Chapter 27 talk about dancing

China is a country without dancing.It probably happened in the past. I saw it in ancient costume dramas and movies, slowly stretching out the two big sleeves of grace and bowing, comparing with the left and right. The ancient dancers also have the demeanor of ancient sages, although monotonous A little bit, and according to Tang poetry.Wudi Yangliulou Xiaoyue seems to be a more aggressive gesture, sweeping the moon down, but it is so long ago, what kind of steps are the big hand and small hand, can not be examined, nor can it be conjectured out of thin air.Although the Ming and Qing dynasties still used singing and dancing in general, only the body gestures in the drama remained.Even when there were dances in the past, people just watched the performance; they didn't participate.So over the years, although countless people in China have worked hard, moved for the sake of movement, and felt the joy of flying in the flow of the body, there are none. (Unless it is in a place where people are behind people, so there are a lot of erotic paintings.) It is scary to think of the mighty land without mountains and rivers cheering and clapping hands, and the silence of thousands of generations.Chinese women's waists and buttocks are so low that when viewed from the back, standing looks like sitting.

Now Chinese people are very common in social dancing.Some people think it is inappropriate, while others defend it, saying that it is art, if you find pornographic interest in it, it is your own bad intentions.In fact, as far as ordinary social dancing is concerned, it is really inseparable from the element of sex, otherwise why would it be boring for two women to dance together? A well-dressed person appears in a decent place, sees the same kind, and is also seen. This is social interaction.Talking too much is afraid of revealing flaws, and I keep talking about today’s weather hahaha. This haha ​​part is really difficult; in order to avoid exchanging ideas, I have to create various substitutes for conversation, such as hand-talking.Dancing is talking about feet. It is better than mahjong and poker, because it is relatively basic and it is the most harmless sexual contact.But the artistic element in it, if there is any, is just the opposite: people who dance well don't have bad and clumsy postures, don't step on each other's toes, that's all.Everything pays attention to a freehand image, so our civilization has become very weak.

The old-fashioned dances in foreign countries are not like this. They have deep emotions. There is such a passage in Chekhov's novels, which is the best article on dancing that I have seen: She danced polonaise again with a tall officer; he moved slowly, like a corpse in clothes, with shoulders and chest hunched, and his feet weary.He danced very hard, but she used her beauty and naked neck to encourage him and stimulate him; her eyes were provocatively burning, her movements were passionate, and he gradually failed. hand toward her.Rigid as a king. The people watching cheered in unison: Good!OK!

But gradually the tall officer also became excited; he slowly became lively, overwhelmed by her beauty, and danced lightly, while she just shifted her shoulders and looked at him slyly, as if Now she is queen and he is her servant. Today's tango has a slightly similar mood to this, but it is different in the end.Tango comes from Spain.Spain is a poor place. When the American colonies were first discovered, it was absurdly rich for a while, and boat after boat of gold and silver treasures were shipped home.It soon fell down again, leaving only a little cumbersome memory of the beauty of the past, the black silk gauze covering the head of the woman, the tortoiseshell comb inserted in the hair; the flat gold coat, bright red belt, poison, dagger, Toss a rose to the hero of the bullfight There is no Romance but the rule of Romance.This exaggerated, cruel, black land and gold-flying nation, when they got rich at the beginning, because they were too sudden, they had the gloomy and bizarre nightmares, and now they are too poor to know why, and they are extremely desperate.There was a bleak drunkenness in their dancing.But my heart is empty, and I can no longer get myself drunk, and my actions still have a lot of empty words and a lot of attention.It will always be a long-drawn-out attack and avoidance, half-push and half-response, a tug-of-war of letting go and taking in, and polite sensuality.

Modern people don't like this kind of nonsense, so tango is not very popular, and only occasionally two experts are invited to perform in the dance hall as an embellishment. For a while, the whole country in the United States danced Jitterbugs wildly. (This kind of dance can be translated as Jingzhe.) Everyone lined up and walked like in a kindergarten playground.Shouting, screaming, getting excited, kicking and jumping desperately, jumping until exhausted.Weary courtesans, businessmen, and housewives are all liberated here and rejuvenated.But being simple-minded is not necessarily childish.The child's dance is not like this, it is closer to Isadona.The free style advocated by Duncan, if there is a rhythm, is relatively leisurely.

