As soon as the European man's voice fell, he swished, and all eyes were on Moussa. A string burst into the air, rushing left and right, buzzing and stirring up a curious restlessness.

My body shuddered, my head hung slightly, and my nails unconsciously tightened the armrests of the sofa. And Moussa's face was calm, and he didn't think it was a big deal, and replied honestly: "Yes." ”

The discussion suddenly started, and the people gathered around the table, some were surprised, some were curious, and in the blink of an eye, more questions emerged one after another.

"Aren't the wives jealous when they are together?" asked Mouses.

Moussa replied succinctly: "The law requires that they must live separately. ”

"Wouldn't that be a big 'cost'?"

Musa nodded: "Well, so it is very rare for people to really marry four." ”

"Then you have four wives?"

Moussa shook his head slightly.

"Then this one next to you is your first wife?"

My heart sank.

Although the previous question worries me very much, it is basically an exploration of the customs and customs of the Arab region, and this kind of curiosity is really human nature. But this last question really involved me. It seems to be a shallow and unintentional question, but it is like a sharp knife against the throat, which may puncture the artery at any time.

I tried to keep myself calm, my eyes glued to the table, but my thoughts couldn't stop. His ears stood up, he held his breath, and his heart was full of anticipation and fear.

At this time, I hope that Moussa will tell a lie that I am his only one, or simply keep silent. However, there was no need for him to do so. Because for him, there is nothing wrong with polygamy, and the living environment from childhood to adulthood has made him accustomed to it, and he does not feel unusual.

So, Mousa just calmly, frankly, and even with a little pride in me, said slowly: "She is my second wife. ”

After saying that, he hugged me tighter, as if he was overjoyed by this fair and honest announcement, and did not notice that at this time, my expression was dull, and my 'legs' were weak.

The surrounding discussion started again, the men's eyes 'revealed' with envy, and the 'women' with a hint of sympathy. Soon, however, this sympathy and envy were woven together, and once again evolved into one curious question after another, bombarding me violently.

"China is also monogamous, will it not be adaptable?"

"Can you and his other wives live in peace?"

"I don't dare to think of such a thing as working with a husband, you are very courageous. ”

"Did your family agree at the beginning? Are Chinese parents so open-minded?"

My brain was filled with all kinds of doubts and curious voices, and I didn't have the strength to reply, my whole body was weak, and I could only close my eyes in pain, and my 'chest' cavity was so depressed that I couldn't breathe.

I have never been 'forced' to be questioned in public, even though I am surrounded by irrelevant strangers, but those meaningful questions make me feel as if I am in a cage, unable to be free and unable to be free.

Musa's hand was still around my waist, in an extremely intimate position. But I began to feel that this intimacy was a little shameful, even a little hateful. When the people saw that I didn't answer, they began to discuss it on their own. To be honest, they weren't sharp in their language, and they even tried to show respect, but even so, it easily 'messed' my fragile emotions.

"Cece, Cece?" Moussa looked at my closed eyes, a little panicked, "She doesn't seem to be feeling well, let's go out and get some air." With that, Moussa lifted me up and put his arms around me and walked out of the bar.

"Hey, why are you leaving?" asked the European boy who first introduced the topic, but as soon as this question came out, he was stopped by the 'girl' child next to him in a low voice, "Forget it, let them go, curiosity is curiosity, but polygamy is a manifestation of a backward society, and even if we say it, we can't understand it." ”

Hearing her pout this sentence from behind me, the corners of my mouth pulled into a wry smile. Is Dubai a backward society? There are few places in the world that can match the architectural marvels there, but why is it that such a place that is at the forefront of the world, but upholds the law of polygamy like ancient China? This fact, which I have deliberately ignored for a long time, was presented in this way by a group of blond and blue-eyed Europeans at night in Rome, and gave me a slap in the face.

My steps floated, and I walked out of the bar, and the cool breeze blew, and my bones trembled. I gritted my teeth, grabbed Musa's arm around my waist, and pushed it gently to my side, trying to escape his support.

Mossa's hand was away for only a moment, and soon it was held firm again, locking me tighter.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently, full of concern.

There has never been a moment when I wanted to resist his tenderness. Because this gentleness stems from his incomprehension. The aggressive questioning of that group of people, Moussa may have heard foreigners ask countless times in the UAE, and he did not feel anything unusual. But for me, it was like a fire burning and suffering.

In fact, it wasn't enough for me to grieve me, but even more so because he saw my discomfort but didn't know what I was for.

