Chapter 27 twenty seven, chaos

Between the dark blue and the devil is me. —Billy Schrager It is fatal for a writer to think too much about his gender. Being a pure and simple man or woman is also terrible. —Virginia Woolf There was a sudden phone call at home. My mother’s left leg was broken. One day the power outage and the elevator didn’t work. She fell when she was walking up the stairs. , my father is in school, and there is a nanny at home who is busy walking around. Apart from this, there is a silence in the room that makes people feel light and ringing in the ears. Mama lay on the bed with her eyes closed, her thin, pale face glowing with an old, unreal light like the furniture that lay around.The ankle bone of her left leg was already covered with a thick plaster cast. I walked lightly and sat down on the chair beside the bed.

She opened her eyes, "You're here." She just said so simply. "Does it hurt?" I simply greeted.She reached out and touched my fingers. Half of the colorful nail polish on the nails had faded, which looked strange. She sighed, "How's the novel going?" "It's not very good.... I write a little every day, and I don't know how many people will like to read it in the end." "Since you want to be a writer, don't be afraid of such questions..." It was the first time she talked to me about my novel in such a tone.I looked at her speechlessly, wanting to bend down and hug her tightly, wanting to say that I love her so much and need even a few words of encouragement from her, which will give me calmness and strength. "Would you like something to eat?" I finally sat without moving and reached out to hug her, I just asked quietly.

She shook her head, "How is your boyfriend?" She never knew about going to the drug rehabilitation center every day. "He did a lot of drawings, very good ones. Might use them in my book." "You, can't you move back for a while?...A week is fine." I smiled at her, "Okay, my bed is still in the old place." The nanny helped me tidy up my small bedroom, which has been vacant since Zhu Sha moved out.There is a thin layer of dust on the bookshelf, and the plush orangutan is still on the top shelf.The afterglow of the setting sun passed through the windows, casting a warm light in the room.

I lay on the bed for a while, and I had a dream. I dreamed that I was riding an old bicycle from high school from one end of the road to the other, and I saw many acquaintances along the way.Then a black truck rushed towards me at an intersection, and a group of masked men jumped out of the vehicle.The leader waved a pink mobile phone and directed his subordinates to throw me and my car into the truck compartment. They shone a flashlight into my eyes and asked me to tell where an important person was hiding, "Where is the general? ’ they stared at me eagerly and asked me loudly. "Tell me, where is the general?"

"I have no idea." "Don't lie, it's in vain, look at the ring on your hand, a woman who doesn't even know where her husband is hiding, really deserves to die." I looked at my left hand blankly, and there was indeed a luxurious and dazzling ring finger on my ring finger. diamond ring. I waved my hands in despair, "I really don't know, even if you kill me." When I woke up, my father had already returned from school. The house was still quiet so as not to disturb me, but the smell of cigar smoke from the balcony let me know that my father was back and that it was almost dinner time.

I got up and got out of bed and went to the balcony to say hello to my dad.He changed into casual clothes, with his chubby belly sticking out in the twilight, his graying hair dancing lightly in the wind.He stared at me silently for a while, "Are you asleep?" I nodded, with a smile on my face, "Now I'm in good spirits, and I can go up the mountain to hunt tigers." "Okay, it's time for dinner." He held my shoulders and walked into the room. Mother has been supported to sit in a chair covered with velvet cushions, the dining table is full, and the food smells warm.

In the evening, I played chess with my father for a while. My mother leaned on the bed and watched us play chess from time to time.I didn't want to talk more, so I hurriedly put away the chess, took a shower in the bathroom, and went back to my room. I told Tiantian on the phone that I would stay here for a week, and then I told him the dream I had in the afternoon and asked him what it meant.He said that I had a premonition of success in my writing, but I fell into an insurmountable anxiety of survival. "Really?" I was dubious. "You can confirm it with David Wu," he said.

This week was quickly spent with my mother watching TV, playing cards, eating mung bean lily soup, sweet potato sesame cake, shredded radish cake and other messy desserts. The night before I left, I was called by my father In the study, they huddled and talked until late. "I remember that when you were young, you loved to go out to play alone, but you always got lost. You have always been a girl who loves to get lost." He said. I sat in the rocking chair across from him and smoked. "Yes," I said, "I still get lost a lot." "In the final analysis, you are too adventurous and like miracles to happen. This is not a fatal flaw. ... But many things are not as simple as you think. In the eyes of our parents, you will always be a naive child... "

"But..." I tried to argue.He waved his hand, "We won't stop you from doing whatever you want, because we can't stop... But one thing is very important, no matter what you do, you should bear all possible consequences. You often talk The freedom described by Bian Sartre is just 'freedom of choice', a conditional freedom." "I agree." I puffed on the cigarette, the window was open, and the study room smelled of lilies in a vase of perfume, "Parents always know their children, don't use words like 'cliché' to demean elder." "I didn't." I said duplicity.