India has a kind of crazy dance, which is also different from this one. The dancers shake violently.Knees bent, body shorter.I don't know how to wring my legs back and forth, and it's like a furnace is burning under my body, and I feel restless.The music is also embarrassingly itchy, high and sharp, scratching and noisy.The singer's mouth seemed to contain hot soup, and his throat trembled unsteadily.This kind of dance is good, because it seems to be only so, in harmony with their climate and living environment, so as to have permanence.There were first animals on earth.is in the mud.At that time, there were swamps everywhere, hot and humid all year round, no trees grew, only clumps of thick-leaved aquatic plants.The sun was scorching hot on the dirty water, and some small things started to squirm at the bottom of the water, such violent activities, but without form, like the evaporation of gas.It looks dirty, but it's just chaos.Dirty is always due to occlusion, due to the death of the part: that which is so vigorous is not dirty.This Indian dance is like that.

Civilized people cannot be primitive if they are primitive; they have no horror or respect for barbarism, they think that when they are tired they can hide among children, hide among primitive people, and disperse, but they can't. Rest in stupidity. I was in Hong Kong. One year during the summer vacation, a group of girls from the primary school attached to the convent moved to our dormitory for summer vacation.The dining hall is full of the sweaty smell of white uniforms and the damp smell of canvas shoes. Outside the dining hall is a sloping garden, the Shuimen River, surrounded by iron rails. Often there is only fog or fog-like rain outside the iron rails. A touch of green hills beyond the sea.When I was a child, I used a small plate with gold rims to eat. On it was such a green mountain like a curved eyebrow, as well as green water, boats and people, but gradually it was worn away, and only the green color of the mountain remained.I remember this plate and a pair of red bone chopsticks very clearly. Seeing the distress of these children in front of me, although I hate them equally, sometimes I feel indifferently sad.Although they yelled all day long, they were no different from ordinary children. As soon as they shouted, they all disappeared, as if they were wiped off at once, but they couldn't be wiped clean. In the empty dining hall, black and white square bricks remained. Scattered shoe prints and damp smelly shoes.They had a phonograph, and they sang the same piece of music all day long, with a clear little girl's voice singing:

my mother said, No longer and gypsies go to the woods. At the happiest moment, it is still not allowed, not allowed, a hundred times not allowed.The door of the dining hall was wide open, the phonograph was turned on, and it began to rain suddenly outside, slapping big spots on the cement, each hitting a black mark.The Russian girl Natalia sang along to the record: My mother said, I can no longer stretch my arms up, twist and twist and dance in the rain.Everyone laughed and shouted: Natalia, show us your ears!Natalia's ears move.Both she and her sister Maria were orphans, picked up by an American wife and raised until they were five or six years old, when the adults returned home, they were thrown into the monastery here.They seem to be very happy in the American family, and they don’t understand how they ended up in this miserable and benevolent place. They often keep silent, drink water from a smelly glass, spread a very thin layer of reddish jam on their bread, and recite scriptures. Every time after class, the whole class knelt down and prayed.On Natalia's long pale face, with her green eyes narrowed into a narrow smile, she looked exhausted.Like ordinary filthy Russians, she was good-tempered and cruel, and was often beaten. Her sister Maria was more sensible and respectful to her superiors, but her big blue eyes also showed blunt hatred.Maria has a beautiful little convex face. When she first came, I heard that there was a golden bun that fell to her heels. The nuns in the monastery cut it off because it was too troublesome to wash.

Once there was a thief in our dormitory, and the next morning we found out. The girls ran upstairs and downstairs excitedly. The whole summer vacation was never so free and happy.They rushed to the door of my room and asked: Miss Ailing, have you lost anything?Full of hope, as if an empty room should be seen.I was disturbed to say nothing was lost. There is also a Siamese girl, Madeleine, who lives in Bangkok and can dance their hometown's sacred dance. Her delicate brown wrists are pinned behind her back as if they were broken.The dancers in the temple are all twelve or thirteen-year-old girls like her. Their pointed brown faces are painted with white powder, and their faces are dead. However, the waist, legs and arms below each have their own independent lives. In the past, living impossible, each glorified to its god.However, the golden red dazzling God in his hometown is far away from here.Madeleine had to take care of herself as best she could, becoming a cunning little slave.

