red moscow

Chapter 2672

Just as the middle-aged female painter said, after passing a Mumu restaurant, we saw the used bookstall.

The used bookstall occupied a space that was not very spacious but large enough to accommodate many book lovers. In the middle were a few old wooden tables that were put together and piled with yellowed books. The ground around them was covered with plastic sheets, and thousands of used books were neatly placed there.

A bald middle-aged man sat on a low stool, staring at the customers who were picking out old books. Perhaps the customers who were picking out books looked at more books than they bought, so his eyes looked particularly melancholy.

When Sokov arrived at the bookstall, he did not immediately squat down to choose a book, but wanted to find out the price first.

Glancing at the stall, I saw a paper sign next to it that read: Books on the ground, three for 100 rubles; books on the table, one for 100 rubles.

"Boss," Sokov saw that there were at least four or five thousand books on the used bookstall. If he looked for them one by one, he would never find them. So he walked up to the middle-aged man and asked politely, "Excuse me, do you have any military novels here? Preferably novels about the Great Patriotic War."

"Yes." The middle-aged man nodded and pointed at the table and said weakly: "Grigory Yakovlevich Baklanov's "One Inch of Soil" and "Forever Nineteen Years Old", especially the latter one, which won the Soviet State Prize in 1979."

Sokov had never heard of the writers and works the middle-aged man was talking about. He asked tentatively: "Are there any other writers? For example, Simonov, Chakovsky, Vasilyev and other writers' works?"

"Yes." The middle-aged man pointed to a corner this time. "There is Vasilyev's The Dawns Here Are Quiet. I have a lot of military novels at home, but I didn't bring them out because of the limited space here. If you really want them, I will bring them here tomorrow."

Hearing the middle-aged man talking about "The Dawns Here Are Quiet", Sokov's heart couldn't help but move. He thought to himself that he had published this novel in that dream-like time and space. He wondered who the author of this book now was, himself or the original author Vasilyev?

He walked quickly to the corner and after searching for a while, he found the book "The Dawns Here Are Quiet". Seeing the words "Written by Boris Vasilyev" on the cover, he couldn't help but smile bitterly, thinking that everything he had experienced in the underground fortifications was just a dream.

At this moment, he suddenly heard someone calling him from behind: "Misha, Misha!"

Hearing this hurried and familiar voice, Sokov turned around suddenly and looked in the direction where the voice came from.

Next to the used bookstall was a second-hand goods stall, on which were displayed many old items, such as old-fashioned dial-up telephones, waist-high radios, piles of old cameras, and wooden tables that looked very old.

There was an old-fashioned TV on the table, and on the screen a person was anxiously calling his name.

When Sokov saw the person on the screen, he was stunned: the person who called him was actually Yakov. He was calling his name non-stop, his face full of anxiety.

But when Sokov quickly walked to the table and wanted to communicate with Yakov on TV, the screen suddenly went black, and Yakov, who was calling him, disappeared without a trace.

The owner of the second-hand stall was an elderly man. When he saw Sokov rushing to the table and repeatedly looking at the TV sets on it, he came over and asked politely, "Young man, do you want to buy a TV?"

"I just saw someone talking on the TV."

Unexpectedly, the old man was stunned at first, and then he said with a smile: "Young man, you are really joking. This TV doesn't even have a power cord, how can someone appear on TV."

After hearing what the old man said, Sokov also checked carefully and found that the TV set really had no power plug. He couldn't help but ask curiously: "Since this TV set has no power plug, what is it doing here?"

"Some people like old things," the old man replied. "They like things that have a sense of age and put them in their homes as decorations."

Sokov muttered to himself, was he hallucinating?

With such doubts, he walked back to the owner of the used bookstall and politely said, "Please help me find One Inch of Soil and Forever Nineteen Years Old."

The boss stood up, rummaged through the pile of books for a while, then took out two books with yellowed covers and handed them to Sokov.

Sokov took it and saw that it was indeed the two books he was looking for. He quickly took out his wallet and asked the boss: "Is it two hundred rubles?"

Unexpectedly, the boss shook his head and said, "Five hundred rubles a copy, two copies for a total of one thousand rubles."

