Chapter 21 twenty one

The princess's castle is heavily guarded and the gates are strictly controlled.If you want to go in, you have to meet the gatekeeper first. He really took the trouble to check, and you must find out whether you have a legitimate reason for entering the royal territory.After finding out, you will be led into a waiting room, where there is another attendant with a switchboard. He is here to check whether you, a lowly commoner, are really safe and need to see the golden branches and jade leaves of the Wang family. "Well, Mr. Barrett," said the Cerberus with the epaulettes, "you can go in." What he meant by this was: In his opinion, I have passed the examination.

①In Greek mythology, the three bulldogs guarding the gates of Hades. "Thank you for taking care of me," I still replied to him. "Could you give me some more advice on how to get to Binningdale's house?" "Cross the yard, go through the door at the end on the right, and take the elevator to the top floor." "what room number?" "The top floor is a flat, Mr. Barrett." "Thanks for the trouble." (You airy idiot!) Sure enough, there was only one single door on the top floor, and there was no number on the door.There is also no bronze medal to indicate which royal family member's house this is.I bought a small bouquet of flowers when I passed the corner just now. Since I was holding flowers, of course I had to show a gentle look when I rang the doorbell.

After a while, Marcy came and opened the door.I saw that she was dressed in silk, which is what women like to wear in their own homes—as long as they have the financial resources of the Queen of Sheba.But I still like her naked body. ① Characters in the Bible.When he went to see King Solomon, he brought countless gold and treasures.See Chapter 10 of 1 Kings. "Hey, you look very familiar," Marcie said. "When I come into the room later, I will not be polite," I replied. "Why wait?" I will not wait.I caressed Marcy, who was dressed in silk, for a while.Only then did the flowers be presented to her.

"I've searched here and there, and this is all I've collected," I said. "I don't know which lunatic bought all the flowers in New York and only these few flowers are left." Marcy took my arm and led me into the house. Door after another. What a big place, it makes me feel a little uneasy.Although everything was extremely elegant and impeccable, there was always a feeling that there was too much of everything.But what impresses people the most is how big the place is. Many of the paintings on the walls are those famous paintings that I used in my fashion dormitory when I was studying at Harvard.Of course, what hangs here is not a replica.

"Your collection of paintings is wonderful, and I appreciate it very much," I said. "Your phone call is hilarious, and I really appreciate it," she replies, deftly evading the question: is this ostentatious, or not at all. Before I knew it, I had arrived in a large theater-like hall. Generally speaking, I think this place should be classified as a living room, but it's really staggeringly large.The ceiling was at least twenty feet high.Such a big window, looking out below is Central Park.I was too busy admiring the scenery outside the window to give due comments to the paintings here.However, I noticed that some of the paintings here are surreal works.How do I feel about these works, there is no time to elaborate.

Marcy perked up when she saw that I was not at ease. "Although the place is a bit small, it is my home after all," she said mischievously. "Why, Marcy, there's room for a tennis court here." "Fine," she replied, "I'll use this as a tennis court if you'll play with me." It takes a lot of effort to walk through such a hall.Our feet creaked on the parquet floor, a stereo effect. "Where is this up front?" I asked. "In Pennsylvania?" "It's a nicer place to be," she said, squeezing my arm hard. After a while, we came to the study.A fire was burning brightly in the fireplace.The wine is already there for us.

"Come to drink?" she asked. I raised my glass and said, "To Marcy's leg." "Not good!" Marcy did not approve. I changed the title: "Cheers to Marcy's Twin Peaks." "Fuck you," she vetoed again. "Okay, let's drink Marcie's brain..." "That's like a sentence." "...because her brain is as lovely as her twin peaks and legs." "You speak foul language," she said. "I'm so sorry," I sincerely apologized to her. "I promise I will never do it again." "Please don't, Oliver," she said, "please don't. It's not that I don't like it."

So the toast was not changed, and we drank it. After a few glasses of wine, I didn't know the heights of the heavens and the earth, and I actually started to make irresponsible remarks about her family. "Hey, Marcie, how can you bear living in such a mausoleum for a living creature like you? My house is big and useless, but at least I have a lawn to play on. And As for you, here you have nothing but rooms and rooms. They are all old and musty rooms." She just shrugged. "Where did you live with Michael?" I asked. "In a duplex on Park Avenue." "Now it's his?"

She nodded to show that she was right, but then added: "But I got my running shoes back." "That's very generous," I said, "so you can move back to your father's house?" "I'm sorry, doctor, I'm not so faint. After I divorced, my father was very discerning. He sent me to work in a branch far away. So I did it as if I was dead. Let's put it this way, I On the one hand, I am learning how to do business, but on the other hand, I am also healing my spiritual wounds. Unexpectedly, my father passed away suddenly. I came back to handle his funeral and stayed here. At that time, I had an idea in my heart: just Stay here for a while. I don’t know that this hometown should be closed. But every morning, as soon as I sit in front of my father’s original desk, there is a genetic reaction that will make me change my mind and feel that I still Gotta... go home.'

