英文小说：A Shadow in Surfers Paradise(55) 天堂之影

何木

Chapter 55        1/2




Nevertheless he lived well, studied hard, passed all the exams, and applied for permanent residence, so that one night, as he came back from Chinatown and stepped into her house, Pan handed him a large, yellowish envelope. ‘It is from the Immigration Department,’ she said.

‘Oh, really? So quick, less than three months,’ Bing said excitedly, tearing the envelope. ‘I thought it would need at least four months.’

Pan didn’t reply to him; her eyes were on his hands.

In a moment, he was reading the letter, and she was checking the passports.  

Then he kissed her forehead, to declare, ‘Thank Australia for letting me stay.’

‘She is very pretty,’ Pan said, putting down the passport.

He was a little surprised, but realising it was the first time Pan had seen his wife’s photo, he asked, ‘Is she?’ Then with his hand lifted to fondle her ponytail, he added unreasonably, ‘She is not as tall as you.’

She said no more, her fingers tightening on his waist. ‘Well, a time for celebration.’

She released him, went to the kitchen and returned with a bottle opener. She inserted its twisted point into the cork of the wine already on the table. She began to drill; the cork, very deep inside, was split in the middle but remained outwardly intact. Then Bing took over the task and she went to the fridge, brought back a dish of BBQ chicken she must have purchased from a Chinese shop, and a bag of pistachio nuts, which she opened with scissors and poured its contents onto a platter.  

They spent the next hour in drinking, and the following half an hour in love making.

Her head was nestled on his shoulder. ‘When do you ask her over?’ she asked.

He motioned his head to see her, but her eyes were not interested in his attention. So, with his free right hand, he turned her face to him so that she couldn’t hide her eyes from his. But still, she was not interested, evading him by only looking at his low chin.

She didn’t weep, nor sob like a child, but then, her eyes were brimming with tears.

He said not a word. With his fingers he persuaded her eyes, but her sadness kept coming, over her cheek like a river.

The wet coolness he felt on his shoulder, and the faint tremor of her soft body, began to draw his heart, and his penis. He couldn’t help but make another connection with her, with her soul, with her sadness.

Over the next few months, he looked for a job in IT. The supervisor role in the Chinatown restaurant, which had supported him during his three years of study, would have to be replaced with something else, which could be regarded as his career. He told his wife that, as soon as he had found a job, he would determine the date of her departure. But he knew, the decision was more due to his lingering intimacy with Pan than the sake of economic security, about which he had long ceased to worry.

But, hundreds of resumes were sent, Australia wide, and a dozen interviews, mostly with agents, were conducted, and three months had passed by, still, with no offer.

Oh, what a life-making battle!      

‘Be patient, it always takes time for anyone to get his first job,’ Pan said to him, holding him, in her bed. ‘I was only lucky to have found a job within a month. Some of my friends took more than six months to get their first one.’

‘I don’t know, but it is so hard,’ he said, despondently, ‘sometimes, I really want to go back to China. After all it isn’t a bad idea, is it? I heard some teachers in my university had started their own English training centre, doing very well. IT is something I don’t feel enthusiastic for. If not for the sake of immigration, it wouldn’t interest me a bit.’ And without comments from her, he went on, complaining, ‘Experience, experience, how could I have the experience just after the study? I have already obtained the certificate of MSCD - Microsoft Certified Software Developer.’

‘I have a friend getting both MCSD and MCSE – Microsoft Certified System Engineer, when he got his first job some years ago,’ she said, moving away from him. ‘Time to get up, I am hungry.’

It was Sunday morning, but, ever since he had been troubled with the job hunting, they had barely enjoyed their common leisure hours on Sundays.

‘Maybe I need to seriously consider getting MCSE as well,’ he said, sitting up against the headboard.

‘Try your best, that is what everyone has to do.’  

Later at breakfast, as they drank milk and ate fried eggs, he blurted out, ‘I am thinking of going home.’

She was frowned, ‘Going home? Are you serious?’

‘No, I mean going home to pay a visit.’

‘Oh, you scared me, I thought you wanted to quit Australia altogether.’

‘Well, really, I don’t know, but I think at least I can see my parents, now that I am freer between the two countries.’

A silence elapsed around the table, before Pan asked, ‘How long?’

‘One month?’

‘Then how about your work in Chinatown?’

‘I will have to ask for a long leave,’ he said. ‘Hope I can still have the position when I come back.’