Apart from these children, most of our female classmates, overseas Chinese from Malaya, were educated in monasteries.Jintao, with a pale black face and slightly planed teeth, was spoiled and spoiled. She only studied in the monastery for half a year, and she couldn't bear hardships.Jintao learned to show everyone how Malays dance: men and women line up in two rows, swaying in small steps, or just swaying; women hold bandanas and sway slowly, singing: Shayang!Sayang!Shayang means lover; the singing is more peaceful and beautiful because of its monotony.The women over there wear western clothes or short jackets and trousers, and only wear cheongsams during festive ceremonies.There was only one movie theater in the city, and Jintao and other girls from rich families met in the theater every night. When they saw the little sister wearing a foreign dress, she kept silent and hurried home before the performance to change into a foreign dress before coming back.The Malaya in her life was a layer of petty civilization on top of steamy barbarism, like a flowered cotton quilt that was too small, covering her head but not her feet.

From another town came a girl of eighteen or nineteen years old named Yuenu, but she was very beautiful, with a round, white face, double eyelids, and a slightly plump figure.The first time I saw her, she had just arrived in Hong Kong, she came out of the bathroom in the dormitory, smelling prickly heat powder, new pajamas with white flowers, with a small silver cross hanging on her chest, bowing with a smile, very polite.She said: It's nice here.When we were studying in the monastery over there, everyone took a bath together, a large cemented pool, and each person was given a white blouse to wear in the bath.She hid her face and giggled in the style of the blouse, as if it was indescribable.You haven't seen a slit in the back like that, it's as wide as a mosquito net.The man was standing in the water, holding the smock to his knees, secretly soaping the underside of the smock.It's true that she often has a shameful and sad expression on her face, and her delicate little phoenix eyes are also red and rusty.She also talked about the monastery. In the garden there were seven or eight feet tall straight coconut trees. Malay children quickly planted the land and climbed to the top to pick fruits. They were like monkeys.For some reason, when she mentioned these things, she also had an expression of shame, grief and unbelievable disbelief. Her father was a businessman, and managed to get rich. He built a square new house, and the whole family moved in. Not long after, he suddenly fell in love with a dishonest woman and abandoned the family business. We all spat at her from a distance when we met her on the street.It is said that she must understand Wumai. Maybe I can suggest it without using Nightmare. No, it must be the witch nightmare!She is more than thirty years old, and she doesn't look good. Even if you're over thirty and don't look good, maybe No, it must be Wumai, otherwise why would he be so dazed and beat someone when he came home? Malays who know magic, she only knows that they are bad.Malays are the worst!Bike to school and they love to chase you up and bump you! Her elder brother was studying at the University of Hong Kong and managed to bring her to the university.During the war, her brother asked Yanying and me to take good care of her, saying: Yuenu is a very innocent girl.She often thought about the possibility of being raped, thinking about it all day and night, her face was pale and swollen.But there was a period when everyone lived in seclusion and didn't dare to show up. She was the only one leaning on the balcony to watch the soldiers in line pass by.He also made a fuss and asked other girls to come and see. Her emptiness is like a closed room with whitewashed walls and moldy bugs, and a small hotel with cloudy days. Overseas Chinese are homeless in thought, and it is not easy for simple-minded people to live in a place. In the world, there is no background, no tradition, so there is no dancing.Yuenu can dance ballroom dancing, but she is only willing to dance with her father and brother. Among the noble ladies in Shanghai, pointe dancing is considered a very advanced art.Several friends once told me:: There is still that color!You have to check it out just for the colors of their costumes and sets!So bright!You must like their colors. I don't like them because they are too expected.The gloomy cottage is illuminated by blue light, pirates with red turbans, horrifying women in white robes, the demon concubines of Muslim kings, and snake scale sequins nailed on black gauze shirts.It is also cheap, but it is not as friendly as our cigarette pictures, because they are not ours.In the scene of spring in the harem, at the beginning of the opening, many dancing girls put on various postures and stood still, embedded in the magnificent scenery. At that moment, it was indeed a bit like the illustrations of the monks' handwritten books in the Middle Ages, precious illuminated manuscripts, fine gold In the background, people with red flesh, bright red, and pink and blue embellishments.But after a while, the dancers started to dance, and the air changed instantly, and it was reduced to a series of cigarette pictures again.This is what I like best about our picture of cigarettes; the shabbyness