Chapter 18 Chapter Eighteen

You think I have gone through these things, how can I still pay you emotionally, you should have thrown me away as a voided credit card.When you said I was fine I suddenly felt sorry for you; when you took off your nightgown in front of me I whispered "It's over!" The waves broke my oars and the wind did not allow me to hesitate.Everything about me is forced by the environment.I remember that there was a buffet meeting at noon that day. In the brightly lit hall, groups of people from all over the world were talking about literature.The fact that literature has anything to say about it is strange in itself.You are a writer, you just write and what else do you want to talk about?But people still have to talk about it in a serious manner.Although there are dark clouds in the sky outside, there is still the sun, and the people inside pursue the night, so orange lights are lit everywhere.People slowly poured champagne into their mouths under the slow light, but gradually the panic of not making ends meet appeared on their faces.The red faces really prove that everyone does not know how to express their thoughts, and thousands of forms find their content in champagne and canapés.

I saw you walking among the crowd with a glass of wine.Your oriental cheongsam is just as you said "unique".You're wrapped like a light tank in the topless Western lady, and thus more powerful and more menacing to the men.Later you stop under a giant portrait of an American patriarch.I chewed the snacks and watched you talking and laughing happily from a distance.There is a faint charm in every movement of your hand and every finger, just like the perfume you use, which seems to be nothing.For a while, I was even more tired of the incomprehensible conversations around me, and I just wanted to hold your hand and plunge into the darkness.

But then a white-haired British professor came to me.I saw seriousness in his bow tie and I had to be serious about him.He politely asked me if I had the freedom of literary creation in mainland China.I have heard this question thousands of times and I already know how to answer it.Because if you ask any writer whether he has creative freedom, he will definitely answer "yes", otherwise he is tantamount to admitting that his published works are simply farting.I thought I would take this opportunity to recruit you as an interpreter, but you bid farewell to that American sage and fell into the arms of some Russian philosopher.My eyes search for you, my mouth stammers answers to questions.Fortunately, the English professor left me very satisfied and I thanked you repeatedly, but I thought you spoiled my intelligence.A few years later, I was at the window on the second floor of a rural hotel in the suburbs of Paris. When I was writing this paragraph, I saw a pair of white geese staggering into the rose fence.This is a rare sunny day.The white goose is lightly carrying the sun, and the shadows of the clouds cast gracefully on the roses.I heard the old stairs creaking.I knew it was Natalie coming back from shopping, but I remembered that what happened between us that night was all caused by that meeting from any angle.

So I write this over a cup of coffee Natalie makes... Discussions begin after the buffet is over. Professors, scholars, and writers all walked into a large conference hall, reminding me of a flock of sheep I let go.Then I saw your flustered eyes looking around.I know you are looking for me, I think it's better to punish you by delaying it, who told you to be responsible for me?I put down my glass and walk out of the hall.I saw twilight fall on the autumn lawn, and the Marble Donor had a wistful look on his face, as if unhappy to see his money spent on these anti-bourgeois writers.An old maple tree supports the young sky with its red leaves, and countless birds are singing.I lit a cigarette and let the wind blow it away.You came into one of my eyes through the glass door.Your face is also flushed, I don't know if it's because of the wine or dissatisfaction.You said you searched everywhere, but I didn't expect that I came here to relax.I said I didn't know you were looking for me, I wanted to come out and smoke a cigarette, is there anything wrong with that?And I thought to myself where were you when I was looking for you everywhere?You said that there is no time to argue with me now. I have to give a speech today.I don't know what right you have to speak to me in a commanding tone, and at the same time suddenly become interested in your "bickering" and insist on "bickering" with you.Your "bickering" and "scaring" are also new to me, because these are words that are rarely used in mainland China, especially when they come from a woman's mouth, they are more sexually alluring.So I said that the conference did not respect my performance by advancing my program without prior notice, but please don't forget that there is a country with the largest number of writers in the world behind me.

Your mouth curled comically immediately, as if disdainful of such a large amount.But after all, you are a woman and well-educated, and you pleaded with the same mouth you just said that you are very sorry, because the spokesperson of a country suddenly fell ill, and the host of the conference has long wanted to arrange me to speak on the first day, Just took this opportunity to mention me today.You seem to be saying that it's an honor to speak on the first day.You subtly tease my vanity.Then one day the two of us "quarreled" again for some unknown reason.You use your white and neat teeth to say that people from the mainland are very fussy about the order. Fortunately, the first letter of "China" is C. If the first letter is Z, China will even violate international conventions.At that time, my argument was powerless, because your screams on the bed were overwhelming.Looking back now, our affairs seem to have been arranged in advance. The seemingly sloppy process, but step by step, is so in line with the logic of the development of things, leading us to bed step by step.After returning to China, I received your letter, and after reading it, I turned my eyes out of the window.I found that this piece of sky in northwest China is exactly the same as the sky in the eastern United States.Who is in the sky?

