[Titanic] True Love Is Eternal

April 1912, 4, Southampton, England.

42:[-].

Here I am, the pier where the Titanic sailed.

In April, the UK is in the early spring season, and the sun is still cold at the end of winter. This impersonal temperature is enough to make me shiver.

I tucked my big, wavy, blond, caucasian hair into a black men's bowler hat.This is what I got back from a drink with an immigrant from the United States in a bar. The guy's family is all immigrants. Two-thirds of the great immigration wave in Europe in the [-]th century was exported to the United States. They were in the American continent. After looting enough, I will return to England, maybe to come back to miss my hometown, or to take away my relatives and friends here.

In the past few decades until the outbreak of the war, immigrants will continue to pour out of the decadent European ruling class countries, swarming into the steerage of cruise ships bound for the American continent, just to see the Statue of Liberty in the United States.

God knows what kind of freedom the Statue of Liberty represents. I only know that no one will send me money from the United States to buy even half a lower-class ticket, but I want to be in Southampton in [-] Dungang stood there dumbfounded, just looking for a man I could hardly ever find.

Or was he not old enough to call a man, boy? 20 years old, especially childish and youthful age.

The men's dark brown coat is still too big and too ill-fitting for me. I picked it off a homeless man who died under a bridge.I can’t tell what kind of material the old coat is made of, and a smell of cheap goods hits my face. At that time, I was squatting alone on an unfamiliar seaside, washing my coat while staring at the distant mist in a daze. Maybe it was just a long time and space. Dream.

One day, or the next second, you can open your eyes and wake up, and then I will still live in the time you should be.

This time-traveling journey lasted almost five months. In this country with an area of ​​only 24 square kilometers, but the sun never set, he ran around as a vagabond.

Before my plane crashed, I just finished traveling in London, England and was about to return home. My understanding of the UK was limited to the fact that there are many roads in London, there are many bars on the roadside, and there is a lot of water in the UK.

There is also the full length of the British name, which tests the memory of ordinary people.

When I became conscious again, I opened my tired eyelids, and the snowflakes in the sky froze my slack pupils.I thought it was an illusion, the heavy snow I saw was just the bright moonlight at night, I stretched out my hand to touch it, but found that the color of my fingers almost merged with this plump whiteness.

Then I heard someone humming, the voice was so thin that it was about to break in the air, now and then.I turned to see a haggard woman holding me with a worn blanket wrapped around me.

We snuggle together, leaning against each other intimately and strangely, inexplicable scenes.I was not in the hospital but lying in the arms of a strange foreign woman.

God knows how I ended up on the streets of England in late [-], and turned into some slum bum.Wrapped in her only old blanket by a consumptive woman dying, I finally saved her from dying.

The woman asked me, "What's your name."

I was speechless for a while, wondering if she would accept Chinese names.

"I'm Mary Robert, hello." She looked haggard and old, with dirty hair stuck to a pale, wrinkled face, her last days like withered vines, fragile curls.

My lips moved, and finally I said, "Hello."

"Have you ever seen a man? No...it's still a boy." She panted slowly, and the white mist was like the death breath of British winter, bit by bit taking away all the warm functional colors of your body.

"His name is Jack Dawson. He has beautiful eyes. If you see him, please tell him that I am looking for him... No, maybe he can live well." The woman's voice slowed down, as if Like the morning mist, "He is brilliant...he will live happily ever after."

By the time I could move, it was too late to return the blanket to her.No one knows where she came from, just like no one knows where the body of this blond girl I'm possessed by the ghost came from.

There are so many homeless people these days, I lamented boredly.

Jack Dawson?

It seems that this is a popular name, like Tom John, a few can be dug up here and there.The hero of Titanic is also called Jack Dawson.

It wasn't until I saw the news that Titanic, a luxury cruise ship was launched in Belfast Harbor, that I suddenly realized that maybe this is not a coincidence.And the sketch portrait that the woman held in the palm of her hand at the end, the more I look at it, the more I look like Leonardo in his youth...

It took me a month to adapt to this 100-year-backward world. When I found out that this body was malnourished and dizzy, I started to stretch my muscles and bones again. Maybe I couldn’t be as strong as when I was at my peak. But being able to dance again makes me feel like the world is full of hope.

Then, for the remaining three months, I was training my body, earning a living, wandering around and bumping around.I am hesitant to find Jack Dawson and warn him not to board the Titanic, but how can I convince him that the destination is the luxury cruise ship of the Statue of Liberty, the dream ship that claims to be unsinkable will eventually be destroyed in the What about in the Atlantic Ocean below more than 3000 meters?

Forget it, what I should consider is how to go on in my next life.As a so-called inferior who suddenly came to the beginning of the [-]th century, even a black family without any background, I think I can earn a ticket to the United States with some hard work, at least there will be some opportunities for those who are willing to work hard , There is no problem in surviving. Of course, the ship I am on will definitely not be called titanic.

