Chapter 12 Section 12

The phone rings and you wake up, hesitating whether to answer it or not. "Maybe it's a woman, you forgot the date?" She leaned on the pillow, looking down at you from the side. "Probably the help desk," you say. "When you fell asleep, you already knocked on the door." Her voice was tired. You raise your head, the sun shines on the back of the sofa through the white screen from behind the velvet curtain, and the newspaper of the day is stuffed on the floor between the door.You reached for the microphone, but the ringing stopped. "Are you awake?" you asked her.

"I feel empty, you're asleep and snoring." "Why didn't you wake me up? Haven't slept yet?" You stroked her round shoulders, this body has become familiar and intimate, together with the warm smell of her body. "Look at you sleeping so soundly, go on sleeping, you haven't slept well for two nights." Her deep-set eye sockets turned blue, and her eyes were loose. "Aren't you the same?" You slid your hands down your shoulders, reached her breasts, and squeezed tightly. "You still want to fuck me?" She lowered her head and asked you with a dazed look.

"Words there! Marguerite..." You don't know how to explain. "After you vented, you fell asleep on top of me." "It's awful, like an animal," "It's nothing, people are animals, but what women want more is a sense of security." She smiled lightly. You said you were very comfortable with her, she was very generous. "It also depends on who it is, not everyone wants to give snacks." "Needless to say!" You said you were grateful for being so kind to you. "But sooner or later you will forget," she said, "I am the day after tomorrow, no, it should be tomorrow, another day has passed, it may already be noon. I will go back to Germany tomorrow, and you will go back to Paris. We can't live together."

"We will definitely meet again!" "Goodbye can only be friends, I don't want to be your lover." She takes your hand off the tit. "Marguerite, why?" You sit up in bed and look at her. "You have women in France, you can't be without women." Her voice became dry.You don't know what to say.The sunlight that hits the back of the sofa stretches over the handles. "What time is it?" you ask. "have no idea." "Don't you have a boyfriend too? Presumably." Here's the answer you'll find. "I don't want to continue this kind of sexual relationship with you, but I think we can still be friends, maybe good friends, I didn't expect to make it so complicated all of a sudden."

"What's there?" You say you love her. "No, don't say that, I don't believe that, men say that when they have sex with women." "Margaret, you are really special." You want her to be reassuring. "Just because I'm a Jewish woman and you haven't had a life—you just need it and don't know me." You say you want to know, but she keeps her mouth shut, you've said a lot, but she just won't open it, you think of her murmurs when she made love to you. "You want my body, not me." She shrugged.But you said that you really want to know her, her life, her heart, everything about her.

"Good as a material for your writing?" "No, as a good friend, if not a lover." You said she aroused many feelings in you and heart!Not only sex, but also memories that you thought you had forgotten are revived because of her. "You just think you've forgotten, just don't think about it, but pain can't be erased or forgotten." Lying on his back, his eyes were wide open, his eyes looked more grayish blue after the painted eye shadow was wiped off, the nipples on Bai Zhe's breasts were light red, and the milk scene was very pale.She hid the sheet and said don't look at her like that, she hates her body, that's what she said during sex.

"Margaret, you are indeed beautiful, and this body is also beautiful!" You said you liked the voluptuous woman in Klimt's paintings, and you wanted the sun to shine on her so that she could see clearly. "Don't open the curtains!" she stopped you. "Don't you profess to cheer the sun?" You asked. "I don't want to see my body in the sun." "You are really special, not like a Westerner, but a bit like a Chinese girl." "Because you don't know me yet." You said you really wanted to understand, thoroughly, not just her body, or as she said, flesh.

"But it's impossible," it's impossible for a person to fully understand another person, especially a man to a woman, thinking that he got it, but not necessarily. " "Of course," you were a little depressed, you put your head in your hands, looked at her and sighed. "Do you want something to eat? Can you ask the waiter to deliver it to the room, or go to the coffee shop?" "Thanks, I don't have anything for breakfast." "Diet?" You asked intentionally, "It's already noon!" "Call if you want, and leave me alone," she said;

"I just want to hear you talk." Touched, you kissed her forehead, dragged the pillow, and leaned back against her. "You are gentle," she said, "I like you, I've given you everything you want, but I don't want to get too deep, I'm afraid..." "What are you afraid of?" "I'm afraid I'll miss you." You were a little sad and didn't speak anymore, thinking that there should be such a woman, maybe you should really live with her. "Go on with your story," she broke the silence. You said, listen to her now!Talk about herself, her background, or whatever.But she said that there is nothing to say, she does not have such a complicated experience as yours.

"Every woman's experience is written like a book." "Perhaps, a bland book." "But there will be a unique taste" You said that you really want to know, especially want to know her feelings, her life, her privacy, and the secrets in her heart.you ask her "Is it true what you said during sex?". "I won't tell. Perhaps," she added, "One day, maybe I will tell you. I hope to have a real communication with you, not just sexual intercourse. I can't stand loneliness." You said that you are not afraid of loneliness. It is because of this that you will not be destroyed. It is precisely this inner loneliness that protects you.But sometimes you also long to sink, to sink into a woman's cave.

