"The dead are beautiful" After the ghost finished speaking, he looked in the mirror, in fact, it was only seven inches in size When I saw C, there was no compassion on her face.Because things have been in the past for many years.The rumors that flourished when I was in school have died down.At that time, I was preparing my doctoral dissertation in city B, and C and her husband lived not far from my home, a quarter of an hour's walk along the woods.We often see each other in our daily walks. C At that time, I had just started to learn to use a computer to type. I did a thesis in this field, and I became a teacher virtually. C's husband, G, is a bit of an odd man. Wherever he goes, he wears a chimney-shaped hat, sometimes made of denim, reminiscent of a trouser leg.Going out on the street always causes laughter, especially girls in Germany, often laugh out loud.

When G was in City B, he was considered a poet, but he didn't attend any gatherings of literati, and he didn't like watching movies, and he hardly had any hobbies for urban people.His only hobby, as far as I know, is to borrow a whetstone to sharpen knives for friends who sometimes come to see him.As soon as he saw those blunt kitchen knives, he would sigh: "You apprentices!" He claimed to be a carpenter, and he had worked in many universities in Beijing, and I knew he had given lectures.He had little formal education, apparently only elementary school.He also told me about the time when he herded pigs on grassy flats, which was his favorite thing to do.He was put on pigs to become a poet, as the critics say.There is also another saying that he became a poet because of c. C and he used to live in two cities. They met on the train. Later, C spent four years gently rejecting his marriage proposal.This inevitably made him become full of thoughts, cynical, and wrote a lot of chapters with deep feelings and words upside down, thus becoming an important poet of a genre of poetry.

Later, his experience became even more strange. If we say that his abnormal experience in the early years, history, and the times should be responsible (this is also a common view of critics), then his later experience is simply irrefutable. He took it upon himself.What he fascinated his friends most in City B was talking about his island.He landed on that island in early 1988, when Mrs. C was still taking her five-month-old Bei Bei.They started a modern primitive life there, drinking rainwater, sawing firewood, burning pottery bowls, picking shellfish, and it is said that they even raised chickens.Somebody even wrote the section about raising chickens and chasing chickens, and even the photos appeared on American Computer Network magazines, and also appeared on my computer.

G will always look homesick in City B, not for his ancient country that is said to have a thousand-year culture, but for the small island where he lived for five years. "I really want to go back as soon as I lift my leg." He said this to me several times.However, when the time came for his real return, he didn't use that return ticket, but just moved a house in City B.When I went to his house, he looked alert, standing in the middle of a pile of calligraphy and paintings that he had scribbled.I asked him: Is there anything I can do to help?He glanced at me in surprise, and muttered vaguely: "In the future, you can help C." He gave my wife a stone tiger, and gave me a calligraphy and painting he was going to sell.

G and C still live in City B, but, like sinking in a well, there is no sound.Later someone said: They went back to Beijing; someone else said: They went to the United States; there was also a vague and most absurd rumor that G had two wives on the island, one was C I saw back then, and the other said We met in Beijing, wrote letters for several years, and later went to the island.They live together.It seems that G and C both talked about a girl with Bannerman blood, they called her Yinger, with a look of familiarity and appreciation on her face. This is unlikely.I said to the classmate who was talking about the Beijing rumors.As far as I understand.They have not been separated for more than a month. Mrs. G. C. are such jovial, demure, decorous people, who are not modernists, that it is hard to imagine such a thing.And if Mrs. G is not at home, G will get into his room and not come out. G is surprisingly dependent on his wife C.Don't talk about things like money, keys, and certificates, which are all under the control of his wife. Even when he writes letters and goes out to find socks and coats, he must ask his wife for advice.

"However, G did indeed say that monogamy was created by the Catholic Church, and it has brought great suffering to China. We Chinese must not forget our ancestors." G always has this strange theory, for example, he said: The key is to marry the first wife well.The first one won't marry well, and the rest will be chaotic, and so on.But when he said these words, he drank beer.He is a person who can't drink a little alcohol, even if others are drinking, he will faint, and everyone will listen to him and always look at Mrs. C with a smile. When I say it's impossible, I don't mean that he doesn't have the idea, but that it's impossible for him to do it. He's not Jia Baoyu, who didn't live in the Grand View Garden; nor Li Yu, who didn't even catch up with the time. How could he imagine marrying two wives in modern civilized society!And how can those two wives live together in a modern civilized society!Now it is not talking about women's rights. As for the end, no one figured out what he finally studied.What he can't forget is: to go back to his hometown middle school and push his music teacher into the river.Friends in City B almost always watched a video he liked when they went to his house. It was some longhorn lobsters swimming in the seabed of the Southwest Pacific Ocean.He was also passionately thinking about going to New Zealand to catch these lobsters.

