Chapter 4 third chapter

1 The first time Pyle met Feng Er was also at the Continental Hotel, maybe two months after he came to Saigon. That evening, the sun had just set, bringing a hint of coolness in the air, and the stalls on the side street had already lit candles. The dice were rattling on the table, where the French were betting "four-one-two," and girls in white silk trousers rode their bicycles through the Rue Catena and turned home.Feng'er was drinking a glass of orange juice, and I was drinking beer. We sat together in silence and contentment.At this time, Pyle came over tentatively, and I introduced him and Feng'er.He'd just stare at a girl like he'd never seen one in his life, and then blush. "I was wondering if you and your girlfriend would be happy to come and sit at my table," Pyle said, "and one of our commissioners..."

Pyle was referring to the economic commissioner.He greeted us from the upper terrace with the confident, welcoming smile of a man who keeps his friends from avoiding him because of a well-applied deodorant.I've heard him called "Joe" many times, but I still don't know his last name.He pulled up chairs, called the waiter, made a fuss, although all this at the Continental would at most get the waiter to ask if you wanted beer, brandy and soda, or vermouth and cocktails. "Didn't expect to see you here, Fowler," he said. "We're waiting for those guys to come back from Hanoi. The fight seems pretty big. Didn't you go with them?"

"I'm tired of flying four hours to a press conference," I said. He looked at me disapprovingly and said, "These guys are really eager. Actually, they don't have to take any risks. They probably can make twice as much money in business or broadcasting." "They might have to do something," I said. "They look like war horses, and seem to smell battle," he continued triumphantly, not caring what he didn't like to hear. "Take Bill Granger—you can't stop him from going into a fight." "I think you're right. I was in the bar at the sports club one night and I saw him get into a fight."

"You know very well, I don't mean fight." Two tricycles came speeding from Katina Street and stopped at the entrance of the Continental Hotel.Granger was in the first car.In the other car was a small gray, odorless mass, which Granger was now dragging onto the pavement. "Well, come on, Mick," he said, "come on." Then he began to argue with the driver about the fare. "It's all here," he said, "if you want it." And with that, he threw five times the fare on the street for the man to bend over to pick it up. The economic commissioner said nervously, "These lads should relax a little bit."

Granger tossed his drag onto a chair.Only then did he notice Feng Er. "Yo," he said, "you old bastard, Joe. Where did you find her? I didn't know you had it. I'm sorry, but I have to go to the bathroom. Please take care of Mick." ." "Rude private attitude," I said. Pyle blushed again, and said sincerely, "If I had known... I wouldn't have invited you two over." The pile of gray things moved on the chair, and threw its head on the table, as if it had fallen off. It sighed, extremely sleepy, like blowing a whistle, an infinitely long sigh, and then lay there motionless.

"Do you know him?" I asked Pyle. "No. Is he a reporter?" "I heard Bill call him Mick," the commissioner said. "Is there a new U.P. reporter?" "That's not him. I know that man. Could it be someone from your economic delegation? There are hundreds of you—you don't know them all." "I don't think he's our guy," the economic commissioner said. "I can't think of anyone like him." "We might be able to find his ID," Pyle suggested. "For God's sake, don't wake him up. A drunk is enough. Granger will know anyway."

But he doesn't know.He walked back from the toilet sullenly. "Who is this girl?" he asked frowningly. "Miss Fung is a friend of Fowler's," said Pyle stiffly, "and we want to know who he is..." "Where did he find her? You have to be careful in this city," he added sullenly. "Thank God there's penicillin." "Bill," said the economic commissioner, "we want to know who Mick is." "how could I know!" "You brought him here." "The Frenchman can't stand the Scotch. He's passed out."

"Is he French? I heard you call him Mick earlier." "Never mind calling him something," Granger said.He leaned over to Feng'er and said, "Hey, how about another glass of orange juice? Do you have a date tonight?" I said, "She has dates every night." The Economic Commissioner hastily interjected, "How's the war going, Bill?" "Great victory northwest of Hanoi. The French recaptured two villages - the two villages they never told us were lost. The Viet Minh suffered heavy casualties. The French have yet to count their own casualties, but in a week or two they will be tell us."

