On the short ferry ride from Buckley Bay to Denman Island, Juliet emerged from her car and stood in the summer breeze at the front of the ferry. A woman standing there recognized her, and the two struck up a conversation. This is not unusual, people look at Juliet more and wonder where they have seen this woman before, and sometimes they do remember it. She often appears on provincial television channels, interviewing people with outstanding deeds or expertly moderating special discussions, which is called "Today's Topic". Her hair was now cut short, as short as possible, dyed a deep reddish-brown to match the color of her glasses. She often wore black trousers and an ivory-white silk shirt, as she does today, sometimes with a black jacket. She was now a lady her mother would call "very eye-catching."
"I really have to ask for your pardon. You must be constantly disturbed. ”
"It doesn't matter," said Juliet, "unless I happen to see the dentist come out or something like that." "The woman was about the same age as Juliet. Long black hair with a lock of gray in the middle, no makeup, and a long denim skirt. Her home was on Denman Island, so Juliet asked her if she had heard of the "Mental Balance Center". "Because my daughter is there," said Juliet, "she goes there for a 'retreat' or a class of whatever, I don't know what it's called." The term is six months. For the first time in six months, I decided I had to go see her. "There are several such places," replied the woman, "and they always come and go, and their whereabouts are uncertain." I'm not saying there's anything suspicious about them. It's just that they usually go out into the forest to do activities, you know, and they don't have any contact with the outside world. But then again, if there is contact, then what is it called retirement? "She said that Juliet must have wanted to see her daughter again, and Juliet said yes, and she really wanted to." I'm a spoiled mother," she said, "she's twenty, and my daughter, in fact, is twenty-one this month, but we've always been glued together, and we've never been apart." The lady said she had a twenty-year-old son, and two daughters, eighteen and fifteen, and that sometimes she was willing to pay them a little to retire, and it would be better if they could go to one or all three. Juliet laughed, "It's okay, I'm the only one." Naturally, I wouldn't promise that I wouldn't want to take her home on the boat, even if it was for a few weeks. This was the kind of doting and feigned angry mothers she found so easily caught up in (Juliet was already an expert at making pleasant reactions), but Penelope had almost never given her a reason to complain, and if she had to tell the truth, what she wanted to say at the moment was that it would be unbearable for her not to have had the slightest contact with her daughter for a day, let alone six months. Penelope worked as a summer waitress in Banff (1), took a bus trip to Mexico, and hitchhiked all the way to Newfoundland. But she's always been with Juliet, and she's never been separated for six months. She brought me joy, Juliet could quite say that. It's not because she's the kind of girl who can sing and dance, bring sunshine and joy to people, and be happy and harmonious in everything. I hope that the daughter I raise will be better than such people. She was elegant, sympathetic, and wise as if she had been in the world for eighty years. She's thoughtful by nature, not as capricious as I am. It's a bit introverted, like her father. She was still fairy-like, just like my mother, with the same blond hair and white skin as my mother, but not as delicate as my grandmother. She is strong and elegant. Tall and plump, I must say, like a caryatidatid. Most people think I'm jealous of her, but I don't have any such thoughts. During this long period of time without her—not a word from her, because the "mental balance" did not allow communication or telephone contact—I felt like I was in the desert the whole time, and when her message came, I felt like a rain of sweet rain from a cracked earth. Hope to see you on Sunday afternoon. It's time. That's what Penelope's card reads. It was time to go home, and Juliet hoped that was what it meant, but of course, it was up to Penelope to show if it meant it. Penelope also drew a simple map, and soon Juliet found herself parked in front of an old church—or rather, in front of a seventy-five or eighty-year-old church building, plastered, unlike the churches in the area where Juliet grew up, which were usually old and somewhat shocking. Behind the church is a newer building with a pitched roof and windows in front of it, a simple stage and benches for people to sit on, and what looks like a volleyball court with a loose net hanging from it. Everything is shabby, and a piece of land that was previously cleared is now being regained by juniper and aspen. On stage, several people were doing carpentry work - it was impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman, and some were sitting on benches in small groups. They all wore ordinary everyday clothes, not yellow robes or this kind of clothing. For a few minutes, no one paid attention to Juliet's car. Only then did a man get up from the bench and walk towards her unhurriedly. It's a middle-aged man with glasses and a short dun. She stepped out of the car and greeted him, saying she was looking for Penelope. He didn't speak—perhaps they had a rule not to speak to strangers—but nodded, turned and walked toward the church. Soon, a man came out of it, not Penelope, but a slow, heavy, white-haired woman wearing jeans and a baggy pullover. "It's an honor to meet you," she said, "come in." I've asked Donnie to prepare tea for us. "She had a broad, cheerful face, a smile that was mischievous and gentle, and a pair of eyes that Juliet must have been known as sparkling." My name is Joan. She said. Juliet had expected to come across a Dharma name like "Jing'an" or something with an oriental color, not an ordinary name like Joan. Of course, later she remembered Pope Joan (2). "I've got the right place, haven't I? I'm in a dark spot here at Denman," she deliberately made the atmosphere feel more relaxed, "You know, I'm here to see Penelope. "Of course. Find Penelope. Joan dragged out the names and pronounced them syllable-by-syllable, as if in a celebratory tone. Inside the church, the high windows are hung with purple curtains, so it looks dark and gloomy. The rows of seats and other church equipment were removed, but the most ordinary white curtains were hung up, and private rooms were separated like hospital wards. Juliet was brought into the cubicle with no bed, just a small table and a few plastic chairs, and a few shelves with scattered papers piled up on them. "I'm sorry, we're still in a mess here," said Joan, "it's Juliet." Can I call you Juliet? "Absolutely." "I'm not used to dealing with celebrities." Joan put her hands together under her chin as if in prayer, "I don't know if the conversation should be more formal or casual." "I'm not a celebrity yet." "Oh, you are. Don't be so modest. I just can't help but want to tell you how much I admire what you've done. It was a ray of light in the darkness. And it's the only TV show worth watching. "Thank you," said Juliet, "I received a note from Penelope—" "I know. But I have to tell you, Juliet, I'm really sorry, and I don't want to disappoint you too much – Penelope isn't here. The woman said those words—Penelope wasn't here—and kept her voice as soft as she could. You'd think "Penelope's absence" was just a funny conjecture, or even a joke between two people when they were playing. Juliet had to take a deep breath and pause for a moment. Fear came over her, soaking her throughout. As expected. Then she pulled herself together and tried to deal with the matter as best she could. She reached for her handbag. "She said she wanted—" "I know, I know," said Joan, "she wanted to stay here and wait for you, but the truth is, she couldn't—" "Where is she?" Where did she