Battle of the Rhine

It was as quiet as if there was no one around, only the wind whizzed by.Michael leaned against the head of the bed, absently reading the novel.The novel tells the story of a knight, and he doesn't know many words.

Quincy came out of the bathroom wiping his hair, bringing out a puff of warm steam, "You're not feeling right today." He said, his fair cheeks flushed slightly, "Because you have to go to the Catholic Church?"

"I'm not such a devout religious person." Michael closed the book, "I have already wiped out the seven deadly criminals, and I don't expect to go to heaven. But I hope there is a heaven, at least good people can go in and enjoy happiness."

"What crime did you commit?"

"Christmas, talk about something else."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Talk... how about you?" Michael moved the pillow to make room.There was a sprig of mistletoe under the pillow, and he couldn't get a chance to get it out.

"I don't have anything to talk about," Quincy said, rubbing his cool toes against Michael's calf. "I'm a boring guy."

"Well, let me ask you a question, and you ask me a question, okay?" Michael lay half-lying in the same position, letting Quincy put his head in his arms, "If you don't want to answer, you can Skip the question."

Quincy snorted, "Excuse me."

"When did you start learning to play the piano?"

"That's what you wanted to ask?"

"I've been meaning to ask for a long time."

"When I was very young, maybe two or three years old, I can't remember exactly."

"Is the teacher strict?"

"It's my turn to ask you."

Michael raised his hand in surrender, "Please—"

"Why are you divorced?"

Michael froze for a moment, unexpected question.Quincy's blue eyes were very serious, looking at him persistently, "Do you want to skip?"

"Oh...no need. It's actually very simple," Michael touched his chest, "Mary thinks I'm always lying on the sofa."

"Excuse."

"Really, since I came back to America, I've been lying there. I didn't want to go back to my room to sleep. Then I went to college, far away from home, and she went to work, and she was very busy... Our communication became more and more In the end, she filed for divorce, and I agreed."

Quincy pressed her lips together, "Why don't you communicate with her?"

"It's my turn to ask you. Why don't you go to church?"

"Because God doesn't exist."

"That's profane," Michael said. "You have to apologize to God, Carl."

"I'm not going to apologize to him." Quincy smiled. "He never blessed me, and he never blessed my mother—do you know how much my mother gave to the church? She didn't even make it to I came home alive."

"God has his own arrangements," Michael slowly stroked the blond hair under his hand, "you have to trust him."

"Emma and I met in the church," Quincy said softly after a moment of silence, "Young people like Xia Li are very keen on participating in church activities and regard it as a social place. I used to be the same, going every week ...Emma believed that the Holy Spirit could protect her, and as a result," he turned his head, "God allowed her to meet me, the most incompetent husband in the world."

"It's not your fault."

"It's not a fault, it's a crime. I know what a crime I've committed."

Snowflakes hit the glass, forming a thick layer. "It's your turn to ask me," Michael said, waiting for the man to calm down. "Come on."

"Did you find college interesting?" Quincy asked, nasally.

"Well, how should I put it, it's quite interesting if I don't take the exam. The teachers and classmates are very kind to me. They look at me like watching orangutans in the zoo... For example, if I raise my hand in class to ask questions, it's considered Terrible answer and everyone applauds. I bet if you saw an orangutan at the zoo it counted as a 1+1 and you got a standing ovation too."

Quincy laughed. "Gorilla Mike."

"Gorilla Mike wants to ask, has His Majesty the King prepared a Christmas present for me?"

"you guess?"

"I guess, no."

"guessed wrong."

"Then can I take it apart now?"

"It's time for me to ask you a question, Mike the orangutan. Cheating is not allowed in human society."

The question-and-answer game went on for a while longer, and Michael could sense that both of them were careful to avoid sensitive questions.Michael learned that Quincy didn't like sauerkraut, that his favorite novel was The Decameron, that he liked apple soda, and that he played football occasionally.And he also told Quincy that he had failed math since elementary school, loved French fries the most, and hated ironing and shoes with laces.

The clock rang, past zero. "Would you like to play poker?" Quincy sat up, combing the mess of Michael's hair. "Or chess?"

"I don't know how to play chess," Michael said, putting his hand under his pillow. "I've been thinking a lot lately how weird life is. At this time last year, I was still wondering how I was going to spend Christmas. This year I'm spending Christmas in Europe." It's-"

"Yeah," said Quincy, "I tried to kill you a few months ago."

"Then do you still hate me now?"

Quincy stood barefoot on the floor, wrapped in a dressing gown. "Skip."

"Then you just hate me." Michael withdrew his hand, not feeling frustrated. "I know that very well."

"Do you want to fuck me?"

"..."

"You've been out of order since you went to church," Quincy said, coming back, stripping off his nightgown, completely naked. "Mike, if you want to have sex with me, you can just say so."

"Can't you put it another way? This is so explicit—"

"Mike, if you want to have sex with me—"

"What's the difference?" Michael held Quincy by the shoulders and made him lie down. "Can't you find a romantic way to say it?"

"Sexual intercourse is not romantic, romance only exists in love novels." Quincy said, and those two beautiful lips twisted into a sarcastic smile. "The purpose of love is sex, and human beings don't need the catalyst of love at all." , all year round—"

"Come on." Michael also took off his clothes.He took out the sprig of mistletoe from under the pillow and shook it, "One last question, can I kiss you?"

"You've been in a trance for a long time, just for this?" Quincy snatched the mistletoe away, "I really—"

"Can I kiss you?" Michael approached slowly, at a distance of ten centimeters, he could clearly see the fluff around Quincy's ears and trembling eyelashes, "Can I?"

"You never... never asked me before," said Quincy, throwing her head back. "Is this a strange ritual to do on Christmas Eve? . . . I read a book, "Golden Bough", which mentions that Russians will..."

"I haven't read it." After speaking, Michael bit it directly.