‘I don’t think it will be a problem. Even if you have to find another one, your experience and your friends will of course help,’

she said, matter-of-factly. ‘Do you have enough money?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, thinking of three thousands in his bank account. If not for the new computer he purchased two months ago to assist in preparing for the MCSD tests, he would have had about five thousand. ‘It will be just a flight ticket anyway.’

‘You need buy some gifts,’ she said. ‘Those Australian products.’

‘I know.’

‘If you don’t have enough, let me know.’

‘I will,’ he said, looking at her, warmly, smiling a white smile that had not often visited his face these days.

‘Oh, you… such a rogue,’ she was rapidly turning childish, ‘So you are happy now? Can’t wait to see… her?’

‘Hehe, maybe you go together with me? We go visiting the Emei Mountain, to see those sexy monkeys.’

‘You think I dare not to go?’ she stared at him.

‘Haha, then, go together with me.’

‘Then you will hate me.’
…

So, two of them spent the rest of Sunday in a travel agency in Chinatown, booking his ticket for the following Sunday, buying some sheepskins, some bottles of fish oil, some boxes of lanolin oil.

In the week before his departure, his spirits were high, as they had to be for one who is anticipating a family reunion after years of separation. Obviously, infected by him, Pan was happy too. They made love a lot, but in a less sad, more playful manner. And on those occasions, for a reason, Pan liked to kid about him and his wife, and her curiosity about them, even on their life in bed, was hardly contained. He tended to suspect that she had been showing her cheerfulness in order not to dampen his. Or, unless, she was also in need of some time without him? Could it be possible, after six months of living together, she had grown tired of looking after him like a baby?

At the airport, after their departing kiss, she thrust an envelope into his pocket. And immediately, she left him, waving, ‘Don’t drink too much.’ Then she kept on going, without turning to him, not even giving him the expected last glance.  
In the envelope there was one thousand dollars.

During the ten hours on board, his mind was stretched wide over the Pacific. At one end was Pan, whose figure seemed to contract, to shrink all the way down to only two teary eyes; at the other, a good huddle of excited people, with their faces radiant, with their hearts turbulent, were restlessly and impatiently waiting for his arrival.

But in the end, Australia was losing, fast retreating into an obscure memory, of not just ten hours but seemingly ten years old.

At Chengdu airport, it was not unlike a dream, when he woke up to see his wife, smiling like a silver flower, and beside her, the joyful faces of his mother, his father, his sister and her husband Hui, and surprisingly, of his childhood friend.

‘Why, Kai, you are also here,’ he said aloud, walked to Kai to bang a couple of times on his thick chest.

Kai laughed, ‘Of course, this is Chengdu. Don’t you forget I am now a permanent resident in the city.’

Bing turned to his wife. Strange, she didn’t seem getting any older, or his Australian adventure had actually tarnished his remembrance of her. Her skin, creamy, her features, small, her fingers, slender; all looked as fresh and tender as if he had seen her for the first time. Holding her hand, tapping her cheek, and kissing her cheek, he was wondering why he had not missed her hard enough during the past three years.

Even his parents, who had one year before moved from village to live together with his sister, looked much younger; their faces looked fuller, though the number of white streaks in their hair had no reason to be reduced. On the scene, there were no tears. There was only a flash of emotion detected in his mother’s face, that faded quickly, as she came over to catch his arms, persuade him to put on the coat she had brought for him, and make general comments about his body. ‘A little fatter, a little fatter,’ she said, giving an opinion with which his father didn’t seem to agree or disagree, for he only smiled calmly beside her, neither nodding nor shaking his head.

But, his sister Ming, in the uniform, was somewhat distant from the trace of his memory. The freshness and roundness of her face were gone, to be printed with subtle lines about her eyes, and better shaped by her chin and cheekbones. At the corner of her mouth was standing half a smile, which was humorous, a little sly, signalling to him, ‘Ge - Brother, I have a lot to say, but only later’.

Contented as she appeared to be, she was, exactly like a young mother.

‘Where is your baby?’ he asked. ‘What is his name?’

‘Oh, you have already forgotten,’ she replied, ‘Gao Yu, he is at home, with his grandma.’

‘Ha, now I have someone calling me uncle,’ he chuckled.

Some time later, they were all in the minivan that belonged to Hui’s company. According to what Ming had told Bing in their phone calls, Hui’s computer business had been running very well, now having about fifteen employees.

