Chapter 49 6 of Hearts...as real as the sun, moon and stars...

All night, Albert kept telling stories about the Magic Island.As I listened, I imagined in my mind what Albert would have looked like when he was twelve or thirteen. He sat in front of the fireplace, staring at the fire that had burned all night and was now reduced to ashes.I never interrupted him during the telling of the story - exactly fifty-two years ago he himself sat here, listening to Hans the baker tell of the tales of the Magic Island and Frood.I stood up, went to the window, and looked at the village of Dulf across the way. It was daylight.Wisps of morning mist drifted across the small mountain village, and the Huadema Lake was covered with billowing clouds.On the other side of the valley, the morning glow is falling along the mountain wall.

My heart was full of doubts, but I didn't know where to ask them for a while, so I just kept silent.I went back to the fireplace and sat down beside Albert.This old baker has a really kind heart—when I first arrived in Dulph village, I lay down in front of his cabin door, exhausted physically and mentally; he opened the door to take me in without saying a word. The ashes in the furnace billowed in wispy wisps of smoke, like morning mist outside a house. "Ludwig, you will stay in the village of Dürf." The old baker Albert said to me.His tone was an invitation, an order, or both.

"Of course." I replied.I already knew that I would be the next baker in the village of Dulf.I also know that the responsibility of passing on the secret of Magic Island to future generations will be transferred to my shoulders. "That's not what's on my mind," I said. "Son, what's on your mind?" "I was thinking, the line the gnomes chanted in 'The Harlequin Game' - if I really were that unfortunate soldier from the North..." "So what?" "Then, I know—I have a son in the north." I couldn't help it anymore, and I covered my face with my hands and began to sob.

The old baker put his arm around my shoulders. "Yes, you have a son." He began to read the dwarf's lines. "The soldier didn't know that the girl with the shaved head gave birth to a beautiful boy." Albert made me cry before he said, "There's something I don't understand, maybe you can tell me what happened." "What's up?" "That poor girl, why was her hair shaved?" "I never knew her hair was shaved," I replied to the old baker. "I didn't expect them to be so cruel to her, but I heard that after the war, the people in the Liberated Areas used this method to punish girls who interacted with enemy soldiers, making them lose their hair and dignity. So...so, the Great War I have been afraid to contact her after the end. I think she may have forgotten me. I am also worried that contacting her will hurt her more. I thought that no one would know about our interaction, but I It's too naive. She is pregnant with a child, and she can't hide it from anyone."

"I understand," said the old man, and then stared at the empty fireplace, saying nothing more. I got up and paced up and down the room, thinking: Is all this true? At the Waldermart in the village, isn't everyone whispering that old Albert is crazy? After thinking about it, I suddenly realized: there is no evidence that what Albert told me was the truth.Every word of the stories he told me about Hans and Frood could be the gibberish of a demented old man.I've never seen a Rainbow Soda or touched Frod's Magic Cards. My only clue was the words "soldiers from the north," but that could have been fabricated by Albert.However, he also mentioned "girls with shaved hair" - which I couldn't help but believe.But this may also be my sleep talk, which was overheard by Albert.It wasn't surprising that I was talking about a girl with shaved hair in my sleep, because I missed my wartime girl Lini so much.I'm worried that after a while with me she might get pregnant.Well, I see, Albert has connected the bits and pieces of my dream talk, added fuel and vinegar, and made up a story.No wonder, he's interested in the "girl with the shaved head" thing...Only one thing I'm absolutely sure of: Albert, sitting up all night telling me stories, isn't just trying to tease me.He believes everything he says, however, and that may be where the problem really lies.The gossip the villagers told behind their backs might be true.Albert may be mentally disturbed, reclusive, living in his own little world, very lonely in life and in spirit.

As soon as I came to this village, he called me "the boy".Perhaps, that was Albert's motivation for making up this amazing story.He needed a son to inherit the bakery he opened in the village.Ever since, he subconsciously made up a ridiculous story.I have heard of such spiritual cases before.I heard that some lunatics may be outstanding geniuses in certain special fields.Albert's talent should belong to the aspect of storytelling and ancient times. I kept pacing up and down the room.Outside the house, the morning sun continued to pour down from the mountain wall. "Son, why do you look so preoccupied and restless?" The old man interrupted my thoughts.

I sat down beside him.That's when I remembered how tonight's chance had begun. The night before, I had been sitting in the Walder Horse Tavern, listening to villager Andre talk about the goldfish at Albert's house.It is said that he kept many goldfish, but I have only seen one, and I think it is not worth making a fuss about a lonely old man keeping a goldfish as a companion.However, when I came home last night, I heard Albert walking up and down the attic, so I asked him - and there we were, the two of us, for a long night. "Those goldfish...you just told me that Hans brought some goldfish back from the magic island,"

I say. "Are they still in Dulph? Don't you just have one goldfish?" Albert turned around, stared straight at me and said, "Son, you don't have much confidence in me." As he spoke, his eyes darkened. I had lost my patience, and, thinking of Lini, my temper had grown irritable, and I said to the old man sharper than usual, "Answer me then! What's the matter with the goldfish?" "Come with me." He got up, went into his cramped bedroom, and pulled down a ladder from the ceiling—just as Hans the baker had pulled it down from the ceiling when he was a boy, before Hans the baker took him up to the attic.

