Battle of the Rhine

Michael wanted to close the door for a moment, but he didn't have the strength to complete the action.To be precise, he passed out for a moment, just for a moment, and when he woke up cursing, the "little girl" was wagging her tail and barking.

"I didn't know it was a bad fellow," said the porter ruefully.

"I, I think we need to call the police." A young worker said, this guy plays a striker in a football club and usually stutters a bit, "Catch... catch him!"

"I'm fine," Michael said, "I just fell."

Standing behind the crowd, Quincy was stopped by two workmen, probably taking him as "an accomplice to that French mob." "Carl," Michael said with a sore throat, "oh, Carl, come here—he's my friend... let's talk..."

"Are you all right?" "Spoon" asked.

"It's okay, it's okay..."

The workers left in a line, and "Spoon" said that he had brought a bottle of thick soup and put it on the table.Now there are only two people and a dog left in the room. "Little Girl" circled Quinnessy curiously, sniffing at the bottom of his trousers, trying to stand up and climb onto his lap.Quincy scooped the dog into his arms, and Michael noticed he was dazed, his hair was disheveled, his shirt buttons were not neatly buttoned, and his coat had a few splashes of mud.

"Drink water?" Michael asked, "Please sit down, Carl, I didn't expect you to come here... It's too messy here..."

"Gabriel beat you," said Quinnessy, stroking "little girl" on the head, with firmness and no hesitation, "I got home and he left me a letter—I knew he'd come for you, But I didn't expect that, I thought—"

"He punched me a few times." Michael felt a sense of grievance in his heart, probably because he had a cold, and his emotions were extraordinarily fragile, "He also kicked me in the stomach..."

"I'm sorry." Quincy lowered his head, "I thought he would stay sane. This matter has nothing to do with you."

"You 'broke up' with him?" Michael asked, his nose hurting badly, smelling blood, and congested. "He told me."

"This has nothing to do with you." Quincy calmed down, "I just don't want to drag him down any longer. Since we're going to break up sooner or later, it's better to end it as soon as possible. Before I become a vicious old man and ask for a breakup, why don't I break up with you?" You can leave a good impression on him, can't you?"

He sits under a light with a dog in his arms.The weary look resembled an oil painting, and Michael swore he'd seen a similar portrait in a museum.Quincy was always like a painting, light and color favored him at all times.He hugged the "little girl" and stroked the puppy's soft ears and chin with his slender fingers. "Where's your dog?" Michael asked, "Arden..."

"At home, I ask Hannah to walk my dog ​​so she can make some pocket money."

"Ah."

Michael noticed that the knuckles of Quincy's hands were red. "Aren't you wearing gloves?" He hugged the quilt and pulled the pillow to lean against. "That pair of gloves should keep you warm. I heard from the salesperson—"

"I didn't have time to wear it."

"Then you haven't had time to eat dinner."

Michael asked Quincy to drink the bottle of soup. There was bread and sausage in the kitchen, although the bread was dry and had lost most of its moisture. "You only have one bowl." Quincy walked back, and "little girl" followed at her feet, "Forget it, I'm going back."

"But there is no train."

Of course Michael knew the timetable for the train to Munich.The last train left early, unless Quincy was going to walk back.Quincy watched him with no emotion in those bright blue eyes.Michael pinched the corner of his crumpled pajamas, drooping his head in embarrassment, "...I washed that bowl very clean."

Quincy began his supper, pouring soup into bowls and dipping slices of bread.Michael drank the rest of the thick soup, and the hot soup made his wrinkled stomach slowly relax. He rubbed his stomach, "You can sleep on my bed."

"Come on." Quincy cleaned the bowl, "I'm leaving."

"It's too late—" Michael tried to hold back, "It's cold outside—"

"You look like you're dying, and you're still thinking about that?" Quincy turned sharply. "Don't you feel sick?"

"I didn't think about that kind of thing!" This is the most fucking groundless accusation, more wronged Michael than the Frenchman's fist, "I'm worried about you!"

Quincy stared at him, panting.After a while, someone knocked on the door. He walked over and unlocked the door. The porter poked his head in, as if to inquire about Michael's life and death.He opened his mouth and smiled, beckoning, and the "little girl" jumped out of the door.

"Your bed is too narrow." Quincy seemed to have regained his composure. "Besides, you're sick, so I can't sleep with you."

Michael said "um", "Would you like some tea?"

"no, thank you."

Then they fell into silence. For quite a long time, the only sound in the room was the slight sound of the lid of the kettle being pushed by the water vapor.The water boiled, and Quincy picked up the kettle and moved it aside.Michael staggered to find two tea bags, but unfortunately he only had a decent teacup, and he put both tea bags in it.

"I... I'll take a look." The water vapor made Quinnessy's expression soften a bit, "I'm too direct, I shouldn't treat Gabriel that way."

Michael smiled, "Actually, he was right."

Quincy looked at him with two clear eyes, as if he was worried about whether Michael's mind was broken. "I'm a selfish American bastard," Michael sat back on the bed, "a redneck who only knows how to herd cows. If it wasn't for that war, Carl, if it wasn't for the war, I wouldn't even be able to touch the soles of your shoes in my life."

"You think I'm disgusting, yes, sometimes I think I'm disgusting myself when I think about it. What I did..." he said, raising his eyes. "The bad things that happened on the Rhine, I mean, I raped you... If I told you that I don't regret it, would you be so angry that you would kill me?"

"It can't be said that I have no regrets at all. I regretted it because I ruined you-but as far as I am concerned, I committed that unforgivable crime... I regretted it at first, but when I met you, I suddenly didn't ' Regret it. I think, for the simple reason—"

"I love you." Michael bowed his head, "Carl, believe it or not, I love you, since the spring of 1945, since the day I saw you... Your appearance shattered all beliefs, I have never Never seen anyone like you, perfect, like a statue. I betrayed God, I betrayed the teachings of the Bible, I betrayed Mary, and I betrayed your trust. You must hate me, don't you? Hypocrisy American soldiers who give you chocolate, coffee, and pants just to catch you at night and take your pants off..."

"I can't explain that feeling. It's not your problem. It's mine. I don't know if I'm making it clear. It's my fault that I became a rapist. I just want to say, you're fine, you Anywhere is fine, and a mean redneck country guy just goes in that nasty way... it's a wicked possession, so wicked. You said I was the worst dude you'd ever met, no Wrong, Carl, I'm just that bad, not only bad, but also timid. For so many years, I have been timid to face my true feelings, feelings for you...for you, right or wrong love... "

"I'm sorry," Michael said, uttering the words as exhausted as if he'd had too much alcohol, "I'm sorry, Carl, I—"

Quincy leaned over to pick up a page from the floor, his eyes were red, and he looked like he was about to lose his temper.

"Who is Karna?"