Chapter 8 Hepburn, Hepburn

I'm reading my father's letter, I've read it five times.The passport, visa requirements and a bank passbook that my father sent with the letter were scattered on the ground.My father's letter brought me bewilderment and a strong sense of failure. "I read a news report about a suicide trip in Switzerland in the newspaper. After a few days of hesitation, I decided to write to you. Switzerland allows terminally ill patients to choose euthanasia, which is very good and very humane. I also want to use this method to solve myself "My father wrote, "In the past few years, you have spent a lot of money on the treatment of my disease. It is not easy to earn money, so don't spend any more money. What I have is prostate cancer, and the cancer cells have metastasized to the lungs. In fact, I committed suicide It's simple and not scary at all. In China, don't people commit suicide every day? I think there are many people who commit suicide every day in the world. In fact, for me, touching the switch at home, or simply jumping from upstairs If I go down, I can end this life, but I don’t want to die too ugly. I have asked someone to apply for the passport and the unit introduction certificate required for the visa. The 100,000 yuan in the passbook is the cost of going to Switzerland. I don’t know if it is enough? My hometown can’t apply for a visa to Switzerland, please help me in Beijing. I hope you can understand my decision, thank you in advance.”

"Thank you in advance." These words made my tears fall again.I actually have a father who is not afraid of death and is polite!I admit that the few exchanges between my father and me over the years have been resolved entirely by phone.This is the first letter my father wrote to me, and I have never written to him.I have been working for three years after graduating from university, and I only went back to my hometown once for the Spring Festival; but I really can't imagine my father having such a weird idea!But then I was a little dazed again. Is my father's idea really weird?I was so weak that I stood up on the sofa. After sitting on the floor for a long time, my legs were trembling.I turned on the computer and searched the Internet for the keyword "suicide travel in Switzerland", and a lot of information came to my face immediately.The Swiss Federal Council has clear legal provisions on the choice of suicide: the suicide must ensure that he chooses to die out of his own will, and the assisted suicide must not be motivated by profit; the suicide must be a terminally ill person, and those with chronic diseases or mental illness are not included and criminal charges for those who assist suicide if they fail to comply fully with the rules.The father was a conscious suicide and all he needed was an assisted suicide.My father and mother had long since divorced, and legally I was the only one who could decide whether my father would succeed in committing suicide in Switzerland.Fortunately, my father's passport and visa information are in my hands.As far as I know, it is very difficult to apply for a personal travel visa to Europe at present, because the economic crisis that has not been seen in decades is still spreading across Europe: French workers are on strike, British workers are blocking the prison exit and rioting, Spanish airlines are reducing Pensions have caused a collective disorder in the operation of European flights, and so on, etc., all pointing to a reality: the number of unemployed people in Europe is still increasing, the euro is facing the most serious financial test in history; and the EU once again sent a clear message last week that it will strictly approve Immigration, work and travel visa applications for foreigners, reduction of migrant workers to reduce unemployment in European countries.

But this fluke disappeared in five seconds—even if the visa could not be obtained, the father might still choose to commit suicide.I was in conflict and pain.I think anyone who is a child will have the same dilemma as me.Crying doesn't seem to be helping.His father's passport is brand new. In the photo, he has an old face, thinning hair, calm eyes, and a meaningful smile on the corner of his mouth.In my memory, this was my father's first passport. When he was young, my father had only been out of the country once, and he had been to one country. This country was Vietnam. He participated in the Sino-Vietnamese self-defense counterattack.The orange-red sunset dotted the horizon, not dazzling at all.I looked at it quietly, as if looking at a deep orange-red monocular, and the scenes of the past quickly jumped in the depths of the lens. I suddenly had a premonition that my father would suddenly disappear.Perhaps consolation is the best way to prevent his father from committing suicide, but how to persuasion?Doomed to lose sleep tonight.Instinct drove me to pick up the pen and write this reply letter to my father.This is the first time I have written to my father since I grew up.Looking at the pen and paper in front of me, my fingers are cold, and my whole body and mind are in a state of extreme excitement. I don't want to suppress the complicated feelings in my depressed heart for many years.I grabbed my pen, unable to control the surging emotions.

