Hunter and Hussar

Chapter 118 Sky, Earth, Sun
"Zidane looked at the sky of Berlin, his mind went blank, gray clouds with blue light dotted sporadically on the white sky, just like the endless, changing, windy sky in Flemish oil paintings. Qi Darney looks at the sky in Berlin, standing at the Olympiastadion on the night of July 2006, 7, and he feels in a moment of intense sentimentality that he is here, just here, at the Olympiastadion in Berlin, at this unequivocal moment, The night of the World Cup final.

Maybe this final night was just formality and gloom. ...

Now night fell on Berlin, dimmed in brightness, and Zidane physically felt the sky over his shoulders dim, leaving only traces of the black and rose-coloured clouds of dusk peeling off.The water that merges into the night is an ancient regret that does not want to sleep.

……

Buffon, Italy's goalkeeper, appeared out of nowhere and started talking to him and stroking his head, kneading the crown of his head and the nape of his neck, in a startling, tender, enveloping motion, in an anointing motion , trying to calm and calm him down, as one does with a child, a newborn baby. "[1]
Like Tucson years ago, I didn't see the loser's blues through TV and screens.The sun is far from setting like that night in Berlin. It still shines on the earth, telling everyone that everything is now and today.Ke Peiwei gently pushed Li Bin away.What they said, I don't know, just like Tucson didn't know what happened to the doomed runner-up Zidane before he left the field for the last time in his life.Li Bin comforted him with the kind of tenderness many years ago, but Ke Peiwei is not Zidane.He really is a kid.Instead of raising his gaze to the sky, he let them sink to the ground.Like a certain game before, or a distant player in front of the TV and computer screen, he didn't get the chance to play against his opponent.

He is still young, still immature.The same goes for his partners and opponents.They will grow up, get better, and die one day, just like all of us.He will have a lot of time, he can have a lot of time.Time is not a uniform grid engraved on a clock, it is shortened and stretched in our minds, we knead it into various shapes, frame it into language, and reproduce the lost things.Copeway failed, he just failed in this sentence, failed in the words piled up with data or paper and ink, and was seen by us.The speaker consciously lets us see his failure, instead of describing the sky, the earth, and the sun, and his weariness.

If memory serves, he never cried on the pitch.Perhaps he was not blamed.Alas, enough is enough.You don't have to work so hard, you can cry.

[1] Quoted from "The Melancholy of Zidane" by the Belgian writer Jean-Philippe Toussaint.

(End of this chapter)