I remember that day I went on to say sorry, I didn't bring my speech.You immediately pull out a roll of paper like a juggler.I don't even know where you installed it.I was a little surprised to see your well-tailored cheongsam, but all I saw was a pair of dazzling red poppies. I had to follow the red poppy.When the red poppy is swept away by the wind, I admire your waist.Your waist is different today than it was at the airport that day.I think it's better for you to wear a cheongsam.I was thinking like this and I walked into the venue like this.When I think this way, I believe that others also don't carry heavy literature on their backs all day long.

You put me in the back seat.You glanced at me as you were leaving and I didn't understand until later.I have already said that I need to read publications like yours carefully.You mean I'm a fussy person but who told me to be late?I can only sit in this corner coldly!But I made a new discovery in the back row.I saw a mass of tumors in front of me, each with a bald head, as if I was looking at the pebbles at the foot of the barren hill that I always remember.Time went back and forth in an instant.After falling over, I admired that it was a mass of light of wisdom and thought that someone once told me that the baldness of Westerners is the result of years of indulging in sexual desire.For this I secretly thank our asceticism and the state of society that put me in a state of no desire for many years.I touched my fluffy black hair and felt relieved.I told myself that there would be punishment on the top of my head for indulgence.But at this moment, a burst of applause and laughter made me withdraw my thoughts of gradually going obscene.I thought back to what I heard intermittently just now that the Latin American writer who stepped down didn't say any subtle philosophical ideas, at least he didn't say any English-specific vocabulary that I didn't understand, and he seemed to say a bad word.The swear word can often be seen in subway stations in New York and in restrooms around the world.So I discovered that whether we are Easterners or Westerners, we are all a group of old babies.We are tired of writing, we are tired of thinking, we are fed up with life, and we want to vent our meanness, because blindly being noble will be unbearable.We want to break the boundary between despicable and sacred, so that we can experience both the sacred and the despicable, and both show the noble and be proud of the indecent. In this way, someone came up with an idea to hold such an international conference.No one can get anything from this meeting, but everyone can perform a show of indulgence in this meeting, just like indulging their own sexual desires.Then a Western European female writer came up to give a lecture on feminism.A passage of hers caused roars of laughter and warm applause.But her words were ridiculously brilliant and profound.I had to lean over and ask a Chinese-Singaporean writer next to me.Covering her mouth and giggling, the dark-skinned writer told me that she just said that men are all weak, and she advocated that women should not go to men, and that if they are sexually aroused, they would rather masturbate by themselves.It turns out that my language barrier lies in such a vocabulary.

This word touched the breast of the assembly, and the assembly suddenly became active.Everyone has entered a familiar field from a state of incomprehension, and everyone is eager to go on stage and say a few words.After that, everyone who came to the stage one by one was surrounded by envious eyes. It was not so much that people wanted to hear his wonderful remarks as they wanted to have the opportunity to ejaculate like him.At this time, I saw you coming from the channel like a colorful ship.Your levitating gait made me suddenly change my mind.When you leaned over me I told you I was going to speak extemporaneously, fuck that already prepared speech!The way you hold the speech you translated into English and look at me reminds me of a cat thrown into the water.You made no secret of your distrust and surprise, as if there was already some kind of ambiguous relationship between the two of us; your impolite eyes seemed as if you had already slept with me.For a while, I was moved and had courage.What fascinates me is that I like to experience men and women in this unfulfilled phase.A glance is more arousing than a hand's touch, and yours is just the right amount.

So I ordered too.I said I don't want you to be an interpreter, I want to find a man.You immediately gave me a blank look and said that it is a pity that I gave up this speech, and you think it is of sufficient standard.What I say is not standard, it is just a degree dissertation.Such a speech would be a straight-faced reprimand, and I would be the last person to be welcome for interrupting the raging passions of the conference.Readers know writers by their works, but writers know each other by the topics of men and women.You looked at the venue and had to agree with what I said, but then reproached and said that you need to find a male interpreter and I will find it myself.While admiring your earrings dangling in front of my eyes, the flickering shimmer seemed to send some kind of secret signal to me, but I said in my mouth that there is no difficulty, please bring me a note.

"Okay, but please don't talk for more than ten minutes," you said as you turned around.You turn around like a bird turning in a gust of wind.In the middle I wondered if I was being too rogue, but I did want to catch that bird. You leave me and go to my friend.After reading the note, he turned around and smiled at me knowingly: After all, men know what men need.