Chapter 1079

1892, United States.

DeWitt detective agency.

"Buck, how do you feel?"

"Every day is like hell."

"You can't gamble and drink anymore. Think about your daughter. You look drunk every day and can't take care of children."

Booker just stared at the blue mist of cigarettes in the air. Across the table sat a tall Chinese, dressed in jeans and smelling of fresh cow dung and tobacco. Everyone in the town knows him. He is a foreigner who came to the town a year ago. He is a nosy rich man.

His face hid under the wide brim of the cowboy hat and looked like a dark shadow. When he spoke, he could only see the lip flap stretching, without more expression, "alcohol can't wash the Indian blood on your hands. The water in the wounded knee river is still clear. Do you know why? "

Booker's psychological trauma did not allow him to recall his participation in the wounded knee River massacre in 1890. He did not answer, but frowned.

"..." the rich man also kept silent.

The pale sunlight came in from the secondary window on the door and threw a very cold gray spot, pulling the shadow of the rich man long and deformed. Buck DeWitt just stared. From the smoke in the air to the light and shadow on the old wooden floor, he fell into hell without the power of words.

Every day is like hell.

It is often unreasonable that the sudden pain of the heart is as numb as freezing. His chest was full of thick ice.

"You owe a lot of debt. I can help you pay it off."

"..." Booker finally focused on the rich man. Look at the shadow under his hat.

"But you have to give me Anna."

"That's my daughter."

"So do you sell it?"

"... you have to pay more."

The rich man finally showed a simple smile, "you can pay as much as you want. Even making you the richest man in the United States is no problem. "

"Why me? Why Anna? "

"This is a deal. Your American favorite sentence: business is business I have no interest in this stupid world full of extreme right-wing dictatorship and brain paralysis. I'm leaving after I finish the deal. "

The rich man snapped his fingers, the door opened, and the swarming black suits, carrying strong suitcases, lined up in front of Booker to open the box for display - the box was filled with thick US dollars, and the ink of printing paper money was pungent. These money boxes were stacked in the corner of the house one by one. Booker stood up a little and piled up to a person's height, Both walls were piled up enough, and Booker stood completely upright. At this time, more than a dozen blondes with high heels came in, holding gold jewelry boxes of pearls, corals and gemstones, which were also displayed in front of Booker with her waist bent, and then put on the table. The pale and plump hands of the girls are gradually taken away, just like a group of white wild pigeons flying on the table. The bright pearls shine brightly on the room. People's cheeks are soaked in gold, red, blue and Pearl White... People's eyebrows are gold, brown and black, people's eyes are blue, cyan, tan and gray, and people's lips are red, dark red Gray and white. The light outside the door beat, and the color on the face beat convulsively.

The tall, strong, Chinese American man in jeans stood up. The rich man's riding boots banged on the wooden floor. His steps were slow, so his feet sounded slow and walked towards the children's room.

"Wait." Buck stopped the rich man. "I want to know the answer. Who did you do the deal with? What are the conditions? "

"I made a deal with you on the condition that Anna, do you understand?"

"No, I'm not worth so much money, Anna is not worth so much money, you still tell me," Booker came around from the back of the table and wanted to stop, but he was blocked by the rich black suit thugs, "Hey! Tell me who the trader is! "

The rich man opened the door and picked up the baby in the crib. His strange smell made the girl with beautiful sea blue eyes cry loudly. Booker outside the door shouted, "I don't sell! I won't sell it! "

"This is not what you can decide now. Live well with enough wealth to buy half of America, Mr. Booker DeWitt." The rich man left with the infant in his arms, and his back disappeared into the pale sky.

1912, New York, USA.

luxury house.

Buck DeWitt woke up from his nightmare.

"Dear Mr. Booker, I'm sorry to disturb your rest. Two special guests want to see you."

"Please come in." The good man buck woke up in a nap and asked his servant to come in before he could tidy up his appearance.

After the door opened, behind the humble African American maid, a pair of white men and women who were sown on the earth smiled cautiously and gently at the well-dressed Booker.

"Oh, welcome to my humble house... Have I seen you?"

"That's strange." It was the woman with high cheekbones among the guests. Her facial features were strong and bright, her dignified hairstyle, considerate and tasteful clothes, and her beautiful accent. Such a polite guest said something that was difficult for Booker to understand.

The handsome young man beside her echoed, "it's really strange. I've never seen such a strange one. First? "“ First. " Booker waited for the two uninvited guests to show their etiquette. The fat African maid saluted him and stepped down. The guests walked towards Booker as they talked cordially, and they always looked up and down at the owner of the house“ You are Mr. Booker DeWitt, the richest man in the United States and a great philanthropist in New York. You have been admired for a long time. " The woman said a compliment, but her tone was like reading the judgment, "but your child is not around."“ Anna... I once had a child. " Booker rubbed the ad scar on the back of his left hand, Anna DeWitt, the name of his daughter. He engraved it with a knife. This scar has long been numb, but every touch will bring him great torture. All along, he used his wealth to help the poor people at the bottom, trying to heal the trauma in this way, but the trauma can not dissipate so easily. Everyone said he was a good man, but the good man's hands would not be covered with the blood of the indigenous people, and the good man would not live happily with the money from selling his daughter. The LORD would not easily forgive such crimes, and Booker did not trust God“ Do you still want her back? " The woman made an offer she couldn't refuse“ Of course, I can exchange everything I have for my Anna. "“ We can help you, no doubt, but only to take you to the wharf and the way to the lighthouse. "“ What does that mean? "“ Get ready and wait for us in Bar Harbor, Maine, in a month. " The guests turned and went out. Booker hurriedly chased them, but they disappeared as soon as they turned. A month later, Booker came to Bar Harbor as promised and found a decent hotel in the local New England style town. That night, the strange man and woman appeared again. They were wearing yellow raincoats and yellow round brimmed rainhats and knocked on his door at the stormy midnight. Buck put down the newspaper, picked up the oil lamp and hurried to open the door. The woman with strong facial features outside the door smiled at him, "I hope you have prepared a raincoat. We have no spare. Are you ready? Please come with us. " Booker just copied his hands, hooked the kerosene lamp with his tail finger, and followed the couple step by step. They walked through the silent and wet street at night and followed a muddy and embarrassing path to the wharf. At a certain moment, Booker suddenly felt that the surrounding air was extremely quiet. At this time, there was a light rain in the sky. Then the rain increased, the natural sound returned, and the raindrops hit the raincoat noisily. He felt the ice cold of the invasion. He turned and looked back. The hotel he lived in when he came disappeared in the shadow of the low buildings in Bar Harbor with the sudden heavy rain. Booker couldn't help being confused. His mind began to ache with stress and couldn't concentrate on effective thinking. "Why am I here?" The man and woman turned their heads and whispered to comfort him, "you're here to complete the entrustment. Please keep up." The guests prepared a small sampan for the distinguished Mr. Booker. They acted as boatman and guide. The handsome man would be responsible for rowing, while the woman continued to chat strange gossip with the man. A bright kerosene lamp was hung from the small mast at the bow, and the light was as full as a fat apple. The small sampan, carrying the worried and smiling Booker DeWitt, sailed quietly into the stormy and foggy Atlantic on a stormy night in the murmur of the rowing man. On the dark sea in the distance, the Fresnel lens on the nameless lighthouse and the pale light rotate slowly, attracting the boat to sail through the fog and approach it bit by bit.