go? "I can't tell you that." "Do you mean you can't say it or you don't want to say it?" "I can't say. I don't know. But there's one thing I can tell you to put your mind at ease. Wherever she went, whatever she decided to do, it was the right thing for her. It was the right thing to do for her spirituality and for her growth. Juliet decided not to bother with her about that for now. The word spirit made her sick, everything seemed to be able to fit into this basket, from the wheel of prayer to the Great Mass, and she never imagined that Penelope, who had such a high level of intelligence, would be involved in such a thing. "I think I should know," she said, "maybe she'll need me to send her something." "Her clothes?" Joan couldn't even seem to suppress her desire to laugh, though she immediately faded it into a gentle expression, "Penelope doesn't care much about her clothes at the moment. Sometimes, during the interview, Juliet feels that the person in front of her has a lot of hatred in her heart, which is not obvious until the camera starts. A person whom Juliet didn't value much in the past, who she considered to be a rather stupid person, often has this power. On the surface, he laughs and laughs, but in fact he hates you to the core. What you need to do is to never show that you are taken aback, and definitely not to show any hostility that wants revenge. "By growth, I naturally mean growth within us." Joan said. "I understand." Juliet said, staring straight into the other's eyes. "Penelope had a really good chance in her life to meet interesting people — oh my God, she didn't have to meet interesting people, she grew up with an interesting person, you were her mother, but sometimes there are some areas that are missing, and children grow up feeling that they are missing something—" "Oh, yes," said Juliet, "I know children grow up complaining about all sorts of things." "Joan is determined to get that big card out." The spiritual realm, I must mention this, is it extremely lacking in Penelope's life? I guess she didn't grow up in a family of strong faith. "Religion is not a topic that should not be talked about. We are free to discuss. "But maybe in the way you talked about it. Your intellectual way? Of course you know what I mean. You're so smart. She also graciously added. Say whatever you want. "Juliet understands that her control over this conversation, and over herself, is being lost little by little, and probably completely." That's not what I said, Juliet. It was Penelope who said so. Penelope is a lovely girl, but she came to us in a state of extreme hunger. What she hungered for was what she couldn't get in her own home. You're like that again, living a busy and successful life. But Juliet, I must tell you, your daughter has always felt lonely. She experienced unhappiness. "Isn't that what most people are, during this time or that time? Lonely and unhappy? "That's not up to me to answer. Oh, Juliet. You are a lady who sees through very well. I often see you on TV, and I always wonder, how can she see the essence of things so thoroughly on the one hand, and at the same time be so kind and polite to people? I never thought I'd sit and talk to you face-to-face. Not only that, but it's in a position where I can help you—" "I think you're probably mistaken. "You feel hurt. It's natural for you to feel hurt. "It's my own business." "Ah, yes. Maybe she'll get in touch with you. Anyway. Penelope did contact Juliet, and that was two weeks later. Juliet received a birthday card on her birthday, Penelope herself, on June 19. Her twenty-first birthday. That's the kind of card you send when you can't guess the other person's interest. It's not a vulgar amusing card, it's not really witty or sentimental. On the front is a small bunch of pansies with a thin purple ribbon tied to it, and the words Happy Birthday spelled out on the tail. These words are repeated on the inner page, but the words "I wish you" and "very" are added in gold at the top of the four words. There is no signature. Juliet initially thought it was sent to Penelope by someone, but she forgot to sign it, and she opened the wrong letter. Someone who had Penelope's name and date of birth on his file. Maybe it's her dentist, or maybe it's a driving school teacher. But when she checked the words on the envelope, she knew there was nothing wrong with it—it was indeed her own name, written by Penelope herself. There is no clue from the postmark. It's covered with the words Canada Post. Juliet had the impression that she should be able to tell which province the letter was sent from, but she would have to ask the post office, and the person who went to the post office with the letter would probably ask you to explain why you did it, and what right you had to know the information. And someone will definitely recognize her. She went to find her old friend Christa, who was there when she lived in Whale Bay, before Penelope was born. Krista currently lives in a nursing home in Kizcilano . She suffers from multiple arteriosclerosis. Her room was on the ground floor, with a small balcony to its own, where Juliet sat with her, overlooking a small sun-drenched lawn—along the hedge, wisteria was in full bloom, covering several garbage cans. Juliet told Christa about the whole process of her trip to Damman Island. She hadn't told anyone else, and she wished she didn't have to mention it to anyone else. She was thinking about Penelope waiting for her in her apartment every day on her way home from work. Or at least a letter will be received. But what she was waiting for was the unfriendly card—and her hands were shaking as she tore open the envelope. "That still says something," Krista said, "and it lets you know she's okay." Something else will follow. Definitely. You have to be patient. Juliet spoke viciously about the "godmother of great tonnage" (3). She first sarcastically called her "Pope Joan", but was not satisfied with it, and finally decided to call her that. What a despicable tactic to play, she said. Behind the sweet, greasy, and unruly religious guise, what kind of evil and filth are hidden. It's hard to believe that Penelope could really be bewitched by her. Krista asked if Penelope wanted to write something on this kind of topic, so she went. It's a kind of investigative journalism and the like. That's called an on-the-spot interview. Isn't it fashionable to start from a personal point of view – to talk about and highlight personal news reports right now? Investigate for six months? Juliet said. Penelope will be able to see through the "godmother of big tonnage" in less than ten minutes. "It's kind of weird." Krista also admitted. "You don't know much more than what was revealed to you, do you?" Juliet said, "It makes me sick to even ask that little bit." Isn't it like drifting on the sea? I feel stupid. That woman just wanted me to look dumbfounded, and that was obvious. It's like a character in a play blurts out something and everyone turns their heads away from it, because everyone else knows about it, but she doesn't know it alone—" "No one does this kind of drama anymore," Krista said, "and now it's all blind and blind in all circumstances." No—just like Penelope doesn't talk to you now, she's long since she didn't trust me. Why does she trust? She knows I'll tell you sooner or later. Juliet was silent for a moment, then she muttered angrily, "There are some things you didn't tell me. "Oh, God," said Christa, but without any resentment, "don't talk about that again." "No," Juliet agreed, "all in all, I'm in a bad mood right now." "Bear with me a little longer. Parents always have to go through this kind of torture. Overall, she didn't give you much suffering. In less than a year, these things will become ancient history. Juliet didn't tell her that in the end she had not been able to maintain her dignity and walk out of the "center of mental balance". She turned away and cried out in pleading and rage. "What did she tell you then?" The Big-tonnage Godmother stood