Chapter 14 Section 14

"You haven't been beaten as an enemy?" she said as she stirred the coffee in her cup with a small spoon. "Narrowly, finally escaped," what else can you say? "Then how did you escape?" she asked, still casually. "Do you know the state of mind?" You said with a smile on your face, "When an animal encounters danger, it either pretends to be dead, or pretends to be fierce. It can't panic. Instead, you have to be unusually calm and wait for the opportunity to escape." "So, you're a cunning fox?" She smiled slightly.

"It is," you admit, "When hunted by dogs, you have to be more cunning than foxes, or you will be torn to pieces." "Everyone is an animal. You and I are both animals." There was pain in her voice, "But you are not a beast." "To make everyone crazy, you have to be a beast." "Are you a beast too?" she asked. "What do you mean?" It's your turn to ask her. "Nothing special, just asking casually," she lowered her eyes. "If a person wants to keep a pure land in his heart, he must find a way to escape from this arena."

"Can you escape?" She raised her eyes and asked again. "Marguerite!" You restrained your smile, "Stop talking about Chinese politics. We're breaking up tomorrow. There's always something else to talk about, right?" "It's not about China, it's not about politics," she said. "I wonder if you're a beast too?" You think about it and say: "yes." She didn't make a sound, just looking at you face to face.Back to the hotel from Lamma Island, in the elevator she said she would sleep if she didn’t want to, so you come to this coffee shop with her, the lights are soft and the music is light, and there is a couple of men drinking at the other end.There was no sugar in the little coffee left in her cup, but she still stirred it with a small spoon from time to time, presumably there was something she didn't want to say in bed.The couple or lovers greeted the supporters, paid the money, got up and walked away arm in arm.

"Anything more? The gentleman is waiting to close," you said of the waiter. "You invite me?" She raised her eyebrows, a little strange. "Of course, does this count? She asked for a double whiskey, and said: "You drink with me?" "Why not one" You asked for two double points. The waiter in the tie was polite, but gave her a look anyway. "I want to get some sleep," she explained. "Then don't drink coffee just now." You remind her. "A little tired, tired from work." "Where is it, you are still young, so charming, it is a good time in life, you should fully enjoy it." You said that it was she who made you full of desire again, and you covered the back of her hand.

"I hate myself, I hate this body." Body again! "You've used it too, certainly not the first, and you won't be the last," she said, moving your hand away. Your little confusion is over, and you retract your hands and breathe a sigh of relief. "I also want to become a beast, but I can't escape..." She lowered her head and said. "What can't you get away with?" It's your turn to ask her, which is easier, interrogation by a woman always leads to dullness. "I can't escape, I can't escape my fate, I can't escape this feeling..." She took a big sip of wine and looked up.

"How does it feel?" You stretched out your hand to brush away her drooping soft hair, to get a better look at her eyes, but she seemed to open herself. "Woman, a woman's feeling, you can't understand this." She smiled again. This is probably her illness, you think, looking at her and asking: "How old were you?" "At that time," she said after a while: "Thirteen." The waiter stood behind the counter with his head bowed, presumably paying the bill. "It's a bit early," you said, your throat tightened a bit, you picked up the wine glass, took a big sip and continued, "

"I don't want to talk about these things, I don't want to talk about me." "Marguerite, since you want to get to know each other, not just sexual intercourse, and that's exactly what you want, what is there to say?" you retorted. She was silent for a while and said: "Early winter, a cloudy day... Venice is not always sunny, and there are no tourists on the streets." Her voice also seemed to come from far away. "From the window, the window is very low, you can see the sea, the sky is gray, and you can see the dome of the cathedral when you usually sit on the window sill..."

Looking at the bustling lights above the dark sea outside the large glass window. "What about the dome?" you prompt her. "No, just a gray sky," she added, "Under the window sill, on the slate floor of his studio, there is an electric stove in the room, but the slate floor is very cold. He, that painter, raped me." You shudder. "Is this exciting to you?" Her gray-blue eyes are staring at you behind the raised wine glass, as if staring at the clear wine in the glass. "No," you said just to know, she told him, "Are you somewhat in love, before or after this?"

