Battle of the Rhine

Michael didn't like the Russians very much, which was probably influenced by the "propaganda machine", which he knew very well.It was rumored that the Russos drank all the time and washed their faces with vodka, and everyone's noses were rotten, like Santa Claus swollen with alcohol.

The feeling of kissing is very wonderful, but the specific operation is difficult to grasp.Presumably in retaliation, Quincy bit Michael's lip, bleeding a little.He was startled, then became docile and obedient, and opened his mouth obediently.In order to achieve the goal, the price of blood is not hesitating-Michael remembered the words of his first squad leader, a bearded guy who died in early 1945 on the edge of the forest on the border between France and Germany, and was killed by a stray bullet.

"I..." Michael murmured, "I have to say something."

Quincy stared at him, blue eyes that shifted in the light like the depths of the Pacific Ocean.

"You're so pretty," Michael bit his mouth again, "I've never seen anything prettier than you."

The thrill of the kiss lasted half the night, until Michael started dreaming.In his first dream of the new year, he ran barefoot in the sand dunes of Arizona, as he used to do as a child.The wind blew through the low shrubs, and as he ran he saw the horizon shimmering white.Instead of the sun, he ran towards the white light, and finally ran to the end of the sky and the earth. It was a strange place. The sky was yellow, and it was also yellow. A white cow lay in the middle of the chaotic yellow, with blood on its neck and blue eyes like Two fuzzy glass marbles.

He woke up breathless, the snow had stopped, and so had the wind.The culprit who caused the nightmare was sleeping soundly, with one arm pressed against Michael's chest. "You bastard." Michael gently pushed that arm away, and after a few seconds, Quincy stuck to it, curled up as if afraid of the cold.

If you don't go out for Christmas, it's not much different from a normal rest day.Quincy never went out to visit relatives and friends, and Michael had never seen him with any relatives, let alone friends, except Charlie.Quincy sat in front of the fireplace to pass the time, reading and playing the piano; Michael also read, and he took a copy of The Decameron and frowned after turning a few pages, "Whoa—"

"Are there any words you don't know?"

"A lot, but..."

Michael felt that the description of this book was quite explicit, and he couldn't understand why an elegant college student liked this kind of novel.A country guy like him who failed math would be interested in porn magazines, because in the country you don't see a lot of pretty chicks all year round. "I sort of get it," he said, switching back to English, "why do you speak so...openly?"

"It's called the liberation of humanity." Quincy said noncommittally, "You should read it carefully instead of focusing on those things."

But it's hard to ignore "those things", let alone sitting next to a hot blond young man who keeps rubbing his foot against your calf.Michael kissed Quincy in front of the fireplace, kissing his mouth, face and hands, stroking his jaw and neck. "Spring hasn't come yet," Quincy pushed him away panting, "Fiennes, you're a pervert."

"Who says no?" Michael shrugged and continued to kiss him.

When they weren't kissing they chatted, messed up, and it was all trifles.Michael asked about the cottage by the lake, "You just hide in there and read that?"

"Read everything," Quincy said. "It's a comfortable place."

He talked about the lake, sparkling, and on a sunny day, you can overlook the snow-capped peaks. "When I was thirteen or fourteen, for a while, I became interested in that kind of description, purely curious, but that interest quickly disappeared... Except for Xia Li, girls are elusive to me, I don't know What to talk to them about, because whatever topic I bring up, they just keep giggling."

"They like you," Michael said sourly.

"No, I was stupid as a teenager." Quincy got up and fetched a photo album, "Charlie gave it to me... I shouldn't have lost my temper with her that time. I can't control myself when I drink... It was too much that day." It's cold and someone offers a glass of wine. Everyone drinks and I can't say no."

"This was taken after I was admitted to the high school of arts and sciences," he turned to a page, "Look, isn't it silly?"

As far as Michael was concerned, there was nothing stupid about Quincy in the picture.He was a boy with a smart look, wearing a brand-new school uniform, with a handsome appearance. "In order not to have too much contact with my classmates at school, I didn't live in the dormitory and rented a house outside. My mother went to the principal to negotiate this matter," Quincy said softly, "She dealt with all kinds of people for me. If it weren't for her, I should have joined the army...Go to the east, or die in battle, or survive as a prisoner, and be sent to Siberia for labor reform..."

Michael held his hand, a white and slender college student's hand, "It's all over."

"This was taken when I was admitted to university." Quincy turned a few pages. "I could have gone to another school, but my mother wanted me to stay in Munich—"

Quincy in the photo has been out of the innocence of adolescence, "I hid on the university campus for another four years. I hid in the library after class, and went home during the holidays, and hid in my room or the cabin by the lake. I myself Xu sees through politics, looks down on my classmates, secretly laughs at their "youth fanaticism", and thinks he is smarter than others." He turned to the last page, the photo of an officer's uniform, "However, in the end, no one can escape Lose."

"My mother begged a lot of people. I am the only son in our family. I just got married and had no children. In 1944, you could see that there were not many young and middle-aged people left on the street. The sons of Marshal Doenitz were all on the front line. I What is it? They have put up with me for four years, and it is impossible for me to hide forever. It is my turn to give my life for the German fatherland. I entered the army and said goodbye to my dear mother. Before she left, she cried with tears in her eyes Red and swollen, everyone in the house was crying. Mother, Charlie, Emma, ​​and Nina, the maid whose head was blown off..."

"I wanted to rip that picture out and keep it for myself," Michael said, squeezing Quincy's hand tightly. "You have one on your service card."

"Do you have a military pass?"

"I shoot like a gangster—"

Quincy hummed, "I agree with your self-knowledge." He wrapped his woolen coat tightly, walked to the piano, and played a gentle tune.Michael picked up the camera—a New Year's gift from Quincy—and aimed at the straight back, and pressed the shutter.