there staring at her, as if she had expected such an outcome. The fat woman shook her head, and a greasy, pitiful smile pulled her closed lips straighter and longer. The following year, Juliet occasionally received phone calls from people she had known Penelope in the past. Her answer to their questions was the same. Penelope decided to take a year off from school. She went on a trip. Her itinerary was completely undetermined in advance, and Juliet was unable to contact her or provide her address. But she didn't get a call from any of Penelope's best friends. This may well mean that these close friends know where Penelope is. Either they have all gone abroad, or have found jobs in other provinces, and have entered a new life track, and are too busy or risky to care about their old friends. (At this stage of life, old friends are people you haven't seen for half a year.) The first thing Juliet does when she gets home now is to see if her call recorder is on—something she was most annoyed about in the past, and maybe someone was going to get her to do some public business. She also experimented with all sorts of stupid tricks, such as walking to the telephone in a few steps, picking up the telephone in what position, and exhaling it. She was the one who called. But no amount of small actions worked. After a while, the whole world seemed to be empty, and all the people Penelope knew were gone, and the boys who let her get rid of her, the boys who dumped her, the girls who chattered with her and maybe had a heart-to-heart with her, were all gone. She used to attend Torrance College, a private girls' boarding school, rather than a public high school, which meant that most of the friends she had been friends with for a long time, even in college, were not locals. Some are from Alaska or Prince George, or even Peru. There is no news on Christmas. But in June, another greeting card came, almost exactly the same as the first one, and not a single word was written in it. Juliet had a glass of wine before opening the letter, but when she opened it, she threw it aside. She erupted in sobs and sobs, and from time to time her whole body trembled uncontrollably, but she quickly got rid of them, and went about in circles around the room, and struck one hand into a fist at the palm of the other. This anger was directed at the godmother of the tonnage, but the image of this woman gradually faded, and finally Juliet had to admit that in fact, this woman was only a scapegoat for convenience. All of Penelope's photographs were piled up in her bedroom, along with stacks of pencil and crayon drawings she had made before they left Whale Bay, her books, and the gift she bought Juliet with the first money she earned from her summer job at McDonald's—a European-style one-time-brewing coffee pot with a rubber suction cup on it. There were also quirky little gifts for the apartment, such as a plastic fan attached to the refrigerator, a small clockwork tractor, and a curtain made of glass beads hanging in front of the bathroom window. The door to this room is always closed, so that, after a long time, you can no longer be harassed when you pass through this door. Juliet often wondered if she wanted to move out of the apartment, so she could give herself a new environment. But she told Krista that she couldn't do that, because it was an address that Penelope knew, and that mail forwarding was only in charge of three months, after which her daughter didn't know where to go to her. "She can always come to your place of work and find you." Krista said. "Who knows how long I'll be there?" "She may have belonged to a commune where contact with the outside world is not allowed." Perhaps following some kind of archmage, he slept with all the female believers, and sent them out into the streets to make alms. If I had sent her to Sunday school and taught her how to say prayer, maybe it wouldn't have happened. I really should have done that. That's equivalent to an anti-epidemic shot. I ignored her sexuality. That's what the big-tonnage godmother said. When Penelope was not yet thirteen years old, he went on a camping trip to Mount Courtenay, British Columbia, with a fellow student from Torrens School and his family. Juliet was very much in favor of her going. Penelope had only been at Torrens School for only a year (her mother had taught there, so she was given a discounted fee to get in), and Juliet was glad that she had made such a strong friend, and that she was able to accept it so quickly for her family. Juliet was delighted that she was able to go camping—only decent children could go, and Juliet herself had never had such an opportunity as a child. It wasn't that she was particularly interested in these kinds of things—she was already obsessed with reading at the time—but that she liked to see Penelope show signs of becoming a more normal girl than herself. Eric was a little worried about the whole thing. He thinks Penelope is still too young. He didn't like her going on vacation with a group of people he knew so little. She went to boarding school, and they didn't have much time to see each other, so why cut back on the time they spent together? Juliet had another purpose - she deliberately kept Penelope around for the first two weeks of the summer, because the atmosphere between her and Eric was not normal. She wanted to put things to a halt, but now it was a mess. She didn't want to pretend that nothing was going on with the child's share. Eric, on the other hand, would like nothing more than to see the conflict eased for the time being, and everyone will turn a blind eye to it. According to Eric's train of thought, politeness can always restore good feelings, pretend that it is love, and you can be fooled up until the day when love really recovers, if it can't be recovered, then it can only be like this, Eric can make do with it anyway. Yes, he can make do with it, Juliet thought dejectedly. With Penelope at home, there is a reason to behave properly—so that Juliet can behave, because in his opinion, Juliet is the one who provokes this whole hatred—and if he can do so, it would be really good for Erik. Juliet bluntly debunks his wishful thinking, which leads to a new resentment and recrimination, because he misses Penelope too much. The reason for their quarrel is an old and mundane story, with nothing new about it. In the spring, through the revelation of some small things, mostly because Eero did not keep his mouth shut, but more likely because she deliberately provoked it, Arroult was their old neighbor, and still has a lot of affection for Eric's late ex-wife, and Juliet was not used to it in every way - Juliet found out that Eric had slept with Christa. Krista had been a close friend of her for a long time, but, before that, she had been Eric's girlfriend, or rather, his mistress (though no one calls her that anymore). Eric broke up with Krista when he begged Juliet to live with him. Juliet was completely aware of Christa's affairs, and she had no legitimate reason to care about the events that preceded Eric's cohabitation. She didn't do it either. What she objected to was — she claimed it broke her heart — what happened after that. (But that was a long time ago, Eric said.) This happened when Penelope was one year old, when Juliet took her back to Ontario. Juliet returns to her hometown to visit her parents. It's to see—she always points out now—her mother, who is about to die. In her absence, when there was no part of her body that missed Eric (which she was now convinced to be), he simply reconnected with someone else. At first, he only admitted that it had happened once (it was a drunken immorality), but after further questioning the details, and after comparing himself with him, he said that maybe more than once. Maybe? Can't remember? It's too many times to remember, right? He has a good memory. Krista comes to Juliet to convince her that nothing really matters. (Even the tune is exactly the same as Eric.) Juliet told her to get out of here and never