Perhaps, because of Lobster, there was a time when he and G were a perfect fit.He always asks G to see if there is any piece of his land on the island for him. "He even worked on a plan with G to raise ducks by the sea," C said.This is what G does and never does.They think that ducks can eat fish in the sea, save feed, and then go ashore to lay eggs. Yeah, I remembered that too.At that time we also said: What we raise are salted ducks, and what we produce are salted duck eggs. I am very happy to talk about Big Fish and our life in City B, which made us talk about G naturally, talking about his various whims and eccentricities, and we almost returned to the casual conversation we used to have when we were walking in City B. Atmosphere, but I also know that C is not a person who is insensitive. I feel from her occasional smiling eyes that she already knows the purpose of my slightly shifting topic, my prying and caution.

"G told me about you at the end," C looked at me directly, "He said a lot in the last few days. He seemed to be a different person in those days. He seemed to be grateful to everyone instead of being demanding. He still remembers playing the game of finding treasures by pressing the computer with me, You couldn’t get out of the maze. You found it later, but he didn’t go back.” G was very absorbed in playing computer games. At that time, he just shot the gun and I just walked. "G still wants to use a computer to draw." I stopped here, not knowing whether to continue this topic.It's like a bad organ I played when I was a kid. There were a few keys that didn't sound, and the music stopped when I pressed them.

After lunch, C drew a few circles on my island map, telling me which places are fun and beautiful, which places are the coasts where they used to pick shells, and where is their original home.When he said this, he still had the haste and seriousness of the past, as if we met for the first time in City B and studied the scenic spots of City B together. In fact, we are not real tourists. By the time I leave, I have given up all thought of searching and caring. C is living a very good life. This is what I can tell my wife when I go back. C is not like she was in City B. She cannot live without her husband G (or she cannot live without her responsibility to take care of her husband). Distressed, she lived alone with her fungus.He is not the chubby little guy eating potato chips that we saw in the photos in the past, let alone the little beibei who imitated the sound of cars and chickens as G said.He was a strong boy, and the little football in his room could be seen from the door.

"He writes an article every day." C said.But she suddenly said in a hurry, "Wait a minute." She went into the back room and took out a gray-blue cardboard box: "This is written by him. You can read it if you want. Return it to me when you leave." That's it." Phonon has a letter G written in watercolor on the side. I live in a small Pacific Island-style hotel near the pier, close to a delicate valley, because it is the dry season, the river flows indistinctly.I went back there at dusk and went upstairs on a straw blanket. I knew G well.But after he disappeared, everything about him seemed to be a mystery.People either know too little or too much about him, at least about what he did in the end, I've heard several versions, each with strong traces of fabrication, I mean the stories The rationality of the twists and turns inside.I'm a rationalist, but I also believe that life is made up of quirks beyond our grasp.Therefore, if there is no surprise that is not taken for granted, it will lose its real feeling.

I used to use this feeling to judge a thing, but when I opened the carton, the standard I used to judge things was suddenly reversed.It seems that everything is taken for granted outside this thing. There are a total of five paper pockets in the box, which are marked with G, and the first paper pocket reads: Yinger's letter.It was empty, without a single letter, and a Xinjiang dagger studded with glass and diamonds was placed upside down.I pulled it out, and it has a pattern of copper inlays on it.The second paper bag read: Confession.It was stuffed full, and it was written by G to a man named Ray, and I guess it was C.The writing here is so messed up that I couldn't finish it in the end.The third envelope reads: Style.It is G's memories of his love and even sex with a girl named Yinger. This incident is related to G. I can't believe it. There are some pictures on the fourth envelope, and there are also some pictures inside. The painting was mentioned in his recollection.Surprisingly, among these paintings are more than a dozen letters sent from the island to City B, written by the girl named Yinger to G and C.The last paper bag contains mostly narrative novels and essays, some of which I already know. This is an opened box.