"You are too emotional. When you are desperate, your eyes are darkened, and when you are happy, you are too happy." "But to be honest, I like myself the way I am." "The premise of being a truly outstanding writer is to abandon unnecessary vanity and learn to maintain an independent mind in an impetuous environment. Don't be complacent about your identity as a writer. You are a person and a woman first, and a writer second." "So I always wear a suspender skirt and sandals to dance, and I am keen to make friends with a psychologist, listen to good music, read good books, eat fruits rich in vitamin C and A and calcium tablets, and be a smart and outstanding woman.— — I'll be back to see you and Mom often. I swear."

Connie invited Tian Tian to join me for dinner and a tour of her basic renovation of the restaurant. Dinner is eaten on wooden and rattan tables and chairs set up on the terrace.The sun went down, but the sky was still bright, and the branches and leaves of the poplar and locust trees came out obliquely and floated above the head.Waiters, already employed and in further training, in stark black and white uniforms, meander across marble steps to deliver course after course to the terrace. Connie looked a little tired, still wearing delicate makeup, holding a Havana cigar in her hand, and asked the waiter to bring the cigar up, to check whether the boy was cutting the cigar properly for the guests. "I only recruit smart kids who have no working experience here, and I hope they don't have any bad habits and can learn them quickly," she said. Juan is not here, he has returned to Spain for the time being, and will bring a group of local cooks to Shanghai next week, and the restaurant is expected to officially open in early June. At her prior appointment, we brought some novel manuscripts and illustrations from the book to show her.Smoking a cigar, she flipped through Tian Tian's paintings one by one, full of praise. "Look at these distinctive colors, and these surprising lines. I knew from an early age that my son is talented. ——Seeing these paintings, my mother is really happy." Every day, without making a sound, I lowered my head and ate a plate of baked cod in oil paper.The oiled paper covering the plate was cut open, and the aroma of the snow-white fish and seasonings were completely preserved in the paper cover, grilled just right, and the color and aroma were attractive. "Thank you." Tiantian uttered such a sentence while eating fish.There is no more fierce confrontation and struggling suspicion between mother and child, but the secret vigilance, unwillingness, and disappointment still exist. "There are two walls on the second floor of the restaurant that haven't been decorated yet. If Tiantian is willing, I can help draw something on them, okay?" Connie suddenly proposed.I looked at Tiantian, "You're going to do a great job." I said. After dinner, Connie led us to see the interlocking halls on the second floor. The beautiful lamps and homemade mahogany tables and chairs have been roughly prepared. Two of the rooms have red brick fireplaces carved out, and a layer of wood is pasted on the outside. Dark red baseboards, a row of wine and whiskey bottles piled up under the fireplace. The wall opposite the fireplace was still empty, and Connie said, "What style of painting do you think would suit this?" "Matisse, no, Maury Diggani is the best," I said.Tiantian nodded, "His paintings have a kind of beauty and indifference that makes people slightly intoxicated. People can't help but want to get close, but they can never get close....Looking at Moridigani, he would drink red wine and smoke in front of the fireplace. Cigars are like a trip to paradise." "Do you agree?" Connie looked at her son with a smile. "I have been using your money. In exchange, I should do something for you." The son replied to his mother. We stayed in Connie's restaurant listening to Latin love songs and drinking until late at night. Every day, he started to wear overalls and carry a lot of paintbrushes and various paints to his mother's part-time job to paint the walls.Because the road is far away, in order to save trouble, he simply slept in the restaurant, and Connie prepared a comfortable room for him as a temporary residence. As for me, I continued to write at my desk, writing and throwing, looking for a perfect ending for the novel at hand.At night, before I go to sleep, I will sit in front of the computer and read emails from friends from all over the world.Flying Apple is in love with Isa, a Serbian. They went to Hong Kong to participate in a gay film festival. He took some photos and sent them to me online. I saw him making sexual cocktails on the beach with a group of flirtatious boys. People on top of each other, all topless, some of them with silver rings on their nipples, navels, tongues, "What a beautiful crazy world," he wrote in heavy letters.Shamir wrote me an electronic letter in English, saying that I have always been deeply imprinted in her mind, like an oriental watermark painting, which is both soft and unimaginable, and can release unspeakable emotions in an instant , like a fleeting rose in a garden late at night.She can't forget the wonderful and dangerous breath in my lips, like