come again. Christa wondered if she would have to use this time to visit her brother in California. Juliet's anger at Krista is actually just a formality. She knew very well that a few rolls in a haystack with an old girlfriend (which was Eric's clumsy description, and he thought that would narrow the situation by saying so) was not the same as being entangled with a woman who had just met her, and the severity was not the same. Moreover, her anger at Eric was so fierce and so irrepressible that she had no room to deal with anyone else. Her opinion was that he didn't love her and never loved her. He was taunting her behind her back with Christa. He laughs at her in front of others, let's say, in front of Arrow (the woman has always hated her). He had always looked at her with contempt for her and for the love she had for him (or had ever been), and his life with her had been a hoax throughout. Sex was not something to be taken seriously to him at all, at least not as important as it was to her (or had been to her), and he played with whoever happened to be close to him. Of these arguments, only the last bit barely touched the contours of the truth, and she realized it when she calmed down a little. But even a little bit of realization was enough to collapse everything around her. It shouldn't be that big, but it did. Eric couldn't figure out — he really didn't understand — to be honest he really wasn't — why it was the way it was. He wouldn't be surprised if she objected, made noise, or even cried (though a woman like Krista wouldn't do that at all). But she was really hurt, and she thought she had lost everything she needed to survive - for something that happened twelve years ago - and that he couldn't understand it. Sometimes he believed that she was posturing, trying to make the most of the opportunity, but at other times he felt deeply and sincerely sad that he had hurt her. Sadness stimulates them and makes their lovemaking perfect. After each time, he thought that the matter was finally over, and the misfortune was finally over. But every time he was wrong. On the bed, Juliet smiled happily and told him about Peppis(4) and Mrs. Peppis—they were thrilled by a similar situation. (After giving up her study of classics, she broadened her reading, and everything she now reads seems to be related to adultery.) Never so often, never so hot, Peppis writes, though he also records that his wife had thought of killing him while he was asleep. Juliet laughed at this, but half an hour later, when Eric came to kiss her goodbye by going out in the boat to check for problems with his prawn net, she sent him away perfunctorily with a face as if he had gone into the bay under a rainy sky to have a tryst with a woman. It's not just the rain that comes in. There was almost no wind and waves at sea when Eric went out, but in the late afternoon a sudden wind blew from the southeast, tearing the waters of the Desolate Strait and the Straits of Malaspina into a mess. It was the last week of June, and the treacherous weather lasted until it was almost completely dark—and it wasn't really quiet until about eleven o'clock in the evening. By this time, a small sailboat from Campbell River was missing, with three adults and two children on board. Two other fishing boats were missing—one with two men on it, and the other with only one—and that was Eric. The next morning was calm and sunny – the mountains, the sea, the shore, everything was clean and sparkling. Naturally, it is possible that all of them were safe and sound, and took refuge in one of the many small harbors in the area, where they spent the night. This is more likely to happen to a few fishermen, and it's hard to say that the family on the small sailboat is not a local, but a tourist from Seattle. Immediately they sent boats out to search and rescue on the mainland's beaches, islands, and seas. The first to be found were the drowned children, who were wearing life jackets, and the bodies of their parents were also found at the end of the day. The grandfather who was with them was found the next day. The bodies of the two men who were fishing together were never seen, although the remnants of their boat washed all the way to the vicinity of Refugee Bay. Eric's body was only found on the third day. Didn't let Juliet look at it. It is said that the body washed ashore and was attacked by something (meaning some animal). Perhaps because of this—because there was no point in identifying him anymore, and there was no need to even hire a mortuary—Eric's old friends and fishing buddies thought it might as well be cremated on the beach. Juliet did not object to this. A death certificate was a must, so friends called Powell River's office from the doctor who came to Whale Bay once a week, and the doctor authorized Ayrault — who returned to him a week — and a licensed nurse to do it on their behalf. There is a lot of driftwood in the vicinity, and the bark soaked in salt burns very well. Within a few hours everything was ready. The word spread - even in such a short time, the women managed to bring food and came one after another. The person in charge of this semi-pagan ritual was Arrow—her Scandinavian roots, straight back, and white hair fluttering in the wind seemed to make her a natural fit for the role of "Widow of the Sea". The children ran from log to log, and were blasted away from the ever-taller piles of firewood and strangely small bags wrapped in cloth — the little bag was Eric. A woman at a nearby church prepared a large pot of coffee for the semi-pagan ceremony, while crates of beer and bottles of various beverages were temporarily stacked in the trunk of a car and in the cab of a truck. At this point, the question arises as to who should speak and who should light the fire. They asked Juliet if she would like to do it. Juliet was busy handing out the crates of coffee—she said they had found the wrong person, and that as a widow, what she had to do was jump into the fire herself. She laughed genuinely when she said this, and the few who had invited her flinched in shock, fearing that she was about to go hysterical. The guy who always went to sea with Eric was willing to be the ignition man, but he didn't say that he was the material to make a speech. Someone suddenly remembered that the man's wife was an evangelical Protestant, and asked him to speak, perhaps he would feel obligated to say something, and it would be unpleasant if Eric could still hear it. That's when Arrow's husband stepped forward - a small man who had been burned out of shape in a boat fire many years ago. He was an agitated socialist and atheist, and he digressed as he spoke, and there was almost no sign of Eric, except for the claim that the deceased was his comrade-in-arms in the same camp. He began to speak, and the words were endless, and it was later analyzed that it was a rebound from his long-suppressed mentality under the authoritarian rule of Airo. Before the end of his pompous speech of condolence, the crowd may have been a little agitated, and some people felt that this ceremony was not as glorious, so solemn, and so touching as it had been envisaged. But as soon as the fire was lit, this mood was swept away, especially among the children, and there was a mental state of overzealousness. That's when people felt that something was wrong, so a man came out and shouted, "Knock the imps out of here." "It was already the time when the flames began to lick the remains, and when the purpose began to be realized, and the cry came a little too late. The incineration of fat, heart, kidneys, and liver is likely to produce an explosion or sizzle that can be unsettling to hear, so most of the children are dragged away by their mothers – some are desperate to leave, others are reluctant. So the last scene of the cremation is basically a man's ritual, and it is a little unorthodox, though not illegal—and there is nothing wrong with the cremation in this case. Juliet stayed, her eyes wide open, half-crouching and shaking, her