I don't have the skills to save the Titanic, how can I go to London and drag out Harland Wolfe, or go to the White Star Line and find Bruce Ismay, and grab them by the collar of the cannibalistic capitalist aristocrats Shake it vigorously and shout: "I come from the 21st century. The Titanic is destined to hit an iceberg and sink to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. Less than one-third of your more than 2000 crew members have returned?"

Well, if I dare, you'll see me at the bottom of the Atlantic the next day.This group of rational people will definitely throw me, a lunatic who is too poor to afford a boat ticket, to dance with seagulls on an iceberg in the Atlantic Ocean.

So I shouldn't have frantically rushed to the port of Southampton at the last minute, jumping up and down in the cold wind of the English Channel in this ghost place [-] kilometers from Belfast port.God knows when I managed to get here, less than two hours before the Titanic sailed, and in these two hours, I would squeeze into a busy pier and roadside bar looking for a guy who might not exist.

Blacksmiths, carpenters, musicians, merchants, classic cars of nobles, beggars and rich people are intertwined into the only happy song here.I swear I've never run so fast, with that crumpled, palm-sized sketch head in my hand, yelling in all the bars around the harbour, "Jack Dawson, Jack, Jack Dawson! "

Pushing open one English pub after another in the early twentieth century, and finally kicking open the door almost violently, in English, Chinese, broken Swedish or Italian, mixed with some rusty German, I have never put a person's Names roared out in so many languages.I was afraid that some people who knew Jack would not be able to understand my American English. God knows that my English was learned later, and I used the kk phonetic symbols, but there is no so-called orthodox British London accent.

I almost hated myself for contributing movie tickets to Titanic in the first place, and not only one, I could almost recite the plot of the movie backwards, and used a dozen tissues.So when I see the news of the Titanic sailing, I can reflect who Jack Dawson is.Of course, the portrait in his hand that deserved to be crumpled up and thrown into the icy sea is also crucial.

This guy used to be my male god for a certain period of time. Before I became obsessed with Pirates of the Caribbean, the poster of him wearing a suit on Titanic was pasted on the wall beside my bed.

If I could go back, I'd tear all his posters to shreds and stomp them in the trash.

Jack Dawson.

jack dawson -

Jack!Dawson... Where the hell are you hiding in the bastard.

I remember in the movie that Jack just rushed out of the bar when the boat was about to leave and ran straight to the boat.And I had to find him before he ran out of the bar, otherwise it would be too late for him to rush out of the bar, the foot strength of men and women is not the same at all, at that time the Titanic was about to open, even if he heard someone desperately Even if you call him, he won't dump anyone.

The United States, hometown, the Statue of Liberty, the Immigration and Acceptance Office, new opportunities, the starting point of dreams... A third-class ticket that costs thirty dollars is so expensive that people want to scream.

If I were Jack Dawson, if a crazy strange woman ran out to stop me, I would definitely slap you to death.

Do you think you have a chance to win a ticket to the Titanic every day?Even if it's a damn shipwreck, you have to be lucky enough to rush on it. Even if the ship sinks, maybe you can grab a door panel and swim to the United States like a polar bear. Human beings always take it for granted and blindly before they regret it.

I walked out of the last bar I could find. The rotting smell of the homeless man's old coat and the coldness of the harbor intertwined into an atmosphere called loneliness.A green cruise vehicle drove by in front of me, dragging my dull eyes at an even speed.

The sun near noon squeezed out the haze in the air before ten o'clock with a stubborn gesture. I don't know why I have been ignoring this background picture without Jack, but now I see it.

You can't notice it at first glance because your eyes are looking straight at first.The eyes first subconsciously see the light that has just crushed the fog. The sky is a rich milky white, and there is a blue-gray mist floating in the air. The sun seems to be dying in this kind of weather.

My eyes slowly passed through the green mail vans loaded with passengers, the gentlemen in round black hats or old women with sackcloth on their heads, brown-haired girls, middle-aged men with cheap cigarettes. Young man. Then I saw the gangway high above, connecting the hull and extending into the port. Under the complicated cables, the crew members shouted hurriedly: "Line up here, please come here."

The horn of the car rang through the pier, and the fog of people coming and going filled everywhere, giving me a completely unreal feeling of trance.Suddenly, a loud and huge whistle sounded like a bursting tide. I took a slow step forward, and countless people rushed forward beside me, all of whom seemed to be attracted by the sound.My eyes finally came into contact with the huge black shadow, the black hull was as long as the night, and the golden font flew on the brand new black hull—TITANIC.

The first cylindrical chimney finally spewed out thick black mist gas, and I could almost hear the engine starting in the main cabin of this [-]-ton huge ship.Hundreds of coal furnaces sent tons of coal into the sea amidst the shouts of workers, and finally burned, started, and were ready to set sail.

And now, it is here, not a wreck on the cold seabed, but a ship that is truly the largest vehicle in this era and in this world.

I'm the king of the world.

I am the king of the world.

Inexplicably, I remembered Jack's famous saying, but unfortunately, this king of the world only existed at sea for five days before it was finished.