"That's not depravity. It's also a man's prejudice to regard women as sinful. It's disgusting only if you don't love them." "Then have you ever loved? Or is someone using you?" You try to lure her into telling her secrets. "I thought it was, but later I found out that it was just a deception. When a man wants a woman, he always says it nicely, and it's over when he uses it up. But women always need this kind of illusion so that they can deceive themselves," she said. "You just think I'm still fresh and haven't used enough, I know that." "The devil is in everyone, in every heart." "But you are more sincere." "not necessarily." She giggled. "This is Marguerite!" You are also wide-eyed and laugh. "A whore?" she asked, sitting up. "You said it yourself." "A slut who delivered himself to the door?" Her eyes are staring straight at you, but you can't see through those gray-blue eyes.She suddenly laughed so that her shoulders trembled, and a pair of big tits hanging like pears trembled.You said you missed her again, and pushed her down on the pillow. Just as she closed her eyes, the phone rang again. "Pick up your call, you'll have a new woman soon," she said, pushing you away. You pick up the phone and two friends invite you to Lamma Island for dinner.You said to the phone to wait a minute, covered the receiver, and asked her if she was going?If you don't go, you can stay with her another day. "We can't be in bed all the time! Or you'll be a skeleton, and your friends will blame me." She got out of bed and went to the bathroom.The door was not closed, and there was a splash of water.You lie there too lazy to move, as if she is your partner and cannot be separated.You can't stop shouting at her: "Marguerite, you are a good girl!" "A gift for you, but you don't want it!" She also yelled loudly, louder than the water.You yell that you love her!She also said she wanted to love you, but she was afraid.You immediately get up and want to join her in the bath, but the door is closed.You saw the watch on the table and opened the curtains, it was already past four o'clock in the afternoon. Coming out of the Sheung Wan MTR station, there is a long string of piers by the sea, and the air is clear.The boats coming and going in the bay are dyed with golden sunset, which is very bright.The water was so deep that it reached a barge on the side of the ship, and the ripples were separated, and there were white waves.The textures of concrete and steel of the buildings on the shore are clearly presented, and the outlines seem to be shining.You want to smoke a cigarette to make sure it is not a hallucination. You tell her that the soles of her feet are light, and she hugs you and giggles. A row of food stalls at the hem of a gigantic advertisement for Marlborough cigarettes.After entering the iron gate, there are signs of no smoking everywhere like in the United States.It was off-duty time, and there was a ferry every 15 or 20 minutes to various small islands. Most of the people who went to Nanv Shuangdao were young people, and there were also many foreigners.The electric bell rang harshly, and people hurriedly walked in a hurry, but in an orderly manner. As soon as they got on the boat, they immediately fell asleep or took out their books to read, so quiet that only the vibration of the engine could be heard.The boat quickly left the noisy city, and a cluster of buildings taller than 10 blocks gradually retreated. The cool wind blew, and the hull trembled slightly. She was sleepy, so she leaned against you first, and then simply bent her legs and lay in your arms. You also felt very comfortable.She actually fell asleep right away, so cute and peaceful, you can't help feeling sorry for her.In the mixed-race cabin, there are no other reminders except for the no-smoking sign, unlike in Hong Kong, or about to return to China. Outside the deck, the night is getting dim, and you are in a trance. Maybe you should live on an island with her, listen to the seagulls, and write for fun. There is no obligation, no burden, just pour out your feelings. After disembarking from the pier, some people rode on the exit to drive. There are no cars on this island.The street lights are dim. In a small town, the streets are not wide, and the shops and restaurants one after another are quite lively. "It's easy to open a music cafe or a bar here. You write and paint during the day, and open in the evening. What's the idea?" Second, Dongping, who came to pick you up, is a tall man with a beard and a painter. He has been a painter for more than ten years. came from the mainland. "If you're tired, you can go to the beach anytime and take a swim." Dongping pointed out that there are some boats and rowboats parked in the bay below the stone path on the hillside. He said that a foreigner friend of his bought an old fishing boat and lived in it.Margaret said that she began to proclaim her love for Hong Kong. "You can come here to work, Chinese is so good, and English is your mother tongue," Dongping said to her. "She's German," you say. "Jewish," she corrects you. "Born in Italy," you add. "Speaking so many languages ​​- which company doesn't hire them with high salaries? You don't have to live here. Repulse Bay is on the other side of Hong Kong Island, and there are luxury apartments on the beach and hillside." "Marguerite does not like to be with the boss, but only the artist." You said it for her. "That's right, we can be neighbors," Dongping said. "Do you also paint? There are a bunch of friends who paint here." "I've painted before, but it's just for fun, not professional. It's too late to really learn painting." You said that you didn't know that she also painted, and she immediately said in French that you didn't know much.Keeping a distance from you at this moment, but also want to have a private language with you.Dongping said that he had never been to an academy of fine arts, and he