What is true despair? Is it the sigh of giving up, or the numbness of acceptance? Maybe it's both.

True despair is like a drowning, trapped in a deep blue, the sunlit water is overhead, but the hands and feet are no longer paddling, just silently feeling the burning pain of the air disappearing from the lungs, and then little by little away from the water, sinking towards a thicker darkness.

The process was slow and steady, without any waves, without any struggle, maybe for a second, maybe a century, when the lungs could no longer search for oxygen, when the icy lake was flooded, when the sight could no longer search for light, darkness was firmly encircled, and suddenly, a thread broke, and it was all over. Without warning.

Henry was in despair, he tried to suppress his broken cry, he tried to stay away from the noise of the world, but the tingling in his chest was still very clear, still a real and sharp reminder that even if he became the walking dead, he was still alive.

The sound in my ears is so clear. The muffled moaning/moaning of the drunkard, the dull echoing engine of the bus, the trivial and sharp grinding of the high heels, mixed with the breeze of the night, constantly echoed above the eardrums, ***, dirty, cheap, vulgar, ugly, rude, primitive, real, like a garbage heap stained with white slime, flies buzzing up and down, viscous liquid hula hula up and down closed, pulling out disgusting filaments.

Henry didn't want to pay attention, he refused to pay attention, his eyes widened, staring blankly ahead, the scarred soul was struggling to find a gap to breathe, and then the moan/moan in his ears suddenly reached the top, and it seemed to be finally released, and then he heard the vicious voice coming, "Call out all the stinky money!"

It was a childish voice, but it had vicissitudes that did not match its age, fierce and vulgar, and the vulgarity that had gone through the wind and dust was filled with a thick disgust. Henry reflexively cast his gaze, not out of curiosity, but simply in response to the voice, and then he saw the thin and immature figure—

She looked no more than twelve or thirteen years old, her body was not fully developed, her dry curves hung empty with a black lace suspender underwear, a pair of shabby black tennis stockings and cheap plastic diamond heels on the lower half of her body, her young face still bearing baby fat, and her fair skin was hidden under the inferior foundation and bright red lipstick.

She's underage, she's a prostitute/girl. She is a chick/prostitute.

The soul that has not yet had time to grow up, but can't wait to live thirty years later, the serious sense of disobedience is like "Truman's world", interpreting the absurd reality into a comedy, which makes the corners of Henry's mouth hooked. It was supposed to be a mocking smile, but the smile turned into a shallow arc and stayed at the corners of her mouth, because, she turned her head.

Erica sensed a calm but burning gaze projection, she reflexively turned her head away, glared at the other party viciously, and then saw those deep eyes, no special emotions, only a gray that could not be dissolved, a faint glimpse of pain and sadness, struggling gently, the handsome eyebrows were like the sun at twelve o'clock in the middle of the night, thin and magnificent.

Sammy was stunned. This is not the plot of the script. According to the script, she doesn't need to turn her head at the moment, but concentrates on demanding the reward from the drunkard. However, she felt the deep gaze, and turned her head almost physically, and when she turned her head, she regretted it, could it be that because of her own fault, this time the shooting was going to stop again?

But then Sammy saw those eyes. The cloak of reality in her mind gradually faded, and she immersed herself in those eyes, capturing the pain and sadness hidden in the depths of her eyes, the bitter torture was like a storm, tearing at the handsome eyebrows, and the sorrow that was hidden to the extreme gradually became a little bit of thick despair. Hard, hard to poke her heart, soft, strong, all shattered.

The emotions under my eyes flowed out involuntarily, this is not a performance, but a reality.

Before her brain could think, she bared her teeth and glared at the other party fiercely, as if demonstrating. She didn't know what she was, and she had forgotten that she was Sammy or Erica, but she did it subconsciously.

Immediately, she stopped paying attention to the other party, turned her head, and looked at the customer in front of her, her expression was as fierce as a hyena, showing her not very neat but still white teeth, showing her might, "Do you hear me? The service has been completed, and the transaction will naturally be completed.

The smile stopped at the corner of Henry's mouth, and he saw the eyes.