face close to the heat. She was a little absent-minded. She wondered which one had snatched Shelley's heart out of the flames—was it Trelawney (5)? That heart, the heart of long-term historical significance. It's been that time, and it's not too far from now, that a physical organ can be so cherished, and it is regarded as a place of courage and love. It was nothing more than meat, a burning mass of meat that had nothing to do with Eric. Penelope had no idea what was happening. The newspapers in Vancouver carried a brief message — not about the beach cremation, of course, but about the shipwreck — but deep in the Kootenay Mountains, she had no access to newspapers or radio. She called home when she returned to Vancouver, from her friend Heather's house. Krista answered the phone - she came back too late to make it to the funeral, but was staying with Juliet now and wanted to help her as much as she could. Krista says Juliet isn't at home — not really — and wants Heather's mother to answer the phone. She explained what had happened recently, and said that she was going to drive Juliet to Vancouver, and that they were going to leave, and that Juliet would speak to Penelope herself when they got there. Krista led Juliet to the door of the house where Penelope was, and Juliet went in on her own. Heather's mother invited her to the sunny living room, where Penelope waited. Penelope looked horrified when she heard the news, but then—when Juliet was about to extend her arms to hug her—she looked a little embarrassed. Maybe it's because it's Heather's house, in the white, green and orange sunny living room, and there are Heather's brothers shooting basketballs in the backyard, and it's almost unacceptable to hear such serious and terrifying news in front of such a background. The incineration was not even mentioned - in such a house or such a residential area, such a thing naturally seemed very uncivilized and absurd. In this house, Juliet's demeanor seems to be different from what she wants to show - her every move has become closer to the kind of girl that everyone should have. Heather's mother pecked the door lightly with her hand and walked in, iced tea in her hand. Penelope took a few sips of her glass and went out of the room to find Heather, who had been hiding in the foyer. Heather's mother then began to talk to Juliet. She was sorry to have barged in and disturbed the guests with practical business, but the time was so tight. She and Heather's father planned to drive east to visit relatives in the next few days. They were going for a month, and they were going to take Heather with them. (The boys are going camping.) But now Heather said she didn't want to go, and she begged to be allowed to stay at home, accompanied by Penelope. One is fourteen years old, the other is only thirteen, how can they be safely left alone at home? Then it occurred to her that Juliet might be willing to change her lifestyle after something like that, so that she could relax and relax. After such serious losses and blows. In this way, Juliet soon finds herself living in a completely different world, in a large, spotlessly clean, richly decorated and elegantly decorated house. There are all sorts of conveniences for every need, and people say it's for convenience – in her opinion, it's luxury. The house sits on a winding road lined with similar houses, tucked away behind manicured bushes and brightly coloured flower beds. Even the weather, for that season, was flawless – warm, breezy and pleasantly sunny. Heather and Penelope went swimming, played badminton in the backyard, went to the movies, baked cookies, ate and drank as hard as they could, then tried to lose weight, went to great lengths to tan their skin, and put music on the whole house—the lyrics of those songs seemed vulgar and provocative to Juliet, and they sometimes invited their girlfriends to come, but they didn't officially call the boys, but they just chatted mockingly with the few who passed by the house or gathered in the house next door. Juliet overheard Penelope say to a visiting girl, "Ahem, to be honest, I barely know him." "She's talking about her father. How strange. Unlike Juliet, she was never afraid to go into the sea in a small boat when there was movement on the sea. She often pestered her father to take her out, and she often achieved her goal. When she walked behind Eric in an orange life jacket and with whatever equipment she could handle, she always had a serious, totally dedicated look on her face. She wrote down the location of the net in her notebook, chopping off the heads of the fish she caught, and hollowing out her intestines, becoming more and more skillful, more and more agile in her movements, and more and more ruthless. At some point in her childhood—probably eight to eleven—she always said that when she grew up, she wanted to go to the seas to fish, and Eric had told her that girls were doing it now. Juliet once thought that such a possibility was not impossible, because Penelope was smart, not nerdy, flexible and strong, and very brave. But Eric, when Penelope couldn't hear him, would say that he hoped that his daughter's ambition would fade little by little, because he didn't want his life to be lived by anyone again. He had always said this when he talked about how hard and unstable the line he had chosen, but he was proud of all of it, Juliet thought. But now he was excluded. It was Penelope, who had recently dyed her toenails purple and had a tattoo on her abdomen. It was Eric who used to enrich her life, but now she's driven him out. But Juliet felt like she was doing the same. Naturally, she was busy looking for a job and a place to live. She's put up a sign to sell the house in Whale Bay — she can't imagine living there any longer. She sold the truck and gave away all of Eric's tools—the fishing nets that were recovered from the shipwreck, and the boat. Eric's adult son came from Saskatchewan and took the dog away. She applied for a research position in a university library and a public library, and she was a little sure that she could get one of the two positions. She went up to Kisileno, Dunbar, or Point Grey to see if there was a suitable apartment. She was constantly amazed by the cleanliness, neatness and orderly management of city life. The fact that people here don't work in the open air, and the variety of work-related activities is not limited to the interior, which makes their lives like this. Here, the weather can affect your mood but not be decisive in your life, and the crucial question of whether or not the habits of prawns and salmon change and whether they can be caught is only interesting and they won't even say anything about it. By contrast, the life she had lived in Whale Bay just a few days ago seemed disorganized, disorganized and exhausting. As for herself, she has also washed away the depression of the past few months - she is now sharp, capable, and more energetic. Eric should have been shown who she is now. She had always thought of Eric in that vein. It's not that she hasn't understood that Eric is dead—not once. However, she kept mentioning him in her own consciousness, as if he was still the same person, and her existence was more important to him than to anyone else. It was as if he was still the same person, and she wished she could make his eyes sparkle, and he was still the one she was going to argue with, to inform, and to surprise him. It had become a habit for her to do so, to a spontaneous act, so that none of his deaths seemed to have an effect. And their last quarrel hasn't completely subsided. She still holds a grudge against his betrayal. If she's a little flirtatious now, it's to get revenge on him. The storm, the discovery of the body, the cremation on the beach—it was like a ritual that she had to look at and approve of, but it still had nothing to do with Eric or her. She got a job in the reference library, she found a two-bedroom apartment that she could barely afford rent, and Penelope went on to Torrens School