"What would you like to eat tonight?" The old woman asked.

She stood in the doorway, her back held high, like a dehydrated snail, until all those dressed in black were gone. The house of the girl and the drunken man was torn down, and all the contents were thrown out, and the old woman saw a rich reindeer fur that she had given to the girl—the girl was a good man, beautiful and industrious, never stealing chickens and dogs, and making trouble. She seldom came, but the nest was always kept clean and bright, and she grew ginger, garlic, greens, and carrots in the backyard like all the Yupik women, and she brought the old woman a charcoal stove to hold in her hand, the silver kind.

If she had been a single Yupik girl, the old woman would have tried to reconcile her with her nephew, but unfortunately she was not, and she already had a companion.

The old woman watched the two curled bodies being carried into the car, and well, she said in her heart that it was a blessing to be able to sleep with the person she liked.

"Lamb stew," said her nephew, who carried a heavy, high-powered rifle in his hand, "cheese burrito." ”

"No," said the old woman, "we must eat horse meat, and do not complain, for who told you to slaughter the horse without consulting me?" The festival of Ensa and the festival has passed, and relatives and friends have returned home, who do you want to eat the meat? And it's not the slaughtering season, we can't find an enema master, so much meat, we'll have to eat it this winter," she chattered, "Okay, just eat horse meat, stew horse meat, add some garlic and onions."

The young man scratched his face, and the little flying insect circled around his arms and hands: "It can't be done," he said, "and it broke its hooves and has no head—I'll have to buy another horse when I get back."

"It's your own fault." The old woman said, "What madness have you had, come back to see me, an old immortal, at this time, if it weren't for the 'bear's paws' knocking over there, you would be alone." Can you come to me?"

"Why not," said her nephew, "I'm a lucky fellow."

He hung the rifle back on the wall, picked up the hatchet that had been placed by the fireplace, and went into the kitchen. As we've said before, the people of Orrosa don't need refrigerators or cellars, and the kitchen floor has a flat door just below the dining table, which is covertly covered with a thin handmade rug, which he lifts open and drills down - the foundations of this house are higher than the other Yupik houses, and they have hollowed out the permafrost underneath by a foot while the old woman's father-in-law, husband, and son are still alive. So the drunken only needs to bow his head slightly and bend down to walk around smoothly in it.

The horse had been stripped of four legs, one leg was given to the men who helped with the slaughter as a reward, and they had eaten the second leg these days. There are also two legs, and a massive, red-and-white body.

He lifted his axe and chopped off about two pounds of meat on the horse's leg, and above his head the old woman had already put a whole pot of water, chopped the onions, and peeled the garlic.

Horse meat can produce a lot of foam and odor during cooking. But when the onion and garlic were added, and the old woman's secret spice packet, the fainting smell slowly disappeared, replaced by a strange sour taste, and the horse meat, which had been cut into a quarter of a palm, shrunk only the size of a fingernail in the sauce-red soup, and the old woman added carrots and coriander. The peppers are all plucked from their own yards and are very fresh.

To compensate, the old woman made a lot of cheese burritos, and the crust was made early in the morning. They were stacked on top of each other, like the usual circles of threads on bolts, and the old woman threw a piece or two of grease at the pan, and before they could melt, she spread out the crust, and sprinkled the thin strips of shredded cheese on it at a speed that was not in keeping with her age, and then sprayed the ant-grained black pepper, and the fire was so great that the crust gave off a pungent aroma of oil, and the sagging fingers quickly pinched one side of the crust and rolled it into a roll, and the heat of the burrito and the oil would melt the cheese in the pie, and the pie was served on the plate, Pour honey and sour cream over.

Lined with it, even the sour, tough horse meat becomes delicious.

The old woman's appetite was as good as that of her nephew, though one looked like a big apple still hanging from a branch, while the other looked like a shriveled pit that had been thrown on the side of the road, basked in the wind and sun for a long time. She couldn't bite the horse meat, and after sucking the juice, she swallowed the hard little pieces of meat, her stomach was more effective than her teeth.

When he had finished eating, the old woman went back to her room to sleep, and the young man took care of the rest, and he collected and washed the bowls, plates, spoons, and forks in the dimly lit kitchen, and put them in their place, and when he lifted the jar for cooking horse meat, and wanted to put it in the hanging cupboard, the carpet under his feet slid as if it had been given life by the devil, and his body fell back uncontrollably, and his hand tried to grasp the edge of the wall cabinet but failed, and every place was greasy, The back of his head hit the edge of the table, a crowd of natives banged gongs and parchment drums in his head, black mist drifted in his vision, the ground shook, he knew he had fallen to the ground, his fingers grasping the foot of the chair, and just as he tried to get up, one arm wrapped around his neck.

