Chapter 7 Chapter VII

It was a stroke of luck for the General to find a barn in the remote countryside north of Zaka.The barn was large enough to hide everything that should be hidden, and there was a tall cypress screen between it and the road.The owner of the barn gave up farming a few years ago and moved to App Township.He was happy to believe the general's story about using this space to park tractors, and he was charged five hundred francs a month.The general only needs to add a new lock to the wooden door. Every morning when the first cigarette is lit, coughing echoes in the dimly lit room as the group scrutinizes the bicycles leaning against the wall.Claude, who was wearing a tight sportswear, wobbled and picked up a bicycle from the horizontal bar, grunting.

The general said: Don’t tell me the weight of the bike. This is the lightest professional bike in Provence, with ten-speed gears, off-road tires, water bottles, concave seat cushions and other necessary equipment. Claude murmured again, but there is no cigar lighter? Fernan stepped over the bar with one foot and tried the cushion.As he smoked, he looked withdrawn.God!It's like having an operation. Others couldn't help but smile when they tried out their bike saddles.Are the professional cyclists really riding across France on this blade-like saddle? The general tried his best to keep his patience with them.Listen, I've got you guys the best bike ever.Sorry, there are no comfortable chairs attached to the car.After another week or two, the cushion will be much softer.So before that, you will definitely have backaches.He looked at them one by one, but, my friend, when it's all over, you'll have your plush, comfortable cushions to sit on.There are also white flowers and easy-to-use banknotes.

Everyone quietly thought about the general's words.Qiao Zai always kept his role as an adjutant in mind, so he echoed: He was right.So what is a sore butt? The general nodded.Let's warm up first this morning, just to let you get used to riding a bicycle, and ride for twenty or thirty kilometers first.Every Sunday, we increase the distance until you can ride a hundred kilometers without any trouble, and then we go to the mountain roads.By spring, you'll all have legs of steel!let's go! They rolled their bikes out of the barn and basked in the autumn sun, Claude in tracksuits, the Borel brothers in bright boxer shorts, Fernand in a blue coverall.The general thoughtfully bought them black leggings suitable for cycling in winter, so as to keep out the wind and cold.

He said: Turn left at the end of the lane and I'll catch up to you.He shuts the door and locks it, happy to have it all started and on high alert, but also quite optimistic and happy to play the leading role.But those cushions are fucking hard to sit on! No one would mistake the group for a training camp of cyclists, as they wobble, shift awkwardly, and swear along the way.Two or three of them couldn't put their feet in the buckle rings, so they had to ride their bicycles with their feet flat on the pedals like an old lady in the market.Bashir's seat cushion was too low, and he had to bend his knees in an ugly way.Qiao Zai smoked while riding.Generals understand they have to learn the basics.He then passed them and waved them to stop.

How far is it?Shang rubbed his buttocks, coughed and spit again. The general got out of the car.He said: It's still far away!There are twice the time to come!Have you ever ridden a bike before?He went to Qiao Tsai, and looked!He adjusted the height of the cushion.You should have at least one toe touching the ground, you know?Like this, and your foot should be going straight down.Otherwise, you're going to be like everyone else, like peeing your pants.He smiled at Bashir. Secondly, you should use the buckle to step on the car.That's to keep your feet from slipping.If your feet slide, the balls of your feet will be sore, take my word for it.Don't stop when changing gears.If you don't continue to step on it, the chain will fall off.The general pulls his beard, what else can I add?Ah, by the way, he waved his finger to Qiao Zai, not to smoke.

Damn, I just can't quit smoking, I tried. I'm not asking you to quit smoking, I'm just asking you not to smoke while cycling.That doesn't look right.You never see a lemon with a cigarette in its mouth, do you?When riding a bicycle, you must become one with the bicycle.Understand?You have to be like any other nimble bastard, which will allow you to escape. Joe Tsai nodded.He said: Yes, that's it, it disappeared without a trace. The general added: And rich. They set off again, this time looking less like drunken circus sideshows, and the general adjourned.The first few sessions, he thought, must have been terrible, with his feet stuck like milk pie and his lungs on fire.Those who are physically weak will often retreat.Qiao Zai is doing well, determined, and riding in style.The pickpocket Shang didn't say anything, and he didn't say anything afterwards.Claude kept going despite his complaints.The Borrell brothers who rode side by side are likely to cheer each other on, while Fernand is a little titan. As for Bashir, he still needs to be persuaded. He has always been used to quick work and only learned to hold a knife for two minutes. Just rushed into the alley immediately, is he so shrewd, and is he patient enough?Nine months of hard training, coupled with waiting and planning, is not his style.Yes, treating him to a nice dinner and having a long chat with him should give him some persistence.

