What makes people curious is that novelists always have a way to make us believe that lunch will make people aftertaste. It must be that someone said something witty and did something clever at the dinner table. But they didn't say anything about what they had eaten. It has become one of the family precepts of novelists to avoid talking about fresh soup, salmon and suckling duck, just as fresh soup, salmon and suckling duck are irrelevant, just as no one has ever smoked a cigar or drunk a glass of red wine. However, I would like to challenge these ancestral family precepts here. I want to tell you that this lunch starts with halibut, which is served in a big bowl with deep edges. The chef of the college poured white cream on it, and only a few brown spots, like the spots on the ribs of a female deer, are exposed sporadically. Then came the partridge, but if you think that this dish is nothing more than one or two black birds with their feathers gone, you are very wrong. There are so many partridges in one dish. They have different colors and tastes. They are served together with sauces and salads. They are spicy and sweet, and each has its own order. The potatoes in the side dishes are as thin as pennies, but naturally they are not so hard. The leaves of Brussels sprouts are like the flower buds of roses, but they are much more tender and juicy. Our roasted partridge and side dishes had just been used up, and the servant waiting for us, perhaps the supervisor himself, was just a lot more pleasant, so he brought the dessert after the meal. The napkins were dotted around like white sugar surrounded by spray.

It is disrespectful to call it pudding, which inevitably reminds people of rice and starch. During a meal, the wine in the glass is empty and full. The color of the wine in the glass is interlaced between light yellow and strong red. After a few drinks, a flame was lit from the center of our spine, the place where our souls live. It was not the dazzling, lightning like light that flashed between our lips and tongues, but a more profound, darker and more secret fire of reason. In the communication between people, it ignited a bright golden flame. Don't hurry, don't shine, don't be someone else, just be yourself. We will all ascend to heaven, and Van Dyck [13] will also be with us - in other words, how beautiful life is, how sweet the rewards are, how trivial the grievances are. Only friendship and like-minded people can be envied. Just like now, light a good cigarette, lean on the cushion, and sit by the window. If I happen to have an ashtray at hand, if I don't have to pop the ashtray out of the window, if everything is slightly different, how can I see, for example, a cat without a tail. Watching this short thing that broke into my eyes and walked through the square square gently touched my heartstrings for a moment, and my mood changed as if someone had cast a shadow and changed the brightness of the light. Maybe that wine has made me unable to drink.

If I happen to have an ashtray at hand, if I don't have to pop the ashtray out of the window, if everything is slightly different, how can I see, for example, a cat without a tail. Watching this short thing that broke into my eyes and walked through the square square gently touched my heartstrings for a moment, and my mood changed as if someone had cast a shadow and changed the brightness of the light. Maybe that wine has made me unable to drink. I watched the Man Island cat [14] stop in the middle of the lawn. It seemed that it was also thinking about everything. Indeed, there was something missing and different. But what is less and what is different? I asked myself while listening to others' conversation. In order to answer this question, I had to imagine that I left this room and went back to the past. To be exact, I went back to the pre war days and came to another luncheon, just in a few rooms not far from here. But it was a completely different scene, all changed. At this time, the conversation was continuing among the guests. There were many young guests, both women and men. Everything went well. The conversation was pleasant and interesting. At the same time, I made a reference to the other conversation, compared the current conversation with it, and I had no doubt that one of them was the descendant of the other, and was his legitimate heir.

What makes people curious is that novelists always have a way to make us believe that lunch will make people aftertaste. It must be that someone said something witty and did something clever at the dinner table. But they didn't say anything about what they had eaten. It has become one of the family precepts of novelists to avoid talking about fresh soup, salmon and suckling duck, just as fresh soup, salmon and suckling duck are irrelevant, just as no one has ever smoked a cigar or drunk a glass of red wine. However, I would like to challenge these ancestral family precepts here. I want to tell you that this lunch starts with halibut, which is served in a big bowl with deep edges. The chef of the college poured white cream on it, and only a few brown spots, like the spots on the ribs of a female deer, are exposed sporadically. Then came the partridge, but if you think that this dish is nothing more than one or two black birds with their feathers gone, you are very wrong. There are so many partridges in one dish. They have different colors and tastes. They are served together with sauces and salads. They are spicy and sweet, and each has its own order. The potatoes in the side dishes are as thin as pennies, but naturally they are not so hard. The leaves of Brussels sprouts are like the flower buds of roses, but they are much more tender and juicy. Our roasted partridge and side dishes had just been used up, and the servant waiting for us, perhaps the supervisor himself, was just a lot more pleasant, so he brought the dessert after the meal. The napkins were dotted around like white sugar surrounded by spray.

It is disrespectful to call it pudding, which inevitably reminds people of rice and starch. During a meal, the wine in the glass is empty and full. The color of the wine in the glass is interlaced between light yellow and strong red. After a few drinks, a flame was lit from the center of our spine, the place where our souls live. It was not the dazzling, lightning like light that flashed between our lips and tongues, but a more profound, darker and more secret fire of reason. In the communication between people, it ignited a bright golden flame. Don't hurry, don't shine, don't be someone else, just be yourself. We will all ascend to heaven, and Van Dyck [13] will also be with us - in other words, how beautiful life is, how sweet the rewards are, how trivial the grievances are. Only friendship and like-minded people can be envied. Just like now, light a good cigarette, lean on the cushion, and sit by the window. If I happen to have an ashtray at hand, if I don't have to pop the ashtray out of the window, if everything is slightly different, how can I see, for example, a cat without a tail. Watching this short thing that broke into my eyes and walked through the square square gently touched my heartstrings for a moment, and my mood changed as if someone had cast a shadow and changed the brightness of the light. Maybe that wine has made me unable to drink.

If I happen to have an ashtray at hand, if I don't have to pop the ashtray out of the window, if everything is slightly different, how can I see, for example, a cat without a tail. Watching this short thing that broke into my eyes and walked through the square square gently touched my heartstrings for a moment, and my mood changed as if someone had cast a shadow and changed the brightness of the light. Maybe that wine has made me unable to drink. I watched the Man Island cat [14] stop in the middle of the lawn. It seemed that it was also thinking about everything. Indeed, there was something missing and different. But what is less and what is different? I asked myself while listening to others' conversation. In order to answer this question, I had to imagine that I left this room and went back to the past. To be exact, I went back to the pre war days and came to another luncheon, just in a few rooms not far from here. But it was a completely different scene, all changed. At this time, the conversation was continuing among the guests. There were many young guests, both women and men. Everything went well. The conversation was pleasant and interesting. At the same time, I made a reference to the other conversation, compared the current conversation with it, and I had no doubt that one of them was the descendant of the other, and was his legitimate heir.