Chapter 28 26

November 19, 1916 Albert 17th Standing Hospital France, Somme * Only the one hour in the garden every day can feel that life is still passable.Of course, there were no flowers here, because the pots were all empty, and their contents had been taken away and stored long ago, maybe for the winter, or maybe because of this whole war.But there is grass.There is a whole mess of green grass, the tops of the grass blades will be covered with hoarfrost in the morning, and Ashley's slippered feet will creak on the grass, or under the gloomy sky in the afternoon, the grass will be blurred. Frost melts and becomes damp.But Ashley rarely looked at the sky.His jaw hurts whenever he lifts it too high.

While doctors say Ashley's recovery is fast, it feels like an eternity to him.Lying in bed all day feels like an eternity.He can only get through the night with his imagination.At eight o'clock every night, the lights would be turned off, the curtains on the corridor would be drawn, and Ashley would obediently close his eyes.Two hours later, he stared at the carved pattern on the ceiling, and followed the stone ridge line at dusk, all the way down to the valley and the pasture. Price was asking a shepherd for a drink, and the other party lent him a wine bag. The wine was cold and tasted of rawhide.Although they said they were not hungry, the shepherd gave them porridge cooked in an iron pan, and they later slept in a large farmhouse with other shepherds and their black cattle. Under the blanket, Ashley looked at the stars through the open door.For some reason, Ashley likes ordinary memories the most.Those seem the easiest to recall.Other nights he might contemplate the pinnacle of the Aiguille du Dru, or jump into the clear water in Scherryberg, Switzerland, kicking and sinking into the icy blue heart of that lake.From the beginning to the end, Ashley lay still on the bed.Just moving his head on the pillow would cause his expression to contort in pain.

When Ashley was sent to the hospital, he couldn't raise his head two inches high, couldn't speak a word, and couldn't even take a sip of water.But by the second week he was able to speak in a hoarse whisper, and since it didn't rain that Sunday, he was well enough to be wheeled out into the garden for ten minutes.The red-haired nurse's assistant covered Ashley with a thick woolen blanket, two on his thighs and the other pulled up to his chin.By the time they reached the garden gate, the sky had begun to fog up, but the nurse's aide knew how much Ashley wanted to be outside.She put two fingers to her lips and smiled:

If you don't say it, I won't say it either. She opened the door and pushed Ashley's wheelchair out.The air outside was very refreshing, which made him feel dazed.The assistant pushed him under a leafless elm for shelter while they waited for the weather to clear.Ten minutes later, the sky began to rain icy cold. I thought the weather in England was the worst.said the nurse's aide. It didn't take long for Ashley to be the healthiest man in the hospital.Doctors said he would have a scar on the inside of his windpipe, but that didn't seem to put him off.One surgeon said Ashley's recovery was amazing.Ashley guessed that meant they'd get him back to the front sooner than expected.

Ashley's voice had changed, which was obvious even to him.His voice was still a little hoarse, and he had an instinct to protect his throat, so he spoke in a softer tone than he used to.Ashley has never thought about his own voice in his life, never thought about how it has changed and matured since he was a child, and how the timbre and sound quality let others know that it is Ashley who is speaking, whether the tone is gentle or resentful .He didn't understand this until he lost his original voice. My old voice, Ashley asked the doctor, is there no way to restore it? difficult. Ashley looked out the window.The doctor frowned and wrote something on Ashley's medical form.

You sound terrific and manly.You should be proud of the wounds you have suffered for your bravery.A man who insisted on living up to His Majesty's trust on the battlefield should have sounded different.Because he is a different man.That fits right in, doesn't it? certainly. He kept thinking about Yin Mozhen.Over and over again he played those rare memories of her in his mind, a sequence of gestures, or feelings evoked during that short time together of less than a week.He could clearly remember those places and the situation at the Sutton-Courtney field, she was lying on his chest, her body was warm, and the neck of the champagne bottle was cold against his leg.But Ashley couldn't imagine her face.Of course, he knew what Yin Mozhen looked like, like anyone could recall a certain face they had seen two months ago.The photo she sent him was enough, a slightly creased photo, but it was in good condition, and he sealed it in a waxed paper envelope and kept it in his coat pocket.The photo is now on his bedside table.

However, what Ashley wanted was not just this photo. This fixed image could not be transformed into a lover with flesh and blood.He wanted to remember how she looked at certain moments, to find her smell, her voice, the feel of her tulle dress.He wanted to see her face in Regent's Park, when they kissed in the dark and his eyes were always over her shoulder.He wanted to see her the last time he saw her at Victoria Station, he just remembered her hands were wet, and she clenched and then let go in disappointment. She must have been very flustered these weeks.Three days ago, Ashley received Eleanor's reply to his postcard. Although Ashley quickly sent a telegram to reply to Yinmozhen, there was still no news.It all felt weird, and when confidence was weak, Ashley would wonder if her emotions had shaken or faded with the news of his death.There may be many reasons for Yin Mozhen's silence, and Ashley spent several hours thinking carefully and eliminating them one by one.At last he began to write letters explaining all the war, his injuries, and the Colonel's mistakes, but it took him a few tries to get things in order.He posted the letter yesterday.Now he can only wait, and don't let himself keep guessing.

