Wine and Gun

"The fairy tales my mother liked to tell when I was a child, Andersen's." Albarino shrugged, breathing on Herstal's lips—this social distance is indeed very rude, Herstal is Since when did you give up on stopping him? "Tell me about a young artist who carves a sculpture of Suki based on a woman he loves, but the lady cruelly rejects his courtship, and he buries the marble statue in a deep dry well."

"It really doesn't look like a child's bedtime story," Herstal said, but then again, what qualifications does he have to judge a bedtime story? No one told him stories when he was a kid.

“It is said that Andersen was inspired by a news report of a statue of Dionysus being dug up in a cemetery, and my mother felt that this kind of real-life event that would happen in real life was very làng,” Albarino recalled.

He had that look when he recalled the story of his father and the white wine—happy, but only happy. He talks about these things in a tone that could easily be mistaken as if he really misses it, but on closer inspection it's just an illusion.

Herstal felt that his throat seemed a little gān, he coughed and asked, "What about the end of the story?"

"The artist died, and he spent his life escaping from Suqi, who was buried in the dry well, but he finally knew that he never escaped from that shadow," Albarino said softly. "I used to be undecided about my future, and my mother hoped to watch the scene of death, and death itself was a wake-up call. She hoped that I would find my own path from this, instead of going down the old path of imitating her-"

Herstal quickly recalled the news he had found, the police investigation reports, and then he fully understood.

"But she made you," Herstal said slowly.

Albarino inserted the poppy into the buttonhole of the collar of Herstal's blazer, his fingers gently smoothing the folds in the fabric.

"Suki in my heart will never die," Albarino replied softly.

Note:

[1] Albarino's mother's name is Xana, which actually belongs to the maiden demon jīng in native Spanish mythology.

In myths and legends, a dragon named Cuerebre (it is a descendant of the dragon Ladon in Greek mythology; because of the influence of Greek colonization, this image often appears in Spanish mythology) fell in love with the girl Shana: originally Shana faces the fate of being eaten by Querebre. Who knows that this dragon is fascinated and asks Shana to propose marriage. Shana takes this as a condition and asks it not to eat people in the future, and it agrees. In the end, Querebre used his magic power to reincarnate himself as a demon, and it is also said that he transformed Shana into a demon, and the two lived happily ever after.

(↑The source of the content of this comment is Zhihu)

[2] The Raft of the Medusa: An oil painting by Theodore Géricault, collected in the Louvre.

[3] Explain that "Of course I speak to people in parables" - because it is well known that Jesus spoke to others in parables, and the reason Jesus gave for this was, "Therefore I speak to them in parables because they see Can't see, hear, can't hear, and don't understand. In them is exactly what Isaiah's prophecy said, "Listen, you'll hear, but don't understand. Look, you'll see, but don't know."

(So ​​it would be too arrogant to say, "It would be too arrogant to tell others to listen to this.")

[4] Both Boucher and Fragonard were well-known Rococo painters, and Herstal disliked them with gaudy pomp and connotation.

Chapter 46 Dionysus in the Tomb 04

It wasn't an ordinary day, and Albarino knew that from the start.

—It was his mother's death day, July 25th, a fine summer day. At night, the room was still cold, and shadows enveloped the house, slowly swallowing it.

"Father."

Albarino said softly, standing at the door, one elbow resting on the door frame. And his father, Dr. Charles Bacchus, sat by the fireplace in the study.

The well-respected surgeon has an open bottle of white wine on his desk, and the label is the bottle of 1990 Egon Miller winery Riesling grape selection, and the bottle is still five. Charles bought it at an auction years ago.

It's like a lifetime to recall five years ago, when most people would have thought they were successful, successful, and happy, and perhaps Charles Bacchus himself thought the same.

Albarino stared at the glass bottle for a while, then asked softly, "What happened?"

Something had obviously happened - because of the pungent smell of cigarette smoke, it seemed that his father had completely given up on maintaining the pretense of abstinence in front of him. Charles' face was pale, his chin was covered with stubble, and there was a deep shadow under his eyes, which was even more hideous under the firelight of the fireplace, obviously he had lost sleep for a long time.

All this made him look even older, hardly like a man under fifty.

"It's nothing," replied Dr. Charles Bacchus, trying to keep his voice light, but it was long since all his colleagues and friends saw anything more than a smile on his face. "Al, can you leave me alone for a while."

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