Although lawyer Brooke looked down on Liang Hong, a yellow man, he still happily agreed to accept it because of the £10 lawyer's agency fee. Distant terra nullius, German-backed mine owners, and ordinary iron mines did not violate the Boer taboos. The latter thing requires the white boss, that is, Paul, to come forward, pay half of the fee in advance, and sign the agency contract.

The white lawyer and the yellow aborigines do not have a common language, and Liang Hong was about to leave after the business was finished when the door of the office was pushed open. He was taken aback by the lady standing at the door, petite and slender, with blue eyes and black hair, carrying a small square leather case in her hand and a folding tripod at her feet. He recognized that it was the American female journalist he met at the tavern yesterday.

"Mr. Brooke, I'll take a picture of you today."

The woman greeted Brooke outside the door, in English. After entering the house, I immediately opened the small suitcase, and it turned out to be the Kodak Bullet 2 camera that was mass-produced two years ago. It seems that they know, yes, they are all Americans.

"Mr. Lawyer, you are busy first, I'll go back."

Liang Hong thought that there was nothing else to do here, so he said hello and was about to go out.

"Stop, are you going back to the Hellna Inn?" The woman asked suddenly.

"Ah, yes", Liang Hong replied in surprise, but he didn't expect the woman to recognize him.

"Wait a while and then go, help me with my things, and when I get back, I'll thank your master."

The woman commanded grinningly, and then patted the **** to congratulate herself.

"It's really hard to meet someone here who can speak English, otherwise you'll have to carry it back yourself. I look a little familiar, and I'm really blindsided. ”

"You don't know?"

Only then did Brooke realize that the two of them were not familiar with each other.

"No, I just arrived in Pretoria, and this man was seen yesterday in both the tavern and the inn, and his master was very kind and generous."

"Miss Annie, Liang is my client—"

Brooke was about to explain, but was interrupted by Annie.

"It's your client's servant, right, oh, your name is Liang, it's a strange name, tell me about you natives on the way in a moment."

The road from Pretoria to Johannesburg is wide and flat, making it easy to ride a horse without looking at the road. The group of three had set off early, including the female journalist Anne, the New York Times correspondent for the Transvaal, who had just arrived in Pretoria to replace his predecessor, the middle-aged man in the tavern. Hearing that they were going to Johannesburg, Anne insisted on coming along, swearing that there were relatives of her who could be of great help.

Brooke's lawyer promised to consult with local officials and visit his office three days later. It's good to have someone running errands, but to Liang Hong's dissatisfaction, Paul needs a set of official German identification, which is an official requirement for the Transvaal. It seemed that the only thing to do was to forge it, and he couldn't do it in Pretoria, so he set his sights on Johannesburg, fifty kilometers away, in a city populated by foreigners.

Riding on a tall Boer horse, his delicate body undulated as the horse ran. In April, the warm sun shines on the tight-fitting hunting suits, making the woman on horseback even more heroic and charming. Liang Hong, who was following behind, swallowed hard, he hadn't seen a woman for a long time, hehe, Xiaobai's invisible image didn't count.

He whipped the horse, and the aching horse ran a few paces after him. The Basutuoma is an indigenous African horse with a slightly short stature, good stamina and slow speed. The Boer horse is a cross between the Arabian horse and the English horse, a tall and robust excellent war horse. Whoever made him nominally a servant, had to give up the good horse at the insistence of the woman.

"Liang, let's talk about your tribe, the prairie, the bison, the hunting, I think it's similar to the American West before, you are like the Indians of the West. Oh, by the way, do you know the Indians? They are also yellow-skinned, speak strangely, and don't understand at all. ”

Seeing Liang Hong catch up, Anne turned her head sideways and continued to entangle in English. Last time, Liang Hong was in a hurry when he was questioned, so he made up the imaginary Farr tribe according to the life of the Indians in American western movies. Farr, the transliteration of fire in English, according to Master Jin's novels, Zoroastrianism is also the source of Mingjiao.

"Indians look about the same as me, but in fact, you white Americans are very ungrateful and hypocritical."