as a day student. Their lives at Whale Bay came to an end, and they brought the curtain down on their lives there. Even Krista wants to move away, and she plans to come to Vancouver in the warm spring season. The day before, in February, Juliet was standing in the canopy at the campus bus stop after her afternoon work. The day's rain had stopped, and the blue sky was revealed in the west, glowing red where the sun had set, above the Strait of Georgia. Such signs and foreshadowings of longer days and changing seasons had an unforeseen devastating effect on her. She finally understands that Eric is indeed dead. It was as if he had been waiting somewhere all the time of her time in Vancouver, waiting to see if she would be willing to return to the life she had lived with him. It's as if it's always been a free choice. When she arrived, she was still living in the aftermath of Eric's tremors, not fully understanding that Eric was no longer there. Nothing about him is gone. And in the ordinary world that passes day by day, the memory of him has faded little by little. To say so is sorrow. She felt as if a bag of cement had been poured into her body, and it quickly condensed. She could barely move. Get on the bus, get off the bus, walk half a street back to her building – how did she end up living here? - It's like climbing a steep peak. And she must not let Penelope see all this. At the dinner table she trembled, but she couldn't let go of her fingers so that the knife and fork would fall. Penelope walked around the table and helped her break her fingers. She said, "It's because of Dad, right?" Juliet told a few people afterwards—Christa, for example—that these words were the most comforting and tender words she'd ever heard anyone say to her. Penelope let her cool, cloudy hands slide up and down the inside of Juliet's arm, and the next day she calls the library to say that her mother is sick. She stayed at home for several days to take care of her mother and did not go to school until she recovered. At least, until the worst is over. In those days, Juliet told Penelope everything. Christa, that quarrel, cremation on the beach (previously, she almost miraculously hid all this from her daughter). All of it. "I shouldn't have burdened you with all these things." Penelope said, "yes, well, maybe not." But he generously added, "I forgive you." I don't think I'm a kid anymore. "Juliet has re-entered the world. The same fainting she had done at the school bus stop had also appeared, but not so badly. While doing research work at the library, she met several people from the provincial television channel and accepted a position offered to her. After about a year there, she started doing interviews. Her years of extensive reading (in the days of Whale Bay, this is exactly what Arrow looked down on), her usual collection of information, her greedy absorption and quick digestion, just came in handy at this moment. And she cultivated a self-deprecating, lightly mocking posture, which often seems to have an excellent effect. In front of the camera, nothing can make her stage frightened. Although in fact she would often stride up and down when she got home, whimpering and swearing, because she remembered the slightest mistake and panic in something, and worse, somewhere, she had pronounced a typo. Five years later, birthday cards stopped coming. "It doesn't mean anything," Krista said, "and those cards are sent to let you know she's still alive somewhere." Now that she's thinking about it, you've got the information. She wants you not to send any hounds to track her. So much for. "I put too much pressure on her before, didn't I?" "Oh, Jule." "I'm not just referring to Eric's death. Then there were other men. I made her see too much misfortune. The misfortune caused by my stupidity. Because, between the ages of fourteen and twenty-one, during Penelope's age of fourteen and twenty-one, Juliet had two love experiences, in which she plunged headlong into them completely involuntarily – though she was ashamed afterwards. One of the men was much older than she was, and he was seriously married. The other was much younger than her, and was amazed at how quickly she had fallen in love. Afterwards, she herself was puzzled by the situation. Actually, she didn't like anything about him, she said. "I don't think you like it, either," Krista said perfunctorily, she was tired, "I can't tell." "Oh, Christ. I was so stupid at the moment. I haven't fainted so much with a man since. I don't have one, right? "Krista didn't wear it, maybe that's because there are no candidates for the man yet." No, Jule. Yes and no. "In fact, I haven't done anything particularly unusual," said Juliet, whose mood had improved, "why do I always condemn myself and think it's my fault?" It's incomprehensible that she's here. I had to face that. "A mystery, and a cold fish (6)." She then said it again as if she were jukingly concluding. "No, it's not." Krista said. "No," said Juliet, "no—not really. "June of the following year had passed, and there was still not a word, and Juliet decided to move. For the first five years, she told Krista that she had waited until June to see if anything would happen. As it stands, she has to wait every day. And every day I feel is disappointment. She moved to a high-rise building in the West End. She wanted to throw away all the things in Penelope's room, but she ended up stuffing them all into a couple of garbage bags and taking them with them. She only has one bedroom now, but there is a place in the basement where things can be stacked. She made it a habit to practice jogging in Stanley Park. Now she rarely mentions Penelope, even in front of Christa. She had a boyfriend—as everyone calls it now—and he had never heard her talk about her daughter. Krista was getting thinner and thinner, and she was getting more and more depressed. Very suddenly, in January of one year, she died. No one can become popular enough to appear on the TV screen forever. No matter how much your face is liked by the audience, one day, they will love to see another face that is different from yours. Juliet didn't get the chance to do something else—to study something, to write a voice-over caption for the natural scenery she broadcasts—but she happily declined, saying that she wanted a radical change. She re-enrolled in the Department of Classics — a department that had been further reduced from its size — and she planned to continue with her doctoral dissertation. She moved out of a high-rise apartment and into a single apartment, which saved some money. Her boyfriend got a job teaching in China. Her suite was in the basement of a house, but it was flat through the sliding door at the back. There she had a small bricked platform, a trellis with some sweet peas and clematis, and several pots with herbs and flowers. For the first time in her life, albeit on a very small scale, she became a gardener, and her father had been a gardener. Sometimes someone would say to her — in the store or on the school bus — "I'm sorry, but how can I look at your face so familiarly?" Or, "Aren't you the lady who used to be on TV?" "But after a year or so, there was no more such thing. She spends most of her time sitting down to read a book or drinking coffee at a small table on the sidewalk, and no one pays attention to her anymore. She had grown her hair long, and in the years it had been dyed red, it had lost its elasticity and vitality when it had been tan—now it was silvery-brown, very fine, with natural ripples, reminiscent of her mother, Sarah. Sarah's soft, pretty, fluffy hair turned gray little by little, then a pure white. There was no more open space in her home to invite someone to dinner, and she had lost interest in cooking. The food she eats is nutritious, but it's very monotonous. Although by no means intentional, she has lost touch with most of her friends. There's nothing strange about that. The life she was living now was very different from when she was a celebrity, when she was active and alert, and she was as well-informed as she could be. Now she lives in a pile of books, and when she is awake, she is basically reading, no matter what proposition comes to mind, she can't help but dig deeper and add some evolution. She often doesn't know what's going on in the world for an entire week. But she abandoned her dissertation in favor of several people who belonged to the Greek novelists, whose works appeared in a rather late period in the history of Greek literature (from the first century B.C.E.