"I didn't understand anything at that time, and I didn't know what he did to me. I saw the gray sky, and I just remembered that the stone floor was cold. It was two years later that I discovered the change in my body and became a woman. , then I understand. So, I hate this body." "But still go, to his studio? Two years?" You asked. "I can't remember clearly, and I was very scared at first. I can't remember anything about those two years at all. I only know that he used me. I was always panicked, afraid that people would find out. It was he who always wanted me to go to his studio, and I didn't dare to tell me. Mother, she was sick. My family was poor at that time, my parents separated, my father went back to Germany, and I didn’t want to stay at home. At first, I went to see him draw with a girl of the same age. He said he would teach us Draw, start with a sketch...!"

"Go on," you waited to say, watching her turn the wine glass, the liquid she just drank left a few traces of different shades on the glass wall. "Don't look at me like that, I won't say everything, I just want to understand, I don't know, and I don't know why I went again..." "Didn't I want to teach you how to draw?" You reminded her. "No, he's talking about drawing me, saying I've got soft lines, I was slender, I was growing up, I was just developing, and he was always teasing me, saying my body was very nice, and my tits weren't what they are now. He wanted to Draw me, that's all."

"Does that mean you accepted it?" You probed, wondering what the hell was going on. "No" "The question was about agreeing to be his model, not about that, after the rape," you explain. "No, I never agreed, but every time he stripped me..." "Before or after?" What you want to know is, had she accepted modeling before then?Talk about presenting nudity. "For two years, that's it," she said flatly, taking a sip of her drink. "How?" You still want to ask clearly. "What? Rape is rape, what else? Don't you understand?" "No such experience." You have to drink too, and try to think of something else. "Two whole years," she frowned, turning the wine glass, "He raped me!" That is to say, she never resisted.You can't help asking: "And how did it end?" "I met the girl in his studio. I went to his studio with her at the beginning. We had known each other for a long time and saw each other often, but after he raped me, I never saw him in his studio. One day, I was getting dressed About to go out, the girl came and ran into me in the hallway, trying to avoid me, but her eyes fell on me, she glanced from top to bottom, turned around and left without saying hello or saying Goodbye. I called her name, she hurried, turned around and ran downstairs. I turned around and saw him standing at the door of the studio, at a loss, and immediately understood!" "Understand what?" You asked. "He raped her too," she said, "For two years, he raped me and the girl!" "She, the girl," you say, "Maybe accepted, maybe willingly, maybe out of jealousy" "No, of course you can't understand that look! I'm talking about the look that girl looked at me-I hate myself, not only the girl, I see myself in her eyes, I hate him, and I hate This body of mine that was prematurely a woman." You can't speak for a while, and light a cigarette.The city lights outside the large glass windows illuminate the night sky brightly, and the gray clouds seem to be moving very fast.The lights in the front hall are turned off, leaving only the overhead light on your back seat. "Shouldn't it be time to go?" You asked, looking at the remaining half glass of wine. She raised her glass and drank it, and smiled at you. You saw that she was a little drunk, so you drank your wine, saying that it was a farewell party for her. Back in the room, he took off the hairpin and let his hair loose, saying: "You still want to fuck me?" You don't know what to say, a little dazed, and sit down on the armchair in front of the table. "If you really want..." She murmured, the corners of her mouth curled down, she took off her clothes silently, unbuttoned her bra, took off the black silk mesh trousers and trousers, and lay on her back on the bed facing you, showing her tenderness. Drunk and a little childish.You don't move, you can't fuck her, you feel sorry for her, you have to arouse some malice, and ask coldly: "He gave you money?" "Who are you talking about?" "That painter, aren't you his model?" "The first few times, I didn't accept it." "and after?" "You want to know everything?" Her voice was dry. "Of course," you say. "You already know a lot," she said flatly, "I always have to save some for myself... I never went back to Venice, not since my mother died." You don't know how much of what she says is true, or how much she doesn't.When you say that she is a smart woman, you are consoling her and ridiculing her. "What's the use of being smart?" She is weaving a net to tie you up.All she wants is love, what you want is freedom.take freedom in your own hands In your hands, you have paid a lot for this.But you can't live without her!It draws you, not only into her body, but also