Battle of the Rhine

Quincy, who doesn't drink too much, perfectly fits the image of a college student in Michael's mind: rigorous, meticulous, patient, smart, elegant in conversation, beautiful in handwriting, and even the nails are cleaned.He loves to watch Quincy slicing white sausages, cutting them into triangular pieces with a knife.Michael imitated for a long time, but he couldn't get it right. Quincy taught him, but he couldn't teach him no matter what.

"Slices are fine too," Quincy said.

"I'll just eat it."

"Don't eat the casings."

"casings?"

"Casings—that's the outer layer of the sausage."

Michael memorized many words that were not in the textbook.Under Quincy's urging, his German improved rapidly, and even Mary praised him in the letter, "Mike, your handwriting is much more neat than before."

Michael even considered pretending he hadn't made the "move out after Christmas" pledge if Quincy would stop drinking altogether.However, it turns out that the better you think, the worse you end up. "That's why I run, not aimlessly. I fight, not punch the air." But Michael's efforts, like punching the air with his fists, came to naught that Saturday in late November.

It was a fine Saturday morning, frost everywhere and glistening.Quincy had to work overtime and left the warm bed early in the morning.When Michael was about to get up and drive him, Quincy shook his head and stuffed a few slices of bread with bacon into the briefcase.Before he left, he took the initiative to kiss the corner of Michael's mouth, making Michael giggle intermittently for half an hour before falling asleep again.

At 10:30 in the morning, Michael got up, hummed a little tune and cleaned up the room.Throwing clothes in the washing machine, he couldn't help but add flea water, even though it wasn't necessary.In the trenches they were infecting each other with lice, and Michael was bitten all over with red bumps by the damn bug.Then he made the bed and put on new sheets and pillowcases.All of Quincy's daily necessities are in a few colors: black, white, gray, dark blue, monotonous, dull, and deserted.This light brown patterned bedding set was acquired by Michael in the store, and he persuaded Quincy to change the curtains to a different color, such as dark green or dark brown, to match the dark red exterior of the house.Just get the kind of thick twill that you can add a nice layer of lace to.And the cushions of the sofa, the cushions of the armchair...

Michael's knowledge of sheets and drapes comes largely from Mary.A married man always "knows a little about life" than a single man.But Quincy didn't seem to have experienced married life at all. He neither understood nor cared about how to make himself more comfortable. He was only satisfied with the level of food and clothing.Maybe he went to the front line not long after he got married, Michael smoothed out a wrinkle on the sofa cover, "Or the family has money, he doesn't need to care about it."

At eleven o'clock, the doorbell rang, and Charlie brought Franz to visit as usual.Franz's bike is leaning against the fence, which has a fresh coat of white paint and is Michael's after-hours masterpiece. "Guess what I found when I cleaned up the old house?" The little bird happily flew into the living room, "It's so warm! Mike, it's great to have you here! Is Carl still sleeping in?"

"He's working overtime," Michael said. "He's very busy."

"Yes, there is a shortage of people everywhere." Xia Li took out a photo album from her bag, "I found some photos from the past! Do you want to take a look together?"

Of course Michael wanted to take a look, especially when Charlie told him that most of these old photos belonged to her brother.He saw a beautiful lady holding a baby, with a little girl in a white dress sitting beside her lap, "It's so beautiful," Michael praised, "Is it your relative?"

"This is Carl," Charlie giggled, pointing at the little girl with her finger, "Strange, isn't it? I don't understand why they wear such lace robes for little boys—the baby is me, this is my mother."

Mrs. Quincy wore a style of dress that Michael had only seen in movies. "It's very troublesome to wear," Xia Li shrugged. "Fortunately, I don't have to wear it like this... At that time, there were not many people who wore it like this. Everyone loved simpler and more fashionable skirts. Here, this is Carl when he was in elementary school." It was shot-"

Quincy, who took off his white robe and put on his school uniform, could see the shadow of him now.He doesn't like to laugh, and always faces the camera with a sullen face. "He hated being photographed," Charlie said. "He said the camera made him nervous."

"I hate taking pictures too, because I laugh so stupidly." Michael picked up a photo, "Is this from his middle school?"

"Yeah, this was taken after Carl got into the Gymnasium... oh, some guys think he shouldn't go to the Gymnasium, to be in the same room with the sons of capitalists, millers, and even peasants, to embarrass the aristocracy... "Xia Li said contemptuously, "I think they were infected by the group of Prussian barbarians in the north. Learning is obviously a good thing."

Michael was sure he heard a word, "Aristocrats? Charlie, are you nobles?"

"Didn't Mr. Von Quinnessy tell you?"

"Isn't 'Von' his middle name?!"

Franz snickered. "No, no, 'Von' isn't a middle name," said the young man. "I thought you knew that, after all, 'Quinnessy' is pretty self-explanatory."

It took Michael a few minutes to digest this fact before accepting it.In fact, Oliver had mentioned before that with such a surname, Quincy probably had a prominent ancestor. "No wonder your hair is so... blond," he muttered, staring at Quincy's stern face in high school, "I'm just saying, you don't see a lot of blond hair like that on the street, and most of them are mine." ...brown hair..."

"What," said Charlie, pulling the photo away, "don't listen to that, Germans don't have that much blond hair, Carl and I have blond hair from our grandma, who's Swedish. And now Germany How can there be nobles, we only have such a surname and a small family property left... we are not as good as capitalists!"

There is also a photo of Quinnessy in military uniform. "Brother doesn't want to take a picture," Xia Li stroked the photo, "My mother and I advised him, take a picture, take a picture, you are very energetic in uniform—in fact, everyone knows that if my brother...is killed in battle, he needs a picture like this I'm going to make a posthumous photo of you, don't you?"

Michael had seen a two-inch version of this uniform photo, on the title page of Quincy's service card.He once regretted not tearing up that photo.In the photo, Quincy has a deadpan face, with cold eyes that look like those of a ceramic doll.I have to say that he is really heroic in the officer uniform of the National Defense Forces. Michael thought of the military uniform photos he took. Using Mary's metaphor, "It's a little gangster on the coast of California, the kind who robs three woolen yarns every time."

"Excellent," Michael said, "um... excellent."

"I also found a wedding photo of Carl." Xia Li turned to the last page of the photo album, "There was one left! Carl burned Emma's photo... He was so sad at that time... "

Michael couldn't breathe for a moment, Emma, ​​a sour flame burned from the lower abdomen and spread to the entire chest cavity.He stared greedily at the picture, Emma, ​​Emma...

In all fairness, Emma was a beautiful bride.She looked very weak, with a thin body, like a white flower in the wind and rain.Quincy watched her tenderly, with a hand on her shoulder.The two young people looked at each other full of love, a perfect couple, husband and wife——

Michael, as if obsessed, took out this photo and searched for every detail over and over again.The flowers on Quincy's neckline, his hair, his eyes, the curve of his lips, Emma's falling blond hair, the wreath, the hem of the skirt... "They fit well," he said. "Carl and Emma, ​​the two of them..."

"Yeah," Charlie sighed, "if Emma's alive, maybe—"

Just then, the door opened.Quincy was wearing a black coat, bringing in a gust of air-conditioning.He seemed to have drunk a little wine, and his walk was a little shaky. "—what are you looking at?"

"I found a photo album," Charlie said, "and I want to bring—"

Quincy's eyes flickered, focusing on the wedding photo in Michael's hand.He had no expression at first, but suddenly he flew into a rage, "Fience!" He rushed up and grabbed Michael's wrist, snatching the photo, "You, how dare you!"