Battle of the Rhine

The farm has been neglected for many years, the grass is luxuriant, and the dry soil is connected with the dirty sky.In this dusty place, Quincy maintained an astonishing cleanliness.Holding the reins, his posture on the horse is like a painting—everything he does is like a painting, with a soft holy light. "Be careful." Michael rode his horse to catch up. "There are big lizards living here... and poisonous snakes."

Quincy looked down, and a tiny reptile quickly disappeared between the grass nests.

"Are you grazing cows here?"

"Well, here, there, and there...everywhere you can see."

"Sure enough, it's much bigger than Germany."

"It's useless, it's useless, it's just big."

To Michael's surprise, Quincy adjusted well to farm life.More than ten years have passed, but the town doesn't seem to have changed much.The bar is still the same, and the menu of the restaurant is still the same few things.Quincy's pickiness that he always showed in the big city of New York disappeared. He listened gently to Michael's introduction, looked here, looked there, visited the only school in town-the school has changed a bit, built a new gymnasium, Finally hired a French teacher.He also went to the post office to buy some postcards and stamps.There was only one worker in the tiny post office, and Michael had never met him, nor had he met Michael.The staff obviously regarded them as boring tourists, and they couldn't hide their curiosity and slight contempt for "stupid city people" unique to the countryside.

"Send it away?" Michael asked, in German.

"No," Quincy replied in English, "too far."

John Hunter was dead, some years before, from liver disease caused by alcoholism.When people in the town mentioned him, they all used "that lunatic" to refer to him.Michael, distracted for a moment, told Quinnessy the story of John. "For John, the war never seemed to end," he said, as the wind blew through the quiet afternoon street, "he couldn't get out..."

"He's free," Quincy said curtly.

Mary dutifully restored the house on Michael's farm.Even so, the hut can only be described as "shabby" compared with Quinnessy's residence in Munich.Quincy, however, was very interested, pushing open the doors of each room, as if playing some kind of treasure hunting game. "Is this where you lived when you were a child?" He stood barefoot in the middle of the room, rarely excited, "There are no books on your bookshelf...can I open the cabinet?"

"Whatever, whatever, whatever you want." Michael sat on the bare cot, and Quincy opened the cabinets and drawers and pulled out a few notebooks. "Oh, that's my composition, right?" Michael poked his head. "I'm terrible at writing. The teacher said that my brain was dried by the wind, and my head was full of shriveled grass."

"I don't know how to write essays. My liberal arts scores are not that good." Quincy read those ridiculous essays with great interest, and found another stack of magazines. "It's not the kind you think." Michael looked at the disappointed face of the college student and laughed, "I threw those away a long time ago! Once I bought a copy, and my father happened to bump into it, and he scolded me, 'You lose money' I have a wife, why are you still looking at that!' But what can I do, which man in the town won't buy it...it's really meaningless."

"lie."

"Really, I'm not like you, I don't have the time to 'appreciate'—"

"Screw you!"

"Didn't I think about getting you back?" Michael walked over and sat down, wrapping his arms around Quinnessy's waist. "I thought about it. Now that you're here, you can choose a sunny room to live in. You'll settle accounts for me every day. Count the cows in the circle. It's easy work, and then you can do whatever you want. I plan to plant an apple tree under the window of your room. In the spring, the apple blossoms will bloom. There are a lot of white flowers. You sit under the tree Reading books and newspapers. In winter, we don’t go anywhere, just huddled together and dozed off..."

"Good idea." Quincy leaned on Michael's shoulder, "You have to pay me."

"The price at that time was 25 dollars per month." Michael counted with his fingers, "What about now? I don't know, anyway, my salary is all with you, is it enough? There is no way if it is not enough, I just have a little skill. "

At night, Michael performed his best scrambled eggs.After eating, the two sat on the porch, and the magnificent Milky Way passed across the sky. "Do you believe they actually landed on the moon?" Michael muttered. "Although...but it's really amazing! To be able to leave the earth and jump on the moon..."

"I believe." Quincy looked at the distant starry sky, "One day in the future, people will be able to travel freely in the universe... Go back to the past and go to the future."