The general tried to outrun them, studying their faces as he passed.Everyone seemed to be struggling, but they hadn't vomited yet, and Qiao Zai even gave the general a wink when he was standing beside him.There are still ten kilometers.The General led them onto the gently sloping path and watched in the rearview mirror as they pedaled behind him, standing upright from the handlebars to relax their backs.They are all good guys.It would work, he was sure it would work. He was in the middle of the road, but had to dodge to avoid hitting the oncoming Porsche.A blond beauty glanced at it, but the exhaust pipe of the car was twisted and deformed.What a goddamn good car, he thought.At least one million francs, if you add the blonde beauty, you have to add several million more.There are people who are so lucky.

Nicole walked along the mountain road and entered the road leading to Cavillon and the highway, not paying much attention to the cyclists in fancy clothes just now.She was also bitter about confronting Duclo in the pits.Duclos refused to let her drive the car unless she paid the bill on the spot, and only then did the repairs.And what kind of bill was that, when she wrote the check (which was bound to bounce, unless she called Mr. Gill at the Agricultural Bank after she arrived in London on Monday), she wanted to tell him that it was fit for a frame.Mr. Jill was the most sympathetic and very understanding of her financial predicament, but even so, it was an unpleasant start to the journey.

Traffic to Cavillon and across the bridge was pretty good Sunday morning, and there were no trucks on the highway.Nicole kept the Porsche at a slow speed, enjoying the comfortable cushions, the unique smell of leather and the feeling of the car driving through big curves.After driving a car that looks like a pile of scrap metal (Duclo said it needs new tires, and God knows what else will need to be replaced in the next year), driving a Porsche is a treat.Then there was the Basier house to be tidied up, which would cost several thousand francs, and the house tax to be paid in November.She spent her life waiting for alimony, which turned out to be in jeopardy after her ex-husband moved to New York.It seems that ex-husbands have a habit of hiding in the United States.Two of her friends had similar experiences.

She also wants to make more money.She used to work in a boutique in Yaweiyi. After the boutique closed down, she had to work for a real estate agent. As a result, the unscrupulous agent actually entrusted multiple people in one house.She rents out the house once or twice a season as much as she can, occasionally doing public relations for real estate developers, but she's still struggling and she's tired of it.Really tired, after thirty years old, she gradually figured it out.Small apartments in Paris are overburdened with loans. By next year, small apartments or houses are bound to be disposed of.Maybe she should move back to Paris. Although she doesn't want to, she should be able to find a lover in Paris. After all, in Provence, there are too few men who are famous but have no flowers!

She stepped on the accelerator and overtook a large Renault.It felt so good to go fast, and she couldn't help but feel better.She has always been sick, imagining herself as an old woman living with a poodle in Paris.It will always change.She's about to go to London to find her true love, and this man has a bright future. She searched the car for traces of him left behind, a pair of glasses, a sweater, a box of cigars, or a book, but found nothing.The car is well maintained, rarely used, and nothing personal remains.It's just a toy for rich people.When she mentioned the car to him, he almost forgot it existed.He seemed happy to talk to her, just like the old days when we had lunch, genial and laughing.The French are either too gentlemanly or too shy, but he is so friendly as the British would describe him.very friendly.She decided not to spend the night in Paris and drove all the way to Calais to reach London by noon. It was about to rain in Dover, and Nicole drove in the customs clearance traffic, waiting to pass the customs and immigration inspection.When the car went up and was about to pass through the green passage, she took out her passport and lit a cigarette. In the shade of the building, two customs agents looked at the black Porsche among the family vans that had been soiled by the trip and eyed the blond driver.It was a boring morning, and there was a beautiful blonde driving an expensive car, but she could be a fat girl, couldn't she?It couldn't be more normal, the body