"There are rumors that the Viet Minh has taken Pha Diem, set fire to the cathedral and driven out the bishop," the economic commissioner said. "In Hanoi, they don't tell us that. It's not a victory." "One of our medical teams got to Nam Dinh and couldn't go any further," Pyle said. "You didn't go that far, did you, Bill?" the Economic Commissioner asked Granger. "Who do you think I am? I'm just a reporter. I have a pass and I have to show it when I enter the restricted area. I flew to Hanoi airport. They sent a car and took us to the press camp. They arranged Flew a flight over two towns they had just retaken and showed us the tricolor flag flying below. Flying so high you could say it was any fucking flag. Then we had a press conference Yes, a colonel will come out and explain to us what we just saw. Then we'll send the telegram with the censor. Then we'll go drink. Best bartender in all of Indochina. We're coming back by plane."

Pyle frowned at his beer. "You think so little of yourself, Bill," said the economic commissioner. "Yo, that story on Route 66—what was your title? Road to Hell—that was eligible for a Pulitzer. You know what I mean A report - a guy kneeling in a ditch with his head blown off, and another guy you see who looks like he's sleepwalking..." "Do you think I've really come down that stinking highway? Stephen Crane can write about war without seeing it. Why can't I? Anyway, it's just a sleazy colonial war . Bring me another glass of wine.Then we went to find a girl.You've found a firework girl.I'm looking for one too. "

