After the establishment of the Kingdom of Kolas, Vladimir's deeds were taken seriously by the new government, and Mr. John Pulit, the chief of information of the cabinet and Vladimir's old boss, personally visited him, and awarded him medals and annuity vouchers on behalf of the government, and received an annual allowance to ensure that he had no worries about food and clothing for the rest of his life.

The government of Kolas took good care of Vladimir, but none of this allowed his life to shine again. Peter knew Vladimir and knew that he was not willing to be a "rice worm" who was waiting to die. Vladimir spent most of his allowance on paints, brushes, canvases, carving knives and mountains of wooden planks, and spent his days in dimly lit rooms painting and sculpting, trying to remaster his life's favorite creative skills.

From Peter's point of view, Vladimir's prints were still great even after he lost his sight, but Vladimir himself came to the opposite assessment just by touching the carving marks, and asked Peter to "take all this garbage and burn it".

Peter was reluctant to burn the prints, but he knew in his heart that Vladimir would not be able to regain his former self-confidence. Even if he could have been blind enough to produce something better than he had ever done before, no newspaper would have hired him to illustrate current events. Vladimir was more concerned with conveying his thoughts to the people through illustrations of current affairs than with pure art, something that a blind man could not do.

Thinking that poor Vladimir was still starving at home, Peter quickened his pace, rushed over the wooden bridge like a gust of wind, burrowed into the alley, removed the broken sack that stood in the way, and entered the neighbor's house.

The room was unexpectedly warm, and Vladimir himself fumbled to light the fireplace, which would have been a joyous event, but Peter's heart sank. Running quickly to the humble fireplace, he looked into the hearth with the choking smoke, and sure enough, it was the wooden planks that Vladimir had bought for frugality in the hearth, and the painting that had been carved by cutting his finger countless times turned into char in the flames, which made Peter saddened.

He turned and walked into the bedroom, looked at the young man covered in paint and pale face, and tried to persuade him to open a little, but in the end he could not speak, and took the piece of warm rye bread from his bosom and handed it over.

"Eat something, Brother Vladimir."

Vladimir took the bread and sniffed it, then turned his head and asked, "Where did it come from?" ”

"I went to the seminary and signed up for a priesthood training course, ate and drank, and took some of the rest."

"It's rare to have such an opportunity, you have to study hard, maybe this training can change your fate."

"Brother Vladimir, don't be kidding, a little homeless man like me, a monkey cub who can't be quiet for a moment, what kind of material is the material to be a priest?" Peter sneered and shook his head, "I'm afraid I won't even be able to pass the written test tomorrow morning, and I won't have a chance to continue eating and drinking." ”

"Not necessarily, the hardest thing for people to recognize is themselves." The blind printmaker seemed to think of his hopeless efforts, sighed, and continued to advise the boy next door: "Prepare well for tomorrow's exam, do you know what to take?" ”

"Literacy and arithmetic."

"Did you read the newspapers and books I gave you?"

"Of course I read it, when I get home and have nothing to do, I look through those old newspapers and books, Vladimir, those are the books you have treasured for many years, is it really okay to give them to me?" Peter was sorry for him.

Vladimir shook his head and smiled: "It's okay, I have memorized the content of the book in my head, I used to keep it because I wanted to revisit it when I had time, anyway, I can't read the book now, it's useless to keep it, you can learn a little more knowledge when you take it." ”

"Don't say that, your eyes will get better someday." Peter endured his sadness and said something that he didn't even believe. Over the years, Vladimir has not only taken care of his food and clothing, but also often found time to teach him to read and write, otherwise the illegitimate son of a prostitute like him, a little tramp in the slum, where can he read the enrollment notice posted by the seminary.

"Vladimir, you often say that 'knowledge can change a person's destiny', do you still believe in this saying?" Peter couldn't help but ask.

"Of course I do." Vladimir replied calmly.

Peter tugged at the corners of his mouth, a hint of disapproval flashing across his face. Perhaps, as Vladimir said, knowledge can change fate, but not necessarily for the better. If Vladimir hadn't read so many books, could write and draw, would not have worked in a newspaper, would not have met young intellectuals who were as strong as him and dissatisfied with the status quo, would not have participated in the revolution against the tyranny of the Empire, would not have secretly formed associations to print leaflets and propaganda posters, would not have been arrested and tortured by Krautz's accomplices, and finally lost his eyes and became a cripple huddled in a dark hut in the slums.

If Vladimir hadn't read so many books and didn't understand so many truths, he might have been just an ordinary poor man now, although stupid, at least in good health, simple and happy.

"Peter, knowledge does not bring us better luck than others, but it will give us more opportunities to choose our way of life, if you can pass tomorrow's exam, you will have the opportunity to participate in training, and even become a real Syndra pastor, your life will be changed because of it, and many years later, people will only know you as a venerable priest, and no one will remember that you were born in the slums, and you were an orphan who was humble to the dust." Vladimir whispered.

"Huh? I understand these things, but ......," Peter scratched his head and laughed, "but I'm really not that material, Vladimir, if it's a circus monkey play, I think I have a good chance of being selected, but it's a priest, only a serious and old-fashioned person like Boris is like a priest, and a guy like me who gets sick as soon as he quiets down, even if he gets lucky enough to pass the exam, looks like a monkey in a priest's robe!" ”

Vladimir pursed his lips and pondered how to motivate this little brother with an inferiority complex in his bones.

"Peter, if you can become a priest, you will have the opportunity to master the higher divine arts in the future."

"Well, that's pretty good." Peter absentmindedly fiddled with his carving knife and scribbled on the table.

"If you can master the high divine arts, you can help Nikolai heal his injuries and even have a chance to restore the light of my eyes."

"Huh? Really?! Peter dropped the knife and jumped up excitedly, "What's that...... Divine art, is it really so powerful? ”