They first dropped Kai in the city so that he could take a bus to his university, then travelling a further three hours to Mianyang. But the hours were reduced considerably in their happiness, so that Bing didn’t feet its existence.

Ming’s three-bedroom unit, purchased only a year before, was on the fifth floor, at the top of the building. So without a lift, carrying Bing’s luggage upstairs was a task. But Bing had to only carry the smaller ones. Hui, two years older than himself, shorter but sturdier, and the driver, also an employee in his company, were handling the rest.

The first thing, after Bing had entered the unit, was to hold his little nephew, a chubby, one and half year old baby. This was indeed the first time he had ever held a baby, unless he had done so to his sister in his own babyish years. Lucky the little creature didn’t cry; he stayed calm in his arms, with his unblinking eyes staring at him. But the tranquil moment didn’t last long, for only in another second, the plump body began to wriggle, wrestling passionately against him, to be accompanied by a burst of voice, seeking the safety of anyone else but him, who was a total stranger with those strange ‘goggles’.  

‘Call him uncle, Yu Yu, call him uncle,’ a number of feminine voices were cooing the baby. And no sooner had he handed him over to his mother, than his tearless wailing stopped. But his eyes, like those of a young bull, were still fixing on him, gleaming with all the curiosity in the world.

It was late afternoon, and in China, it was winter. The overnight hours in the air should have tired him, but he was only excited. His mother asked him to at least take a shower, saying that a hot bath would do him better, if he didn’t want to recollect some sleep. So he decided to listen to her, who then made ready a new set of everything for him - pyjamas, shorts, pants, shirt, sweater, socks, a leather coat, and leather shoes with insoles ready. So, no doubt, some minutes later, he turned out to be a fresh person, altogether Made-in-China. His mother then spent many minutes pulling his cuffs and collars, muttering, ‘smaller, and tighter, here and there’, treating him like a model about to walk on a stage. And his wife, sitting relatively quiet on the couch, was enjoying the scene; her little smiles indulgent, amused, though not without a trace of mockery, or jealousy.

The dinner in the restaurant was full of gaiety. Including the baby and Hui’s parents and younger brother Yong, a total of nine people sat around a huge round table. Sons and husbands were quick for the drinks, while their wives or mothers had to incessantly ask them to eat more food. Snowflake beer was not as bitter as VB, and of course, far less expensive. The Sichuan-style cuisine was honest, genuine in terms of the amount and quality of the spices and the savoury taste, compared to those bilingual dishes in Box Hill or Chinatown.

His mother, sitting opposite to him, smiled all the time; her face seemed tinted with a new layer of health, that had apparently smoothed or concealed her old wrinkles. His father was also less reserved, spoke aloud in toasting Hui’s father. The friendship between Qiuyan and Ming was enviable, as they quickly threw themselves into their micro-talk soon after they sat next to each other. Qiuyan’s cheeks were looking never so delicate and tender. Even the baby in his grandma’s arms was acting high in spirit, his little fingers tearing some vegetable leaves, his fat, folded arms swinging, now and then uttering some bird-like cackles to entertain the crowd.  

Bing had emptied many glasses, but he didn’t feel drunk, rather imagined he could gulp a lot more. He might have slipped out some Australian experiences that he certainly wanted to keep as secrets, but he couldn’t remember, though he cared very much.

Later that night, Qiuyan was so tight and small and juicy that he felt it was his first time with her. In his intoxication, Pan’s body seemed to flash, yet instead of incurring some conventional guilt, it augmented his ecstasy. So that, in the following sober days, as he watched the radiance in his wife’s cheeks, his moral intent to blame himself was growing keener, and more wishful, though ineffective just the same. For now, Pan, like other women, from whom he had acquired their intimacy, had fallen into the remote back of his mind. It was like Qiuyan had become a new girl, a new woman, a fresh virgin to him, and his past with her had been almost erased.

She was new to him, and he to her, in the light of truth she didn’t know. But he knew.

A week later, he went home, together with her and Ming and his parents. In the mud-house that had been well looked after by his uncle, they drank loudly the rice-wine, and became absorbed in his favourite foods sourced by his mother from other villagers. And one day, they paid a visit to their family graveyard, burning many bunches of incense and fireworks at the graveside.

On their way back home, he asked his mother, ‘Why is there not even one swallow in the sky? Three years ago there were still a number of them.’

