Life: A Black and White Film (一生一世，黑白影画)

Epilogue - Drunken Until One's Head is Graced by White

Moscow, in a certain speakeasy bar.

Wen Han sat with her head lowered, staring at her own toes.<>Please read this at hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com

Beside her was a suitcase that was neither too big, nor too small. The scuffs and scratches on its outside seemed to be reminding all the onlookers who passed by that it had been through many things.

A young Moscow man sauntered over and, without so much as a greeting or notice, took a seat. He wanted to take from Wen Han's hand the small die she was holding, but Wen Han lifted her eyelids and gave him a strange look.

"You know, there is a unique draw to you, darling." With an expression that was really inviting a beating, the man said this cheapest of cheap pick-up lines and, furthermore, thought it was very charming. "You enthrall my mind and soul."<>Copyright of Fanatical, hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com. Translated with the express permission of the author for hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com. If you are not reading this from hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com, the translation has been taken without consent of the translator.

Something in her mind seemed to overlap with the present.

Wen Han remembered their first meeting. She had once felt humiliated because of such words, and, as she restrained herself, fear like a spider's web had seeped out from her nerves and into the depths of her insides...

When that young Moscow man reached out his hand, about to touch her bare knee, someone grabbed his hand and held it down. It was a woman she had never seen before, a very beautiful woman, especially her lips. A smile curved her upper lip and also the corners of her lips upwards. But what came out the instant she opened her mouth was a very poorly pronounced "Bastard."

The young man was taken aback. "Enchanting miss, what was it you just said?"

"Scoundrel." Still extremely poorly pronounced.<>Please read this at hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com instead

Every sentence that followed after was a swear or an insult.

Yet, the person uttering all these was so open and unperturbed.

"Where the heck did this rude, ill bred woman come from?"<>Please read this at hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com

The man leapt up and threw out his arm, about to shove her, but extending out her palm, the woman blocked his action and seized his hand in her grip.

A piercing wail rang out. Amid the astonished stares that turned in their direction from the several people at the adjacent table, a man garbed in a white button-up shirt and black pants stepped over, obstructing the gazes of everyone. "Bei Bei."

He gave a wave of his hand. Someone beside him dragged away that Moscow man.

Frowning, the girl looked at that man in the white shirt and black pants. "Cheng Muyang, did you teach me some weird things to say?"

Cheng Muyang snapped his fingers, calling for some alcohol. "Did I? What I taught you were all very cultured things to say."

Nan Bei still felt that something was odd. But oh well; she just let it be.

She was never going to be able to learn Russian in this lifetime anyway.<>Copyright of Fanatical, hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com. Translated with the express permission of the author for hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com. If you are not reading this from hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com, the translation has been taken without consent of the translator.

Two minutes later, Wen Han was clear on the situation. This man was that younger cousin-brother whom Cheng Muyun had once mentioned, the one who liked to drink strong liquor.