In April of 1987, when the spring chill was in full swing, the sunny branches of the willows along the Seine were only producing buds the size of half a grain of rice, while elsewhere the winter cold was not far behind.

"You know what, Joseph? I actually prefer April to May, when the flowers are in full bloom. Amand said to Joseph, who was walking alongside him, as he walked slowly along the banks of the Seine.

"Why?" asked Joseph. Joseph asked.

"Because April is the season of budding, the season of greatest hope. Although the cold has not yet subsided, the snow has not yet completely melted, and you can look up and see the unmelted snow in the shade of the hills outside the city, look at the willow branches along the river - the arrival of spring is inevitable after all. Amand said meaningfully.

"There is some truth in what you say," Joseph said. Joseph said, "But April is also the cruelest season.

"Why do you say that?" Amand asked.

"You know what, Armand?" Joseph looked around and finally pointed to a small, bare tree not far away, "Like that lilac, for example. In the last year, this lilac has produced millions of seeds. These seeds, Amand, will try to sprout in April."

"What's wrong with that?" Amand said in disbelief.

Joseph walked over to the bare lilac tree, stroked the rough trunk with his hand, and turned his head: "Amand, how many of the thousands of seeds of this tree will grow even a small shoot? How many of those seeds that luckily grew shoots can grow into such a big tree that can bloom in the spring? Think about it, Amang, even in the coldest winter, these thousands of seeds are still alive, but in April, most of them die silently in the soil. Think about how many lives died without a sound in April, how many hopes were destroyed without a sound? Even if you think about it, right now, perhaps in the dirt under our feet, countless lives are dying ．．．．．． April is the cruelest month, the lilacs growing on the wasteland, mixing memories and desires, and letting the spring rains urge those sluggish roots to sprout. Winter keeps us warm, the earth is covered with snow that helps people forget, and the dry root ball provides a little life ．．．．．．"

"You wait ．．．．．．" Amand said, "Joseph, I find it a shame that you are not a poet. Well, that's an interesting point you're making, too. But I have heard a similar statement from another person, only his final lament was different from yours. He said that in the revolution, many people will pay the price, even the price of life, and many people will die. But this does not mean that there is anything wrong with revolution. For if there is no revolution, if there is always a snow-covered winter, life may pass more slowly, but a continuous severe winter will surely make all lives wither. After all, the dry root ball alone will not last long. And the revolution, though it will cost us much in the short run, will win us much more in the long run."

"Who said that to you?" Joseph asked.

"Mara, a doctor," Amand replied.

"Mara? The one who was stabbed to death in a bathtub and then sent to the Pantheon, only to be moved out again not long after?" Joseph thought so, but asked, "Is he the one who wrote "A Study of the Properties of Fire"? I heard your uncle mention him."

"Then my uncle must not have said anything nice about him." Amand laughed. This also confirmed that the Mara Amand was talking about was the same Mara Joseph had in mind.

"Mr. Lavoisier was only mentioning his point of view in passing when he mentioned the wrong ones. In fact, Mr. Lavoisier had nothing more to say about him than the word 'absurd', which was used to describe his conclusions. What, did he have a conflict with your uncle?"

"Not really." Not really," replied Amand, "just an academic disagreement. But my uncle has been very critical of him, perhaps a little more aggressive, so he and my uncle are not on good terms. But this is between him and my uncle, this man is actually very talented. Well, I hope I can meet one of your friends who has him.

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Here, Amang looked up ahead and said, "We're almost there, there's Abel's Brewery ahead of us.

"Why did you get such an isolated place?" Joseph said.

"It's not for anything else, it's because the beer is cheap. Of course, the wine is privately brewed and not taxed," Amand said.

As the two men talked, they continued on their way. After about a hundred paces, they turned right into an alley, and then after another twenty paces, they came to a house.

This is close to the poor district of Paris, so most of the houses here are low and dilapidated, and all of them are gray and misty, just like the expressions on the faces of the poor. This house is naturally the same. The door of this house is closed, and there is no sign or anything else outside the door. From the outside, this house looks almost indistinguishable from the other houses.

Amand went to the door and knocked on it. The door did not open, but a voice came out from inside: "Who is it?

"I'm a friend of Alban's," Amand replied.

The door opened a crack, but it was so dark inside that Joseph could only vaguely see what appeared to be a pair of eyes scrutinizing them. Then he heard a voice say, "It's a friend. And then the door opened all the way.

Amand led Joseph inside, and the door closed behind them. With the door closed, the whole room became dark all of a sudden. It took a while for Joseph's eyes to adjust to the change and to see clearly the person standing in front of them.

It was a young man not too much different in age from Amang, he had a black, slightly curly hair, and a pair of even in the dark as lightning shining hair.

The young man obviously knew that they had just entered and that their eyes needed time to adjust, so first, he just stood there quietly and waited for Joseph's eyes to adjust to the dim light before he said to them: "Amand and this ．．．．．． man".

"Joseph Bonaparte." Joseph hurriedly introduced himself.

"Then Mr. Bonaparte, come in with me," said the young man. The young man said. Then he turned around and went inside.

After passing through a corridor, the young man pushed open a door and led them into a larger room.

This room is against the backyard, with relatively larger windows, so it is relatively brighter. There was a large round table in the middle of the room, and some people were sitting around it.

Hearing the sound of the door opening, these people looked over to this site. One man stood up and waved at Joseph and Amand: "Hey, our great scientist and writer have finally arrived.

That man Joseph also knew was his classmate Oreno. After graduation, Oreno became a lawyer, left Paris, and went to the provinces. He and Joseph wrote to each other quite a lot, but they saw each other less often. I never thought he would return to Paris at this time.

"Arnaud, why are you here too? You didn't write to me in advance. Joseph said with surprise.

"I had to run to Paris because of some work matters. I think the messenger is probably not as fast as I can run myself. When I got to Paris and finished my work, I wanted to come to you, but I heard Amand say you were coming here with him today, so I came straight here to wait for you. Oreno said, "Joseph, welcome.

After welcoming Joseph, Oreno and Armand began to introduce Joseph to the people who were present.

"This is our Barrister Danton." Oreno first introduced Joseph to a slightly chubby twenty-something sitting next to him, "He's one of my teachers. He taught me a lot of things during this time.

Joseph knew that this is later one of the famous Jacobin triumvirate Danton, so he could not help but look at him more than twice.

It was a large, unkempt man, wearing a wide, bright red tweed top, loose tie-down to the front decorative below, exposing the neck, the coat open, some of the buttons have fallen off, the feet are flap boots. His hair was standing haphazardly, and there was obviously horsehair in the wig. His face was a little pockmarked, but there was a kind smile at the corners of his mouth, thick lips, large teeth, thick fists, and bright eyes.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Joseph said with a slight bend.

"It's an honor to meet a future great scientist, too," Danton replied in kind.

"This handsome angel, who makes me so jealous that I can't sleep at night just by looking at him, is our friend Louis. Amand introduced Joseph to the young man who had just brought them in.

"Hello, I have read some of your works, and if I have time in the future, I would like to ask you some mathematical questions. The young man named Louis said. Joseph returned the gesture, noting that Louis was indeed as handsome as an angel, as Amand had said. Slightly curled flaxen hair, creamy skin, clear and soulful eyes like autumn water ．．．．．． If he is willing to smile, and then with such eyes, even if his gaze is just like the west wind in May, it is enough to blow open the heart of any girl's rose. But Louis' face was almost invisible as if he were really carved out of marble.

"If he had been born in the afterlife, he would not have had to do anything but eat with this face. Joseph could not help but think with a little jealousy.