(7), as she now learns to call it, until the early Middle Ages). That is, Aristides, Longos, Heliodoros, Achilles Tatius, and so on. Many of their works have been lost or become fragments, and are seen as immoral. However, Heliodoros wrote a work called The Legend of Ethiopia (originally in a private library, which was rediscovered during the siege of Buda) and became known in Europe only after it was printed in Basel in 1534. In that legend, the queen of Ethiopia gave birth to a white-skinned baby, and fearing that she would be accused of adultery, left the child—a daughter—in the care of a group of celestial believers, known as nude philosophers, who were hermits and mystics. The girl, named Charekria, was eventually taken to the temple of Delphi, where she became one of the priestesses of Artemis, the goddess of the hunt. Here she met a noble Tesarian named Taguinis, who fell in love with her and, with the help of a clever Egyptian, fled with her. However, it was discovered that the Ethiopian queen never stopped thinking about her daughter, and she sent someone to find her, and it was the Egyptian who hired her. Many misfortunes and coincidences followed, until at last all the main characters came to Meroi, and Chalekria was about to be sacrificed to the altar by his father, and it was only until this time that he was finally saved. The intriguing subject matter is as dense as a nest of flies, and the story has a natural and constant attraction for Juliet. Especially the part about the nude philosophers. She did her best to gather material about these people, knowing that they were often portrayed as Indian philosophers. In this case, is India considered a neighbor of Ethiopia? No, Heliodorus appeared quite late in history and would not have been so ignorant of geography. The naked philosophers must have been people who traveled far and wide, and were so faithful to their faith that they might purify their lives and minds were in awe of those around them, who despised material possessions, even the simplest of food and clothing. It is quite possible that a beautiful maiden who had grown up among them would later be psychologically perverted and would instead desire to live an undisguised life of fornication. Juliet makes a new friend named Larry. He taught ancient Greek. He asked Juliet to store the garbage bags in the basement of his own house. He likes to imagine that maybe they can adapt "Ethiopian Legends" into a musical. Juliet got in and helped him write the fantasia, and she even came up with some nasty tunes and silly stage effects. Secretly, however, she tended to devise a completely different ending—a question of the relinquishment of the throne, and a question of tracing the past, in which the maiden was bound to encounter crooks and fake insiders, tyrants and impostors who claimed to be the one she was really looking for. In the end, the mother and daughter were reconciled, and the Ethiopian queen, despite her mistakes, repented, and she was basically a magnanimous and motherly monarch after all. Juliet was almost certain that she had seen the big-tonnage godmother again in Vancouver. One day, she took some clothes that she wouldn't wear anymore (now that the clothes in her closet were becoming more and more practical) to the Salvation Army's thrifty store, and as she put the bag down in the reception room, she saw a fat old lady in a loose robe attaching a price tag to her pants. The woman was chatting with other staff members, but she had the air of a leader, an easy-going but alert supervisor—or rather, she was the kind of woman who, regardless of whether her position was higher than that of others, always put on a leader's posture. If she is really the godmother of the tonnage, then her status has been reduced. However, it has not decreased much. Because if she is the godmother of the big tonnage, wouldn't she have the reserve buoyancy and the ability to adjust herself, enough to keep her status from really being lowered to anything? And that belly of reserve admonition dogma, enough to be poisonous. She came to us in a state of extreme hunger and thirst. Juliet tells Larry about Penelope. She always had to talk to someone she knew, didn't she? "Do I have to tell her that she deserves to live a noble life?" She said, "Talk to her about self-sacrifice? Let her have to serve the needs of strangers for the rest of her life? I never thought of that. My idea is simple, but it would be good enough to ask her to grow up to live like me. Would I turn her off by doing that? "Larry wasn't the kind of man who needed everything from her, all he wanted was her friendship and good temper. He was the kind of guy who was often called an old-school bachelor, and as far as she knew, he didn't ask much about sex (though she probably didn't know about it), was afraid of anything intimate about him, and was funny at all times. She also met two other men who also wanted her to be her life partner. One of them was when they sat down at her streetside coffee table. He was a widower who had recently lost his wife. She liked him, but his loneliness was too strong, and he chased her so fiercely that he scared her. The other man was Christa's brother, whom she had met several times during her lifetime. It wasn't awkward to get along with him – he was like Krista in many ways. His marriage had ended a long time ago, but he didn't particularly want women - she also knew from Krista that several women wanted to marry him, but he avoided them. It's just that he is too sensible, and his selection of her is almost deliberate, and there are some things in it that are quite humiliating. But why do you feel humiliated? If she really loved him, she wouldn't feel that way. Still in her relationship with Christa's brother — his name is Gary Ram — she ran into Heather by chance, on a street in downtown Vancouver. Juliet and Gary have just come out of a movie theater when they watch an evening movie and are discussing where to go for dinner. It was a warm summer night, and the light had not yet faded. A woman broke away from a group of people on the side of the street and walked straight towards Juliet. It was a skinny woman, thirty-seven or eighteen years old. Dressed in fashion, black hair is interspersed with locks of brown hair. "Mrs. Portius. Mrs. Porteus. The voice was familiar to Juliet, though she would never have recognized the face. It turned out to be Heather. "It's hard to believe," said Heather, "I'll be here for three days, and I'll leave tomorrow." My husband came to a meeting. I was thinking that I don't have an acquaintance here, but when I turned around, I saw you. Juliet asked her where she lived now, and she said it was in Connecticut. I went to see Josh about three weeks ago – do you remember my brother Josh? - I was on my way to Edmonton to see my brother Josh and his family, and I bumped into Penelope. Just like now, on the street. No - actually in a shopping mall, they have a hugely large shopping mall there. She had two children with her, and she brought them to buy school uniforms to wear to school. Both are boys. We were both stunned. I didn't recognize her at once, but she did. She was there by plane, naturally. A place far away from the north. But she says it's quite modern. She said you still live here. But I'm with those people—they're friends with my husband—and I really don't have time to call you—" said Juliet, decently, where would she have time, and she couldn't think of anyone calling her. She asked Heather