I said to Pyle, "Do you think the rumor about Fa Diem is reliable?" "I don't know. Is that place important? I'd like to see it," he said, "if it is." "Are you saying it's important to the economic delegation?" "Oh, oh," he said, "you can't draw the line. Medicine is a weapon too, isn't it? Those Catholics, they're staunchly anti-Communist, aren't they?" "They do business with the Communists. The cows the Lord raises, the bamboo he uses to build his house are all from the Communists. I don't want to say that they are what York Harding called the third force." I mean Tease him. "Let's go," Granger yelled. "Can't waste a whole night here. I'm going to the five hundred girls whorehouse." "Would you like to have dinner with me, Miss Wind..." said Pyle. "You can eat at the country pub," interrupted Granger, "and let me knock on the girls next door. Come on, Jo. You're a man after all." I think that's when I meditated on what a man should look like, and I first felt a little fond of Pyle.He sat there, slightly turned away from Granger, twirling his beer glass with a determined, nonchalant look on his face.He said to Feng'er, "I guess you're tired of this shop—I mean you're tired of your country." Loinment? " "What are you going to do with Mick?" asked the economic commissioner. "Let him stay here," Granger said. "You can't. You don't even know his name." "We can take him with us and let the girls take care of him." The economic commissioner laughed on behalf of everyone.He looks like a face on TV.He said, "You young men can go and play as they please, but I'm too old to play. I'll take him home. You say he's French?" "He spoke French earlier." "As long as you can get him into my car..." After he drove away, Pyle and Granger got into one tricycle, Feng Er and I got into another, and they went up the embankment together.Granger wanted to sit with Feng Er, but Pyle pulled him away.The tricycle drove us down the suburban road to Chinatown.On the way we passed a long train of French armored cars, each with its gun barrel forward, and a silent officer like a puppet under the stars and the dark, calm, vaulted sky Not moving at all—maybe there was another conflict with a private army, the Hirakawa faction, the big world on the embankment and those casinos were opened by the Hirakawa faction.This is a country of its own, like medieval Europe.But what are the Americans doing here?Columbus did not discover their country in the Middle Ages either.I said to Feng'er, "I like Pyle." "He's very quiet," she said.She was the first to say he was quiet.The adjective, like the name of an elementary school student, is here to stay.Later, when Vigot sat there with his green visor on and told me when Pyle was killed, I heard even him use that word. I stopped our tricycle outside the village restaurant, and said to Feng'er, "Go in and take a table first. I'd better go take care of Pyle. "That was my first instinct - to protect him. It never occurred to me that in fact I need to protect myself more. Innocence always silently asks for protection. In fact, to protect ourselves, in case innocent suffers, then we will Smarter: Innocence is like an abandoned mute leper who wanders the world with no intention of harming anyone. By the time I got to the Five Hundred Girls brothel, Pyle and Granger had already entered.I asked the gendarmes standing guard in the doorway, "Deux Amerlcalns?" Standing guard was a young Corporal of the Foreign Legion.He was cleaning his revolver, stopped and pointed his thumb into the doorway, and made a joke in German.I don't understand what he means. In that spacious open-air courtyard, it was time to rest.Hundreds of girls lay on the grass, or sat on their heels, chatting with their companions.The curtains of the little rooms all round the square were drawn—a sleepy girl lay alone on a bed with her legs crossed.There was a conflict on the embankment, the troops remained in the barracks, so all the girls here had nothing to do: Sundays of the flesh.Only the little group of girls who were wrestling, groping, and making noise made me see the old habits, the same old ways.I was reminded of the old story that Saigon people love to tell, about a VIP who came here, was trapped in the makeup, and by the time he broke out and ran to the police station safe and sound, his pants had long been gone .It's not safe for civilians here.If he wanted to sneak into this military area for sex, he'd have to fend for himself and find his way out. I have already learned a technique - divide first, then conquer.I picked the last girl from the crowd around me and pushed her slowly toward the spot where Pyle and Granger were struggling and unable to get out. Jesulsunvleux." I said "Tronfatiguj" and she giggled and leaned against me. "Monami," I said, "11estire srlche, ires Vlgourellx. " "Tuessale," she said. At this moment, I caught a glimpse of Granger flushed and triumphant, as if to show his masculinity.A girl had Pyle on her arm and was trying to pull him gently out of the crowd.I pushed my girl into the crowd and called out to him, "Pyle, come over here." He looked at me from the head of the bunch of girls and said, "It's scary, it's scary." Perhaps it was an illusion caused by the light, and his face looked a little haggard at this time.It occurred to me that he was probably still a virgin. "Come on, Pyle," I said. "Leave them all to Granger." I saw him reach for the back pocket of his trousers.I really think he's going to take all the piastres and dollar bills out of his pockets and give them to them. "Don't be a fool, Pyle," I yelled sharply. "You'll make them fight." The girl I had chosen earlier turned and came back to me, and I pushed her again, pushing her into the group of women next to Granger. "Non, non." I said, "Jesulsun Anglals, Pauvre, irespauvre." Then, I grabbed Pyle by the sleeve and dragged him out, with a girl hanging from his other arm, as if hooked Like a fish.As we headed down the doorway where the sergeant stood guard, two or three other girls tried to stop us, but they were half-hearted. "What am I going to do with this one on my arm?" Pyle said. "She's going to be in no big trouble," I said before she let go of his arm and slid back into the group of girls pushing and wrestling around Granger. "Will he be all right?" Pyle asked anxiously. "He's got