‘Swallows?’ his mother said, as if responding to an ancient topic, ‘I don’t think there were any even three years ago.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, unless Ming says otherwise,’ she said.

Ming said, ‘I can’t remember exactly when the swallows disappeared. Too much pesticide and fertilizers have been used in the fields, killing almost everything, frogs, dragonflies, and the loaches. The swallows couldn’t survive with that.’

‘I think there are still some, in the hills,’ his cousin Dan said

Then Qiuyan laughed, ‘Nowadays who cares about swallows? All about money and production.’

His mother remarked formally, ‘Yes, the harvest is much better now. The villagers are rich, doing a lot of things. Young people go to the city. Dan also wants to go, don’t you, Dan?’

Ming answered for him, ‘I am still waiting for an answer from the factory. Shouldn’t be a problem. I will call them again when I go back.’

‘What type of job?’ asked Bing, glad that his sister could help Dan find a job in the city.

‘It is in a home decoration company,’ she replied.   

‘Can you also find a job for me?’ he asked, not at all kidding.

‘Haha, what do you want to do?’ Ming was amused, ‘Computer, or English?’

‘Anything, so long as it is not dish washing, or kitchen hand.’

They all laughed, as if this was much a joke. Then his mother was serious, ‘It is not a bad idea; things are getting better, a lot
of people are making a lot of money. Australia is too far away.’

He knew his mother was telling the truth, though he and others made no comments.

After the village, their next stop was Sangton county, where Kai was to meet them. Kai’s parents, with of course assistance from Kai, had built a big brick house up there. It was a trend for the richer, more capable villagers, to move into the town or the county or even bigger cities, depending on their resources.



--- To Next Post ---

何木

Chapter 55      2/2



Again, the gathering was like a drinking contest. Called upon by Kai, a large group of school classmates had turned up for the occasion, welcoming Bing as if he were a sort of celebrity. Among them was the ‘monkey’ Xing, whose one leg had become lame after the accident in middle school. But he had studied hard, managed to get into a business college, and now worked as a tax officer. And more surprising was that Chun, the girl who had once sat at the same desk with Bing in primary school, also attended the banquet. After twenty years, Bing could in no way recognise her. But she came forward to greet him and introduce herself, while Bing could only scratch his head, then burst into laugher as his boyhood memory was turning live. It amazed him that she seemed to remember those school stories better than he did. It was actually her, she admitted, who had burned pine bark in the classroom and fought with the boy. She had married early, now had a twelve-year-old son. But her husband had died in a motorcycle accident, not long after they had moved up to live in the county. Nonetheless, she appeared rather cheerful, and hopeful. ‘My boy is studying very well,’ she said, ‘he ought to learn from you, and one day also go abroad to study.’

Later in the night, awfully drunk, he was suffering a painful hangover. He was vomiting; the acid dirt contaminated his mouth and nose, fouling the sink and toilet in Kai’s house. His bleary eyes must have looked worse than those of a half-dead animal. He was retching fiercely; his body was like a bag of water, or air. He sat on the toilet groaning, his head crouching to the lowest point, his consciousness clinging to the weakest form. For the first time in his life, he had sensed what dying was really like.

He had to stay in bed the whole day after, before he could recover. Then he tended more meals and drank more; for the toasting was just irresistible, undeniable. Then he broke down, and got a fever, coughing through the night.

‘Are you feeling better?’ Kai asked him in the morning. ‘You must have been very tired. The cold weather doesn’t help.’

‘A little headache,’ he said, weakly, trying to get up as to drink the syrup they had purchased for him. ‘Have drunk too much.’

‘Hehe, that was normal, after three years,’ Kai said. ‘I didn’t feel we had even started yet, haha..’

‘No problem, we…’ Bing began, but halted by a fitful cough, ‘we will still have a chance, in Chengdu.’

‘Sure.’

Kai’s wife, also a teacher in Sichuan University, had not come back home with him this time, so Bing asked, ‘How about your wife? You said she was pregnant.’

‘Yes, but we don’t know if it is a son or a daughter.’

‘Do you care?’

‘Hehe,’ Kai said, reasonably, ‘but only one child, I am traditional enough to want a boy.’

‘But you…you can’t change now,’ Bing said, coughing.   

‘It is good, you gain the residency in Australia,’ Kai went on. ‘You can have as many children as you want.’

