Battle of the Rhine

Michael's heart was heavy.At the mall, he bought a black jacket, unadorned and with two huge pockets.Xia Li bought some food and checked the prices carefully. "Now we are poor," she chose two boxes of cheese, "the big house is unoccupied, and it costs money to repair...the scenery there is very beautiful. My mother used to be very poor." She likes to hold banquets, and she likes to be lively. My brother hates banquets the most, and hides in a small villa by the lake every time."

Charlie undoubtedly did her best to liven up the atmosphere, but the gloomy atmosphere in the Quincy house weighed on everyone like a cloud outside the window.Michael planned to finish the meal and leave, never to appear in Quincy's eyes again.When the contract expires, he will return to the United States, and he will not return to Europe no matter how much he is paid.Franz kept watching Quincy's face. Quincy drank coffee, and he picked up the cup. Quincy poked the sausage with a knife, and he pressed hard on the sausage.Xia Li talked about the pieces rehearsed by the choir, "...there is no fixed person to play the piano..."

Quincy refused coldly, "I'm not going."

"Okay." Charlie was unabashedly disappointed. She also lowered her head to poke the sausage, and it took a while to regain her spirits. "Mike, are you going to church?"

"Sorry, I'm a Protestant," Michael said, and the sausage smelled like mustard. "Of course...just because my dad believed in it. Everyone in our town goes to the same church, but nobody I will abide by the rules and regulations, no drinking, no smoking, no dancing..."

"Oh, it's good." Charlie blinked.Seemingly to take care of Michael, a foreigner, she spoke every word very clearly and slowly, "Then did you find the church?"

"Find one," Michael thought of tomorrow's plan, "there's a Franz in the company—yes, his name is Franz, and he told me where there is a Christian church. But it doesn't matter, I don't really mind this..."

Leaving a church directly seems to be a more serious problem than going to the wrong church.Blasphemy, the word crosses Michael's mind.Young Franz took Charlie away on his bicycle, and they were going to the movies.The living room was silent again, the cups and plates were returned to the cupboard, the table was wiped clean, the sofa cover was unwrinkled, and even the limp bouquet of flowers was stuffed into a glass bottle.Quincy leaned against the table, with a cup of coffee in front of him and two sugar cubes. "Fiennes, I warn you," he said, slowly and clearly, "Charlie is engaged, and Franz is her fiance." .”

"You can see it," said Michael, "and, besides, they're on good terms."

Quincy smiled sarcastically. "Give me back the knife."

"You need milk and butter more." The backpack was at Michael's feet, he should go, but his feet wouldn't work.In Quincy's presence, the parts of his body were always going this way, betraying brain and spirit, "and charcoal and flour."

"What did Charlie tell you?" Quincy's lips tightened. "Tell me."

"She told me to take the bottle so you don't get drunk." Michael always mispronounced the German word for alcoholic, and the German language was as irrational as their thinking. "Do you want to drink?"

"I don't want to." Quincy stared straight at Michael. If he hadn't put both hands on the table, Michael would have suspected that he was holding a pistol, and switched to English, "Go to hell, Fiennes."

"If you don't know how to swear in English, I can teach you a few words." Michael lifted the bag, "Okay, I think—"

His feet betrayed his mind again, and he stood still, carrying a dirty backpack stuffed with a mess of dirty clothes, a chef's knife, and a bottle of wine.Quincy stared at him. "Fuck you!"

"You can say something else, like 'you old dog', 'asshole', 'crap', 'smug', 'idiot', 'you're disgusting,'" Michael said, "need something else I can teach you."

"You are disgusting."

"Completely correct."

Quincy covered his coffee cup with both hands, and he was probably cold in his black and gray duffel coat.He lowered his head and sniffed, "I'm also disgusting." He rubbed his cheek with one hand, "I'm a waste." He put down his hand, raised his face, his eyes were red, "Isn't it? I beg you stay...let you touch me with your disgusting hands...nasty...disgusting...fucking...disgusting..."

Michael's feet took root.In the cold living room, the air was like ice cubes, and Quincy was shaking. "How could I do that? I must be crazy." He said to himself quickly in German, "He's very proud that I opened the Door……"

"If you feel sad, kill me." Michael threw away his backpack and pulled out the chef's knife, "Here you are, I will never fight back this time." He pointed to the large blood vessels in his neck, "Chop here."

Quincy looked at the knife, his blue eyes unblinking.For a moment, his eyes were blurred and dazed, as if he didn't know what it was.After a while, he seemed to want to take the knife, but the raised hand finally dropped powerlessly.

"I can't do it." Michael heard a whimper, "I can't... I'm a piece of shit."

Michael asked the price of the car as soon as he arrived in Germany.Germany after the war is naturally no better than the United States. A cheap car is almost equivalent to two years' salary of a worker.He had a small savings account, and Mary deposited all his wages sent home in the bank, and saved a small sum while he was in college.Mary didn't ask for any property when she divorced, she only took the clothes and the red cup.Mary even paid him some money for being the "faulty party."The money was exchanged by Michael for gift money and handed over to her before her second wedding.

US dollars are very popular in Germany, Michael calculated his savings, here he can be a little extravagant.But he didn't like that kind of family car, it was too small and couldn't fit much stuff in it.His ideal car would hold five or six people, a camping tent and a shotgun, and only a military jeep, Oliver said, could satisfy Michael's "insanely insane" requirements.

The war is over and the army is selling off surplus military supplies.Michael's ideal Jeep would cost him three months' wages, but he bought it anyway. "Aren't you stupid," said "Little German", "you won't be able to take this stuff back to the farm when you go back to China in two years."

"At that time, I will find an owner for it."

"Come on, by then, you can only sell at most a quarter of the current price."

Michael has plans of his own.He needed a car, and Quincy lived a little way from his workplace.It's not too far, you have to take a bus. "I can't stand crowded traffic," Michael said as he cleaned his jeep. "I'm afraid of crowds."

"You're hopeless." Oliver leaned over, "Fuck, let me drive."

"Go away!" Michael pushed his comrades away, "Aren't you fucking tired of driving every day?"

"Stingy, you have already caught the bad habits of Germans." Oliver smirked, "Why did you change places to live? Have you met a passionate German beauty?"

"The landlord gave me a discount." Michael avoided the important point, "The room is also more spacious than the dormitory."

"That's not bad! She must have taken a fancy to you for being young, handsome, and having dollars..."

Nonsense, Michael wipes down the seats.Quincy is not quite normal, he may be suffering from "post-war soldier syndrome".In the past, people called this disease "shell shock". The number of shells bombed on both sides of the Rhine River is countless, and it is inevitable to suffer from this disease.A college student, who was supposed to be sitting in a bright office, knocking on documents and doing calculations, was sent in the line of fire.Hitler was really sick. Michael hummed a little tune. With a car, he could not only go to work conveniently, but also pick up Quincy on the way.He moved into the Quincy house, honestly, without even thinking about it himself.

Quincy did not slash Michael's neck with a knife last Saturday.He shook for a while, wrapped his body tightly with the woolen coat, and then turned his eyes away, his voice was as soft as the first snowflake in winter.

"When are you moving in?"