Chapter 8 seven

The sun shone on the curtains like a jockey's coat.At half past eleven, the headache felt like a needle prick.This is an inevitable phenomenon after being drunk, but when I open my eyes, I want to drink and get drunk again. (The pregnant woman, unable to bear the antenatal pains, scratched the sheets on the bed. After the baby was born, she no longer remembered the pain.) I rolled over and the slingshot bed rattled slightly.I don't like to hear this sound, but I have to.This is a very unpleasant sound wave, which makes my teeth itch when it gets into my ears.I had no choice but to lie still on the bed, not even daring to circle my thoughts.

There was a knock on the door, very lightly.Turning over and getting out of bed, the whole room swayed endlessly, like a ship in a stormy sea.I don't want to get up; the slight knock on the door has a magnetic force.Open the door, Sima Li is standing outside the door.Sima Li is the charterer's daughter, seventeen years old this year.Seventeen is the most beautiful age. There is a thick magazine in the United States called "Seventeen". I like seventeen-year-old girls; I like Sima Li.She has a childish face; at the same time, she has an old heart.Every time I see her eyes, I immediately think of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales.But she has learned to smoke, and has excellent posture.She often smoked camel cigarettes, which, according to the advertisement in the movie theater, said: Camel cigarettes are real cigarettes.Sima Li must watch movies every weekend, she must believe that the advertisement is right.

Once, she walked by my bedroom and poured me a glass of brandy as soon as she opened her mouth.At that time, her parents went to a friend's house to play cards.Sima Li also likes to play cards, but she doesn't want to go out with her parents.When my parents weren't home, she'd come into my bedroom for a glass of wine, a Camel cigarette; or something on her mind.Although she is only seventeen years old, she has many things on her mind.She once told me: She has five boyfriends.I was taken aback.But what surprised me even more: she said that she might get married in the shortest possible time.A seventeen-year-old girl should read more; she should not marry.But she once confided to me that she had an intention to do so.I asked her to discuss it with her parents, but she refused; I asked her to discuss it with her mother, but she refused.She insisted that she did not want her father to know about it.Some people think that parents know their children best; in fact, the real situation is quite the opposite.Parents, if they are not the last to know, must know nothing about the thoughts of their children.

Sima Li often told me her hopes and desires; but she never let her parents know.She doesn't drink in front of her parents.She doesn't smoke in front of her parents.She doesn't listen to Paul Anga records in front of her parents.In fact, although she was only seventeen, she was not as serious as her parents imagined.As far as I know, she can drink quite well, and she can drink three glasses of brandy without changing her face.As for other aspects, her interests are beyond the age of seventeen.She has no objection to dancing potato dances and pie racks; she has no objection to eating ice cream in a movie theater; she has no objection to walking on Marriage Avenue; With an Amega haircut, but she hates seventeen-year-old boys.More than once, she revealed this meaning in front of me.She said she hated boys who chewed gum.She said she hated boys in jeans.She said she hated boys who wore silver bracelets.She said she hated boys who walked and danced.She said she hated boys who never wore ties.Her interests are so precocious.Her parents always thought she was very pure, but they never imagined that she had been reading "Lady Chatterley's Lover" and Dr. Kinsey's report.

Now her parents are away.Being idle and bored, she walked into my bedroom carrying a bottle of whiskey.When I said I was carrying whiskey, I was not lying at all.At first, I didn't notice it at all. Later, when Sima Li handed me a glass of wine, I really woke up.I wouldn't refuse her invitation; but I had no intention of getting drunk in front of a seventeen-year-old girl.Thoughts began to hide and seek, a pair of clear and innocent eyes are like two big lanterns. So, we had an uninhibited conversation.She had a lot of admiration for Sagan; said she was a marvelous talent.But my opinion is different. I think that Sagan's novels suffer from a serious illness. After reading one novel, there is no need to read the second one.She shrugged and changed the subject immediately.She said Nabugoff's Lolita was a masterpiece.On this point, I completely agree.However, her praise of "Lolita" is based entirely on sympathy for the characters in the book; she does not seem to have a deep understanding of Nabugoff's creative art.I know my request is extremely unreasonable.It is rare for a seventeen-year-old girl to appreciate "Lolita", how can she be expected to understand the art of Nabugoff's novels.Then, a shallow smile appeared, a smile that could not hide the secret of youth.

a cup.two cups.three cups. A smile and wine equals a growing flower.Question and answer are a pair of twins, but the relationship is not harmonious.Emotion is a strange thing, and thirty barbed wire fences can't contain it in the middle.Young and precocious girls are often bold. With no worries about the past or the future, this seventeen-year-old girl only knows the present.She was certainly not a follower of Seth; but after a few drinks a terrible light shone from her eyes. (Is she a Settist? Or has an innate psychopathy that takes pleasure in abusing the opposite sex?) I'm a little scared.Her complexion was as white as milk.She unbuttoned my clothes when I was completely unprepared. (Is she drunk? I think.) The more frightened I am; the more charming is her smile.I don't believe she's a Lolita-type girl; nor do I want her to be a Lolita.However, she went gracefully and bolted the door, and then lay down on my bed like a snake.I spoke, my voice trembling like the wail of a trapped animal:

do not do that. She laughed, giggling.she says: What are you afraid of? We've all had a drink. Alcohol is not poison. Yes, wine is not poison; but, to a seventeen-year-old girl, wine is worse than poison. You treat me like a child? No such meaning. what do you mean? What I mean is: Poison can end a person's life; when a person dies, everything is over; unlike alcohol, which doesn't end a person's life immediately; but it is sexually promiscuous and can teach a seventeen-year-old girl to do terrible things. Things come out.These horrible things will cause her to regret for the rest of her life.