Bing was laughing, in spite of his tight breath. ‘I don’t even have a job yet, and…and, actually not sure if I would like to stay there for long,’ he sipped the syrup to smooth his throat, ‘without a job, it is no use.’

‘Well, you have only just graduated from the university, how many months now? Two, three? You will find one, sooner or later,’ Kai said, in a tone very much like Pan’s. ‘And you know what, I have also been speculating on going abroad.’

‘What?’ Bing was surprised, ‘you want to go abroad? Australia? Or Canada? Or New Zealand?’

‘Well, too early to say where to go, just having some discussion with my wife,’ he said. ‘There are quite a number of people in my university thinking about that.’

Bing wanted to say that he had had exactly the same sort of influence in reaching his own decision about going overseas, and that if he was allowed to start again, he wouldn’t be so sure of it. But then he was coughing.

Kai waited for Bing to settle himself, ‘What do you think of Australia?’  

‘Australia?’ Bing tried to talk, ‘What a question, it needs at least two full days to tell about that.’

‘I know, I know,’ Kai was pursuing, ‘Just two words, good or bad? Compared to Canada? To China?’

Bing was coughing, ‘Good, and bad…but are you really serious?’

‘Well, you should know a reason, as you were once a teacher yourself in Jiaoda. Too many things and too complicated people to deal with. You don’t suppose I am rather satisfied, and prosperous here, do you?’

Bing was feeling the nasty tickling in his throat for his reply, ‘Maybe it was not a bad idea after all, only…only you know what to do in Australia, and…and  prepare to start everything from scratch.’   

‘Anyway, just sort of perhaps,’ Kai said, getting up, ‘you take some sleep, and hope you get well soon.’

However, Bing was not getting any better but much worse. In fact, his illness was so serious that his sister suggested staying in the Mianyang hospital until he recovered. His coughing was a nightmare. All the planned activities and fun had to be cancelled, including his trips to Jiaoda and Happy Mountain, where he was supposed to see his colleagues and parents-in-law. Naturally, Qiuyan was very disappointed, and had to arrange for her parents to come over to meet him.

The hospital was crowded and noisy like a beehive. He was again like a helpless child. It seemed all the illnesses he had avoided in Australia were coming up together to penalise him within a period of two weeks.  

He was injected with penicillin, which was believed to be the strongest antibiotic. Like many other patients in the room, he had to be supported by the dangling bottles, with his eyes musing hopelessly upon the tranquil drips that ran unhurriedly through a long tube into his blood, into his soiled, wretched system.

It was not until three days before his return time to Australia, that he was considered sound enough to leave the hospital. The unexpected virus attack , nevertheless, lent him a new perspective in perceiving the life - a fragile physical existence, one of thousands of living symptoms in its odd nature; in a person there isn’t anything that is unphysical, even the feelings, to the human beings so precious and beautiful and expensive as they seem to be, are no more than some mechanical works of atoms and molecules. The eyes of other patients were just as sad, as hopeless and dreary as his. The crying kids, the groaning elders, the relatives rushing between the windows and corridors, the long queues awaiting treatment, the stern faces of white-coated doctors, and the gleaming lights in the operation rooms, were the miserable shadows of a human society. As he stepped into the taxi, throwing his last glance at the hospital’s front porch, where patients, assisted by their relatives, wandered about, with their hands plugged with those grotesque tubes and needles, with their faces exhibiting the paleness of death, he felt he had just extricated himself from the fiends of hell.   

‘Hehe, it was so unfortunate you got sick,’ said his father-in-law, regretfully. ‘We have been long awaiting your stay in Happy Mountain.’

‘All the same, dad, now you and mum are here,’ Bing drank some orange juice. ‘I am glad to see you both in good health.’

His mother-in-law said, ‘It must be due to the incompatibility of water and soil, between China and Australia.’ She was apparently referring to the cause of his sickness.

Then, his mother said, ‘Too much drink, too tired, running everywhere.’

That night, they had a large family dinner at home. He didn’t dare to touch any beer, though Hui still tempted him, ‘just a little, just a little,’ he kept saying, before being hushed and shut-up by the wives and mothers. But obviously, without his brother-in-law’s toast, Hui was rather lonely drinking by himself.

‘Come back home more often, which is the only method to increase your capacity for alcohol.’

Again, the second part of his speech was well criticised by the wives and mothers.

Bing was amused, ‘Why not going to Australia, I am sure the beer over there will lay you totally flat.’