dad: If this decision cannot be changed, I can only say that this is also my decision - our decision, I will go to Switzerland with you and enjoy euthanasia together. These years, we have never written a letter between us, it seems that there is nothing to say.But tonight, I want to write.You might say, let the past go, but will the past really disappear completely?Dad, in your eyes, am I still that lively and lovely girl?When I see lively and lovely girls, I always think of myself, that’s how I used to be!This is how your daughter used to be!She likes to sit on a dirt slope and slip down, laughing in the flying dust; she likes to ride a pig and chase a goose, and when she encounters an apple tree branch, she will hang on to it, and then sit on it and eat the apple.

One day, when she was standing on an apple tree, she saw a group of men in hats appearing on the horizon, and she ran over in one breath, without feeling any pain when stones scratched her feet and calves. The uncle who laid the railway tracks told her that in a few months, the town will be open to trains. She ran home excitedly and told her mother: "Dad can go home by train!" My mother hurried out to see, and even fell down. But you didn't come back after the train was repaired. When I was five and a half years old, I walked along the train tracks. When the train came, I stood by the embankment, looked up at the passengers in the carriage, and saw a little boy peeing out of the window. It flew away with a bend.

I went to the train station and counted the passengers coming out, but I didn't find you in the crowd. Mom always said that, Dad was fighting and came back after the war, Dad is the People's Liberation Army, a hero who defends the country. Your green military uniform is hanging in the closet at home. When the sun is out, my mother will take it out to dry it. The five-pointed star hat badge was given to me when you returned home from your first visit to relatives. I hid it in the glass sugar bowl on the bedside table, and I would touch it when I woke up at night. Mom doesn't want to talk about your war, but I really want to know, and my mother replied to me like this: "Little tree, war is a game between adults." I would stare into my mother's eyes and ask, "Will Dad be beaten?" dead?"

My mother covered my little mouth and looked out the window, as if talking to herself: "Dad won't die..." After getting up in the morning, I will stand on the big slope in front of my house, waiting for the first train of the day to move over with the looming white smoke.When my mother and I got the news of your return that day, we didn't fall asleep all night. Early the next morning, my mother took me to the train station to pick you up.A group of people were beating gongs and drums, smiling all over their faces.A large banner was hung at the exit of the train station, and the red letters on it were soaked by the light rain. "Welcome home a hero with honor." My mother read it to me.Dad is a hero, and I said it out loud.The aunt of the neighborhood committee quietly told my mother that there were fifteen soldiers in the town who went to the front line, and nine of them came back, three of them were seriously injured, four were slightly injured, and two were unscathed.

Dad, you are one of the three seriously injured. You broke your right calf and came out with a cane.When my mother saw you, she pinched my little hand and said repeatedly, "God bless, it's good to be alive." I felt the pain, but I didn't make a sound.You walked out of the train station with the support of your comrades-in-arms, and a group of elementary school students gathered around them holding big red flowers made of paper and kept saying "Warm welcome!", "Warm welcome!" You appeared with red flowers on your chest.My mother hugged me and squeezed up. I was a little shy, lying on my mother's neck and hugging her neck tightly.I feel your hands touching my hair.I turned my head to look at you and forgot to call you, but saw your lips trembling and your eyes moist.You and your mother look at each other without coming forward to hug.Mother lowered her head and said in a trembling voice, "Go home."

Only then did I realize that your green uniform lacked collar badges and cockades.Along the way, I was curious about your right leg and crutches.Your right foot is gone, your right calf is gone, and it looks weirdly empty compared to the other leg. You walk with your head down on crutches, and when you move the crutches forward, you can take a step forward with your left foot.Mom put me down and wanted to take the backpack on your body, but you pushed her away. Dad, that's not how you walk when you leave the house.At that time, I rode on your neck, scratched your hair and ears, scratched your itch, you threw me up for a while, and spun me for a while, my head was dizzy, but I was very happy.

