Chapter 7 Chapter VII

We walked into a small restaurant near the port, had a simple meal, and then ordered Mary Brandy and Barbon whiskey. "Really want to hear it?" she asked. "Last year, a cow was dissected." "Is it?" "I opened my stomach and saw that there was only a handful of grass in it. I put the grass in a plastic bag and took it home and put it on the table. In this way, whenever I encounter something unhappy, I just think about it. : Why does the cow have to chew such an unpalatable and ugly thing over and over again?" She smiled faintly, pursed her lips, and stared at my face for a long time.

"Understood, just don't say anything." I nod. "I have something to ask you, okay?" "Please." "Why do people have to die?" "Because of evolution. Individuals cannot bear the energy of evolution. It must be replaced every week. Of course, this is just one of the sayings." "Still evolving?" "little by little." "Why evolve?" "There are different opinions on this. But one thing is certain, that is, the universe itself is constantly evolving. As for whether there is some kind of direction or will involved in it, it can be ignored for the time being. In short, the universe is evolving. And we, in the final analysis, are just part of it." Part of it." I put down my whiskey glass and light my cigarette. "Nobody knows where that energy comes from."

"yes?" "yes." She twirled the ice cubes in the glass repeatedly with her fingertips, staring dreamily at the white tablecloth. "A hundred years after my death, no one will remember my existence, right?" "It's possible," I said. When we got out of the store, we walked slowly along the quiet warehouse street in the twilight, which was so vivid that it was almost unbelievable.When walking side by side, you can vaguely feel the smell of shampoo on her head.The wind gently swaying willow leaves reminds people of the end of summer. After walking for a while, she grabbed my hand with all five fingers and asked, "When are you going back to Tokyo?"

"Next week. There will be exams." She was silent. "Winter is back, before Christmas. December 24th is my birthday." She nodded, but seemed to be thinking otherwise. "A Capricorn?" "Yes, how about you?" "Same. January 10th." "It always seems that the stars are not very good. Same with Jesus Christ." "Yeah." She said, grabbing my hand again. "I'm really lonely now that you're gone." "There will be a period later." She said nothing. Each warehouse is quite old, with smooth pale green moss clinging tightly between the bricks.The tall, dark windows are inlaid with steel bars that seem to be very strong, and the name tags of various trading companies are pasted on the heavily rusted iron doors. The willow tree next to it also showed gaps like teeth.We walked straight across the harbor railway where the weeds were thick, sat down on the stone steps of the warehouse on the jetty where there was no one, and looked at the sea.

The dock of the shipyard opposite is already lit up, and a Greek freighter next to it that has been unloaded and exposed to the waterline is floating as if abandoned by someone.The white paint on the deck has become red and rusty due to the erosion of the tidal wind, and the ship's side is densely covered with shells, like the hard scars on a patient's body after abscess. We remained silent for a long time, just staring at the sea, the sky, and the boats. When the evening wind swept across the sea and stirred the grass, the twilight gradually turned into a light night, and a few silver stars began to appear above the dock. Twinkle blinked.

After a long silence, she clenched her fist with her left hand and beat the palm of her right hand nervously until it turned red, and then stared blankly at the palm of her hand without moving. "It's all rotten!" she said solitary. "I also?" "I'm sorry," she blushed, and put her hands back on her knees as if suddenly realizing it. "You're not a nuisance." "Can it count?" She smiled slightly, nodded, and then lit the cigarette with slightly trembling hands.A wisp of smoke followed the wind from the sea, passed through the side of her hair, and disappeared in the darkness.

"Staying alone, I heard many, many people come to talk to me. … Acquaintances, strangers, father, mother, teachers at school, all kinds of people. " I nod. "Most of the things you say are not very pleasant to the ear, why do you die quickly, and there are disgusting..." "what?" "I don't want to say it." She crushed the cigarette she had smoked two or three times with leather sandals, rubbed her eyes gently with her fingertips, "Don't you think it's a disease?" "How do you say it?" I shook my head, expressing my incomprehension. "If you're worried. You'd better see a doctor."

"No need, don't mind." She lit a second cigarette, as if she wanted to laugh, but she didn't. "You are the first to talk about this kind of thing to others." I hold her hand.His hands were still trembling, and the fingers were soaked in cold sweat, which was wet. "I never want to lie or cheat!" "Know." Again we fell silent, listening only to the sound of the tiny waves breaking against the jetty.The silence was so long that I forgot the time. By the time I noticed, she was already crying.I stroked her teary cheek with the back of my hand and put an arm around her shoulder.