After hearing my words, Sima Li suddenly stood up, put on her clothes, and left with a straight face. (That's for the best, I think.) But I'm not happy.I have stabbed her feelings. The bottle is not empty. (Girls in the subtropics are more enthusiastic; but does she really mean it? She doesn't think about her future at all? She reads four cents more novels? She's broken in love? Wants compensation from me? No, no, she's still young. She Will treat love as a game.) He raised his glass and drank it all in one gulp. (I'm not young anymore, I can't treat love as a game. Of course I need the nourishment of love, but I must not take advantage of her ignorance. I must forget her. I must forget what happened just now.)

When I picked up the bottle again, I had self-control.I still have two martial arts novels to write, and if I'm drunk, I'm bound to run out of drafts.Newspaper authorities do not want authors to be cut off due to drunkenness. The telephone in the living room rang like a wild cat whose tail had been trampled on, and it suddenly rang. The worker named A Xing came to call me. Just based on the voice, I concluded that it was Zhang Lili.She asked me if I had considered the offer to catch yellow-footed chickens.I refused.Before I could finish my words, she suddenly hung up the phone.This is very rude, but I will never be angry with Zhang Lili.

Sima Li has already left the street.The house is very quiet, and it is a good time to write.I have to keep my head clear lest I run out of paper again because of my drinking.There are two newspapers on the coffee table, both of which I ordered from the newspaper vendor.My charterer had no habit of reading newspapers, and occasionally came to borrow newspapers from me, mostly to check entertainment advertisements.However, I am not a careful newspaper reader myself. Although I have subscribed to two copies, I have never been clear about what is being discussed in the United Nations.The reason why I subscribe to these two newspapers is entirely because they publish my martial arts novels.Sometimes, when the newspaper was delivered, I subconsciously flipped through it, not wanting to know about Marilyn.Why did Monroe die; or is the situation in Cuba serious?Sometimes, when the newspaper is delivered, I don’t even look through it. I cut out two paragraphs of my own martial arts novels and throw them away.These martial arts novels have no preservation value, but they are commodities. If publishers take a fancy to them and print them as separate volumes, they can more or less get some copyright fees.Although there are many pirates in Hong Kong, if an article is published in a newspaper, as long as they think it has a business eye, it seems that it is not a crime to steal it casually.However, there are still some publishers with a little conscience. Even if the copyright fee is pitifully small, it is better for the author than being copied by others.The reason why I cut and saved these martial arts novels is that I have no other purpose, just want to exchange some money.I am not a money supremacist, but I was poor.The taste of poverty is not good.Sleeping at the bottom of the stairs will be interfered by others; you can't buy a piece of stinky tofu without a penny.

My mood was quite mixed, so in order to avoid sleeping at the bottom of the stairs, I had to temporarily put some new problems behind my mind, sit down, and write about how the Taoist Tongtian flew over the walls; how he went to Hanshan Temple to kill the adulterer; Injured by palm lightning. It was two o'clock in the afternoon when I finished writing the two-paragraph continuation.Put on your clothes, prepare to go out to deliver manuscripts, and eat something by the way. Mahomet is here.Mehman's face was not very good-looking. What's the matter?I asked. Lao Deng said that you cut off manuscripts too many times, which offended the president.Yesterday the typesetting room was waiting for your manuscript, and when it got dark, the workers who edited the supplementary manuscript became impatient and went to complain to the foreman; the foreman went to complain to the editor-in-chief; the editor-in-chief went to complain to the president; The frequent interruption of manuscripts not only disrupted the work procedures of the typesetting room, but also prevented the work of the editorial department from proceeding according to the scheduled plan.The president was very angry when he heard what the editor-in-chief said, and immediately called Lao Deng to ask him if he had any ready-made martial arts novels.Lao Deng said that the Louzhu Mochiyue and the Layman Reclining Buddha had already sent one each, and they had been kept in the drawer for quite some time.The president asked him which one was better, and he said that Mochizuki's stuff has more action.Without hesitation, the president ordered the publication of Mochizuki's stuff.The president knows nothing about novels. To him, there is no difference between a novel and a movie. If there are many actions, it is a good novel. As for the atmosphere, structure, suspense, characterization, etc., it is not important. Things have come to such a result, although it is a bit abrupt, but there is an inevitable reason.I shouldn't drink anymore, it's just that my mind is messed up.I poured two glasses and handed one to Homen.Homen shook his head, saying that he did not drink during the day.So I drank the two glasses of wine together.