It was this incomprehension that made my already gloomy heart fall deeper into a deeper valley in an instant.

Taking a deep breath, I increased my strength and grabbed his arm hard, pushing it out again, but this time, the arm didn't move.

I was a little annoyed, frowned, and instead pressed my sharp nails against his skin, and slammed them deeper, as if to grab some psychological comfort through this vent.

"Shhh

I had only a thin single coat on me, and a cold wind blew through it, and I couldn't stop my teeth from chattering. But he desperately held his breath, standing straight at the moment of the wind, refusing to whisper.

But the shiver betrayed me, and Mosa looked at me shivering and asked, "Is it too cold?"

I raised my eyebrows and didn't speak.

He looked around, there was a clothing store not far away, and took my hand: "Good, let's go buy some coats, and it won't be cold when you put them on." "Anyway, pull me over and leave. But I deliberately got angry with him, and my feet were like welded to the ground, and I wouldn't move half a minute.

"Alas......" Mousa sighed helplessly, took off his coat, draped it over my body, held my face, and whispered: "Cece, you don't want to go over, just wait for me in the same place for a while, and I will go and buy you a coat, and come back at once." Okay, okay?"

I looked up and met his clear eyes, but my heart sank deeper and deeper into the abyss. I don't care if my body is cold or not, I am stalemate, standing, I just want to listen to his comfort, such as "Don't care about those people's 'messy' questions, I can't bear to let you be 'forced' by them to ask", and "Don't think too much, I have only you in my heart".

However, he did not understand what I wanted, and said softly, "I'll go buy you a dress." ”

I was weak, and my mouth was still sharp during the day, and at this time I was clumsy and only one lost word: "Good ......"

Moussa smiled, patted me on the shoulder, and trotted to the clothing store. Looking at his back gradually moving away, an inexplicable sadness welled up from the tip of his nose. Can I blame him? Can I ask him to understand me? No, I can't, I don't have any right to ask him for anything. I am neither his wife nor his lover, and even I don't know what kind of role I play in this relationship.

In the cold wind, I stiffened my back, turned around, and walked away in the opposite direction to the clothing store.

Whether it's my 'sex' or my negative spirit, in fact, I just suddenly don't know what kind of 'color' I should face him. Obviously, he has convinced himself that one more day is a day, and he has recognized the truth of cherishing the present, but people are greedy, and when they get an inch, they want a foot. Especially after the sweetness of the day's 'waves', I unconsciously expected him to understand me, understand me, and even hope that he could guess the difficulties I had never said from the stalemate.

It's not enough to get by. Confused again, I walked down the street like a ghost, cornering, fleeing, and by the time Mosa came out of the clothing store, I was no longer there.

The streets of Rome were silent, and the nightlights reflected on the old walls looked mottled and dilapidated. Through the dim light and shadow, I paced in a trance, silent and depressed.

I don't plan to wander around for too long, I just want to be alone and quiet, and when my mind is a little more accommodating, I will consciously take a taxi back to the hotel.

Sitting down by a fountain, I curled up on my knees and stared blankly ahead, uncompulsory. There is a light rain every day, which adds to the sentimentality, and being alone in this situation, I can't tell whether it is a 'wave' or a torture.

A sparse crowd walked by, and I saw a couple with the boy taking off his coat and putting it over the head of the 'girl' to shield her from the drizzle. I couldn't help but touch this cloak on my body, the cloak of Moses.

If Mousa came out of the clothing store and couldn't find me, he would be worried, right? But if he was worried, why didn't my phone ring?

Thinking like this, my heart couldn't help but skip half a beat. I've heard about thieves in Rome for a long time, but I've probably spent too much time in Dubai's good security to care about my wallet and my phone today, and it's Moussa who is in charge of the 'spending' along the way.

I opened the small bag I was carrying, and sure enough, I made the same mistake again, my phone and wallet were missing, only the passport hidden in the mezzanine inside the bag, which was not stolen.

At this time, I can still call a car and pay when I arrive at my destination, or find an announcement phone booth and call Moussa. It's easy to find a solution if you want to. But I didn't. Beneath the ruins of Rome's dark night, a desperate hollow enveloped me, and suddenly, I felt like I had nothing. Without a mobile phone and wallet, without a definite positioning, without the qualifications to resent, without Moussa's understanding, he could only go limped and cried loudly. And this cry has been covered up for too long under the happiness that has been stolen for half a year. F