It's been a long time since I felt the breath of summer.The fragrance of the sea tide, the distant siren, the feeling of the girl's body, the smell of shampoo, the evening breeze, the ethereal longing, and the summer dream..." However, all these are like the carbon paper that has been crumpled once. A small but irreparable difference. 36 It took us 30 minutes to walk to her dorm. It had been a good night, and, having cried, she was surprisingly in good spirits.On the way home, we walked into several shops and bought some seemingly dispensable items: toothpaste with strawberry aroma, colorful sea bath towels, several intellectual toys imported from Denmark, and 6-color ballpoint pens.We carried these up the hill, stopping from time to time to look back at the harbour.

"Hey, is the car still parked there?" "I'll pick it up later." "I'm afraid it's not going to be right tomorrow morning?" "It doesn't matter." Let's go the rest of the way. "I don't want to be alone tonight." She said to the gravel on the road. I nodded. "But this way you won't be able to polish your shoes." "It's okay to wipe yourself once in a while." "Wipe it, yourself?" "Honest man." Quiet night. She turned over slowly and touched my right shoulder with her nose.

"chilly." "Cold? 30 degrees!" "Never mind it, it's cold anyway." I pulled up the towel that was under my feet, up to my shoulders, and hugged her. Her body was trembling. "Uncomfortable?" She shook her head slightly: "Fear." "What are you afraid of?" "Afraid of everything. Aren't you afraid?" "What's there to be afraid of!" She was silent, a silence that seemed to confirm the weight of my answer on the palm of her hand. "Want to have sex with me?" "Ok." "Forgive me, not today." I still hugged her and nodded silently. "Just had surgery." "child?" "Yes." She relaxed her arms around my back, and drew a few small circles behind my shoulders with her fingertips. "It's really weird, I don't remember anything." "real?" "I mean that man. I forgot everything, and I can't even remember what the chief looked like." I stroke her hair with the palm of my hand. "It seems that I can like him, even if it's only for a moment... Who have you ever liked?" "what." "Remember what she looks like?" I tried to recall the faces of the three girls, but miraculously, I couldn't remember any of them clearly. "Can't remember." I said. "Strange, why?" "Because maybe that's how it feels." She put her cheek against my bare chest and nodded silently a few times. "I said, if you really want to do the job, should you use something else..." "No no, don't think too much." "real?" "Ok." Her arms wrapped tightly around my back again, her breasts could be felt on her chest.I want to drink beer badly. "There's been a lot going wrong from many, many years ago." "How many years ago?" "12, 13...the year my father was ill. I don't remember anything before that. It's all the most disgusting things.The bad wind kept blowing on his head. " "The direction of the wind will change." "You really think so?" "One day." She was silent for a long time.The desert-like dry silence quickly swallowed my words, leaving only a trace of bitterness in my mouth. "I tried my best to think that way several times, but it always failed. I also want to like someone, and I also want to be stronger. But it's just..." We didn't speak anymore, we hugged each other.She put her head on my chest and kissed my nipple lightly with her lips, just like she was asleep for a long time without moving. She was silent for a long, long time.I stared at the dark ceiling in a daze. "Mother……" She whispered dreamily.She fell asleep. 37 Oh, how are you? Radio NEB, it's pop music call-on-demand time.It's weekend night again.For the next two hours, just enjoy the great music.By the way, this summer is coming to an end, how about it, isn't this summer a good one? Before the record is released today, I would like to introduce a letter from all of you.I'll read it.The letter is like this: Hello!I listen to this program with great interest every week.In a blink of an eye, this autumn will be the third year of hospitalization.time flies.Admittedly, the changing of the seasons meant nothing to me, looking out from the window of a well-air-conditioned ward.Even so, every time a season leaves and a new one arrives, there is a sense of pulsation in my heart. I am 17 years old.For three years, I couldn't read books, watch TV, or take a walk...not only that, but I couldn't even get up and turn over.This letter is written by my sister who has been with me all the time.She interrupted her college studies to babysit me.Of course I sincerely thank her.In the past three years, no matter how unbearable the things I learned in bed, I learned some truths after all, and because of this, I was able to survive bit by bit. My disease is said to be called spinal nerve disease, it is a very difficult disease, of course there is a possibility of recovery, although it is only 3%... This is what the doctor (an excellent person) told me to recover from similar diseases Proportion.According to him, this number is optimistic enough compared with the scores of new pitchers facing the master, but it is more difficult than the complete eradication. Sometimes thinking that if things go on like this for a long time, I will be terrified, and I really want to cry out.Just like a rock, I lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling all my life, don't