into her heart, those secret places.You looked at this plump naked body, just got up, she suddenly turned her face and said: "Just sit there and don't move! Just sit and talk." "Until dawn?" you ask. "As long as you have something to say, you say it, and I'll listen!" Her voice seemed to be an order, but also like a prayer, revealing a charming, softness that could not be grasped.You said that you wanted to feel her reaction, otherwise if you talk to Sora, you won't know when she fell asleep, and you will feel lost. "Well, you take your clothes off too—just make love with your eyes—" She snickered, got up and put the pillow on the head of the bed behind her, and sat with her legs crossed, facing you.You take off your clothes and hesitate to pass. "Just sit in the chair and don't come over—" she ordered. You obey her and confront her naked. "That's how I see you, too; feel you," she said. You say it's better to say you present it to her. "What's wrong? A man's body is just as sexy, so don't be so wronged." At this moment, the corners of her mouth raised a sly and smug look. "Revenge? A kind of compensation one? Two" you mock, maybe that's what she wants. "No, don't think too much about me:..." Her voice suddenly became like a layer of velvet, "you are very gentle," she said, and the voice was sad again. "You're an idealist, and you're still living in a dream, in your own fantasy." You say no, you live in this moment, you don't believe lies about the future anymore, you need to live for real. "You never used violence against women?" You thought about it and said no.Of course, you say, sex and violence are always connected, but that's another matter, with the consent and acceptance of the other person, you didn't rape anyone.You ask her again!Were the men she had been rough? "Not necessarily...! Better say something else." She turned away and lay down on the pillow.You can't see her expression.But you said that you had the feeling of being almost raped, raped by political power, and it was stuck in your heart.You understand her, understand her obsession, depression and depression that can't get rid of, this is not a sex game.You too, after a long time, after being free to express yourself, you fully realize that it is a kind of rape, surrendering to the will of others, having to be examined, and having to say what people want you to say.The most important thing is to guard your inner heart, your inner self-confidence, otherwise it will collapse. "I was very lonely," she said. You said you could understand, and you wanted to comfort her, but you were afraid that she would misunderstand that you also used her. "No, you don't understand, it's impossible for a man to understand..." Her voice became sad. You can't stop saying you love her, at least for the moment, you're kind of in love with her. "Don't talk about love, it's easy, every man will blurt it out." "So, say what?" "Whatever you say..." "You're a bitch?" you ask. "It stimulates desire?" She said, looking at you pitifully. She also said that she is not a sexual tool, she hopes to live in your heart, to truly communicate with your heart, not just for your use.She knew it was difficult, almost desperate, but she still hoped so much. He remembered reading a fairy tale when he was a child, the title and author of which he could no longer remember. It told a story like this: In the kingdom of fairy tales, everyone has a mirror on their chest, and any evil thoughts in their hearts will be there. It appears in the mirror, and everyone can see it at a glance, so no one dares to have any delusions, otherwise they will feel ashamed or be expelled from the country. This has become a country of gentlemen.The protagonist in the book entered this extremely pure kingdom, maybe he got into it by mistake, he couldn't remember clearly, anyway, he also put a mirror on his chest, which showed his flesh and heart, everyone was outraged, he I am also very frightened.He couldn't remember the ending of the protagonist, but when he read this fairy tale, he was surprised and vaguely uneasy at the same time—although he was still a child at that time, without any definite evil thoughts, he was unavoidably afraid, even though he didn't know what he was afraid of. .He forgot this feeling after he became an adult, but he once hoped to be a newcomer, and he also hoped to live a peaceful life, sleep peacefully, and not have nightmares. The first time he talked about women was his middle school classmate Luo, who was several years older than him!A precocious boy.When he was still in high school, Luo published several poems in a journal, and he was named a poet among his classmates. He also respected Luo very much.Luo didn't even get into college. Under the scorching summer sun, he played a shirtless two-person shot on the empty court of the school, ran and jumped with the ball before shooting, sweating all over his body, and vented his excess energy.Luo didn't seem to care about failing the ranking, and he only said that he would go fishing in the Zhoushan Islands, and he believed even more that Luo was born to be a poet.