Clear but sophisticated, stubborn and sharp, uninhibited and fragile, she rigorously tries to protect herself, and then puts on the cloak of vicissitudes of life, and fights against the world nonchalantly, rampage and blood, but not to escape, not for dreams, hopes, or freedoms, but simply to live.

The dazedness and fragility hidden behind her eyes were too deep, perhaps, even if she didn't notice it. In this cold world, she has no heart to think about anything else, to live, to live strongly, to live by all means, this is the only point.

Those disdainful, critical, mocking, condescending gazes meant nothing to her, as if dazed and fragile could not fill her belly. So, she raised the corners of her mouth, as if to laugh at Henry's self-righteousness, and then turned her head away in disapproval.

This is the future of society, and this is the current situation of the next generation. In this dilapidated and dark world, it seems that there is never a future.

A sharp stinging pain drilled into Henry's heart, which gradually began to stiffen because of despair, but the heart did not feel the slightest pain, only a piece of coldness, the coldness of the sky seemed to be accelerating the process of stiffening, and the ripples of bitterness in the mouth made the taste of despair clearer and clearer little by little, and every cell in the body was bearing.

The immature face didn't notice Henry's sinking at all, she was still obsessed with her service fee, and if she provided the service, she naturally had to be rewarded, she slammed the drunkard's thigh, "Hurry up and hand over all the stinky money!"

"What?" the drunkard was so drunk that not even a moment of pleasure could wake him up. It's like this sleeping society.

"Do you think I like you, hurry up and hand over the stinky money!" she still screamed and screamed sharply, using all her strength, the courage to sacrifice her life was moving, she waved her hands with her teeth and claws, trying to find her own reward in the drunkard, even if it was only a few dollars, "now!"

The drunkard finally came to his senses from the numbness of alcohol, and it was only a moment before he raised his right hand and slapped the young prostitute in front of him so hard that she fell to the ground with blood all over her mouth.

Unplanned, unplanned, unplanned. But this time, Sammy's mind was clear, and she could clearly and accurately feel the calm gaze falling on her shoulder.

According to the script, she should have stood up, then looked at Henry condescendingly, and began to tease/tease the other person with her eyes. She was a little worried because she didn't know what "teasing/teasing" was. But at this moment, she didn't need to think at all, and she couldn't think, and her bland gaze seemed to have a powerful force pulling her.

She remembered the words of the makeup artist. So, she raised her head, followed the conditioned reflex of physiological response, and met the eyes, the deep and intricate gaze stung her fragility fiercely, the faint pain at the corners of her mouth began to tumble under the burning eyes, and an uncontrollable emotion surged up, and her eyes were full of resentment and mockery, as if to say: Am I embarrassed? Are you happy to watch? So what do you think? Should you pay the money? After all, there is a fee for performances.

The serpent-like eyes were mixed with grievance, unruliness, anger, jealousy, hatred, ridicule, ridicule and indifference, like a downpour, catharsis towards Henry. It was a scarred soul, a soul trapped in hell, a soul that chose to exile itself because it could not see tomorrow, a soul that hated society and hated others.

In this moment, she's not Sammy, she's Erica. He's not Lan Li, he's Henry. Under the gaze of those eyes, she involuntarily lifted her chin and cast her gaze contemptuously and defiantly, the urge to run rampant in her chest, and she only wanted to vent heartily and unabashedly.

Henry sat quietly, not surprised, not stunned, not panicked, but the gray of the sky was eating away at the last color left on him.

How ridiculous, and how ridiculous. Such a soul is only twelve or thirteen years old, and the immature and green face has not even been able to fade the milk of childhood, and the discordant contradictions make everything absurd and uninhibited, just like the deformed and magical society in "One Hundred Years of Solitude", which makes it impossible to distinguish whether it is fiction or reality.

At the end of despair, Henry chose to accept and accept reality. The pain that penetrated deep into the bone marrow could no longer stir up any ripples, because the soul was already in tatters, the painful nerves had exceeded the limit of bearing, and he could no longer feel any pain, nor any pity, nor any hope, so he looked at those eyes quietly, quietly, without shock, and a faint cold seeped out from the inside out, which made people shudder.

Erica smelled the cold, fragile breath, and she realized that it was prey.