read a book, can't walk in the wind, and can't get anyone's love.Decades later, I will grow old here and die quietly——Whenever I think of this, I feel so sad that I can't help myself.When I wake up at 3 o'clock in the middle of the night, I often feel as if I hear the sound of my spine melting a little bit, maybe it is actually the same. Forget it, let's not talk about these unpleasant things.I want to follow what my sister told me hundreds of times a day, try my best to only think of good things, and sleep well at night, because most of the unpleasant things are thought of at night. The port can be seen from the hospital window.I can't help but imagine: If I could get out of bed and walk to the port every morning, take a full breath of the fragrance of sea water... If I get my way—even just once—I'll understand why the world is the way it is, I think.And, if I could understand this at all, I'm afraid I can bear it even if I spend my whole life in bed. Goodbye and have a nice day! Not signed. I received this letter at 3 o'clock yesterday.I walked into the coffee room in Taili and read the letter while drinking coffee.After get off work in the evening, I walked to the port and looked towards the mountains.Since you can see the port from your ward, the port should also be able to see your ward, right?There are enough lights on the other side of the mountain.Of course I don't know which light belongs to your ward.Some belong to poor families, some belong to deep houses, some belong to hotels and wine houses, and some belong to school buildings or companies.I think that there are indeed many kinds of people living in various ways in the world.This is the first time I have felt this way; thinking of this, tears welled up in my eyes. I haven't cried for a long time.But, well, I'm not crying out of sympathy for you.All I want to say is this one sentence - just say it once, I hope you listen to it: I love you! After 10 years, if I can still remember this show.Remember the records I played and who I am, so please also remember this sentence I said at this time. Next I play her on-demand song, Presley's "Luck Is Calling."After the end of the song, there is still 1 hour and 50 minutes left, Let’s go back to the usual dog comedians. thanks for listening. 38 In the evening when I was going back to Tokyo, I rushed directly to the jazz bar with my small suitcase in my arms.It wasn't open yet, so Jay let me inside and got out a beer. "Go back by car tonight." Jay nodded his head as he peeled the potatoes for the crisps. "It's really lonely when you leave. Monkey's partner also broke up." Jie said, pointing to the prints hanging on the counter. "The rat must feel lonely, too." "Uh." "Interesting in Tokyo?" "There is a virtue everywhere." "I'm afraid it's true. Since the Tokyo Olympics, I haven't even left this city." "Like this city?" "You also said that there is a virtue everywhere. "Ok." "However, I think about the same China in a few years, and I haven't been back once... Every time I go to the port and see ships, I think so." "My uncle died in China." "Oh... a lot of people died." Jay served me a couple of beers and put freshly fried potato chips in a plastic bag for me to take with me. "thanks." "You're welcome, just a little thought... Speaking of it, I grew up in a blink of an eye. When I first met you, I was still a high school student." I nodded with a smile and said goodbye. "Take care!" said Jay. Under the calendar paper of the cafe on August 26th, there is such a motto written: "What you give generously is what you get often." I bought a ticket for a night bus, sat on a stool in the waiting room, and watched intently. Street lights.As the night deepened, the lights gradually faded, and finally only street lights and neon lights remained.The siren brings the sea breeze from far to near.At the door of the car, two flight attendants stood on both sides to check the ticket and seat number.I handed out the ticket, and he said, "No. 21 China." "China?" "Yes. Seat C on the 21st, C is the first letter. A is the United States, B is Brazil, C is China, and D is Denmark. It's hard to get it wrong." As he said that, he pointed his finger at his companion who was confirming the seating chart.I nodded and got in the car, sat on seat 21C, and started to eat the still warm fried potato chips.All will be gone, and no one will be able to capture it. This is how we live. 39 My story ends here.Naturally there is an end.I grew up to 29 years old and the mouse was 30 years old.They're all quite young.The jazz bar was remodeled when the road was widened and it became a beautiful bar with a new look.But Jay was just as usual, peeling buckets of potatoes to the brim every day; the regulars mumbled that it was better than ever, and drank beer non-stop.I'm married and living in Tokyo.Whenever there is Sam.When Peckinpah's movie came out, my wife and I went to the cinema, and on the way back had a couple of beers at Hibiya Park and sprinkled some popcorn on the pigeons.Sam.Among Peckinpah's films, my favorite is "Garcia Head", and my wife said "Convoy" is the best: Other than Peckinpah's films, I like "Ash and Jewels", and she likes "Sister Joanna" ．