A breeze blew, bringing the faint hairspring of life from the sky, and the dawn grew thicker. "Your arguments are becoming more and more rambling and inconclusive." "You said you were looking forward to the miracle of the Revelation, and you were using the method of throwing your most brilliant and creative parts into creating a set, thinking that this would lead to the ideal symposium," said Lai Riqing, sleepily. Among them, Ono practiced her far-sighted detachment by falling asleep. I knew because she had managed to concentrate her weight on my weak body. ”

"Am I boring you?" Hulk asked, looking down with some seriousness. "No, it's just that you're letting us down. You shot many arrows, but how many birds did you hit? "I'll leave the bird to Brother Ichihu." The Hulk said hurriedly, "My words are nonsense, broken and unrelated. "Don't pull me in." Ichihugo muttered, "My heart has long been filled with all kinds of material comforts. What I want most now is a comfortable hot shower, which is much more attractive than worrying about my job or how insignificant we are. ”

On the surface of the hot spring river, the morning light has gradually whitened, and the neighboring trees have intermittently squeaked. "It's almost five o'clock." Brother Yixiu sighed, "I will probably have to wait another hour." See! These two are already asleep. He pointed to Li Riqing, whose eyelids were already drooping. After a few minutes, even though the insects and birds around him were singing louder and louder, Ichihu's head finally tilted forward and nodded involuntarily. Only the Hulk remained awake. He sat in the carport, his eyes wide open, tired but eagerly fixed on the glow of the dawn in the distance. He questioned the unreality of thought, the fading splendor of life, the growing indulgence in petty sensual indulgences that greedily crept into his life. Now he owes nothing to anyone. On Monday morning, he went to work, and then, a wonderful girl who depended on him to carry her whole life was the closest thing he really longed for. The belly of the fish was white, and in this strange brightness, any thought he made with his fragile mind seemed to become a kind of presumptuous blasphemy.

The sun came out, radiating a huge amount of light and heat, and a group of beings flying like a swarm of bees roared past them with great power, and the engine of the incoming train spewed a thick magnetic field, and a crisp and neat "all on the train", and the bell for departure. In the midst of the chaos, the Hulk saw curious eyes staring out from the Yunlian scalper's van staring at him, and heard Yoko Ono and Li Riqing arguing impatiently------ should he go into the city with her? Then there was another commotion, a flurry of nausea and vomiting, and she left alone, leaving three men as pale as ghosts standing on the platform......

Time flies, and time flies. Eighteen years later, in the beautiful seaside area of Beihai, Guangxi, lies a magnificent, rose-colored hotel. Tall palm trees shade the front entrance of the palatial inn, which has become a summer retreat for dignitaries and celebrities. Today, the inn is surrounded by bungalows with verandahs, and a long time ago, there were only a dozen domed old villas. These igloos have decayed, like the old leaves of the wind lotus are depressed and green, and the water knotweed flowers are lonely and red. The inn blends in with the bright, carpet-like silver sand in front of its door. In the early morning, the city outline, ancient castles and Alishan Mountain of Beihai are reflected on the water, and in the clear shallows, the waves of the waves swaying with the marine plants flutter. It was less than nine o'clock when a man in a yellow yukata came to the beach, splashed himself with the cool water, breathed heavily, made a humming sound, and then went into the water and splashed for a while.

After he left, the beach and bay were quiet for a while. In the distance, merchant ships slowly moved westward, restaurant waiters spoke loudly in the courtyard of the inn, and the dew on the pine trees gradually dried. It was a few more moments before car horns began to sound on the winding road. About a kilometre from the beach, pine trees give way to dusty poplars, where there is a lonely small station for maglev trains. That morning, an open-top sports car carrying a lady and her daughter drove towards the Silver Beach Hotel. This mother is Yoko Ono, and she still has the charm of the past on her face, which will soon be eaten away by the depressed mood. Her demeanor was pleasantly serene and sensible, but eyes soon turned to her daughter, whose pink palms seemed to have magical powers, and her cheeks glowed with a charming glow, as lovely as the little red faces of children after a cold bath in the evening. Her beautiful, open forehead stretched soothingly to the hairline, and her black hair was like a shield to cover her forehead, and then fluffed up into a wavy curl. Her large, watery eyes sparkled brightly. Her cheeks were naturally rosy, the color that burst from her powerfully beating young heart. Her form was delicately hovering on the last edge of girlhood, she was about to turn eighteen, she had almost completely grown into a plump woman, but the shadow of girlhood still loomed over her like morning dew.