a storm, like an undercurrent, like a flower petal. This is the most desperate love letter I have ever received, from a woman's handwriting, so strange feeling. The spider asked me if I still plan to set up a personal webpage, and he would be there for me at any time. Recently, the company's business is not doing well, and I am always idle.Madonna said that sending emails is more tiring than answering the phone. This is her first and last email. She just wants to tell me that the last party was pretty bad and fun. She lost her phone afterwards. I don’t know if I have it. See. I wrote back to my friends one by one, using the beautiful, witty, shocking language that came to my mind.In a sense, my friends and I are all a group of dandies who use increasingly exaggerated and out-of-control words to create the pleasure of chasing life and soul, a group of eating imaginary wings and blue, seductive, unreasonable It's the people who create the city's quirky romance and true poetry . Some people call us different, some call us rubbish, some people are eager to enter this circle, copy everything from our clothes and hairstyles to the way we talk and have sex, and some people curse us that we should hide in the refrigerator with a shitty lifestyle and disappear immediately. When I turned off the computer, a song flashed across the computer screen. On the record player was "Green Light" by Sonic Youth, which had just finished playing. The last sentence was "Her light is my night, ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh". In the lukewarm water, sometimes I'll lie still and fall asleep, writing a poem about the night in a dream of water and shower gel, just remembering this line, "Never know what night is until the day is gone , what is the line on the sheet, what is the desire in the lips. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm On a night without warning, the air pressure was very low and there was no wind and it was very stuffy. Mark went straight to the downstairs where I lived, and called me upstairs in the car, "I don't know if I'm bothering you, But now I want to see you." His voice was blurred and sizzling in the disturbed call message of the mobile phone. As soon as the voice fell, the phone was disconnected. Maybe the phone was out of battery. I can imagine that he dropped the phone in the car and said "Damned", I put down my pen, and ran downstairs unadorned for the first time. The lights in the car were dimly on, and he opened the door, almost holding me by the waist and putting me on the back seat of the car. "Look at what you are doing?" I looked at him in a neat suit, and then at myself, wearing slippers on bare feet, and his nightgown was crumpled by him, and I couldn't help laughing, rocking back and forth. He also laughed, and quickly stopped laughing: "CoCo, I want to tell you some bad news, I'm going back to Germany." I touched my suddenly condensed facial muscles, "What?" I stared at him for a while, and he also stared at me silently, "It seems that it is not a rumor," I murmured, "My cousin once Tell me you're going back to company headquarters." He reached out and hugged me: "I want to be with you." "Impossible!" I yelled in my heart, but I didn't say anything, I just used my lips, tongue and teeth to meet the turbulent torrent of his attacking me.It has to be so, even if I beat his chest with my fist and steal every penny, gold card, and papers from him by tricks, it will not prevent the fact, my German lover, that this gives The excitement and ecstasy of the Western man who my other men combined cannot compare with, is going to leave me after all, it has to be like this. I pushed him away, "Well, when are you going to leave?" "The latest is the end of next month. I want to be with you every minute and every second." He lowered his head and pressed it against my chest. Through a thin nightgown, my nipples were in his hair Under the friction of the scorpion, it quickly became firm, like a flower of despair at night. We drove the car fast and lightly, the color of the dream became darker, and the edges of the dream gradually wrinkled, like the valleys and rocks on the back of the moon. There are always too many emotional and sad atmospheres in the nights of Shanghai. We are on the smooth road Flying up, flying in the neon and gold of the city, Iggy Pop's song came out of the loudspeaker: "We are just passers-by, passing by in a hurry, looking at the stars in the sky, waiting to disappear with us." Make love to your heart's content, endless melancholy, create truth and destroy dreams, you can do anything, but the only thing that people don't understand is why we cry at any time, just like why God also loses his voice in fear at night when there is a meteor shower?For a moment, I thought that there would be an accident tonight, that this car would hit something, that we would meet in an inexplicable passion and frustration. But there was no car accident, the car drove to Central Park in Pudong, the park was closed, and we made love in the shadow of a tree outside the fence.The reclined seat smells of leather impetuousness.The soles of my feet were cramping, but I didn't say a word and let the discomfort develop until the insides of my thighs