When you got home that day, you put down your backpack and looked at the bookcase at home over and over again.You love to read literature and military books. My mother never let me touch your books, and said that your writing is very good. If you didn't have a high fever before the college entrance examination, you must be the first batch of college students after the "Cultural Revolution". You took out a pack of fruit candy from your pocket and put it in my hand. I peeled a candy and gave it to my mother. My mother said I would give it to my father, so I walked over with the candy. You put your arms around me, looked at me, and reasoned The tip of my hair, but I haven't said a word for a long time.You are sitting in the yard smoking a cigarette, and a gust of wind blows the limp green trouser leg that is exposed on the right leg.The air is foggy, and your smoke rises, falls, and drifts slowly.I leaned against the door frame, staring at your back, not daring to approach you.

Dad, in my memory, you love to pierce my little face with your beard.But my mother always reminds me that my father is tired, so don't keep pestering my father to play at home.I'm wondering, why don't you like to talk at home?Often alone in the room in a daze?You rarely flip through the books on the shelf.At that time you began to change.But I'm curious about everything you brought back from outside. I played with your crutch once.I held the lower end of the crutch tightly with both hands, bent my right calf, and imitated your walking step by step, but I couldn't stand it after walking only a dozen meters, and fell down.That taste is really uncomfortable!The dark green backpack on the top of the cabinet often makes me look up and wonder: what is in it?You never opened your backpack when you got home.Mom said don't touch dad's things, but I still want to secretly take them down and open them while you're out.I moved a small table, put a small chair on the table, stood on it tremblingly, stood on tiptoe, stretched out one arm, enough to reach it, but the backpack was too heavy, so I could only pull it out little by little.The backpack was pulled out, and the center of gravity of the backpack was shifting sideways. I couldn't control it stably, and the backpack fell all of a sudden, taking me off the chair as well.I sat on the ground clutching the strap of my backpack, with a large piece of skin on my elbow, and wanted to cry. I vaguely heard my mother’s voice coming home from get off work.The light under the bed was dim, my back was bent, I couldn't breathe well, and when I heard a mouse cry, I cried out in fright.My mother found me and saw the backpack. She didn't bother me, and sat on the ground and began to untie the backpack. The straps of the backpack were tied too tightly, and my mother's fingers were shaking with fatigue. She simply lowered her head, her hair covered her head, and almost lay on the backpack with her teeth and yanked the straps. She was also deeply attracted by the mysterious things in the backpack .I saw that my mother's saliva was dripping on the backpack.The backpack straps were undone, and Mom took a breath and smiled, winning a battle.I helped my mother open the backpack, one layer on the left and one layer on the right. It turned out to be a folded quilt. When I opened it again, I saw a red book, and then a blue book.My mother shook the quilt vigorously, and a dozen colorful foreign magazines were scattered on the ground. These magazines were all stained with dried mud and coagulated blood. On the cover were pictures of foreign women: some wore skirts, some The thighs are exposed, and some are smiling faces wearing hats. I heard my mother sigh. "Mom, the foreign aunt is so beautiful!" I yelled, widening my eyes, gently stroking the woman's cheeks, eyes, eyelashes, nose, mouth, skirt, and hat with my small hands, "It seems to be an aunt... so beautiful... so beautiful..." My mother sat crookedly on the ground, with a slumped expression, and kicked a magazine at her feet far away.I picked it up, patted the soil on it, and said: "Mom, these aunts look like one person... Look quickly... They look alike... So pretty... So pretty... I want a hat like this too... ...Mom, would you like a hat like this?" My mother stared at me and said loudly: "It looks good!" She stuffed the magazines randomly into the quilt, rewrapped them tightly, and threw them on top of the cabinet.I know mom is angry.I was puzzled and terrified at the same time.Dad, at that moment, I have firmly remembered this unknown foreign aunt, and her beautiful and pure face has been deeply engraved in my mind ever since.I was very