"Doesn't your sign say, 'Books on the table, 100 rubles each?'"

"The starting price is 100 rubles, and there is no upper limit."

Seeing that the bookstall owner went back on his word and tried to take the opportunity to raise the price, Sokov naturally could not tolerate his bad habits, so he simply put down the book and turned away.

On the way, Sokov took out his mobile phone and searched for Baklanov's name. He found that this person had served as a director and standing committee member of the Soviet Writers' Association and editor-in-chief of the magazine "Flag". He participated in the Great Patriotic War, was awarded the rank of captain, and graduated from the Gorky Literary Institute in 1951.

In the late 20s, he began to write novellas describing the Great Patriotic War, including Nine Days, One Inch of Land, and One Death Covers a Hundred Uglinesses. His works mainly describe the "trench reality" of ordinary soldiers and junior officers in local battles and their psychological states during life-and-death tests, making him one of the representative writers of the "trench reality school". His One Inch of Land, Bondarev's The Last Bombardment, and Bekov's The Third Flare are considered to be representative works of the "trench reality school".

After looking up information about Baklanov, I came to the painting stall. At this moment, the middle-aged female painter was finishing the sketch of Anna.

"Misha," Anna called Sokov's name and asked with concern, "Did you find the used bookstall?"

"Found it." Sokov nodded. "But it didn't have the book I wanted, so I came back. How about it? How long will it take you to finish it?"

"Sir, please wait a moment. It will be finished in a few minutes."

Sokov did not urge anyone, but just stood by and waited patiently.

Soon, the female painter finished the last stroke, and then handed the finished product to Anna, smiling and asking, "Miss, do you like it?"

Anna took the portrait and looked at it carefully. She did not immediately express her opinion, but pointed the painting at Sokov: "Misha, what do you think of this painting?"

People who can set up stalls to paint on Arbat Street usually have a few brushes, and drawing a figure sketch like this is not easy. Sokov nodded and said repeatedly: "Not bad, not bad, the painter skillfully uses the contrast of light and shadow to highlight your facial features, and uses soft brushstrokes to depict the lightness and elegance of your clothes. The lines in the picture are smooth and rhythmic, whether it is the softness and elegance of hair or the wrinkles and textures of clothes, they are all expressed in detail. The painting is really great." The female painter couldn't help but smile knowingly when she heard Sokov's praise. As a painter, it is the greatest affirmation for her to have her work praised by others.

After Sokov took Anna away from Arbat Street and returned to his car, he asked tentatively: "Anna, where do you want to go next?"

"Didn't you agree to let me go to your house tonight?" Anna looked at Sokov and asked unhappily, "Have you changed your mind?"

"Anna, you misunderstood." Sokov said calmly, "I was just worried that you would change your mind and not want to go to my place, so I asked you this specifically."

On the way, Anna asked curiously: "Misha, most people nowadays read books through computers or mobile phones, and few people buy physical books. Why did you think of buying old books?"

"The books on the Internet are quite complete," Sokov said, "but some old books published decades ago cannot be found on the Internet at all."

"Oh, so that's how it is." Anna said, "If you really want old books, I can think of a way for you." Then she took out her cell phone from her bag and said, "I'll make a phone call to see if I can find old books."

Sokov was driving when he heard Anna talking on the phone: "Hello, is this Liuba? This is Anna. ...Have you sold your house? ...Where are you, your old house? ...Okay, I got it. I'll be there in about half an hour."

After hanging up the phone, Anna pointed ahead and said to Sokov, "Misha, turn right at the intersection ahead and drive straight ahead."

Sokov asked Anna curiously, "Anna, I just heard you ask someone on the phone if their house had been sold. Are you planning to buy it?"

"Misha, you misunderstood. I'm just a worker, how can I afford to buy a house?" Anna shook her head and said, "My friend's father was a professor at the university. There were many books at home. Now he has passed away, and my friend plans to sell the house. The books her father left behind have become a burden, so she plans to throw them all away. When I take you there later, see if there are any books you want. If there are, take them home directly."

Sokov was overjoyed to learn that Anna could help him find old books. If these were really the books left by the old professor, there must be a lot of books he wanted in them. Thinking this in his mind, he couldn't help but speed up.