of the opulence.Many beauties with golden makeup are used in the picture, big Qiao and Er Qiao, standing on the clean and shiny square brick floor, with vermilion lacquered pillars and splendid curtains beside them, but it always feels like the wealth and honor imagined by the poor, and the air is particularly fresh.I like the anti-climax, the creation of a strange atmosphere and the sudden drop, and I can feel the human nature in the legend screaming.But I can't forgive the anti-climax in the pointe dance; even sitting in the last row, I can see the deformed and well-developed bulbous tendons on the thighs of Russian dancers, and the tight, hard and bloated white flesh, and I worry about them. If the foot is too heavy, it will hit the ground. The dance drama Cosiah, based on Byron's long poem; it may be particularly appropriate to use dance to tell stories, and even Byron's poems are full of turbulent movements.But the action here, because it is simple and clear, without the emotional foundation of folklore, the result is very shallow.The beauties who have been plundered are like birds in a cage, flying around in despair.An expression, and always an appropriate expression, so tasteless and unreal.Authentic is often inappropriate.For example, A Dream of Red Mansions, Gao E's sequel.Compared with the previous ones, there is a special sense of withering and coldness, not because the Jia family has fallen and should be dying, but because his writing is not good enough.Gao E's ending cannot be said to be unreasonable, but the emotions in it are just sentiments, not real. The heroic beauty of Kosaiya went through many tribulations, and the daughter was offered to the king, but the princess let her run away with her lover, fearing that she would lose favor.However, their boat sank in the storm.The last scene is very short, and only the setting of the mechanism, the moving sea waves, and the clouds in the sky move back quickly, indicating that the boat is moving forward.The boat was full of people, and when the rescue was in danger, it also scrambled two toe dancing postures, and finally sank for all of them. Such a hasty tragic ending is very ridiculous in my opinion.Organ sets, except in Vaudeville, are probably always a thankless task.I am used to watching storms, shipwrecks, wars, and fires in movies, and the direct performance on the stage always feels unreal.Yet perhaps that's what Chinese audiences like.The drama Burial at Sea learned it.This time the boat didn't capsize, two of the people on the boat jumped off from the crowd, and kicked on the platform with a thud, the waves swam, pushing up to their waists, and after a while, they squatted down and disappeared.The boat continued to row forward, and the audience was greatly shocked and got up to go home.It is said that there must be something like this to send them away, otherwise they always think that the show is not over yet. I have only seen Indian dance once.The dancer's clitoris pulls.Dai Wei is not Indian, I don't know which small country in Central Europe, but after special training in India, she has traveled around the world and is very famous.The performance that time was informal, the stage was small, and the background was just a simple curtain.But the thin woman sat there with her hands folded, one leg crossed, her feet resting on her knees, and she quietly hung down the folds of Qingming's clothes.But it really looks like a god.For a long time, she didn't move.Indian veils are similar to ancient Greek costumes. Not only does this woman not have the physical beauty of Greek stone statues, but her head is too big, her eyes are too big, and her small, hard mouth looks old, but her age is ageless. , sitting like this may have been thousands of years.Seeing the cold horror on her face reminds people of George Bernard Shaw's play "Back to Methuselah", which says that in the future, human beings will be born from eggs instead of viviparous, and childhood can be omitted. What hatched from the eggs were mature boys and girls. Everyone danced, had fun, made love, drew pictures and statues. Within four years, they had had enough of these things. Tired of all material beauty, they would go away and think about difficult truths.In this way, you can continue to live for thousands of years, just a living thought, the body is forgotten, exposed to the wind and the sun, regardless of gender, all black and thin.Straight, with a piece of cloth around the waist.Young men and women under the age of four regard them as monsters and call them ancients.Although there are male ancients and female ancients, it doesn't look much different.They study mathematics and science to a certain extent, their physique can change freely, and eight arms can be hooked at any time; if they want to go down the mountain, they can collapse into a semi-liquid, flow down the terrain, and the clitoris will pull.In Dai Wei's dance, the moving part has such a confusing feeling.She waved her fingers, put two fingers together, raised one finger, and changed rapidly. It is said that each gesture has a mysterious symbolic meaning in the Brahman tradition, but in my opinion, it only expresses a kind of superhuman attitude towards the body. Control, as if she could indeed grow eight arms at will. The second dance, clitoris pull.Daiwei changed into a light-colored veil, and jumped out clapping her hands