curious, why did you bring these foreign magazines home?Moreover, the same foreign aunt's photo was published on the cover of these magazines. I didn't know until the freshman year of high school that the foreign aunt's name was Audrey Hepburn. I'm growing up, but after returning home, you become another person, you become indifferent, stubborn, and even crazy!You take out the books on the bookshelf and throw them into the yard and the toilet, and my mother and I pick them up and put them in order.You put the shovel, kitchen knife, and wooden stick at home on the bedside, and often shouted "Fight! Kill!" in the middle of the night, and there were deep knife marks on the wall of the house next to the bed.When my mother heard your voice, she would rush to hold your arm, and was pushed to the ground by you several times, and her forehead was bleeding.How many years has this situation lasted?Three full years!You live in a room by yourself, and Mom and I sleep in an outside room.I can feel that the relationship between you and your mother is getting colder and colder, like two passers-by.At that time, I could only cry. "Get out and cry! Get out and cry!" you yell across the room.You were fighting with your mother, and I didn't have the strength to persuade you to fight, and I didn't know who to help, so I huddled in the corner in fear.I remember her with disheveled hair, jumping on her feet and crying: "If you have the guts, go beat the Vietnamese again! What kind of man is a man who beats a woman!" Everything that happened at home has changed my character. I am no longer a pure and active girl. I have lost interest in the pigs and geese on the side of the road, and I am not in the mood to climb up the apple tree. The big dirt slope is still there. I just sit on it, kick the dirt, stare at the distant horizon in a daze, and turn a deaf ear to the whistle of the trains.I once saw you sitting in the room and flipping through magazines through the crack of the door, sometimes muttering to yourself, sometimes sobbing softly.I hope you can talk to me, but I dare not go in; Mom often talks to herself, your father has changed his mind, your father has changed his mind... You only have that foreign woman in your heart, and you don't need this home anymore.She also swore fiercely that she must tear up these magazines and burn them to ashes.I hope there will be no more quarrels and indifference at home, and I am also afraid of losing you, so I whisper to you: "Dad, Mom is going to burn the magazine, you can hide the magazine." You hid the magazine.I haven't seen a trace of them since then.Even so, Hepburn's eyes and smile will always flash in front of my eyes, I think her eyes and smile will flash in front of your eyes too.But you are still silent.You have been fitted with prosthetics and started working in a carton factory. You have a wide range of activities and often go out alone and come home very late.The three of us sat at the dining table and ate in silence. After eating, you went out on crutches and came home very late.One summer, I met your comrade-in-arms, Uncle Shi Feng, who was in the same unit as you.Uncle Shi Feng is tall and burly, walking on tiptoe.I hope Uncle Shi Feng can tell me about your story on the front line, and tell me the origin of those magazines by the way.He sighed and said, "Xiaoshu, your dad and I only drink and don't talk about the past..." There seemed to be a smirk in his throat, because it was stiff.He went on to repeat: "We don't talk about the past..." I hurriedly said: "I want to know my father's story, and the teacher asked me to write a composition." I was lying. "Your father is brave, I am brave too, we are all brave..." Uncle Shi Feng stared at the void in the distance, then stood up, lowered his head and walked slowly.A few days later, when I was doing my homework in the house, my mother opened the door and sat next to me, and said, "Uncle Shi Feng told me... don't ask too much about Dad's past, study hard." One day when my mother was not at home, I couldn't bear it any longer, so I asked you, "Dad, where are the magazines you brought home when you changed jobs?" You were obviously surprised and seemed to have forgotten about it. "Where is it hidden?" I continued.You get up and walk out of the house, looking a little dazed. "Dad, do you know who that foreign woman is?" I chased out and asked.You stopped, turned your back to me, and shook your head slowly. "Her name is Audrey Hepburn," I said, feeling utterly delighted.You turned your cheek, as if you wanted to look back at me.You didn't look at me and kept walking. "You can call her Hepburn," I said again, so loudly