in the door may contain several kilograms of fat, so you have to take a good look at it.Definitely worth checking out.One of the officers walked past the traffic and knocked on Nicole's window. Good morning, lady.Can I see your passport please? Nicole held out her passport through the car window. French.You can tell from the fragrance.If you go out so early, you can get a clue.Miss, where are you calling from? I'm from Provence. Provence? South of France. Where is that?Nice?Marseilles?Or closer to Marseille? Yes, it's about an hour's drive from Marseille. I get it, one hour from Marseille. The customs officer returned the passport, walked to the front of the car, looked at the license plate, and walked back.Miss, is this your car? No, I drove here for a friend from London. It turned out to be a friend.With a polite official smile, he bent down until he was about Nicole's height.Miss, would you mind driving the car over there?He pointed to the empty red passageway.Nicole could already feel that the passengers in other cars were paying attention to her.but I Miss, thank you.He straightened up and followed the Porsche all the way to the red channel.These days, one has to be careful, and there are at least a few hours before he takes over, and he has never dealt with a Frenchman like this.These guys with taffy noses.Why would anyone in their right mind want an undersea tunnel?He watched Nicole get out of the car, with high heels, silky smooth legs, and a luxurious look.What a beauty, he had never seen it before. They drove away and put Nicole in a small room that smelled heavily of cigarettes.She looked at the rabies poster on the wall and watched the cars drive away in the rain outside the window.Welcome to England.She shivered, feeling an inexplicable sense of guilt.If she was in France, she would definitely argue with the other party and demand some degree of explanation; however, here, as a foreigner, she has no confidence in herself at all, and she is not sure whether her English is good enough to blushing in front of her eyes, Hostile man protests.She wished she had a cup of coffee. An hour passed and the door opened. Miss, everything seems to be all right.Here are your car keys.Sorry to keep you. What are you looking for? Miss, we're looking for something illegal, yes, something illegal.He watched her get up, stood aside so that she could go out, and watched her as she started, stopped, and started again.it's a pity.He knew that she was a real beauty. Nicole had to work hard to drive away slowly.How stupid to be nervous about such a small thing!Fortunately, she saw the sign reminding her to drive on the left, and joined the queue of traffic heading for London.It was nearly eleven fifteen, and she would be lucky if she made it to lunch!Her friend Emma must have wondered in her mind what had happened to her.Damn it! She looked down at the cigarette before noticing the phone in the car.Emma's well-bred, somewhat depressed voice came. How are you, dear?Where are you from? I have only just left Dover.Customs detained me. My dear, you are very unlucky.Did they find anything?These smelly men!They just want to rummage through women's underwear.I guess you want them to do a glove search. No, I'm fine.They just searched the car, that's all. Well, don't worry.Let's see when you come to my apartment, let's grab something to eat!As usual, Julien is away so we can rummage through his cabinets to find his great Burgundies.I'll chill some Montrachet in the freezer and we'll have a good chat.Never speak to any police officers.See you later, dear, bye! Nicole couldn't help laughing as she put the phone back on the dock.Emma is so kind to her. Since she divorced, she has been very kind to herself. She is always so happy. She likes the parents and the family. old man.They haven't seen each other for a long time! Emma's flats, in the red-brick buildings in the crescent lane behind Harrods, were as solid and superior as the Victorians who built them.Nicole found a space between two Range Rover SUVs, wondering why anyone would drive something suitable for off-roading in central London.She grabbed her bag, headed up the marble stairs, pressed the bell under the mahogany door, and was startled by a shrill welcome from the intercom. Emma, ​​wearing a large earring, was standing by the apartment door, a petite and respectable woman.Every time she finds a new stylist, her hair gets a new color, and today it's tawny with blonde highlights.The two women kissed each other passionately on the cheek. Lovely, nice to meet you, you're still bronzed.Compared to you, I'm such a slob. They