Hui chuckled, ‘Great, keep the words, I can’t wait.’
…

Two days later, he arrived at Melbourne airport. The air, and the variety of people, and the sky, and more particularly Pan who had come to pick him up, were giving him a sense of a new world, where all the faces in his old society, as well as the warmth Qiuyan had left on his chest lingering, seemed to have finally sloughed off. The feeling was rather exotic, if not overly queer, as another woman Pan, smiling affectionately, and graciously, with her long body and her long bag that flung briskly against her hip, trod forward to catch his hand. Within 24 hours, he had two women, so different in both physique and character, but each seemed loving him no less than the other. For the while, his vanity was realised, his manhood exalted. So instead of a guilt he was supposed to feel, he was stimulated, and fairly aroused, with extra passion or simply lust, and as soon as he entered her home, he couldn’t wait but love her.

He was empty, that was quick. Gently she stroked his chest, and said, ‘You acted like a hungry man.’ He caressed her, gently, but didn’t say a word. He gathered her body closer to him, as if by doing so, he could avoid her direct gaze, and hide an ugly feeling that, somehow, and only after he had jerked and drained his life completely into her, had arisen to chafe him. In this minute of sanity and exhaustion, he felt his shell was being dragged by two familiar but alienated spirits, by Pan and Qiuyan, by the two worlds that demanded to consume his identity.

So, he felt he was trapped. His wholeness was in danger. His independence was struggling to desert him. Oh, everything, including his life and adventure, should have been just unnecessary, and repetitive, and meaningless.

A stale and repulsive sensation sneaked to the surface to attack him.

She moved slightly away from his cool clutch, and raised her eyes to look into him, ‘Bing?’

He didn’t heed her concern, his blind gaze straight at the ceiling. She sat up, and shook him, ‘What happened? Bing, you are crying.’

‘Crying?’ he turned to her, as if just awakened from a trance, and composed, and made a smile. ‘You are kidding.’

She lowered herself to lie beside him, and let the silence plague the room. He closed his eyes, and a slumber seemed to save him, to heal the innate wound inflicted by the conflicts.

But then her soft whisper drew him back, ‘Bing, I am sorry.’

Surprisedly, he was awake, and turned to her, ‘Pan, why? Please, don’t say that.’

But she avoided his look, and shed her words onto his breast. ‘I know I should have left you a long time ago, at least before you went back home.’  

‘Don’t be silly,’ he smoothed her ponytail, ‘if anything, it is me who should say sorry.’

She was quiet for quite a while, before she began, ‘Was everything all right, I mean your trip?’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but I was sick for almost three weeks.’

‘Ah?’ she was frankly shocked, ‘really?’

‘Yes, too bad,’ his lips brushed her forehead. ‘Apart from that, everything was okay.’

‘How about her?’ she asked offhandedly, or intently.

‘She is fine.’

‘When will she come over?’

‘I told her when I’ve found a job.’

She suddenly turned over, ‘I forgot to tell you, I have received two phone calls asking you to do an interview.’

‘Oh, two interviews?’

Rolling over him, and off the bed, she went to fetch her note. ‘Yes, one from Melbourne, the other from Sydney.’

‘Why such a hurry? It is just an interview.’

‘I know, but it is also the time to get up, to get something to eat.’

She was dressing herself, and once again, her blacks and whites, her dips and wells, seemed to draw the light from his eyes. ‘Oh, what a woman! How different is her body from hers…’ he whispered to his mind. ‘And only minutes ago, I was almost resentful, but how could I hate her!’

So he jumped from the bed, reached her body, pulled her back to him, and then a new round of cruelty was repeated. Numerous times had he done this to her, but this time was fundamentally different. Less tenderness, less care, more force, more violence.

Was he avenging himself, or somebody else, against something or something else? He couldn’t say. But he knew that, this woman, this soul, this flesh, this vagina, wouldn’t be possessed forever by him, and that the day of losing her, however extended it could possibly be, would come.




-- End of Chapter 55 ---

Gone

为Pan不值。。

何木

Gone 发表于 2014-8-13 08:50
为Pan不值。。

我也这么想。。可能太孤单了吧，一个人在墨尔本那么多年，进也不是退也不是。再说Bing本来就是一个坏人。。

Gone

坏有坏报。。当然斌看上去并不坏。。只是在男女之间------自私的人坏。。