was not an officially recognized painter, so he came out of the mainland. "In the West, painters don't need official recognition, and they don't necessarily have to go to the academy of fine arts. Anyone can be a painter. The main thing is whether there is a market and whether the paintings can be sold," Marguerite said. Dongping said that there is no market for his paintings in Hong Kong. What the art dealer wants is to imitate the Impressionists, sign a foreigner’s name, and then sell them to Western galleries and buy them at wholesale prices. He signs different names every time. I can't remember how many names.Everyone laughed. On the second floor where Dongping lives, the living room is connected to the studio, and the people in the room are either painters, photographers, poets or columnists.There is only one foreigner who does not engage in art and is a handsome American boy. Dongping introduces to you seriously that he is a critic and the boyfriend of a female poet from China. Each person holds a paper plate and a pair of chopsticks, and the seafood is taken from the hot pot at Yamaguchi. It is no longer fierce, but very fresh.Dongping said that he just picked it up from the street before you came, and now it's curled up in the sizzling pot.This group was also very casual, with some walking around barefoot and some sitting on mats on the ground.The music was played very loudly, with string quartets, large speakers, and Vivaldi's loud and clear Eight Seasons V.Everyone ate and drank, chatting all over the place, without any topic of interest.Only Margaret looked reserved and dignified, and she spoke fluent Chinese, which immediately compared with the foreign accent of the American young man.He and Marguerite switched to English, and they talked endlessly, which made the girl who wrote the poem very jealous.Marguerite told you later that he didn't understand anything, but he kept the American boy around her all the time. An artist who said he was purged from the Old Summer Palace in Beijing, from the East Village or the West Village, in the name of rectifying the city appearance and social order, was seized by the police two years ago.He asked you what is the current trend of art in Paris?You said that there is always fashion every year.He said he was engaged in body art. You heard that he suffered a lot for this art in China. It is hard to say that this has become history in the West. Everyone unanimously talked about 1997, saying that on the day when the Chinese-British handover ceremony was held and the People's Liberation Army was stationed, all hotel rooms were fully booked, and journalists from various countries gathered in Hong Kong. Some said seven thousand, some said eight thousand.It is also said that the British Governor of Hong Kong will go to the naval base in the early morning of July 1, the birthday of the Communist Party of China, and the Sino-British handover ceremony, and leave the port by boat. "Why don't you fly?" was Marguerite's question. "On the way to the airport, that day was a celebration, and I was hurt and heartbroken," someone said, but no one laughed. "What are you going to do?" you ask. "Don't go anywhere that day, how about eating seafood here?" Dongping said, with a half-smile, which seemed quite magnanimous!It's not as frizzy as before, and it's getting old. No one was joking anymore, and the music suddenly became louder. I don't know which season it is in Vivaldi's season one. "It's all right!" the American boy said loudly. "What's okay?" His girlfriend was annoyed, and added another sentence, "You can't speak Chinese well!" Then he hugged his girlfriend and said: "We can go back to America." After the meal, the American boy offered another piece of opium the size of a fingernail for everyone to enjoy.But you have to catch the last boat back at midnight.Dongping said that there are plenty of places here, you can also spend the night here, and you can go swimming in the sea tomorrow morning.Margaret said she was tired, and besides, it was the plane at noon tomorrow.Dongping sent you to the boat again, and when the boat left the shore, he was still alone on the pier, raising his hands high towards you.You told Margaret that you were old friends when you were in Beijing, and it was very rare to have gone through adversity together.He doesn't know a foreign language and can't go anywhere.He had found trouble in his home in Beijing earlier. There were always some young men and women gathering, listening to music and dancing in his home. The neighbors thought it was a hooligan activity and reported it.Afterwards—he managed to come to Hong Kong by all means, and your visit this time can be regarded as saying goodbye to him. "It's hard to live anywhere," said Marguerite, also a little sentimentally.You lean on the iron railing of the deck, the sea breeze is cool. "Are you really leaving tomorrow? Can't you stay one more day?" you asked. "Not as free as you." The sea breeze brings Mercury to your face, and you are facing another breakup. It may be an important moment for you. It seems that your relationship should not end like this, but you don't want to make any promises, so you can only say: "Freedom is in your own hands." "It's easy to say, unlike you, I'm employed by the boss." She became cold again, like this chilly sea breeze.The sea was pitch black, and the island's twinkling lights could not be seen. "Tell me something interesting," she added, noticing that it had spoiled your interest, "You said I listened." "What are you talking about? The wind in March?" You babbled nonsense and resumed your mocking tone. You noticed that she shrugged and said that it was a bit cold, and you went back to the cabin.She said that she was sleepy, you looked at your watch, and you would arrive in Hong Kong in half an hour, and said that she could lean on you and take another nap, and you also felt extremely sleepy.