Before he could grasp the arm, it dodged away, replaced by a wire that quivered and sank deep into the flesh, and it cut so deep that it was like a knife.

To anyone who doesn't know the truth, Father Peter looks like a good old man, short, slightly chubby, ruddy-complexion, smooth skin, only small wrinkles at the ends of his eyes, a little upturned at the corners of his mouth, a St. Paul's hairstyle that we often see on the top of the heads of clergymen, a black shirt collar with a white collar in the middle, and the smell of agarwood and myrrh. His hands habitually and respectfully clasped each other, placed in front of his abdomen, the cuffs were loose, so that he could reach into the cuffs at any time, and pulled out the special alloy crown from the side of the watch - the crown was connected to a piano cable, which is similar in principle to our usual stretchable headphones and network cables, only about three feet, but if it just wants to strangle a man's neck, no matter how developed his sternocleidomastoid muscle is. It's all enough.

Even now, his eyes are still kind and compassionate, not like he is taking a person's life, but like giving him a new life.

A pair of slender fingered hands moved the chair. The table was moved so that the victim's violent kicking would not wake up the old woman who was sleeping in the room.

Father Peter rarely "does the work" himself, but that doesn't mean he will be unfamiliar with the last of a murdered man's strength, as if he could fight a giant, and the face that is ugly and twisted to rival that of the devil. He sat on the floor of the kitchen, his feet on the shoulders of the young man as the executioners of the Middle Ages did when they were hanged, his body forming an acute angle to the ground, and his hands wrapped tightly around the metal noose, pinching his prey tightly; He calmly counted the seconds in his mind, sixty seconds. He rolls his eyes, spits out his purple-red tongue, fills the corners of his mouth with white foam, and kicks his feet forward with great force; One hundred seconds. His movements slowed down, slowed down, the coughing wheeze in his throat became softer, and his tongue softened; Two hundred seconds. He will have convulsions and slight convulsions, his legs trembling, his toes and fingers stretching and shrinking; Two hundred and fifty seconds, or three hundred seconds. You can smell the smell of urine and feces, like unspiced horse meat, a smell that you can't forget.

As he counted one hundred and sixty times, the thin metal string on his finger suddenly loosened, and the priest's reaction was fast enough—the hand where the crown was tugging hard, and the noose tightened again—but what he saw was incredible. One hundred and sixty seconds ago, he was strangled a six-foot-tall man, and one hundred and sixty seconds later he was strangled a real girl.

The girl's neck was much thinner than that of a drunkard, and in a moment she stretched out a finger between the noose and her neck. But her vocal cords were still suppressed, she couldn't speak, so the second change appeared, "she" melted, formed again, and in fifty or sixty seconds, she changed from a girl to a little boy who was only ** years old, with a thin neck that could be pinched.

He may have put a pair of little hands into it at this moment, and the little boy took a quick and deep breath, and shouted in the shrill voice inherent in filial piety: "Don't kill me!" He cried, "I am Madame Cloven's man!"

The noose suddenly relaxed, but it was still around his neck.

"Did Mrs. Cloven tell you to steal the Clovin family's diamonds?"

The little boy was surprised, he didn't speak, his eyes wandering like an adult.

Again, the bony, thin, pale hands, they carried a large leather bag, the one usually seen on the shoulders of the Yupiks, with two belts, one long and one short, which could be carried diagonally or on one shoulder, and the larger one could be placed directly into it for the little boy sitting on the kitchen floor, and it was covered with bloody broken ice, for it had been stuffed in the belly of a dead horse.

The hands opened the pouch and took out one of the same things, the diamonds that Constantine had shown to Dr. Hopkins, the diamonds nailed to the black velvet panels, the diamond-encrusted suits, and the large loose diamonds, diamond rings, diamond bracelets, and diamond necklaces of others...... There are also excellent rough diamonds in a black sheepskin bag, these unprocessed or simply cut, or only partially polished diamonds are piled up like the most ordinary glass pebbles, they are the best to sell, and the cut diamonds have no way to identify their true origin as long as they are not marked, but the value is difficult to estimate - but the total value should be more than 150 million yuan.

Anthony. Hopkins grabbed a handful, and even if he hadn't thought it through, the pristine jewels would still reflect in the dim light.

((One second to remember)