"You can no longer gamble and drink. Think about your daughter. You are drunk every day and cannot take care of the child."
Booker just stared, staring at the misty blue mist of cigarettes in the air. Sitting across the table was a tall Chinese man, wearing cowboy clothes, who also exuded a fresh smell of cow dung and tobacco. Everyone in the town was excited.
I met him, a foreigner who came to the town temporarily a year ago, a rich man who likes to meddle in other people's business.
His face was hidden under the wide brim of his cowboy hat, looking like a dark shadow. When he spoke, he could only see the spread of his lips, but no more expressions were revealed, "Alcohol can't wash your hands off."
The blood of the Indians. The water in Wounded Knee is still clear. Do you know why?"
Booker's psychological trauma did not allow him to recall his participation in the Wounded Knee Massacre in 1890. He did not answer, but frowned.
"..." The wealthy man also fell silent.
The pale sunlight shone in through the secondary window on the door, casting a very cold gray patch, stretching the rich man's shadow into a long and misshapen shape. Booker DeWitt just stared, from the smoke in the air to the old wood.
The light and shadow on the floor, he fell into hell, without the strength to speak.
Every day is like being in hell.
The sudden throbbing pain in the heart is often unreasonable and paralyzing like freezing. The chest is filled with thick ice.
"You owe a lot of debt, I can help you pay it off."
"..." Booker finally focused his attention on the rich man and stared at the shadow under the brim of his hat.
"But you have to give Anna to me."
"That's my daughter."
"So do you want to sell it or not?"
"...you have to pay more."
The rich man finally showed a simple smile, "It doesn't matter how much money you have. It won't even be a problem for you to become the richest man in the United States."
"Why me? Why Anna?"
"This is a deal. That's your favorite saying in America: Business is business. I have no interest in this stupid world of far-right dictatorships with cerebral palsy. Done the deal, I
I’m about to leave.”
The rich man snapped his fingers, and the door opened, and people in black suits rushed in carrying strong large suitcases. They lined up in front of Booker to open the boxes and show them - the boxes contained thick US dollar bills, printed banknotes.
The smell of the ink was so strong that it was pungent. These boxes containing money were stacked one after another.
The piles were stacked in the corner of the house. With each layer stacked, Booker stood up a little, until they were piled up to the height of a person. The two walls were fully stacked. Booker had already stood up completely. At this time, ten more people came in from the door.
There are two blonde girls wearing high heels, holding pearls and corals in their hands,
The precious gold jewelry box was also displayed in front of Booker's hunched waist, and then placed on the table. The girls' pale and plump hands gradually took it away, just like a flock of white wild pigeons flying on the table, with brilliant pearls.
The room is illuminated with splendor, and people’s cheeks are soaked in the
Gold, red, blue, pearl white... Human eyebrows are golden, brown, and black; human eyes are blue, cyan, brown, and gray; human lips are red, dark red, gray, and white
.The light outside the door pulsed, and the colors on people’s faces also pulsed convulsively.
The tall, sturdy Chinese man in jeans stood up, his riding boots clattering on the wooden floor. His footsteps were not hurried, so his footsteps sounded unhurried, and he walked towards the children's room.
"Wait a minute." Booker stopped the rich man, "I want to know the answer. Who did you make the deal with? What were the conditions?"
"The deal I made with you is on the condition of Anna. Do you understand?"
"No, I'm not worth so much money, and Anna isn't worth so much money either. You'd better tell me," Booker came around from behind the table and tried to stop him, but was blocked by the rich man's thugs in black suits and couldn't move forward or retreat.
, "Hey! Tell me who the trader is!!"
The rich man opened the door and picked up the little baby in the crib. The strange smell on his body made the girl with beautiful sea-blue eyes burst into tears. Booker outside the door shouted, "I won't sell it! I won't sell it!"
"This is not something you can decide now. Live a good life with enough wealth to buy half of the United States, Mr. Booker DeWitt." The rich man left with the infant in his arms, and his back disappeared into the pale
In the sky.
1912, New York, USA.
mansion.
Booker DeWitt wakes up from his nightmare.