"Even though my hometown is not simple at all," I added to her.After I finished speaking, I stood up, walked to her chair, and pressed my hands on her icy muscles and bones. ①In the traditional old song "Lovely Family", there is a sentence "even if my hometown is so simple", here Oliver used it in reverse. As soon as my hand touched her skin, a ghost suddenly appeared in front of my eyes! Whether it was a ghost or a monster, anyway, what appeared in front of her was a shriveled and ugly old woman, dressed in black from top to bottom, only the collar lace was white, and an apron was tied around her waist.

This ghost can also talk. "I've knocked," she said. I hastily shrunk my hands into my sleeves, but Marcy replied nonchalantly: "What's the matter, Mildred?" "Dinner is ready," said the ugly old woman, and disappeared in an instant.Marcy smiled at me. I also smiled at her. For, in spite of the peculiar circumstances in which I was, the joy in my heart was quite extraordinary.Not to mention anything else, just having...another person so close to me at this moment is enough to make me happy.It turns out that I have long forgotten: being close to the beating of another person's heart can arouse such a strong resonance with me! "Are you hungry, Oliver?" "By the time we get to the dining room, I'm sure my appetite will be whetted." So we went to eat.After another corridor, through the future tennis court, we came to the dining room with mahogany and crystal. "Say hello to you first," Marcie said as soon as we sat down at the big dining table, "I arranged all the dishes for today, but I hired someone to do the cooking. " "You mean the cook will do it." "That's what it means. I'm not very good at housework, Oliver." "Marcy, you don't have to worry. My food a while ago wasn't much better than Alper's canned dog food, to be honest." Today's dinner is different from last night in every way. When it comes to cooking, of course today is much more refined, but the conversation between the two of them is a thousand miles away from yesterday. "Oh, the Vichy gazpacho is delicious... It's Beef Wellington... Oh, it's Margaux '59... This souffle is really good." ① Desserts or dishes such as soufflé. That's all my improvisation.The other is to bury your head and eat stuffy. "Oliver, you don't seem to talk much today." "After such a delicacy on earth, I really have nothing to say," I replied. She realized that I was speaking ironically. "Am I doing too much?" she said. "Marcie, why are you so concerned. Honestly, I don't really care what we eat. As long as the two of us can eat together, it's all right." "Yes," she said. But I could see that she felt that I was criticizing her.I am afraid that there is indeed some criticism of her in my words.But I didn't mean to disappoint her.Now I regret it a little, maybe what I said made her feel very unhappy. Anyway, I found some words to comfort her. "Oh—don't worry about it, Marcie, I don't have a problem. It's nothing really. I just think of my home when I see it." "Don't you miss your own home?" "Who told you that?" "You told me yourself. Didn't you tell me yesterday?" "Ah, yes." I probably left all of these in the small restaurant and forgot to take them with me. (Was that really just a day ago?) "Hey, listen to me, please," I said. "If I made you angry just now, I apologize to you. For some reason, I would feel bad when I saw my parents eating in such a manner. But, if it's you, I feel quite... It's very elegant." "Are you telling the truth?" It will take some diplomacy to answer that question. "No," I said the truth. "Actually, I don't feel any discomfort in my heart," she said, although she was obviously very unhappy. "I just wanted to show off to you. I don't eat this kind of food often." I was relieved after hearing this. "So, about once a few days?" "It's only been twice in total," she said. "Twice a week?" "It's only happened twice since my father died." (Her father died six years ago.) I regretted it so much. "Shall we go get some coffee somewhere else?" asked the hostess. "May I choose a place?" There were endless words in my words. "No," Marcy said. "You have to obey me within my jurisdiction." I had to obey.So I went back to the study.The coffee was already there, and the sound equipment hidden somewhere was streaming Mozart's music. "You really only had guests here twice?" I asked. She nodded yes. "Both times were for business matters." "What about your social life?" I asked again, trying to be thoughtful. "It's all right these days," she answered. "No, Marcy, let me tell you seriously, how do you generally live this New York nightlife?" "Well," she said, "it's pretty sweet to say. I come home, and if it's not dark outside, I go for a run. Then I come back to work. I have an extension in my home office. The company's switchboard, so I'm taking the time to talk to California..." "Be sure to be busy until after twelve o'clock." "maybe." "What about after this?" "Play after work." "Aha! Does that mean...?" "Like ginger ale and sandwiches and Johnny's company." "Johnny?" (I just can't hide my jealousy.) "It's Carson. Eat with me for his funny talk." ①Johnny Carson (1925—), an American TV show host turned from a comedian, is known for his articulate, witty and natural expressions. "Oh, that's it!" A stone fell from my heart, so I redeployed a new offensive. "Aren't you doing anything else besides work?" "Marshall McCluan said it well: 'Once you're all in, there's no work.'" ①Marshall McCluane (1911-1980), a