hugged each other and looked at each other well after three years of separation. Emma, ​​you look stunning and I love your hair. I've always had Bruno from Beauchamp Place, a young guy with a hairless mouth.You know, face lifts are usually a hair stylist's eye.You'd be amazed if you knew who pulled the skin.come in! The high-rise apartment has obviously undergone some decoration.Nicole thought that whatever Julian was doing in Brussels was bound to make a fortune.She asked: How is Julian? Emma poured two glasses of wine.He was terribly tired of London, and yet very angry with the French, who he thought were either difficult or eating all the time.I want him to rest, but of course we need money.Really need it.Come, honey, this cup is for you. They sat facing each other in chintz-covered armchairs.Emma said: Well, I want to hear about the man.Are his eyes electric? Nicole shrugged and smiled.Maybe, I don't know.I only met him twice.It seems that the good luck brought by the car, the opportunity came like this, and the two met. Emma looks up, dear sweetheart, but I don't quite believe what you say.when did you see him I had to call his office near Knightsbridge.She rummaged through her bag for the card Simon had given her. Darling, you go over there and call, and I'll pretend I didn't hear anything. Nicole called and Lisa answered the phone. She said that unfortunately, Mr. Xiao was having lunch with a client.But he did leave a message.Nicole is free to go to Lulanmen to have a drink with him, and then have dinner together?Can?Very good, he must be very happy.He is very grateful that you can help him drive the car, so, is six thirty okay? Emma watched Nicole's face as she returned to her seat.I have a hunch that tonight I'll be alone gnawing on my fingers. Nicole tried to express her apology.I really don't want to leave you alone on the first night. Bullshit, dear.I can see that you are already trembling with anticipation.well, what do you want to wear?Need to borrow my earrings? It took Nicole five minutes to drive to Lulanmen, and twenty minutes to find a parking space.She walked along the sidewalk, looking at her watch.The sidewalks are slippery with fallen leaves and gold mines left by nearby dogs.God, the English and their dogs, she wondered if Simon had one too.When she rang the doorbell and brushed her hair back, it was past seven o'clock, and she actually felt nervous in a happy mood. Ennis, who was wearing a dark gray suit and pink shirt, opened the door, raising his eyebrows, as if surprised to see someone at the door.He said: Good night, you must be Mrs. Bouvier. Nicole nodded with a smile. please!Ennis stood back to let her in, and followed her down the hall.She could feel Ennis eyeing her as he spoke behind her.Mr. Xiao just came back a few minutes ago, but he will be out in a while.If you don't mind, you can sit on that horrible sofa for a while, I know, it's not comfortable to sit on, and I'll pour you a glass of champagne. Ennis walked into the kitchen, looking back at her.The house is rented and we are looking for horses on donkeys and are trying to find a more suitable place. Nicole heard him inhale loudly, followed by the pop of the champagne cork.Ennis' head suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway.I almost forgot to be polite.Maybe you prefer whiskey, or sherry? Champagne would be great, thanks! Ennis brought out a small silver tray with a glass of champagne, a plate of Macadamia nuts and a linen napkin, and carefully placed it on the coffee table in front of Nicole.all right! (French) Do you speak French? Talk like a schoolboy.But I'm pretty good at doing that shrug, even though I said it myself.He shrugged at her and put one hand on his hip, very French, no? Nicole smiled and raised the wine glass to him, I wish you health! Then there was the sound of hurried footsteps on the parquet floor, and Simon entered, his hair still wet from the shower, his dotted tie crooked.terribly sorry!He looked at Nicole guiltily and grinned.Still willing to talk to me?He bent down and kissed her.When his lips touched her fragrant cheek, he wished he had shaved again.They looked at each other for two seconds, more than the time stipulated by social etiquette.Hi Simon! Mr. Xiao, would you like a glass of champagne? Thank you, Ennis.Simon stepped back, looked at the glass, and raised it to Nicole.To the driver, you are very kind!I hope this journey will not be too boring. Nicole wanted to straighten his tie.no a bit too Ennis coughed lightly.I think it's time for me to head out to Wimbledon.He looks at Simon, unless you need me to do something