all the way, kicking away the red and yellow pleated skirt, with the clang of gold bracelets on her arms, making people forget her old ugliness completely.The round eyes are shining, she is a girl from ancient India, proudly describing to everyone what her lover looks like and how tall she is.How broad are the shoulders, what are the eyes, nose, mouth, breastplate on the chest, sword on the waist, how you smile, how you look when you are angry, I can't describe it, I can't describe it, just see for yourself !He's coming soon, coming soon.She ran to look around many times, climbed to the tree to look around, took water from the well and sprinkled it on her face, dipped the hairpin in the blue liquid made of copper mixture, and drew the tails of her eyes long. Clit pulling.There is a program that Devi made up by herself called Mother, which adds realism to the dance. It is very popular, but I hate it.The mother of the dead child walks bewilderedly to the shrine, kneels down, thinks about it, shakes the empty cradle dreamily, finally gets angry, pushes down the shrine, and with a bang, shocked by her apostasy, goes down I begged for mercy.The subject matter is not bad. It is used to describe India, which is plagued by many diseases, and the superstition and stubborn feelings of Indian women. It can have a deep and narrow misery.But what is shown here is only maternal love, which should be put in parentheses. The big topic of maternal love, like all big topics, has too many clichés on it.Generally, those who advocate maternal love are men who are sons rather than mothers, and if a woman also advertises maternal love, it is because she knows that she is not important, and men only respect her, so she has to be exaggerated. Turned out to be a mother.In fact, some feelings are that if you dramatize it all the time, there will be only drama left; maternal love especially. When mentioning the Dongbao Song and Dance Troupe, everyone must think of the short-pants dancer in the advertisement, wearing a chicken heart-shaped hat on one side.But their Western-style dancing is very limited. It is always a row of people standing at attention with arms joined, looking to the right, bending one knee, kicking and kicking; One set of clothes, all over again.Western-style programs are often performed, and it is said that it is because Chinese audiences especially like to watch them.I only like them to dance their own dance. There is a whole stage, wearing bright kimonos, lining up, putting their hands on the backs of the people in front of them, stepping on their feet, walking in small steps, shaking their heads from side to side, with flexible necks It seems to be put on, the whole is like a small toy, a figure made of silk.Comparing women to toys is insulting, but here they also feel that they are fun things.A head can shake this way and that way like a child playing with its toes, very happy and surprised.To the Japanese, Japan is like a paper holder in a toy box, hollowing out its status and filling in small pots and soldiers!What should be a small pot is a small pot, and what should be a small soldier is a small soldier. From the standpoint of an individualist, I do not agree with this environment, but in fact, it is very appropriate to put most people in it, because people After all, there are very few exceptions, and many who are considered to be exceptions or claim to be exceptions are actually exceptions.The stylization of social life is different from mechanization. It comes naturally and is always beneficial. From this, I think of the characters dotted in Japanese landscape paintings. They are by no means the fisherman or the old man with a stick in Chinese paintings, but extremely Homely; the women crossing the bridge are probably going to pick up the children in the school, and the colors of the paintings are also plain and deep, with blue ponds, green willows, and light ink sky.A good year with good weather.But precisely because the world is peaceful and everyone keeps their own place, women get married, take care of their husbands and children, comb their hair the same way, and say the same kind words. There is a kind of depression, a kind of mild sorrow, which has become a characteristic of Japanese art. Dongbao Song and Dance Troupe also has a dance that left a deep impression on me, Lion and Butterfly.The lions on the stage are played by people, so of course it won't be too realistic.The statues of Chinese lion dances and ordinary stone lions are not like lions but like bulldogs, with round and protruding eyes.I always suspect that the lions that the Chinese see are all tributes. They glanced at them quickly and didn’t look carefully, and for some reason, the Chinese people like to create monsters, such as unicorns. In fact, people want to create them. Beasts are not good at it, and the lion in Japanese dance also stands like a human being, but with a mask on, a big white face painted with drooping colored stripes, a vermilion mane growing around the face, and a fluffy hair behind the head. It has a big red tail, which flicks back and forth when excited.When Lion and Butterfly started, a group of butterflies were dancing in the deep mountains, and two lions were sitting in the middle. When the sound of gongs and drums changed, the lion stood up with flick of mane and tail. It really felt like a lion, and the butterflies