his wish - isn't he looking for a firework girl?" Outside the gate, the night seemed to be very quiet, only the other two teams of armored vehicles drove past like people with some kind of intention.He said, "It's scary. I wouldn't have believed it..." He said sadly and awed. "They're all so beautiful." At this moment, he wasn't envious of Granger, he was complaining that beautiful things—pretty and graceful, of course, are beautiful forms—could be destroyed or abused.Pyle could see pain when it was right in front of his eyes. (I do not write this to ridicule him. At the end of the day, many of us, even in the face of pain, cannot see.) I said, "Let's go back to the country tavern. Feng'er is waiting there." "I'm sorry," he said. "I completely forgot. You shouldn't have left her there alone." "She's not in danger." "I was just thinking, to help Granger get to safety..." He began to think again at this point, but when we entered the country tavern, he said vaguely and sadly, "I've forgotten how many men..." 2 Feng Er has already reserved a table for us on the dance floor, and the band is playing a piece that was very popular in Paris five years ago.Two pairs of Vietnamese are dancing.They are small in stature, neatly dressed, and detached, with a civilized air that we cannot match (I know a couple of them, the accountant and his wife of CA-CIB). You feel that they never dress casually, talk nonsense, and are never self-indulgent.If the battles seemed medieval, they seemed to represent the future of the eighteenth century.You would expect that Mr. Pham Vento might write old-style poetry in his spare time, but I happen to know that he has studied Wordsworth's poetry very well and has written some poems praising nature himself.His holidays are spent in Dagong.That was the closest he could get to enjoying the atmosphere of the English Lake District.He gave me a slight nod as he jumped near us, and I wondered what Granger was doing fifty yards down the road, I wondered. Pyle was apologizing in poor French to Fenger for keeping her waiting. "Cestlmparnable," he said. "Where have you been?" she asked him. He said, "I'm taking Granger home." "Go home?" I added, laughing out loud.Pyle looked at me like I was another Granger.Suddenly, I saw myself as he saw me: a middle-aged man with bloodshot eyes, a fattening body, very unrefined in love, less rowdy perhaps than Granger, but more Prefers cynicism, and is more sophisticated.For a while, I saw Feng Er as if I saw her for the first time: dancing past my table in the big world, wearing a white dance dress, only eighteen years old, watched by her sister .Her sister wanted her to marry a European well.At that time, an American bought a dance ticket and asked Feng Er to dance: he was a little drunk-but not to the point of running amok. I'm guessing he's new to the country and thought big world dancers were whores too.They circled the dance floor and he held her so tightly that she suddenly walked away and sat down with her sister.He was left there, among the dancing men and women, bewildered, not knowing what had happened, or why.And this girl whose name I don't know is sitting there quietly, occasionally sipping orange juice, as if nothing happened. "Pent-onavolrhonneur?" Pyle was saying in his out-of-pitch French.After a while I saw them dancing silently across the dance floor, Pyle holding her so far away from him that you expected him to be separated from her at any moment.He was a bad dancer, and she was the most beautiful dancer I ever saw, in those big world days. My pursuit of Feng'er has been long and difficult.If I can propose to marry Feng'er and settle down, then everything will be easy.When her sister sees us together, she will also quietly walk away with interest.But three months later, I was able to meet with her alone on the balcony of the Majestic Hotel, while her sister stayed in the next room and kept asking us how long we planned to go back into the house.At that time, a cargo ship came from France and was unloading under the shining lights on the Saigon River, and the bell of the tricycle rang like a telephone.I said some youthful, reckless foolish things to Feng'er, and then I went back to my house in Rue Catena, dejected, and fell asleep, never dreaming that four months later she would be lying beside me, breathing a little. She was in a hurry, giggling as if surprised, because things were not as she expected. "Mr. Fowler." I had been watching them dance, and I hadn't seen Feng'er's sister greet me from another table.At this time, she came over.I reluctantly asked her to sit down.We haven't been very friendly since that night when she fell ill in the big world and I sent Feng'er home. "I haven't seen you for a whole year," she said. "I often travel to Hanoi on business." "Who is this friend of yours?" she asked. "This man's name is Pyle." "What does he do?" "He was on the American Economic Mission. You know what the Economic Mission is—distributing electric sewing machines to starving seamstresses." "Are there any starving seamstresses?" "I have no idea." "But they don't use sewing machines. Where they live, there's no electricity." She was a very rigid woman. "Then you'll have to ask Pyle," I said. "Is he married?" I look at the dance floor. "I'd say it's the closest he's ever been to a woman." "He danced badly," she said. "yes." "But he seems like a solid old man." "yes." "Can I sit with you for a while? My friends are all very dull." The music stopped.Pyle bowed stiffly to Feng'er, then accompanied her back to the table, and pulled out a chair for her to sit down.I could see that his formality pleased her.I thought how much fun she had lost with me. "This is Feng'er's sister," I said to Pyle. "Miss Xu." "Nice to meet you," he said, blushing suddenly. "Are you from New York?" she asked. "No. From Boston." "Is that also in America?" "Oh, yes. Yes." "Is your father a businessman?" "Seriously, no. He's a professor." "A teacher?" she asked with a hint of disappointment. "Oh, he's kind of an authority, you know. People look to him for advice." "Send him a doctor? Is he a doctor?" "Not a doctor. He's a doctor of engineering. He's very good at underwater erosion. Do you know what that is?" "have no idea." Pyle wanted a little humor, so he said, "Oh, I'll let Daddy tell you." "Is he here?" "Not