In fact he knew very little about her.He fell in love with Yin Mozhen too quickly, so he didn't have time to figure out how he really felt about her, but that didn't matter anymore.He has no choice.Ashley couldn't resist her attractiveness, her rare beauty, and her definite perspective on everything.This sense of certainty also affected Ashley, making him, like her, believe that they were meant to be. Still, it feels strange to know so little about one's lover.Because Yin Mozhen always speaks in an abstract way, she will talk about beliefs or emotions, and she will throw the problem back to Ashley.He could describe her habits or interests, but when other officers in the ward saw her photo and asked the simplest questions, Ashley hesitated.She said that if she passed, she would go to Somerville College next year to study English.is that true?Ashley was never quite sure why she failed the first exam, as she seemed smart enough.She had lived abroad, he knew that.She can play the piano.She has published several poems in small magazines.Although Ashley had never seen these poems, and although Yin Mozhen was very familiar with the works of the poet Mallarmé or the composer Debussy, he could not describe her preferences in detail.He wasn't even sure if she was nineteen or twenty, but when others asked, he always said nineteen.

As long as she cared about him, none of this mattered.In the first week, Ashley would eagerly watch the nurse's assistant send the letter, keeping her eyes on the envelopes and packages, watching her push the trolley all the way to everyone, some people laughed happily, and some people shook their heads Without turning to look, their faces were covered with white bandages.Letters were usually sent in the afternoon, but the nurse's aide knew that Ashley wanted them very much, and he thought she would deliberately send them when he was asleep, because he often woke up from a nap to find the young lieutenant in the next bed moving quickly. She moved her lips and read the letter silently.

By the second week, Ashley no longer cared about the time when the letter was sent.He would sleep in the afternoon if he could, and if he heard the china castors rolling under the letter cart in the corridor, he would turn around in bed and close his eyes. At the end of the second week, he finally heard back.The weather was fine that morning, and Ashley weaved through the garden, making a figure-of-eight between shrubs and flower beds.He still has a slight limp and will put his weight on his right foot.When he returned to the ward, he found a letter on the bedside table.There was no address or postmark on the front, just his name in familiar script.

□□□ Honey I'm standing at the reception of your hospital, but they won't let me in.Only dying people let visitors in and they say you're fine.You can't imagine how happy this makes me.They say you're leaving the hospital tomorrow, but don't say where you're going. Don't be put off by my visit. We'll tell when we meet.I am fine and currently live in a house called M.Rocha's house is on the east edge of La Vieville.Haven't been here in ages but only took a day to find you in this mess. Is it possible for you to meet me outside the hospital tomorrow?As soon as you leave La Vieville on the way east, you will see a yellow house by a grove, and that is the only house nearby.I live in the farmhouse out back, but you might call M.Rocha, let him know you're coming. If you can't come, at least send a message. Your true love Yinmozhen Afterwards, Ashley lay motionless in bed throughout the afternoon.In the evening, when the nurse assistant came to change the dressing on his leg, he did not greet him cheerfully as usual.She pulled back the quilt, looked at his legs seriously, and stared at the cotton bandages, as if she had never seen them before.She began to remove the bandages, then spoke softly without looking up at him. Your wife was here this morning.Did you see the message? have. I didn't see her.It was the doctor who told me.She made a fuss, as if she thought you were dying.Why on earth is she here? I have no idea. They have to let her go.We can't accept visitors, and you know that.But after you leave the hospital tomorrow, you should still have time to see her.Is she really your wife? Ashley hesitated. never mind.The nurse aide said: I don't want to know. The next morning, Ashley received an order to take a two-hole two-hole military train to Amiens, and then take a second train to the Sixth Rehabilitation Battalion in Étaples.He decided to ignore the orders.He was given two days to travel sixty miles by the old French train, which went as fast as walking and stopped every half hour.He believed that if he could find transportation, he would be able to meet Yin Mozhen and arrive at the camp earlier. Ashley wanted to say goodbye to the nurse's assistant and thank her, but she didn't go to his room that morning.He took off his soft patient gown and put on a stiff khaki uniform.He put on the heavy jacket, trousers, and riding boots, and immediately felt that he was different.Then he puts on the raincoat, the blood has been scraped off, but the waterproof fabric is still stained, and the leg is torn where it was hit by the shrapnel, and there is a patch there now.Ashley circled the hospital for the last time.He saw her at the end of a roped corridor where the nurses took their meals.There was another nurse beside her, but she looked in his direction and smiled after a moment.Maybe she did recognize him in uniform.She seemed about to wave as she turned to enter the restaurant, the laces of her white apron crossing behind her in a big X. When Ashley left the hospital, it was already afternoon when he reached the downtown area.He bought a V-twin Royal Enfield motorcycle at a private garage, which some daring mechanic must have stolen or looted from the army, fixed it and repainted it all black.Ashley spent five minutes negotiating the price, and then paid more than double the amount.The owner of the depot called a young apprentice to the yard to introduce the engine of the motorcycle.The apprentice had spent weeks studying the mysteries of the English-made machine, and seemed reluctant to part with it. Have you ridden this kind of bike before, sir? I have ridden similar. The principle is simple.It runs beautifully.Let me show you how to start it. Apprentices in greasy overalls moved quickly.He opened the tank shutoff valve, pushed the ignition advance lever on the left grip, adjusted the choke and pulled the throttle lever on the right grip.He pulls on the compression lever with his left hand, then puts his foot on the starter lever and presses hard.The engine purred, paused, then roared, puffed out a cloud of smoke, and made a regular idling sound. The apprentice smiled happily and wiped his hands on his underwear. Would you like to try it sir?Ashley nodded, narrowing his eyes and looking at the sky.It will be dark in an hour.