The sea slowly appeared to their south, forming a long, fiery line with the sky, and then the mother said, "Ono Keori, I don't think we will like this place." "I'm a little homesick too." The girl replied. They chatted casually and ramblingly, but they were tired of it. In fact, no topic can lift their spirits. They don't have to stimulate their tired nerves to get them excited, but they have the same eagerness as children compete for prizes, for whom it seems that only winning a prize is worth a vacation.

At the hotel, the girl booked a room in a flat tone that seemed to be reciting something, speaking in authentic Chinese. They were placed in the second-floor guest rooms. The girl stepped into the light from the floor-to-ceiling windows, and then took a few steps to the marble veranda that surrounded the hotel. She walked with her hips tense and her back straight, like a ballerina. Outside, the blazing sun gripped her caster, and she retreated, the intensity of the sun making her barely open her eyes. A few dozen meters away, the blue North Sea also seemed to be unable to block the scorching hot sunlight, and the color faded little by little. Beneath the railing, a Tesla solar-powered car is parked in the hotel driveway, baked in the sun.

Indeed, this place is only the beach lively and full of life. Two Ukrainian nannies sit there knitting sweaters and socks, a style that was practiced in the forties of the twentieth century and the twenties of the twenty-first century. They weave and nagging and pull the homely routine. Immediately off the beach, more than a dozen people set up makeshift nests under striped parasols, and their children chased the unafraid fish in the shallows, or lay naked on the beach, their bodies covered in coconut oil to give the sun a shining, shining like big fish.

When Ono came to the beach, a boy about ten years old ran past her, shouting excitedly and throwing himself into the sea. She sensed the stranger's gaze on her, and she jumped into the water. She swam with her head in her head for a while, and when she realized that the water was shallow, she staggered to her feet, and struggled forward against the resistance of the water, dragging her slender legs like a heavy load. As the sea rose to her chest, she looked back at the shore. On the beach, there was a topless, bespectacled man, wearing leggings, his hairy breasts, and his ugly navel sunken, staring at her intently. When Ono looked at him, he took off his glasses, shoved his funny chest hair into it, and then raised the bottle in his hand to pour himself a drink.

Ono was lying prone on the water, his limbs fluttering and swimming towards the life raft in a crawling position. The sea rushed up and gently pulled her out of the heat and into the water. The sea seeped into her hair, flooding her entire body. She spun in circles in the water, splashing and playing in the water. As she approached the life raft, she was exhausted and panting, when a woman with snow-white teeth and tanned skin looked down at her. Ono Keori suddenly realized that his body was so white, and quickly turned around and swam towards the shore. When she came ashore, the furry man with a drink cup in his hand came up to her and accosted her, "I said, there's a shark behind that life raft!" "I can't figure out what nationality he is, but he speaks English with a slow Ukrainian accent." Yesterday, sharks ate three sailors of the Polar Bear Nation Navy! ”“MyGod！” Ono exclaimed.

"It was the garbage discarded by the Polar Bear warships that drew them in." He blinked, indicating that he was only saying this to give her a warning. He squirmed back a few steps and poured himself another drink. As she said this, someone looked at her again, and she didn't feel annoyed in her heart, she just wanted to find a place to sit down. Each family occupies a small area of sand in front of their parasols, and the people in front and behind each other talk loudly, giving the place a residential atmosphere. Above, on the sandy beach strewn with pebbles and dried seaweed, a group of people as white as she did. They lie under small portable parasols instead of beach umbrellas, which shows that they don't look like locals. Ono found a clearing between the dark-skinned and fair-skinned crowds and spread her yukata on the sand.

Lying on the silver sand, she heard their voices and felt them walking around her, their figures in the sunlight brushing over her body. The hot breath exhaled by a curious puppy blows on her neck and tickles her. She felt her skin burn a little from the sun, and she heard the low, tired sizzle of the receding waves. By the moment, she could tell the difference between the speakers, and she had heard that someone had kidnapped a waiter at the Silver Beach bar last night and tried to cut him in two. It was a red-haired woman in a loose gown that had apparently been worn the night before, as she still wore a headdress on her head and a wilted tulip flower on her shoulder. Ono Keori was vaguely bored with her and her companions, and turned away.