"Ludwig, we're going up to the attic," he said in a low voice. He climbed the ladder first, and I followed.I thought to myself: If the story of Fred and the Magic Island was fabricated by Albert, then he must be a person who is obsessed with ghosts. I poked my head through the ceiling trap, looked into the attic, and was sure at once that everything Albert had told me all night was true—as real as the sun, moon and stars.On the attic, there are glass tanks everywhere, and there are many colorful goldfishes in them, swimming around like rainbows. The house is full of all kinds of rare treasures.I recognized statues of Buddha, figurines of six-legged monsters, and various long and short swords.

In addition, there are many utensils displayed downstairs when Albert was a child. "It's... incredible!" I couldn't help stammering as soon as I stepped into the attic.I was dumbfounded by everything in the house except the goldfish.I no longer doubt the story of Magic Island. The blue light of dawn poured into the attic windows until midday, when the sun did not reach this side of the valley, but at this moment the attic was filled with a golden light that did not come in through the windows. "Look over there!" whispered Albert.He pointed to a corner under the sloping ceiling with an outstretched arm.

There, I saw an old bottle.The light from the bottle shone brightly on all the goldfish bowls, utensils, benches, and cabinets that lined the floor. "Boy, that's Rainbow Soda," said Albert. "For fifty-three years, no one has touched it."We're taking it downstairs today. " He bent down and picked up the ancient bottle from the floor.The bottle shook for a while. The liquid in it glistened and was so beautiful it made me want to cry. We were about to turn around and climb down the ladder into Albert's bedroom when suddenly I saw an old deck of playing cards in a wooden box. "Can I... take a look?" I asked. The old man nodded solemnly.I carefully picked up the battered stack of playing cards.I can also make out the six of hearts, the two of clubs, the queen of spades, and the eight of diamonds.I counted the whole deck. "Only fifty one!" I exclaimed. The old man looked around the attic. "There!" He pointed to a card lying on the old bench.I bent down to pick up the card and put it on top of the stack.This card is red heart. "She still likes to run around and often gets lost," said the old man. "I always find her somewhere in the attic." I put the whole deck back in its place and climbed down the ladder with the old man. Albert took out a small wine glass and put it on the table. "You know what we're about to do," he said flatly.I get it, it's my turn to drink the rainbow soda.Before me - exactly fifty-two years ago - Albert sat in this room drinking this mysterious bottle of drink; before him - fifty-two years ago - Hans the baker drank rainbow soda on the magic island . "Remember!" Albert said with a straight face. “You only have one sip. Then, after a whole game of poker, you can pop the cap again. That way, the rainbow soda can be passed on for generations.” He poured a drop of soda into the shot glass. "Drink!" He handed the glass into my hand. "I don't know, whether I dare to drink it or not." "You know, you must drink," said Albert. "If this drop of soda can't let you taste all the delicacies in the world, then you can tell others that Albert is just an old man with a mental disorder. He is very bored and pulls a young man to tell stories all night. But, let me tell you , my old baker is not an old madman. Do you understand? Even if you don't doubt my story now, someday you will. So, you have to use your whole body, 'taste' me and The story you tell so you can be the next old baker in Dulph Village." I raised my glass and drank it down.In an instant, my whole body became a circus troupe, allowing tastes from all over the world to perform various unique tricks. It feels like I'm touring markets all over the world.One moment I was in the market in Hamburg, stuffing a tomato into my mouth; the next moment, I suddenly came to Rubik and took a bite of a sweet pear.In Munich I devoured whole bunches of grapes; in Rome I munched on figs.Almonds and cashews are waiting for me to taste in Athens; Cairo bazaar full of oriental style serves guests with thorns.All kinds of delicacies swept across my internal organs.Some are the first time in my life.I wandered in the manor of the magic island, collecting the exotic flowers and fruits there.In a trance, I went back to the town of Arendal in Norway.I tasted the cranberries and sniffed Lini's hair. I don't know how long I've been sitting by the wall.I just tasted all kinds of delicacies in the world silently, without saying a word to Albert.At last the old man stood up and said to me, "I'm going to sleep, old baker. I've got to put this bottle back in the attic before I go to bed--mind you, I'll lock the ceiling trap." Brother Bing, you are an adult now. Fruits and vegetables are nutritious and delicious, but you have to be careful not to become a vegetable.” Looking back today, I'm not sure if I remember what the old man said correctly. All I know is that the old man gave me some advice before going to bed, and his advice seems to be related to rainbow soda and magic playing cards.