Chapter 50

That night, I stayed at her house, or more precisely, on her sofa. In the early morning, she ordered me, a "gentleman wolf", to "come to bed". I said, you should keep your chastity, and I should keep my chastity too. She said, don't I know you? If you can't eat the grapes, not only will you say they are sour, but you will even pull the grape vines when you are anxious.

During the days when I took care of her, she once limped and ran with me to the snow and the park in the middle of the night, shouting and yelling. She also once ran to the rooftop in the early morning, with her nose running from the cold, just to watch a sunrise. Sometimes when she was singing, I would rush to her, give her a slipper or a magazine as a flower, hug her, kiss her little face, and turn around and wave to the non-existent audience. I praised her for singing better than Xiaoqiang - the Xiaoqiang that was stepped on to death by Stephen Chow. When I sang, for example, "You are like a flying butterfly, swaying in the season of snow", she stood on one leg beside me, waving her hands with a smile and pretending to dance. I said, why don't you look like a butterfly? What do you look like? She asked, still waving her wings proudly. I said, like a chicken with a lame leg and a bald tail.

In those happy days, the butterfly asked more than once, how long will you love me? I said, maybe the time I love you will be very short, maybe just this life. The butterfly still stubbornly asked, can you really love me forever? I said, dust to dust, earth to earth, I will not let go until I see your memorial service is over.

Butterfly stopped asking questions. I felt something vaguely, because she had told me about studying abroad many times. Sometimes she would be very depressed after receiving calls from her parents. I knew she would leave me one day, and I knew I would be sad, but I never mentioned it. I just wanted to cherish every minute and every second we were together. I washed her socks, cooked for her, and carried her to the hospital for follow-up. Sometimes, I suddenly wanted to go back to the primitive age. If I liked someone, I would knock her out with a big wooden stick, drag her back to the cave, and we could live in peace for the rest of our lives.

February 14th was Butterfly's birthday, which happened to be Valentine's Day. If you still remember Valentine's Day that year, you will remember that it snowed that day. I said to Butterfly, we are not lovers, we are lovers, so there are no roses, but there is one cake. I used 23 candles to arrange a heart pattern on the ground. I said, romantic enough. She sat down cross-legged, looked around, and said, why do you make it look like a mourning hall. I snapped my fingers and forgot to play some music. The music started, she looked at me, tears welling up.

You are so stupid, said the butterfly,

You are so nice to me even though you know I am leaving soon.

It is because you are leaving soon, I said, so I will be nicer to you, and even better.

Maybe you are not the best, but you are definitely the best to me.

Don't cry, stick out your tongue, I will put the cake on it.

I don't want to eat it, and I can't eat it.

This time next year, I said to the butterfly, I think you should be in a house on the bank of the Volga River, with a warm fire burning in the fireplace, and the wood making a "crackling" sound.

Outside the window, there are beech forests covered with snow, frozen rivers, and the lavender I planted in the spring, said the butterfly.

I said, your husband smokes a pipe, a real foreigner, he has body odor, and you, you sit in a rocking chair knitting, your children have fallen asleep, you live a happy life of men farming and women weaving.

Go to hell... One of Butterfly's slippers flew towards me.

On her birthday, Butterfly said that if she made a wish silently in her heart, she would forget it the next day, so she would write it down, write it on paper, put it in a bottle, and bury it in the ground. The night was dark and snowing heavily. I used a branch to dig a hole in the lawn downstairs of her house. I told her that it was mysterious and full of expectations. I guess it felt like this when the forty thieves buried the treasure. She said that Alibaba felt the same when he found the treasure. I don't know what she wrote. The day after she went abroad, I couldn't wait to dig the hole and open the sealed bottle. She wrote - wait for me to come back, and see you when the first snow falls.

Postscript

First of all, I would like to express my deepest apologies to the readers. Only eight volumes of "Ten Deadly Sins 5" have been completed. Due to many things, I am busy with the operation of the "Ten Deadly Sins" film and television project, and I have no time to complete the remaining two volumes. Please understand and forgive me!