"Where do you live?" Spielberg asked, "Staying at the Silver Beach Inn." "That invitation letter I wrote to you is still valid. I'd rather make a movie with you than another girl. "I thought so too. Why don't you go back to Hollywood? "I can't stand that place, I'm fine here. Wait, I'll show you around when I'm done with this shot. He returned to the set and began to talk to the Ukrainian actress in a low and gentle voice. Ten minutes passed, Spielberg was still talking, and the Ukrainian woman changed her feet and nodded from time to time. Suddenly, Spielberg interrupted the conversation and shouted a few words at the place where a bright light was coming from the cold.

At this moment, Hollywood seems to be shouting at Ono Keiri, who fearlessly walks through the city again, wanting to get back there. However, she didn't want to see Spielberg again, she knew how he would feel after the shot, and she left the shooting scene without nostalgia. Her inner world was no longer so quiet because she knew there was a movie studio there. She loves people hanging out on Vietnamese Street in Butterworth, and she bought herself a pair of sandals on the way to the station. Her mother, Yoko Ono, was happy because Ono had done exactly what she had told her, but she still wanted her daughter to sail away......

Having a good lunch of Bordeaux wine, Yoko Ono folded her arms high and stepped outside to the lovely weed-free garden. One side of the garden joins the house and extends from here into the courtyard of the house. The other two sides are bordered by an old fishing village, and on the other side are leaning against a cliff that slopes towards the coastal reef. Along the fence on one side of the village, the trees are dusty, the vines are twisted, and there are coconut and oak trees. Yoko Ono is always surprised that if she goes in a different direction and passes a peony nursery, she will enter a shady place under the shade of green branches, where a gentle vapor of water lingers on the leaves and petals.

She wore a thin blue turban with a knot tied around her neck. Even in the white sunlight, the turban reflected its color on her face, casting it over her feet as they moved in the shadows. Her expression was solemn, almost cold, but her eyes shone with a tender, misty glow that made people pity. Her hair had lost its luster, but she was now forty-three years old, but she was more feminine than she had been when she had run away alone at twenty-five, though her hair was brighter than she had been then.

Stepping on the five-flower stones, following a path among the mist of flowers, she came to a place where she could look out over the sea. There were a few red lanterns hanging quietly from the branches of the apple trees. A large table, a few wicker chairs, and a large commercial umbrella made in Wenzhou were all placed under a tall red pine, which was thicker than all the other trees in the garden. She rested there for a moment, looking nonchalantly at the clumps of phalaenopsis orchids, which seemed to grow from a handful of seeds that had been sown at random. She also heard complaints and accusations coming from the first floor of the hotel. When the sounds died down in the summer breeze, she walked again, lined with pink clouds of peony flowers, black tulips, and purple stems, which were as delicate as sugar flowers in the window of a shop where sweets were sold, and she walked as she walked, the damp steps leading to a few meters below.

There is a well underneath, surrounded by planks, and even on the clearest of days, the edge of the well is wet and slippery. She climbed the stairs from the other end and walked into a vegetable garden. She walked quite fast. She is lively and active, although sometimes gives the impression of being quiet, both tranquil and moving. She doesn't talk much, and she doesn't trust anyone, so she prefers to remain silent in this world, and her almost poor restraint does not affect her elegant temperament. Sometimes, however, when strangers were unhappy with her lack of words, she would snatch the subject and start talking about it in a hurry, and she herself would not be surprised, and then she would bring it back, and throw it away almost timidly, like a well-behaved sheepdog, behaving just right.

Then she walked on again, past the rows of new coriander, to a small zoo, where some pigeons and parrots were cooing and shouting at her. She descended to another reef and came to a low, curved wall looking down at the North Sea a few hundred meters below. She is now standing in the ancient mountain village of Beihai. Their villa and its courtyard were converted from a row of farmhouses adjacent to the cliffs, a few huts were opened to make shelters, and others were demolished to make gardens. The outer perimeter wall has not been altered, so it is difficult to make out a piece of the town's villa from a distance from the road below.