Canadian scholar and communication theorist, especially emphasized the huge influence of television and other means of communication on society. "He's talking nonsense, and you're talking nonsense. You're wrong, Marcie. You think you're doing a good job, but you're just trying to use 'work' as an anesthetic so you can forget your loneliness." "My God, Oliver!" she was startled. "How can you know so deeply about someone you haven't known for a long time?" "How can I do that," I said back to her. "I was talking about myself." It's also really strange.Both of us have a tacit understanding of our intentions for the next step, but neither of us dares to disrupt our dialogue.In the end, I had to start with a few small practical issues. "Hey, Marcie, it's half past eleven." "Are you afraid of breaking the 'curfew,' Oliver?" "I don't have a 'curfew order' on my head. I don't have any 'forbidden' or 'forbidden' ones. For example, I don't care about wearing clothes." "Are you saying I'm ashamed to speak on the phone, or am I vague?" "I suppose it's fair to say," I said, "that you didn't get your words clear, and I didn't mean to bring my little canvas bag with me." Marcy smiled. "I did it on purpose," she confessed. "why?" She stood up and held out her hand to me. There was a bed of silk shirts on the bed, there must have been more than a dozen.They're all my size. "What if I want to hang around for a year?" I asked. "Strange as that may sound, my friend, if you mean it, I'll have no problem supplying shirts for a year." "Marcy?" "Ok?" "I do have... that's what I mean." Our night was really full of love. In comparison, last night can only be regarded as a rehearsal before the official performance. The sky was getting bright too fast.It was only five o'clock, and the alarm clock next to Marcie was already sounding the wake-up call. "What time is it?" I snorted and asked. "It's five o'clock," Marcy said. "Get up." Then he kissed my forehead. "Are you crazy?" "It's fixed, the show will start at six o'clock." "What's 'fixed' and 'opened', and there is no court session..." But I immediately understood what she meant. "Are you going to play tennis?" "The stadium is scheduled, from six to eight o'clock. It's a pity not to go after spending money...." "Hey, I've got a good idea. Why bother playing tennis, that's all we'll do." "What kind of ball?" I had already started to play on her, but Marcy was still a silly girl. "Play volleyball?" "Yes, if you want to call it playing volleyball, let's count it as playing volleyball." No matter what it is called playing volleyball or what, anyway, she played according to my wishes. The difference is in the bathroom. While I was in the shower, I was thinking silently: How is this Walter Binningdale’s mansion different from my elder brother’s home in Ipswich, Massachusetts, Dover Village? Those paintings that are no longer hanging.Because our family also has precious paintings.However, our family made a fortune a long time ago, so its collections are all masterpieces of the last century or two.Furnishings are also largely similar.In my opinion, occupying is old; as for the characteristics of the age of those antiques, etc., I don't know anything about it. But the bathrooms of the two are quite different!The bathroom of the Barrett family shows that they are still inseparable from the Puritan tradition: pay attention to the basics and pay attention to practicality.As long as the white tiles are laid, it is very simple-it can be said to be a bit Spartan.It's over after taking a shower, and naturally there is no reason for you to linger for a long time.But the Binningdales were different.The bathroom in their house is simply for the use of Roman emperors.To be more precise, it was used by its founders - modern Roman princes and grandchildren.How dare you think of a bathroom like this!Even if the members of the Barrett family were the most open-minded, Guan Bao couldn't help being filled with righteous indignation when he heard about such a thing! In the mirror, through the door with a narrow slit, the bedroom can be seen. A trolley was pushed into the bedroom. It was Mildred who was pushing the cart. There is breakfast in the car. By the time I wiped my face clean, Marcie had already sat down at the table—with a dress like that, I don't think she was planning to go to work dressed like that.I just wrapped myself in a towel and sat down. "Coffee, ham, eggs, please use as you like." "My God, aren't you running a big restaurant?" "You still seem to have a lot of opinions, Mr. Barrett?" "Where's that, I was just kidding," I replied as I buttered the muffins, "this place is so 'rare' I'd really like to come back." He also said, "Come back in thirty years." She looked puzzled. "Marcy," I said, "this place is only of interest to archaeologists. The room is full of sleeping dinosaurs." She looked at me. "A place like this is not what you really need," I said. Looking at her face, she seemed a little moved. "What I need is to be with you," she said. She spoke without coyness at all.It's not like me, one metaphor is horizontal and the other is vertical. "Okay," I replied, just to buy time: I don't have a clue what to say next. "When are you going to leave?" she asked. "Leave today," I replied. Marcie remained calm. "Then make an appointment for a time and place." "Meet in Central Park at five o'clock. Wait at the entrance to the east end of the artificial lake." "What should I bring?" she asked. "Your running shoes," was my answer.