days..."

Qingze had no intention of doing anything, so he didn't care about the people secretly watching him.

He wandered aimlessly through the city like a tourist from elsewhere.

He doesn't talk to anyone, doesn't interact with anyone, he's like a ghost, he doesn't even know what he's doing.

That night, a three- or four-year-old boy chased after a glowing fluorescent ball and ran up to him.

The child was running fast and didn't pay attention to his footing. He tripped over the curb and stumbled, falling towards him.

He leaned forward slightly, reached out his arm, and caught the little boy just before his face hit the ground.

With a little effort, he stabilized his small body, avoiding the danger of landing face-first and getting disfigured.

Ignoring the child staring blankly at him, he stood up and walked to the convenience store next door. He looked at the counter for a while and finally bought a pack of cigarettes and a plastic lighter.

He sat back down in the dark corner and took out a cigarette.

The cigarette was lit with a plastic lighter. He took a rough puff and was immediately choked, coughing repeatedly.

The overly strong nicotine smell made my nose very uncomfortable. I wanted to throw it away, but then I thought, since I've already burned so much, I might as well smoke one.

He's an assassin, it seems a bit odd that he doesn't smoke, it makes him seem out of place.

"That's when the middle-aged man walked over and sat down next to me..."

The middle-aged man has a square face, exudes an air of elder, loves to meddle in other people's business, and always offers advice.

"Has no one told you that minors can't smoke?"

"This is none of your business, is it?"

The middle-aged man looked surprised when he heard him speak.

"Your Chinese is actually this good?"

"none of your business."

Qingze turned his head away speechlessly, took another drag of his cigarette, and then choked on it, coughing for a long time.

"If you don't smoke, then don't smoke. What are you pretending for?"

The man took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and then a lighter.

He put the cigarette in his mouth, twirled the lighter in his hand with flair, and then slowly lit it.

As the smoke drifted out, Qingze frowned.

"Your smoke is bothering me."

The man looked at him speechlessly, "You don't like the smell, yet you're learning to smoke?"

Qingze put down his cigarette, and instead of answering his question, he asked a question of his own.

"Tell me, what is the meaning of life?"

His eyes were vacant, and he exuded a deep sense of death.

"There is no inherent meaning to human life."

The middle-aged man flicked his cigarette ash and spoke casually.

"Then why are you alive?"

"Just being alive is what it means to be alive."

The man exhaled a puff of smoke, deliberately trying to suffocate him. Qingze silently dodged it, stood up, and was about to leave.

But then I heard him say, "Most of our lives are meaningless, but people still live, don't they? Meaning is an ethereal thing. Life is about experience. When you're alive, you can experience everything. When you're dead, you can't experience anything."

It was just ordinary talk, nothing profound, but Qingze was inexplicably moved.

Living is simply about not wanting to die; there's no need for so many grand theories.

"That makes some sense..."

“Of course that makes sense. This is based on my experience of living half my life.” The man stubbed out his cigarette by the flower bed and stood up.

"Cigarettes are no good. Don't smoke if you don't have to. If you're bored, play with a lighter."