were smeared with dream juice. When I woke up in his apartment in the early morning of the next day, I thought everything that happened was just a dream. Sex is so easy to render, like a touch of ink on Chinese painting paper, but sex is powerless to change anything, especially in the sunshine. When the light comes in and you see your dark circles in the mirror. Any story must pay a price to have an ending, and the body stretches out its tentacles to fight and entangle with another body, as if it is only for the separation after all doomsday. Mark announced to me that every day from this day until the end of next month is a parting holiday, and he no longer has to wear a tie to go to the company on time at 9:45 every day.He is determined to enjoy (enjoy) every day.He asked me to spend a little more time with him, and my boyfriend painted murals in the style of Maury Diggani at his mother's restaurant.My novel is only a few pages away, and in a few dozen days he will probably never see me again. This life!I just feel like the head is splitting the pain. He lowered the pingtan and rap on the record player, found aspirin from the medicine cabinet, and used one hand to do my back and feet with an amateur skill he learned from a "pure massage" (pure massage) shop Massage, he amuses me with his broken Shanghainese.From the beginning to the end, he served the oriental princess in his mind like a masochist, a talented girl with black hair hanging down to her waist and a pair of sentimental eyes. And I finally understood that I had fallen into the love trap of this German man who was originally just a sex partner (sexual partner). He penetrated from my womb to my fragile heart and occupied the fascination behind my eyes.Feminist arguments have never been able to crack this kind of sexual hypnotism. I found this flaw in myself as a woman. I lied to myself that this is actually a game, entertaining others and entertaining myself, life is a big playground, we can't stop looking for it. And my boyfriend should still be indulging in his own world in a restaurant. He uses paint and lines to express emotions, so as to save the world in his eyes and himself that is out of order. I stayed in Mark's apartment, and we stayed naked in bed listening to pingtan, watching DVDs, playing chess, and cooking macaroni or Chinese ravioli in the kitchen when we were hungry.Rarely do we actually fall asleep, and we stop looking carefully at each other's eyes, which only adds to the annoyance in vain. When semen, saliva, and sweat stick to every pore of our body, we will go swimming in Guidu with swimsuits, goggles, and VIP cards.There was hardly anyone else in the pool, and we were like two strange fish, fish swimming around, swimming in a huge nothingness soaked in orange lights.The more tired the more beautiful, the more depraved the more joyful. Back in bed, we tested the sexual energy that existed between us with a devilish vigor, to what extent, and we found it to be a completely insane, utterly evil force.God says it's dust, we're going to dust, God says it's the end, we're in the end.His thing that seems to be made of rubber is always in an erect state, never giving up, never slumping, until my bottom is bleeding, I guess some cells in my uterus have died and fallen off . His wife's phone call saved me, and he staggered out of bed to answer the phone, where Eva asked him why he hadn't answered her emails. I thought to myself, God, we don't even have the strength to turn on our computers other than working non-stop. She had no choice but to call her husband and finally decide when to return home.They said something in German which I didn't understand, a little loudly, but not arguing. When he put down the phone and climbed onto the bed, I kicked him away, and he rolled over and sat on the floor. "I'm going crazy, it's wrong to be like this, something will happen sooner or later." I said, and started to get dressed in a daze. He hugged my foot and kissed it, found a cigarette from a pile of tissues on the floor, lit one, and put it in his mouth. "We've been insane, ever since I met you. Know why I'm so infatuated with you? You're not faithful at all, and yet totally trustworthy. The combination of those two things is unmatched in you." "Thank you for saying that," I watched in dismay as I put on my clothes, it was too ugly, like a doll that had been raped too much, but as long as I took off my clothes again, the seductive charm would reappear on this flesh now. "I'm going back." I whispered. "You look terrible," he said, hugging me tenderly. "Yeah," I said, feeling as bad as I could possibly go, as hell as hell.I want to cry, I hate myself and feel sorry for myself.He hugged me, and the golden hairs all over his body were like countless tentacles stretching out to soothe me. "Sweetheart, I believe you are too tired. The more your body consumes, the more love it produces. I love you." I don't want to listen to these words, I want to flee from here like a gust of wind, and go back to the original place, maybe no place can give me a sense of security, but I still run from here to there like a mouse. The sunlight on the street is as white as a knife blade and can cut people's eyes. I can hear my blood gurgling.