else. Well, I don't think so, thank you, see you tomorrow. Ennis nodded to Nicole.Ma'am, I wish you a pleasant meal! Thanks, Ennis! Ah, Ennis!He repeated it, which sounded more temperamental, didn't it, Biennis sounds nice, good night. Nicole smiled as the front door closed behind him.He's a weird guy, isn't he?I like him.How long has he been with you? Simon told her all about Ennis, and the earlier fun times at the ad agency. Ennis used to pose as clients to impress visiting bank managers; Office politics are rather dismissive; and his constant, unquestioned loyalty. You are very close to him, aren't you? Simon nodded.I trust him.He's probably the only person I trust.He checks his watch.We should go. I have a reservation at an Italian restaurant. I hope you don't mind.Being used to French food, I think you might need a change. When Simon stepped aside to let Nicole pass, she stopped.Sorry, I just can't stand it. He looked down at her and felt a tightness in her throat as she adjusted his tie, which I think Ennis does a lot, doesn't he? I think he gave up on me a long time ago, the slob! Sloppy, what is a sloppy? As they walked to the car, Simon explained to Nicole what a slob was.When they drove through Hyde Park and walked towards Kensington, Simon could clearly feel her closeness, and realized that he hadn't dated a London lady for several months.Nicole watched his talking profile, the straight nose, the resolute jaw, the dark hair that needed a trim, and his formal suit and tie.He looked more comfortable, she thought, than in Provence. Simon's chosen restaurant was clearly beloved by a small group of Londoners unaffected by the depression, who saw dinner as a kind of fun.They spent half a year or even a year competing to make reservations, win over the foreman, and greet each other in the restaurant, but they rarely paid attention to the food in front of them.The restaurant has become a hysterical fad.Restaurant operators hope to retire early and settle in Tuscany (Note: Tuscany, an administrative region in northwestern Italy.) or Ischia Island (Note: Ischia, located in the southwest of Naples, Italy.); A formal display of pepper grinders, firm Italian cheese and olive oil.Just then the group of guests began to move, replaced by couples from the satellite counties of London who were willing to put up with the noise and the expense because they had heard that it had become a new temple of charm, with white truffles, Sun-dried tomatoes, and some of the little people in the media. Simon knew Gino, the manager of the restaurant, many years ago. At that time, they were still working hard, and Gino had changed several restaurants.He greeted Simon and Nicole with a smile on his face, directed them to sit at the corner table, and quite happily placed the napkin on Nicole's lap. Gino, don't show your bestiality. Gino smiled and said: This is very natural, I am an Italian gentleman!Miss, would you like a drink? Nicole, look at Simon, I don't know, how about white wine? Gino flicked his fingers at the waiter.Give the lady a bottle of Pinot Gris (Note: Pinot Gris, a wine.).He took out the menu, kissed his fingers as a farewell, and retreated to the door of the restaurant to greet a group of young men and women in black clothes and sunglasses. Nicole looked around the crowded restaurant, and the red and black figures reflected in the mirror, so this is where some famous and refined people in London dined.Do you come here often? No, not necessarily.In the evenings I'm usually with clients, and the places they prefer to be more formal are mostly Gavroche or Kono.They don't think it's dignified enough.He shrugged. None of them were very interesting people, most of them weren't.He tried the wine and nodded to the waiter.But I’m not much better myself, I haven’t read a book or watched a movie for several months, either at work or on the plane. He stopped suddenly, smiled and said: Sorry, it’s boring!what do you want to eat? They looked at the menu, but they didn't know that they had become the subject of discussion among guests at the other table at the other end of the restaurant. Caroline's friends were scrutinizing Nicole carefully. In my opinion, Simon has come out of the shadow of divorce. who is she?Is it a customer? Don't be silly, Lupo.Clients don't dress like that.I'm going to the dressing room. The lady stood up and wobbled across the table, pretending to be looking for the contents of her bag, until she nearly bumped into someone else. Dear Simon, what a surprise, nice to meet you. Simon looked up from the menu, stood up, and dutifully kissed the air about two