Unexpectedly, just after turning the intersection, I heard the siren of a police car from behind. It sirens once and then stops, indicating that I should pull over.

Sokov cursed his bad luck and quickly pulled the car over to the side of the road.

As soon as the car stopped, a police car with red and blue lights flashing on the roof drove past the car and stopped steadily not far ahead.

Seeing the color of the roof lights clearly, Sokov felt more at ease. The traffic police's roof lights are one red and one blue, while the police's police car's roof lights are two blue. At this moment, it was a red and blue double-color light, indicating that it was a traffic police, not a police officer. He should have only violated the traffic rules, not encountered a black policeman who stopped him on the road to extort money.

The door of the police car opened and a policeman got out. The brim of his wide-brimmed hat was gray, which was a special hat for traffic police.

He came to Sokov's car, raised his hand to salute, and said politely: "Sir, please show me your driver's license."

Sokov quickly took out his driver's license and handed it over.

After checking the driver's license, the traffic policeman said, "Sir, you were speeding just now and you will be fined 200 rubles. If you choose to go to the bank to pay the fine, I will issue you a ticket now. If you pay now, I will not issue you a ticket."

It was not the first time for Sokov to come to Russia, so he naturally understood the various unspoken rules. If he was fined, it would leave a stain on his record, and when he renewed his visa next year, he might be rejected due to traffic violations. So he decisively chose to pay the fine directly to avoid leaving a bad record.

After the traffic policeman put the fine paid by Sokov into his pocket, he said, "Good luck!" Then he turned around and returned to his police car and drove away.

After the traffic police drove away, Sokov restarted the car.

Anna, who was sitting in the passenger seat, quickly reminded him: "Misha, don't be in a hurry, drive slowly. My friend is waiting for us at her house, you don't have to be in a hurry."

"Okay, I understand." Sokov was too excited just now, so he accidentally exceeded the speed limit. Now his mood has calmed down, so naturally he will not violate the traffic rules again.

Seeing that they were getting closer and closer to their destination, Sokov asked tentatively: "Anna, are we going to someone else's house empty-handed? Should we buy some gifts?"

"If you hadn't reminded me, I would have almost forgotten." Anna pointed ahead and said to Sokov, "Misha, there's a flower shop next to the McDonald's in front. I'll go buy a bouquet of flowers for Liuba."

Sokov parked the car next to McDonald's and said to Anna, "Anna, I'll wait for you here, go buy some flowers."

After Anna got off the car, Sokov took out his mobile phone and searched the history of the Soviet Union on the Internet. You know, although he knew a lot about the history of the Great Patriotic War, he knew very little about the period from 1946 to 1991.

The first post he saw was titled "An Analysis of the Causes of the Soviet Food Crisis in the Early Post-War Period (1945-1953)". Sokov immediately became interested, as he remembered that he had returned from 1946. He wondered if this post could give him an ideal answer to whether a great famine really occurred that year.

As soon as he clicked on the post, before Sokov could take a closer look, he heard a woman's voice next to him: "Sir!"

Sokov turned his head and saw a young girl with dyed red hair, wearing a sexy suspender and low-waist denim hot pants. She was leaning on the passenger side window, revealing a large area of ​​snow-white skin. She asked softly, "Sir, are you interested in exchanging ideas? The price is very cheap."

Seeing this, Sokov thought that this must be the legendary fallen women. He didn't expect to meet them here. He waved his hand and said, "Thank you, no need!"

"Sir, the price is really not expensive." The red-haired girl gestured and said, "Only 250 euros."

250, you are the only one who is worth 250, your whole family is the only one who is worth 250. After Sokov cursed the red-haired girl in his heart, he continued to shake his head and said, "Thank you, but it's not necessary!"

Seeing that Sokov was unmoved, the red-haired girl stood up, muttered some slang that Sokov couldn't understand, and turned and walked away.

As soon as the red-haired girl walked away, Anna opened the car door and got in, holding a bunch of lilies in her hands. She looked at the red-haired girl and asked curiously, "Misha, who is that? Is she your friend?"

"No." Sokov shook his head: "Just asking for directions."