"Dear Mr. Booker, I'm sorry to disturb your rest. There are two special guests who want to see you."
"Please come in." The good man Booker woke up from his nap and asked the servant to come in to talk before he could even tidy up his appearance.
After the door opened, behind the humble African-American maid, a pair of well-dressed white men and women showed cautious and gentle smiles to the well-dressed Booker.
"Oh, welcome to my humble home...Have I seen you?"
"It's strange." The speaker was the woman with high cheekbones among the guests. Her facial features were strong and distinct, her hairstyle was dignified, her clothes were considerate and tasteful, and her accent was beautiful. It was hard for Booker to say such a polite guest.
If you understand.
The young and handsome man next to her also echoed, "It's indeed strange. I've never seen anything so strange. The first one?"
"The first one."
Booker waited patiently for the two uninvited guests to show courtesy. The fat African-American maid bowed to him and then left. The guests walked towards Booker while chatting cordially, and they kept looking up and down at the house.
's owner.
"You are Mr. Booker DeWitt, the richest man in the United States and a great philanthropist in New York. I have admired you for a long time." The woman said compliments, but her tone was like reading out a judgment, "But your child
Not around."
"Anna... I once had a child." Booker rubbed the scar with the word AD on the back of his left hand. A, his daughter's name, he carved with a knife. This scar had long been numb, but every time he touched it, it would bring him pain.
Huge torture. He has always relied on his wealth to help the poor people at the bottom.
He tried to heal the trauma in this way, but the trauma could not simply dissipate. Everyone said that he was a good man, but a good man would not have the blood of the indigenous people on his hands, and a good man would not use the means of selling his daughter.
The Lord will not forgive such a sin easily, and Booker does not trust God.
"Do you still want to get her back?" The woman made an offer that she couldn't refuse.
"Of course, I can use everything I have in exchange. I just want my Anna."
"We can help you, no doubt, but only by taking you to the dock. You need to walk the way to the lighthouse by yourself."
"What does this mean?"
"Be prepared and wait for us in Bar Harbor, Maine in a month."
The guests turned around and went out. Booker hurriedly chased them, but they disappeared as soon as they turned around.
A month later, Booker came to Bar Harbor as scheduled and found a decent hotel to stay in the local New England-style town. That night, the strange man and woman appeared again, wearing yellow raincoats and carrying yellow round-brimmed raincoats.
Hat, knocked on his door in the middle of the stormy night.
Booker put down the newspaper, picked up the oil lamp, and hurried to open the door.
The woman with strong features outside the door showed him a charming smile, "I hope you have prepared a raincoat. We don't have a spare. Are you ready? Please come with us."
Booker just folded his hands and hooked the kerosene lamp with his little finger, and followed the man and woman step by step. They walked through the quiet and damp streets at night and followed a muddy and embarrassing path to the dock. At a certain moment, Booker
Suddenly I felt that the air around me became extremely quiet.
A light rain fell from the sky, and then the rain intensified. The sounds of nature returned, and the raindrops hit the raincoat noisily. He felt the coldness invading his body. He turned around and looked back. The hotel where he had stayed when he came had suddenly changed.
The heavy rain disappeared in the shadow of the low buildings in Bar Harbor.
Booker couldn't help but be confused. His head began to hurt from stress and he couldn't concentrate on effective thinking, "Why am I here?"
The man and woman turned their heads and comforted him in a low voice, "You are here to complete the commission, please continue to follow."
The guests prepared a small sampan for the distinguished Mr. Booker. They acted as boatmen and guides. The handsome men would be responsible for rowing the oars, while the women continued to chat with the men strange gossip. The small mast on the bow
There is a bright kerosene lamp hanging, the light is as full as a fat apple.
A worried and languid looking Booker DeWitt was carried on the small sampan, and amid the low-pitched complaints of the rowing man, it sailed quietly into the foggy Atlantic Ocean on a rainy night. On the dark sea in the distance, Freine stood on the unnamed lighthouse.
The pale light of Er's lens rotates slowly, attracting the boat to sail through the fog and get closer to it little by little.