inches from the offered cheeks.Hello, Sophie, how are you? I'm fine, honey.Her eyes passed Simon and fell on Nicole.We haven't seen each other for probably centuries.No intention of leaving at all. Simon had to show a little politeness.Nicole, this is Sophie.Rosen.The two women nodded at each other and exchanged broad but insincere smiles. Nicole? Bouvier, Nicole replied: Nice to meet you. What a charming accent.Well, I can't bother you any more, Simon, be sure to call me and have dinner together.long time no see.I really don't know where you have hidden yourself. Have you ever tried to find it in the office? Ah, yes, the office.After accompanying her smiling face and squinting at Nicole, she left, and the task was successfully completed! Nicole smiled and said: You don't seem very friendly to her. I can't stand that vile woman.She is one of Caroline's vicious friends.She will keep an eye on us throughout the night, and will report to Caroline first thing in the morning. They ordered, and Simon tried to ignore the awkwardness of being watched.He said: Tell me about Provence and what it's like in winter there. Very peaceful, with occasional chills.We'd have a big fire, drink a lot of red wine, and have people go skiing.Sometimes, I even think I like winter better than summer.She picked up the glass.Simon noticed that she was still wearing her wedding ring. Wish us? Best wishes to those who live in the Luberon all year round. I like it there, the scenery is quite beautiful. You should come again.However, next time, don't drive your car between farmland and green fields!They both laughed, and to the group at the far end of the restaurant Simon and Nicole looked quite at ease.Poor Caroline.Sophie couldn't wait to tell her. Nicole had a good appetite, and ate the pasta, beef rice with tomato sauce, and a lot of bread in one sitting.What a change, Simon thought. Caroline used to eat only salad.It was only then that he understood how much he liked to watch the frown focus of the lady enjoying the food, the frown that cut the meat from the bone, the occasional pink tongue flickering at the corner of her mouth, and the voice of praise. He said: You eat like a cat. No, like a wife.Nicole licked her lips with a napkin, drank some wine, and reached for a cigarette.Simon lit her cigarette, and she touched his hand as she leaned closer to the fire.Sophie looked at her watch, wondering if it would be too late to call Caroline. The restaurant is much quieter now.Simon ordered coffee and lit a cigarette.What are you going to do in London? Nothing special.I'll be with Emma, ​​but I have to go back at the weekend, a friend is coming from Paris.Besides, now I don't like to stay in one city for too long.The countryside suits me better. Simon thought about how he spent his weekends. He stayed in the office on Saturdays, and on Sundays he was either buried in piles of paper or nestled in front of the TV, waiting for Monday to come, and then began his routine again and again.Like most advertising men, he often thought of going out, but, like most advertising men, he always found a reason not to go out.What else could he do? He said: You are so lucky.You like where you live, which is not the case with many people. how about you? Simon shook his head.I call my office my home. do you have to I figured I'd better get something to drink before I answer.Would you like a glass of champagne?Nicole nodded with a smile.Simon waved to a waiter, who called the bartender. Before Sophie was about to leave, she felt a little resentful.Look, did you hear that?Dear, champagne, does he want to drink with her shoesShe flicked her finger at Simon from across the room, "Must call, honey!" Simon nodded to her with relief, and returned to think about Nicole.She remained silent, resting her cheek on her hand, looking at his face, she thought, a tired face with a wrinkled forehead, a silvery eyebrow on one eyebrow, and sadness. She said: Well, tell me!Why make your office your home if you don't want to? Actually, I guess I don't have to, it's just that it's a habit and I've lived there for a few years! And now you're not enjoying it anymore. I stopped liking it a long time ago.Simon looked at his champagne and shrugged.I have no idea.Working gives me money to pay alimony.I've always wanted to change careers and at one point I almost bought a stake in a vineyard.But there's always something going on at the ad agency, and you solve crisis after crisis over and over, and then you suddenly realize that six months will go by and you've done nothing but make money? That's right.So you buy a new car or a new house