"If I could go back in time," Michael said flatly, "If I could go back in time—"

"What year do you want to go back to?"

"I don't know, what about you?"

"I do not know either."

Bathrooms on farms are more modest than elsewhere. "We used to fill tin buckets with water and put them out in the sun," Michael said. "Girls would wash themselves well, and I would just take the water from the well and rinse it—" before he finished speaking, he was splashed all over his face. Water, Quincy held the hose, eyes narrowed with a smile.It was rare for Michael to see him laughing like this, and he froze for a moment, only reacting after a few seconds, and rushed to snatch the tube.The two splashed and fought in the water, getting wet everywhere.Finally Michael grabs Quincy and pins him to the wall. "Very nice, huh?"

"Your house is very interesting." Quincy chuckled, "I think here..."

Michael looked at him, looked at his college students...he got a wish, a wish from 25 years ago...he never thought it would come true. "We're married, so this is your home too—I brought you back." Michael put his arms around Quincy, biting those soft, thin lips and sucking, "Well, I thought about...bringing you back ...Take off your clothes, you can't go anywhere with your bare butt, so you can't escape, you have to stay with me forever..."

"I knew you had nothing on your mind but that." Quincy ran his fingers through Michael's hair. "Too bad I'm getting old—it's never too late to regret it, Mike."

"I'm two years older than you, you bastard," said Michael vaguely. "Don't think I can't hear you calling me an old man in a different way."

Quincy let him kiss quietly, her eyelashes flicking at Michael's heart.They kissed for a long time. Later, when the water got cold, Michael reheated the water. After taking a bath honestly, he put on his pajamas and lay down on the bed. "Give me a cigarette." Quincy leaned against the head of the bed without drawing the curtains, misty silver light faintly sprinkled over the wilderness, and a dull thunder rolled over. Michael immediately got up and pulled Quincy into his arms.

"I'm fine," Quincy said softly. "Give me a cigarette."

"Do you know how to smoke?" Michael brought a pack of cigarettes for "entertainment". "I haven't seen you smoke before."

"I don't know." Quincy lit a cigarette and held it between his fingers, "By the Rhine...almost everyone smoked. It was the kind of low-quality cheap cigarettes that covered people's faces so that they couldn't see clearly. .I don't understand why people smoke? They, Meyer, Hendrick, Les... They told me that smoking is like sleeping with a woman. Women had sex. Later, they all died. I remember Les was killed, his arm was flying so high... blood was scattered on the upturned soil, I was close to him, if the shell was slightly off halfway rice, and I'll blow it to pieces with him."

"What's it like to smoke?" He touched Michael's face. "Is it the same as having sex?"

"We've gotta call it 'making love', how many times have I told you that." Michael grabbed the cool hand, "I don't think smoking is fun, but I like having sex with you—you Would you like to have sex with me?"

Quincy laughed lowly, "I can't tell."

"That's why you don't like it?"

"I didn't say I didn't like it."

"Do you like it or not?"

"The ashes are falling on the sheets!"

Quincy sucked on the butt of his dying cigarette and coughed for a while. "It's boring," he said, stubbing out his cigarette. "I declare that smoking will be banned in the house from now on."

"I agree."

"You don't have the right to talk at home."

The rain poured down, and amid the rumbling thunder, Quincy slipped into Michael's arms. "I'm wondering why you don't ask me," he pressed his face against Michael's chest, "why don't you ask me that stupid question?"

"If you ask me, you won't tell me the answer."

"You didn't ask."

"Okay," Michael touched a soft ear, "Well, do you still hate me?"

"Change the question."

"That's hating me."

"Change the question."

"Do you love me?"

"That's a stupid question, Mike."

"Do you love me?"

In fact, this is not important, Michael has figured it out a long time ago, and after so much experience, he also gave up his extravagant hopes.Some things don't need words, actions speak louder than anything.But deep in his heart, he still has a glimmer of hope left.

"A little bit," said Quincy, "one hundredth less than what you gave me."

"Have you figured it out?" Michael pinched that ear, "Have you figured it out?"

"It's clear."

"Well, then I can rest assured."