scattered one after another; as if in a dream. The vision seen on the edge of the green makes people feel gorgeous and toy-like horror. This horror is the horror of a very deep child.Or the Japanese know children best, perhaps because they are children themselves.They are at their greatest when speaking to small children.The attitude of the Chinese towards children is rarely appropriate.The old way of foreigners is to be polite and alienated. Parents and children seem to be a combination of affairs, and they teach the children with cold politeness: Can I have another slice?Can I take the bear to bed?Parents in the new law study child psychology before they get married. The more they study, the more panicked they become.Pleading like that; kiss him good morning, kiss him good night, kiss him at school, kiss him after class.The nursery rhyme says, what is a little girl made of?Sugar and spice and everything good.But the children's world is not entirely sweet, bright and exquisite, children, the atmosphere of everyone holding hands.There is a revolutionary art school in the United States that encourages children to draw freely. Among the outstanding works is a portrait of a bad child with rotten teeth and glasses, another picture of a red and purple sunset by a lake, two There are dark ghosts with lumpy heads; there is also a picture full of overlapping small handprints, which is really scary. In the Japanese movie The Song of the Beaver Palace, there is a female fairy, the elf of the old tree of Bai Mulian, wearing a long white dress, parted hair, pale, too regular egg-shaped face, very tall and thin monotonous voice, To put it bluntly, although the voice was delicate, it sent chills down the spine.However, it is true that it is a fairy and not a ghost, nor is it a female star, and it is quite different from the fairy in the raisin advertisement in the Snow White cartoon.The singing voice of the genie Pianli Palace and Disney's cartoons are both fantastic fairy tales.Disney's Snow White and Pinocchio is where adults bow down to please children. I can't find such traces in the singing of the raccoon palace. For a while, I often watched Japanese movies, and the two I was most satisfied with were Song of Tanuki Palace (formerly known as Tanuki Palace) and Secret History of Maicheng (formerly known as Awa’s Chrysalis). A Japanese laughed contemptuously and said that the former is for children, and the latter It's for uneducated ladies, but I'm not ashamed.The goodness of the secret history of the dance city has nothing to do with its legendary story of love and hatred.Of course, the story itself also has its touching points. The father was forced to give his betrothed daughter to a powerful person as a concubine, saying goodbye to his ancestors.The father knelt up straight, with tears in his eyes, and told his last resort in a trembling voice. The daughter knelt behind, but lay down motionless. In the small hall with cold white lattice fans, there was an endless family feeling.When her fiancé came back to take revenge, the old servant led her to meet him, but halfway she stopped suddenly, bowed her head, and turned her back.The servant called Miss Miss in embarrassment, she just lingered.The servant said: Wait there.After urging and urging, she reluctantly went forward.The fiancé waits on the beach.After going through all kinds of hardships and adventures to meet each other, the two didn't say a word of heart-to-heart face-to-face; he walked over there by himself, and said with emotion: I really didn't expect this side to exist today!She followed silently, in the silver-gray weather by the sea.He turned around suddenly, but she turned around again and walked back, with her head lowered and walked slowly forward, while he followed far behind.Similar lingering steps can be seen in the love scenes of Chinese dramas recently.One walks, one follows, all without saying a word.Or a martyr and a martyr who took a step forward in righteousness, the cowardly villain would take a step back in fright, and continued to walk forward defiantly, and he would back again and again, which seemed to be dancing. The Secret History of Dancing City is centered on the festival of dancing. All men, women and children in the city stretch their arms and legs under the dazzling gray sun, kicking and dancing in various ways, singing: Today is the day of dancing!Whoever doesn't dance is Kaiko!Maybe it's because the light is too strong.The picture is very light, confusedly seeing carnival limbs and necks protruding from the floral plaid clothes, the comb on the woman's oily hair, and the old man shaking the gray bun. In the bush, the hero grabbed his enemy, grabbed his collar, counted the punishments, and said a lot of things like how it fell into my hands. In Japanese, it was extremely long, and the dancing people refused As the background of his activities, they are not like Lin Rulin's jade legs in Hollywood musicals, which obey the command and rush up like a tide.Overwhelmed the hero and his grievances.All that is seen on the screen is dancing, dancing, the dazzling gray whirling of the dazzling sun.The hero was photographed again, and the hero was still talking to his enemy, but somehow the enemy had already fallen to the ground and was killed.It's so boring to use this as the ending of a biography drama, it's almost funny because of this dance.