and tell yourself that living well is the best revenge. It's like the consolation prize that you're bored and have to work weekends and don't like your job anymore.Simon took a drag on his cigarette, frowning.Doesn't sound very appealing, does it?Poor old ad man, with everything to live for, always living between Concordes, Mercedes-Benzes and restaurants.He laughed, which sounds sad! The two were silent as they pondered the problem of being rich but not satisfied, but this problem was difficult for Nicole to face up to.She wondered if this was the time to tell Simon what she thought, but then dismissed it.She didn't know enough yet to know if the idea was feasible.She should have found out if the place was still up for sale before leaving Basille. She caught him looking at her, and the corners of her mouth sank in feigned sympathy.She said: Poor little rich man, what a miserable life, with only cigars, champagne and Ennis for company.How sad!She rolled her eyes up and laughed. Simon shook his head.You're right, it's pathetic.I should try to change.He finishes his champagne and asks for the bill.But what to do? Nicole resolved to call the notary tomorrow.Think about something you enjoy doing. Have dinner tomorrow night, that'll be a start. They left the restaurant excited, not wanting the night to end.Both of them wondered whether the other party felt the same way as themselves.Nicole's arm slid across Simon's, and he loved the caress it seemed to be. As he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for Nicole, his phone rang.He instinctively picked up the phone, but immediately regretted it.It's Lisa. Sorry to call you so late, but I really don't want to give the restaurant number to Mr. Kiegler. Thank god you didn't.Simon looked at Nicole and smiled apologetically.What is he going to do, what can't wait until tomorrow? Well, I'm afraid he wants you to come to New York tomorrow.He said it was an extremely important matter.Simon could hear the rustle of paper as Lisa flipped through her notes.It's Parker Global Gourmet, which is a 300 million yuan business.Mr. Parker will come into the company tomorrow afternoon.Obviously, he wanted a quick fix. Simon looked out the window.Here it comes again, like a bought sea dog, obediently jumping in circles.Damn Jigler.He clearly picked the right moment. Mr. Xiao? Yes Lisa, sorry! I've booked you the Concorde, you should be in time.Mr. Kiegler wants you to call him tonight, he'll be in the office until eight o'clock, and then he'll be at the Lutece, do you want a number there? No, I'll call him before he leaves the office, see you tomorrow! Good night, Mr. Xiao, don't forget your passport. Simon put down his phone, and the good mood a few hours ago disappeared immediately.He was angry with himself.Why can't he refuse?Why didn't he call Ji Gele and ask him to deal with it himself?He was as bad as the others, always full of big talk, talking about getting out, and then crawling like a rat down the drain when a client showed up.So why come?money!What do you want money for?Another house to live in occasionally?another car?After polo, football, art collections, top-notch wine and yachts heading out to sea?It's all playthings and pastimes. You look sad, is that bad news?Nicole's face was shadowed.Simon wanted to touch her cheekbones, illuminated by the oblique light of the traffic lights. Not bad news, just boring.I get to New York tomorrow. You said it was boring many times. Really?Yes, I think I really said that, sorry. You also said a lot of sorry. The car behind them honked as the lights changed.Simon drove away, turned into Knightsbridge, passed Harold, and entered the crescent where Nicole was going to sleep.She looked up at the lighted windows of the apartment.愛瑪一定還等著她，想聽聽今晚發生的事情。 賽蒙熄火。God!I almost forgot.維修廠的賬單，還有罰單只管打電話給麗莎。我明天早上離開前會告訴她。如果你在倫敦的時候想開這車，就把車鑰匙留著吧！我走路回家。 如果我需要用車的話，可以借愛瑪的。不過，還是謝謝你。她靠過來，在賽蒙的臉頰上親吻。會很有趣的，好好享受紐約吧！ 賽蒙看著她走到門邊，頭也不回地入內，心裡暗自承諾，等到危機結束，一定要再造訪普羅旺斯。只要能把紐約拋在一旁，他就能為自己的生活創造意義。他真想此刻就在飛機上。天殺的季格樂。他最好回去打電話給他。 妮珂步上階梯之際，正好聽見保時捷引擎啟動的聲音，她準備好好跟愛瑪敘敘舊。 這兩個女人，踢掉了鞋子，雙腿輕鬆地盤坐著，一起靠在沙發上，啜喚飲著朱利安的陳年干邑（註：Cognac，或稱科涅克白蘭地，指在法國干邑或周邊地區生產的白蘭地。）美酒。 愛瑪拿掉她的耳環，按摩著自己的耳朵。親愛的，現在就一五一十的告訴我，他是否是你的真命天子，還是只是另一個上了年紀的生意人？ 妮珂笑著說：我喜歡他。他相當體貼，一點也不浮華。我一直想好好打扮他。我們共度了相當美好的時光，只是有個他認識的女人對我們很好奇。叫蘇菲什麼的，是他前妻的朋友。蘇菲．羅森。 God!愛瑪翻了翻眼珠。我去年夏天在皇后舞廳見過她，真是個蠢貨，她不應該穿著那樣的小短裙，兩隻蘿蔔腿，我的天啊！簡直就像大象在跳華格納舞曲。愛瑪滿意地研究著自己符合時尚瘦得見骨的膝蓋。對了，你們究竟談些什麼？ 哦，大部分都是他在說話。他對自己的事業產生倦怠，但他又不知做些什麼。我有點為他感到遺憾。我覺得他的生活沒有樂趣可言。 愛瑪磨蹭著干邑酒，然後以追根究柢的眼神看著她，親愛的，你正顯示出種種跡象想好好打點他的穿著，為他感到遺憾，那麼你想不想跟他上床？ 愛瑪！ 得了吧！男人女人做那檔事是天經地義的嘛！ 妮珂明白，想打點他只是藉口，頓時感到兩頰發燙。她想碰他，想看見他笑。她也希望他碰她。她羞赧地說：愛瑪，我不知道。 親愛的，你臉都紅了。我想大概是白蘭地的關係。