Yoko Ono stood and looked down at Beihai for a moment, she felt that there was nothing to do, although she was a woman who kept her hands and feet. At the moment, Obama walked out of his living room with a telescope and looked in her direction. After a while, Yoko Ono's figure fell into his field of vision. He then dodged into the room and walked out with a trumpet. "Yoko Ono." He shouted, "I respectfully invite you and your daughter to gather, can you hear me?" "I can hear you." He lowered the horn and stubbornly raised it again, "I'd like to invite some more." I intend to invite Soros to them. "Okay." She calmly agreed. "I wanted to have a really memorable party. I'm going to have such a party, noisy and jealous. The man came home with hurt feelings, and the woman fainted in the bathroom. Just wait and see. ”

Obama went back to his room. Yoko Ono knew that he was now in a most peculiar state of mind, an excitement that was going to involve everyone, and with it, it must have been his own melancholy, which he never showed, but she thought he had. To be excited about something to such an extent is not commensurate with the importance of the thing itself, and the result is a truly unusual preference for people. Except for a few hard-hearted and suspicious people, he has a charm that makes people obsessed and infatuated. But as soon as he realizes the waste and artificiality in the process of making friends, he will have such a psychological reaction. He sometimes recalled in horror the emotional he had provoked, as if a general had enjoyed a massacre ordered to satisfy his savage bloodlust.

To be accepted into Obama's world, even for a moment, is a very special experience. It is believed that he made special arrangements for them because he was able to recognize the uniqueness of their personalities, which over the years had been overwhelmed by the compromises of life. His thoughtful care and graceful demeanor quickly won people's affection. There is no hesitation or artificiality in the care and demeanor he displays, and it can only be recognized by the results. In addition, in order not to wilt the first flower in the relationship, he will not hesitate to open the door to his witty and interesting world. Their pleasure was his primary concern as long as they were convinced to receive it, but as soon as they had the slightest suspicion of richness, he would disappear before their eyes, and his speech and demeanor would not make any impression worthy of mention.

At eight o'clock that evening, Obama went out to greet his first guests. He was respectful and confident, and his coat was held in his hand like a matador carrying his cloak. After greeting Ono and her mother, he waited for them to speak first, as if to give them enough confidence in their voices in their new surroundings, which was quite unique.

With the arrival of the first guests, the hustle and bustle of the evening ensued, and the children had dinner on the terrace. "What a beautiful garden!" Yoko Ono exclaimed. "This is Obama's garden." Russell said. Obama led them from the garden to the platform and poured himself a glass of Bordeaux wine. Oedipus arrives, and he is pleasantly surprised to find that Ono Keori is also here. His demeanor was softer than it had been on the Silver Beach, as if his different posture had just been adopted. Ono immediately compared him to Soros and unequivocally fell in love with the latter. Oedipus seemed a little vulgar and somewhat uneducated, though she once again had an electric sensation in his body. He casually greeted the children who were about to leave the table after eating outside.

Ono was thinking that the Obama Villa might be the center of the world. In such a place, something is bound to be memorable. When the door opened and the rest of the guests arrived, she was even more overjoyed. They were Mr. and Mrs. Malone, Mr. and Mrs. Soros, Mr. Lewis, and Mr. Spielberg, and they all came to the platform.

Ono felt a pang of intense disappointment, and she glanced at Obama quickly, as if to ask him to explain the messy gathering, but there was nothing unusual about his expression. He greeted the new guests with a haughty expression, clearly respecting the varied and unknown possibilities of their personalities. "I met you in Kyiv." Mrs. Russell's Nicole said to Yoko Ono, "Actually, I've met you twice. "Yes, I remember." Ono said. "But where?" Nicole asked, unwilling to end the conversation like that. "Well, I want to think about it...... Zi hated this kind of trick, "I can't remember." "It seems to be in Tbilisi Square?"

The conversation filled the pause, and Ono had a gut feeling that someone was going to say something decent, but Obama had no intention of breaking up the circle of latecomers, or even to eliminate Mrs. Russell's smug demeanor. He didn't solve such a social problem, because he knew that it wasn't the point at the moment, and it would solve it on its own. He is trying his best to keep things fresh and waiting for a more meaningful moment to make his guests aware of the enjoyable moment.

Ono Keiri stood beside Oedipus, and he showed a dismissive mood at all, as if some special stimulus was working on him. "Oedipus, are you going home?" "Home? I don't have a home. I'm going to war. "What kind of battle?" "What fight? Haven't you read an e-newspaper lately? The battle between the Ten Planets Humans and the Sagittarius Army is imminent! It's been 60 million years! I've always guessed that there is a war, and there is always a war. "Why the war?" "I don't know!" "Don't you care what you're fighting for?" "Ono Keiri, I don't care at all, as long as the treatment is good. When life is monotonous and boring, I come to see you, because I know that in a few days, I will go to war. Ono Keori was stunned.