that you must have heard me.Step by step you disappear into the woods outside the house.I suddenly regretted it, maybe in your mind, the memory of these magazines has faded, and your pain is gradually weakening-I personally dug out the cruel memory buried in your heart. Audrey Hepburn.Hepburn oh Hepburn.I didn't know the name until I watched the "Roman Holiday" video for the first time at a classmate's house.Princess Anne is wearing a white shirt and a large skirt, simple and elegant, unforgettable!I started looking around for information on Hepburn, how I longed to see those magazines you hid!You are also very happy to know Hepburn's name. I saw you walking on the road while chanting: "Audrey... Hepburn... Hepburn... Audrey... Hepburn... Hepburn..." Finally one day, you walk out to the yard with a stack of magazines in your arms, and you spread them out one by one. The covers have been soaked and blistered by mold and moisture.You squatted there, holding a clean towel, sucking the moisture bit by bit, carefully wiping the photos.I felt your body trembling, so I squatted down and wiped it with you. Our arms touched each other inadvertently. I am not used to this kind of touch, but I can't forget your hugging me and your happy expression in the past. , The eyes were moist in an instant.I took a breath, squeezed back my tears, and looked carefully at the photo of Hepburn on the cover of the magazine.I suddenly wanted to read the names of these magazines to you, and I read: ""LIFE", "ThisWeek", "MATCH", "BAZAAR", "VOGUE", "EPOCA", "JOURNAL", "People" , "LEUROPPEO"." Nine magazines, a total of twelve volumes.Out of the corner of your eye, you told me that you listened quietly and looked at me in surprise. The July 1953 issue of LIFE magazine was one of the earliest issues.Hepburn was sitting on the carpet, wearing a white shirt and panties, her two long legs were exposed, her back was leaning on a soft chair, her left hand was on the knee of her left leg, and her right hand was holding a black telephone receiver. Hepburn looked at the camera, Eyes wide open, with a playful and innocent appearance, as if surprised by the cameraman's candid shots and eavesdropping. The December 1976 issue of "People" magazine was the latest issue.Hepburn with short hair, Hepburn with long eyelashes, Hepburn wears a string of sparkling sapphire necklaces on her long neck, and her eyes are full of mature and happy light. "Dad, can I take a look first?" I lowered my head and said casually.You are silent. "I won't lose it..." I said. "Oh..." You nodded reluctantly.I saw that you wanted to get up, but you couldn't stand firmly. There was a "click" sound on your knees, and you sat back on the chair. You said, "Go to the back room and get the toolbox from the cabinet." I haven't been to your bedroom for a long time.I opened the cabinet and saw a toolbox with peeling iron, behind which was a pile of prosthetic fragments.The coldness of so many prosthetics crammed together gave me goosebumps on my arms.I walked out with the toolbox in my arms. You have already rolled up your trousers and taken off your prosthesis. Your knee joints are red and swollen with several large blood blisters.I didn't dare to take another look, because there was a faint pain in my heart.You dig nuts and nails out of your toolbox, hammer in hand, and start replacing bad parts on your prosthetic. "Buy a new pair," I said. You said: "The good ones are too expensive, more than 500 yuan. Those of us who buy prosthetics have a limited reimbursement limit, which cannot exceed 200 yuan... let's make do with it..." At that time, I thought, when I make money in the future, I will buy you the best prosthetics first.I walked into the house with the magazine in my arms, and you said to me from a distance: "After reading it... tell me about her, okay?" Your voice is low and soothing.I turned my back to you and said, "Dad, how did you get these magazines?" You are silent.I very much regret asking such a question—since these magazines come from the battlefield, there must be hidden past events that my father does not want to recall.I pinched my arm hard and walked quickly into the room. I started reading Audrey Hepburn.I read her not only for me, but also for you.I was in the first year of high school at the time, and my English reading level was limited. Fortunately, the thick "English-Chinese Dictionary" was my good helper.It took me a whole summer vacation to understand these interviews describing Hepburn, and made detailed notes; 189 black-and-white and color photos related to Hepburn were taken over forty-seven years, recording the most important growth in