how many children she had. "Three. All of them are demon kings of the mixed world. I want them to become adults right away. But compared to Penelope, my days are blessed. Five. "yes." "I really have to go, we have to go to a movie. Actually, I don't know anything about it, I don't like to watch French movies at all. But it's great to see you today. My parents moved to White Rock. They used to see you on TV all the time. They always blow in front of their friends, saying that you have lived in our house. They say they can't see you on TV anymore, are you tired of it? "Pretty much." "I'm coming, I'm coming." She hugged and kissed Juliet—something is fashionable these days—and ran to join the group. I see. Penelope didn't live in Edmonton – she came to Edmonton from the north. Went by plane. This means that she must be living in Whitehorse or Yellowknife. What other place can she describe as quite modern? Maybe she said that with a hint of sarcasm. She has five children, at least two of whom are boys. They need to buy school uniforms. That means it's a private school. That means you can afford it. Heather didn't recognize her at once. Does it mean that she looks old? After five pregnancies, she was out of shape and she couldn't take good care of herself? Not like Heather. In a way, not like Juliet. What does this mean for her: in their view, the very idea of making such an effort is ridiculous, an acknowledgment of the insecurity of women's status? Or maybe it was something she didn't have time to think about—something that wasn't on her radar at all. Juliet had thought that Penelope might have been drawn into the ranks of the Transcendentalists, and perhaps she had become a mystic who had spent her life meditating and contemplating. Or—on the contrary, but still ridiculously austere—lived a hard, dangerous life, living by fishing, perhaps with her husband, perhaps with a few rough little ones, in the cold waters of the inland waterways off the coastline of British Columbia. That's not the case at all. She should now be living the life of a wealthy, practical head nurse. Perhaps they were married to a doctor, or one of the local officials, who were carefully and gradually transferring their power to the aborigines, and to the accompaniment of hymns, while still administering the northern territories. If Juliet did see Penelope again one day, they might laugh and laugh at where Juliet had gone. How strange they would find it when they talked about their separate encounter with Heather, and they laughed again. No. No. The truth must have been that she had made too much fun of things related to Penelope. Too many things are seen as jokes. Just as too many things—personal affairs, perhaps just love for the sake of sexual satisfaction—are seen as tragedies. She lacks the inhibition, etiquette, and self-control that a mother should have. Penelope said she – Juliet – still lives in Vancouver. She didn't tell Heather about the rift between mother and daughter. Definitely not. If Heather had known, his expression would not have been so natural. Unless she checked the phone book, how would Penelope know that she still lives here? If she checked, what does that mean? No. Nothing has been said about this. She walked over to the road to meet Gary, who had just seen her meet an acquaintance, and avoided. White Horse Town, Yellow Knife Town. Knowing the names of these places made her miserable - she could go to these places by plane. There she could go out on the streets and always find a way to catch the eye. But she's not that crazy. She must not be that crazy. At dinner, she thought that the news she had only learned would put her in a better position if she were to marry Gary, or to live together—to see what he was like. There was nothing for Penelope to worry about, or to restrain her movements. Penelope wasn't a ghost, she was safe, no different from anyone, and she was as happy as anyone else. She had cut ties with Juliet, and it was likely that she didn't want Juliet at all, so Juliet wouldn't have to dream about her anymore. However, she told Heather at the time that Juliet now lives in Vancouver. Does she call her Juliet? Or a mother. My mother. Juliet tells Gary that Heather is the child of an old friend. She never mentioned Penelope to him, and he never showed any sign of knowing Penelope's existence. Maybe Krista told him about it, but he didn't say a word, because it had nothing to do with him. Or maybe Krista told him and he forgot about it. Maybe it was something to do with Penelope, Krista didn't mention it at all, not even by name. If Juliet had been with him, Penelope's affairs would not have surfaced, Penelope did not exist. Penelope doesn't really exist. The Penelope that Juliet was looking for was gone. The woman Heather had seen in Edmonton, the woman who had taken her son to Edmonton to buy a school uniform, had a change in face and body that Heather couldn't recognize, and it wasn't someone Juliet knew. Does Juliet really believe that? Even when Gary could see that she was excited, he pretended not to notice. But perhaps it was on this night that they both understood that they would never be able to live together. If it had been possible for them to live together, she might have told him that night: My daughter left without saying goodbye to me, and in fact she probably didn't know she was running away at the time. She didn't know it was walking away forever. After that, I believe, she gradually understood how much she didn't want to come back. It was just one way she had discovered how to organize her lifestyle. Maybe she couldn't face how to explain it to me. Or maybe she really didn't have time to explain. You know, we always think there's a reason for this, there's a reason for that, and we're always trying to find a reason. And I can also tell you that there are many things I did wrong. But I think the reason may not be so easy to find. More likely it was something to do with her pure nature. Yes, there is something delicate, strict, and pure in her nature, with a quality of rock-solid honesty. In the past, when my father talked about someone he didn't like, he always said that he was useless. Is that what these words mean as they seem to be? For Penelope, I'm useless. Or maybe she can't stand me anymore. That's also possible. Juliet also has a few friends. Not many of them now—but there are still some of them. Larry still came to see her and told her jokes. She continued to read her book. The word reading doesn't seem appropriate for what she's doing—it's more appropriate to say research. Because she didn't have enough money, she went to work at the coffee house where she used to spend a lot of time at the table on the street, working for several hours a week. She felt that the job was a good balance to her struggles with the ancient Greeks—and she later believed that even if she had enough money to spend, she would not quit from here. She still hoped for a few words from Penelope, but not so much so that much of a drain. Like the more sophisticated people who wait for a non-dissenting thought, a natural recovery, or something like that, she is merely hopeful. (1) Tourist attractions in Alberta, Canada. (2) A female pope in the history of Catholicism. His name is the same as "Joan" in the original text, which is Joan. (3) Mother Shipton, or Shipton, was a well-known witch and prophet in the Middle Ages. Because Joan is bloated, and Shipton is not lightweight, this is the translation to express this pun of teasing. (4) Samuel · Samuel Pepys (1633-1703), a famous English writer, wrote a diary written in cipher without concealing his shortcomings and mistakes, and wrote about the common weaknesses of mankind. (5) Edward M. John · Edward John Trelawny (1792-1881) was a British naval officer and a friend of the poets Shelley and Byron. (6) Cold fish refers to being cold to people. (7) "Before Common Era", which means B.C. (B.C.), but C does not refer to Christ, indicating an intellectual point of view.
Translated by Li Wenjun