What can be said about a girl who dies at the age of twenty-five? I must say she is beautiful.People are also smart.Gotta say she loves Mozart and Bach.Also love "The Beatles".Still love me.Once, she deliberately put me together with these figures in the music industry, and I asked her where she ranked me, and she smiled and replied, "In alphabetical order." I also laughed at that time.But thinking about it now, I don't know if she ranked me by my first name (in which case I would have to be behind Mozart) or by my last name (in which case I should have been inserted in Bach and "The Beatles").I'm not going to be number one anyway, and the thought of it makes me so stupid and so stupid, because I've been brought up with the notion that I should always be number one in everything.You know, it's a family tradition.

① A translation of "hard shell insect". A popular band that emerged in the UK in the 1960s.It was all the rage in America. In the fall of my "senior" year, I went to Radcliffe College.Reading in the library has become my habit.Not exactly to feast on the beauty, though I admit I'd love to see it too.The main reason is that it is quiet there, and no one knows me. Besides, there are relatively few people who borrow the "reserved book" there.There was a history test in the class, and until the day before, I hadn't even taken time to read the first book on the bibliography-this can be said to be an "endemic disease" of Harvard.Just the day before this test, I came to the "Reserved Books" borrowing place in a leisurely manner, planning to borrow a large tome, so that I could rely on it to pass the test the next day.There are two girls on duty.One is tall and looks like a tennis player; the other wears glasses and is as big as Yiren's bird.I picked the four-eyed chick.

① Radcliffe College is a women's college attached to Harvard University, which was established as late as 1897. (Harvard University was founded in 1636.) ②Reserved books: Reference books in the library that are only for reading in the library and cannot be borrowed. "Do you have The Decline of the Middle Ages here?" She looked up and glared at me. "Don't you have your own library there?" she asked. "Listen, Harvard students are allowed to use the Radcliffe Library by regulation." "I'm not going to tell you the rules, preppy, I'm going to tell you the truth. You have five million volumes in your collection. We've got a poor few thousand in all."

① Preparatory students refer to graduates of preparatory schools.In the United States, the so-called preparatory schools often refer to aristocratic private middle schools. Ho, what a pretentious girl!In the minds of such girls, since Harvard and Radcliffe outnumber students five to one, it goes without saying that their girls should be five times as smart.Normally, if I met such girls, I would have ridiculed them to death, but at this moment, I really can't do without that damn book. "Listen, I need to use that damn book." "Would you please keep your words clean, preppy?"

"Why do you insist I went to prep school?" "You look stupid and rich," she said, taking off her glasses. "Then you are wrong," I was not convinced. "I'm actually poor and smart." "Come on, preppy. I'm the poor and the smart." She said, looking straight at me.Those eyes are tinge.Well, even if I look like a rich man, I can't let a Radcliffe girl call me a fool--even if you have beautiful eyes. "You said you were smart, where is your smartness?" I asked her. "I wouldn't go for coffee with you," she replied.

"Tell you—I won't ask you either." "You're stupid for that," was her reply. I still invited her to drink coffee, which made sense: at the critical moment that day, it was thanks to my sense of time and stopped resisting—that is to say, thanks to my ability to pretend, I just came to invite her out of the blue Interest—I just borrowed that book.She had to wait for the library to close before she could leave, so I had plenty of time to go through the history of the royal family's transition from reliance on monks to reliance on jurists at the end of the eleventh century, and memorized some epigrams.I got an "A-" on that test, which is exactly what I gave Jenny's thigh the first time I saw her come out of the library, by coincidence.But I couldn't give her a high score for her attire; it was a little too sloppy for my taste.I especially don't like that Indian thing she has as a handbag.Fortunately, I didn't say this, because I found out later that she designed it herself.

Let's go to the hotel.This is a snack bar nearby, and although it's called Shorty, it doesn't cater to petite customers.I ordered two cups of coffee and a chocolate ice cream just for her. "My name is Jennifer Cavilelli," she said, "and I'm Italian-American." She probably just thought I was a fool. ① Then she added: "I major in music." ①Because Jennifer is a common name in Anglo-Americans, and Cavilelli is an Italian surname, it is easy to distinguish. "My name is Oliver," I said. "First name or last name?" she asked.

"It's a name," I replied, honestly admitting that my full name was Oliver Barrett. (Anyway, it’s pretty much the same thing.) "Oh," she said. "Barrett? Same surname as that poet?" ① refers to the British poetess Mrs. Elizabeth Browning (1806-1861), her maiden name is Barrett. "say to me. "But it doesn't matter." The words stopped here, and I secretly rejoiced that she finally didn't ask ordinary people's questions, which made me very unhappy: "Barrett? Is it the same as that church name?" Because, I have always had a special heart disease, and I am most afraid of I was associated with the man who paid for the building of Barrett Hall.Barrett Hall is the largest and ugliest building in Harvard Garden. It can also be said to be a super-giant monument to show my family's financial power and influence, and to promote my family's notoriety of "believing in Harvard".

After that, she was silent.Are we really running out of things to talk about so quickly?Or is it because I have nothing to do with the poet that she doesn't want to take care of me?What is the reason?Seeing her just sitting there, smiling at me half a smile.In order not to have nothing to do, I picked up her notebook and looked through it.Her handwriting was queer, too--small and thin, all lowercase, not a single capital letter (was she trying to call herself E. E. Cummings?).I saw that she also took some very "cutting-edge" courses: Composition 105, Music 150, Music 201—— ①Edward Estrin Cummings (1894-1962): American poet.Harvard University.He was unconventional in the way he wrote, without capital letters, and called himself eecummings.

"Music 201? Isn't that what graduate students study?" She nodded yes, unable to hide the pride in her heart. "It's the polyphony of the Renaissance." "What is polyphonic music?" "It's not porn music anyway, preppy." Why should I be so picky by her?Doesn't she read The Scarlet?Doesn't she know who I am? ①The school newspaper of Harvard University.The school flag of Harvard University is scarlet, so the school newspaper is also named "Scarlet News". "Hey, you really don't know who I am?" "Yes," she replied, with some scorn, "Barrett Hall is yours."

It can be seen that she doesn't know who I am. "Barrett Hall isn't mine," I caught on to her slippery tongue. "That's just what my great-grandfather donated to Harvard." "So that his not-so-great great-grandson can get into Harvard for sure!" It was almost intolerable. "Jenny, since you think I'm a bear, why force me to buy you coffee?" She looked straight at me and smiled. "I like that body of yours," she said. To be a great hero, one of the conditions is to not be afraid to be a bear.This statement is not contradictory at all. One of the characteristics of the "Harvard spirit" is that there is always the ability to turn defeat into victory. "Too bad a game today, Barrett. Thank you for playing well, really well!" "Thank God, everyone finally survived. I know everyone is suffocating: this battle must be won no matter what!" It would be better if they could win a big victory.Still, it's nice to win at the last minute whenever possible.When I sent Jenny back to her dormitory that day, I didn't give up: I still wanted to fight for the final victory over this smug Radcliffe lady. "Listen, you smug Radcliffe lady, Dartmouth's playing hockey on Friday night." ① Dartmouth refers to Dartmouth College in New Hampshire. "So what?" "Then I hope you come to see it." Her answer revealed the "respect" the Radcliffe girls have for sports rules: "Why should I go to a boring hockey game?" I replied nonchalantly: "Just because I'm on the field." A moment's silence followed.I think I even heard the sound of snowflakes falling. "Then what team are you on?" she asked.