Over time, even the tastes will become similar.If someone asks: Are you happy?I can only answer: maybe.Because the so-called ideal is what it is in the end. Rat continues to write his novels.Several copies arrive every Christmas. Last year I wrote about a chef in the cafeteria of a mental hospital, and the year before that I wrote about a funny band based on The Brothers Karamazov.There are always no sexual scenes in his novels, and none of the characters in the scene dies. The first page of the manuscript paper often says: "Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas" because my birthday is December 24th. I never saw the girl with only 4 fingers on her left hand.When I came back in winter, she had resigned from her job in the record store and her dormitory, disappearing without a trace in the torrent of people and the long river of time.When I go back in the summer, I often take the same road that I walked with her, sitting on the stone steps of the warehouse and looking at the sea alone.When I want to cry, I just can't cry, that's always the case. The "California Girl" record still sits at the end of my record shelf.Whenever summer comes, I take time out to listen to it a few times.Then I drank beer while thinking about California.Next to the record rack is a table over which hangs mummy-dried bales of grass—grass taken from the stomach of a cow.Photos of dead French major girl, lost in move.Biqi.Boyz released a new record after a long time.If all the good girls were from California... 40 One last word about Hatfield. Hatfield was born and raised in a small Ohio town in 1909.His father was a taciturn telecommunications technician, and his mother was a fat woman who was good at divination and baking cookies.Hartfield was depressed by nature, had no friends as a teenager, read comic books and popular magazines whenever he could, and ate cookies made by his mother, so he graduated from high school.After graduation he worked at the town post office, but not for long.From then on, he was convinced that being a novelist was his only way out. His fifth short story "Waander.Thales was published in 1930, and the manuscript fee was 20 US dollars.During the whole second year, he wrote an average of 70,000 words per month, and it reached more than 100,000 words in the next year, and he had already written 150,000 words in the year before his death.It is said that he has to replace a Remidon typewriter every six months. Almost all of his novels are about adventure and monsters and spirits, and there is a series of "Adventurer Walter" novels that combine the two.It is his most popular work, with 42 in total.There, Wald died 3 times, killed 5,000 enemies, and had sex with 375 women, including Martian women.We can read several of them in translation.Hatfield hates a lot: post offices, high schools, publishing houses, carrots, women, dogs...the list goes on and on.But there are only three things he likes: guns, cats and cookies baked by his mother.Excluding Paramount Pictures and the FBI Institute, his collection of guns is probably the most complete in the United States, with everything except anti-aircraft guns and armored guns.Among them, his most cherished is a 38-caliber repeating pistol with a pearl on the handle, which only holds a single bullet. The saying he often talks about is: "I will use this to give myself a round sooner or later." Yet when his mother died in 1938, he made it to New York to climb a skyscraper, leap from a rooftop, and fall flat to his death like a frog.According to his will, Nietzsche is quoted on his tombstone: "The light of the day, how can you know the depth of the night." Hartfield, again... (postscript) I don't mean to say that if I hadn't met Hartfield, I probably wouldn't have written novels, but there is no doubt that I would be on a different path than I am now, I think.When I was in high school, I went to a used bookstore in Kobe and bought several Hartfield paperbacks that were probably left behind by foreign sailors.A book is 50 yuan.The book is very old.If it wasn't a bookstore, it definitely wouldn't be considered a book.The colorful cover was completely peeled off, and the paper turned orange-yellow.Must have crossed the Pacific in the beds of the underclassmen of a freighter or destroyer, and came to my desk after a long time.A few years later, I came to the United States.This is a short trip just to visit Hatfield's grave.The site where the tomb is located is that of an (and only) ardent Hatfield researcher, Thomas S.Mr McLea wrote to tell.He wrote: "The tomb is very small, as small as the heel of a high-heeled shoe. Be careful not to miss it." Departing from New York on a large bus like a huge coffin, it was 7:00 in the morning when he arrived in this small town in Ohio.Nobody gets off here except me.Across the wilderness on the outskirts of the town is the cemetery.The cemetery is bigger than a small town.A few larks were twittering and circling above my head.It took me an hour to find Hatfield's grave.I gathered dusty briars from the surrounding meadows, folded my hands facing the tomb, and sat down to smoke.In the balmy sunshine of May, life and death seemed equally easy and peaceful to me.I lay on my back and listened to the song of the lark for hours.It is from such a place that the novel begins, and where it ends I do not know. "Compared with the complexity of the universe," said Hatfield, "our world is nothing but the brain of a sparrow." I hope so, I hope.Finally, I would like to thank Mr. Makerea mentioned above - in terms of the account of Hartfield's deeds, there are several quotations from his masterpiece "Legend of the Barren Star"