here." "Is he coming, then?" "No. It's just a joke," Pyle said apologetically. "Do you have a younger sister?" I asked Miss Xu. "No. What?" "It sounds like you're interrogating Mr. Pyle, trying to match him." "I only have one younger sister," Miss Xu said, slapping Feng'er's knee hard with her palm, just like a meeting chairman hitting with a gavel to ask everyone to observe order in the meeting place. "She has a beautiful sister," Pyle said. "She's the most beautiful woman in Saigon," Miss Hsu said, as if correcting Pyle. "I believe that." I said, "It's time for dinner. Even the most beautiful woman in Saigon has to eat dinner." "I'm not hungry," Feng'er said. "She's very delicate," Miss Xu continued firmly.There was a threatening tone in her voice. "She needs to be cared for. She deserves to be loved. She's very, very determined." "Lucky my friend," said Pyle solemnly. "She loves children very much," Ms. Xu said. I laughed, and then I saw Pyle's eyes: he looked at me with a little shock and surprise, and it suddenly occurred to me that he was really interested in what Miss Xu said.I ordered (although Feng Er told me she wasn't hungry, I knew she could still eat a large steak with mayonnaise, plus two raw eggs, etc.) and listened to him talk about the baby seriously. "I always thought I'd enjoy having lots of kids," he said. "A big family is very interesting. It keeps the marriage stable and it's good for the kids. I'm an only child. Being an only child is a huge disadvantage." I had never heard him say so much before. "How old is your father?" Miss Xu asked curiously. "Sixty-nine." "The elderly love their grandchildren. It's a pity that my sister doesn't have parents-in-law to love her children. One day in the future," she added with a malicious look at me. "You don't either?" Pyle said.I think what he said was unnecessary. "Our father came from a good family. He used to be an official in Hue Province." I said, "I ordered all the meals for you." "Don't call me," Miss Xu said. "I must go back to my friends. I should be glad to see Mr. Pyle again. Perhaps you can arrange that." "Wait till I get back from the North," I said. "Are you going north now?" "I guess it's about time I went to see the action." "But the journalists are all back," Pyle said. "For me, it's the best time. I don't have to run into Granger." "Then, when Mr. Fowler is gone, you must come and have a meal with me and my sister," she added, gruffly and gallantly, "to please her." After she walked away, Pyle said, "What a friendly and nurturing woman. And she speaks such good English." "Tell him that my sister used to do business in Singapore," Feng'er said proudly. "Really? What business?" I translated for her, "Import and export business. She can also take shorthand." "I wish we had more people like her in our economic delegation." "I'll tell her," Feng'er said. "She would be happy to do things for the Americans." After supper they danced again.I'm not a good dancer either, and I don't care as much as Pyle--or was I as careless as he was when I first fell in love with Feng Er?I meditate.Before the memorable night of Miss Xu's illness, I must have danced with Feng'er in the big world many times just to find a chance to talk to her.Pyle wasn't taking advantage of it when they went down to the dance floor again that night, he just wasn't as tense as before and made her less relaxed in his arms, but neither he nor Feng Er said anything. I saw the lightness of her feet, the precision of her steps, dominating his straggling, and suddenly I was in love again.It's hard for me to believe that an hour, two hours later, she's back in that dirty old room next to me.That room shared a toilet with others, and there were many old women sitting on the stairs. I wish I hadn't heard the legend about Phat Diem at all, or if the legend was about any other city than Phat Diem.My friendship with a French naval officer in that northern city of Phat Diem would allow me to slip in, free from censorship, free from restraint.Want to be the first to break a breaking news story?No, in those days all the world wanted to read was North Korea news.Want to have a chance to die?With Feng'er sleeping next to me every night, why do I still want to die?But I know the answer to this question.I didn't believe in permanence since I was a child, but I longed for permanence.I am always afraid of losing my happiness.This month next year, Feng Er will leave me.If not next year, then within three years, she will leave me.In my world, death is the only thing of absolute value. Having lost one's life, one has nothing to lose from now on.I envy those who can believe in one God, but I don't trust them.They are, I think, emboldened by an allegory of immutability and permanence. Death is far more certain than God. With death, there is no need to worry every day that love may disappear.The boredom and indifference of the future, that nightmare will also disappear.I will never be a pacifist.Killing a person is indeed giving him immeasurable happiness.Yeah, people everywhere love their enemies.They save their friends, leaving them to suffer and feel empty. "I'm sorry I took Miss Wind away," said Pyle's voice. "Oh, I can't dance, but I love watching her dance." We always talked about her in the third person, as if she wasn't there.Sometimes she is as invisible as peace. The first cabaret was on that night: a singer, a juggler, a buffoon—the guy talked dirty, but I looked at Pyle, and he obviously couldn't understand the dirty words.Feng'er smiled, and he smiled too, and when I laughed out loud, he forced a smile too. "I don't know where Granger is at the moment," I said.Pyle looked at me reproachfully. Then, the evening's program changed: a large group of actresses appeared.Many of them I have seen all day.They were walking up and down Rue Catina in old trousers and sweatshirts, a little blue around their chins, wriggling their hips.Now, in bare-chested evening gowns, fake jewelry and fake breasts, and husky voices, they looked at least as agreeable as most European women in Saigon.A group of young Air Force officers whistled to them, and they smiled charmingly.Pyle was suddenly very dissatisfied.His violent disapproval took me by surprise. "Fowler," he said, "let's go. We've seen enough, haven't we? It doesn't suit her at all."