The words are not shocking, and the map cannon is full of words, and Anne is suddenly stunned.

"Liang, what do you mean by that?"

"The Indians helped your ancestors in the most difficult times, and as a result, you slaughtered the Indians with rifles while celebrating Thanksgiving. This way of thanksgiving is strange, and the Indians are really blind. ”

Liang Hong succeeded in distorting Anne's curiosity about the mysterious tribe. The female reporter shouted exaggeratedly, causing Paul to turn his head from the horse in front of him.

"Oh God, Liang, it's amazing how much you know that. Tell me how you know. ”

"You have God, and we have God, the God who reigns over the light. I also know a lot about the fact that in the tribe I am the one who is responsible for communicating with God. God is omnipresent and omniscient, and like your God, I know a lot. ”

Liang Hong felt that it was easy to tell lies now. A lie is told a thousand times, and whether anyone believes it or not, at least it will be told fluently.

"Witches? No, you're a man, that's a priest. ”

There were many little stars in Anne's eyes, and she looked like she wanted to tear people off their horses and dissect them on the spot.

"Liar, liar, liar."

Paul, who was walking in front, muttered quietly in Chinese. He felt very depressed and wanted to talk to people, but the language barrier, not being able to speak English does not mean that he could not understand.

"Mr. Paul, are you speaking Chinese?"

Anne's ears were very pointed, and she actually heard that she was speaking Chinese and asked about it, which surprised Liang Hong and Paul.

"No, it's not."

Paul instinctively denied it, but in his desperation he spoke Chinese.

"Lie, I know."

Anne said, reaching into her chest and tossing in her clothes, leaving Liang Hong dumbfounded. What is this girl going to do, do you have to undress in order to prove that she is Chinese? It doesn't seem to matter between the two, no, it's pulling something out, is it a bra?

Anyway, although Anne is petite, it is compared to a white woman, and her chest seems to be quite material. Just as Liang Hong looked expectantly, the female reporter pulled out a silver chain from the collar of her jacket, with a silver lock hanging on it.

"Look, there are Chinese characters on it, long-life-hundred-year-old"

Anne pointed to the Chinese characters on the silver lock and pronounced them in a strange tone.

What surprised Liang Hong even more was that Anne turned over the long-life lock, and her Chinese name was actually engraved on the back.

"Anne"

"Ann-Ni-"

Almost in unison, plus Paul, who came over to see the excitement, the three of them read the same word in Chinese, the difference was that Anne's pronunciation was a little strange.

"You both know Chinese!"

This time it was Anne's turn to be surprised, and she angrily questioned in Dutch.

"Mr. Paul, it is not a gentleman to lie to a lady, and especially not a German gentleman."

"It's all him—"

Paul pointed at Liang Hong and said, he originally wanted to say that it was all instructed by him, but Liang Hong stared at him and only said half of it.

"You said he taught it?"

Anne's brain made up the second half of what was not said, but the deviation was a bit big.

"Liang, do your tribes speak Chinese?"

"Yes"

Liang Hong simply and generously admitted that it seemed that when he fooled this girl before, he had never said what language the Farr tribe spoke.

"It's amazing, you speak Chinese, could it be that you are from China?"

"Annie, you've been asking all along, in fact, I'm also curious to know where you learned Chinese and where you got this silver lock."

Liang Hong didn't know how to answer, the secret was so important that even the words of the Nama and Grikua people should not be publicized for the time being. So the defense is the offense, and the initiative to ask questions to control the topic.

In fact, the answer is very simple, Anne is a mixed race of Chinese ancestry. Her father, Ann Pucheng, came to the United States 30 years ago to work as a gold digger, then picked up a train to the eastern city of New York, and later married Anne's mother, Tracy, an Irish widow. Looking closely at Anne's appearance, there are both Chinese black hair and white high nose bridge and blue eyes.

Fifty kilometers on the highway took only one morning. During this period, Anne tried to ask Liang Hong about the things in the tribe many times, but he was diverted by words.