Hepburn’s life Phases, I have carefully numbered them in chronological order.Those clothes, shoes and hats, those clothes and shoes and hats she wore in the movie exude an indescribable beauty.I touched the screen during the day, and saw her figure again in my dream. I had no dream in the past, and suddenly I had a dream. I decided to apply for the fashion design major in two years and become an excellent fashion designer in the future.My biggest regret is that at that time, I couldn't see movie magazines in China that introduced Hepburn and the movies she starred in in detail.I told the class teacher my thoughts, she laughed and said that my head was flooded, and I must be able to draw when applying for the fashion design major, "Can you draw?" She couldn't breathe with laughter, "You still have two years left The college entrance examination, I know you never draw." My answer was very simple: "I can't draw now, but it doesn't mean I can't draw well in two years." I took out the photos in the magazine and showed them to my mother , Said that these clothes are so beautiful, I want to be a fashion designer in the future.She seems to have no passion for anything.She looked at me and said only one sentence: "Your dad is an asshole!" When I came home from school the next afternoon, I suddenly found that the magazines and notebooks in the drawer were gone.I ran to tell you that you jumped up and wanted to rush out, and your body suddenly fell forward and fell to the ground-you forgot to put a prosthetic on your right leg.You broke out in sweat, panting and said: "Look again! Look again!" I searched all the drawers and cabinets, but there was nothing.You sat on the ground slumped, took out a cigarette, and cut a few matches before lighting it. "Your mother must have done it..." You shook your head and kept sighing.Mom came home looking relaxed.I asked the whereabouts of the magazine, she let out a long sigh of relief, and said lightly: "It's burned." I heard your fist pounding the chair heavily. "I burned that foreign slut!" she yelled, as if venting her anger. "You have been fascinated by this foreign girl for so many years, should it be over?" She narrowed her eyes, eyes full of mockery and disdain, grabbed a handful of ashes from her bag, and slowly shook them down on the table, as if Enjoying a chic performance of ashes. "It's burned like this... Come here and have a look... I burned the bitch to a handful of ashes..." I said tremblingly, "Where's my notebook?" She was silent, and then smiled lightly , straightened the messy hair on his forehead. "Burn, burn together..." Her voice was relaxed like never before, and the anger in my heart made my tears fall down one by one.I understand my mother's feelings all these years, she is a woman who has no love from a man.I saw you leaning against the wall limply, your fists clenched, the muscles in your cheeks tensed, then you slammed your prosthetic leg over the chair and walked out the door.I wrapped the ashes in paper, and my fingers didn't dare to touch them, thinking that Hepburn's figure was inside.It was getting dark, and I went outside with a flashlight alone. Sitting on the big slope, looking at the sky full of stars, I suddenly remembered a poem I read: The stars are the bullet holes in the sky.A train moved forward slowly, I saw the lights in the carriage, but I couldn't see the people in the carriage.I don’t know when, you sat next to me, smoking a cigarette hard, the cigarette butt flickered on and off, I heard your voice: “Those magazines… have you finished reading all of them?” This is the first time you have talked to me so gently in the past few years. say.I said "hmm" and wanted to cry.You sighed in the dark and said that you wanted to leave the house and go and have a look, but you didn't say where.You slowly get up and walk down the slope, I turn on the flashlight to show you the way, you move forward in the beam of light, and finally you are completely submerged in darkness.I searched around with the beam of the flashlight, but I couldn't find you anymore. I suddenly felt scared. The sudden death of a person is so similar to the sudden disappearance of a person's figure in the dark!In order to make up for my professional deficiencies as soon as possible, I chose to live in school and learned sketching from the beginning with the teacher, and then learned gouache painting and watercolor painting, and read basic books on fashion design.My mother told me that you divorced her before you ran away from home.I can only relieve my depression by staying up late and reading.Seeing other female students walking together holding Dad's arm, I am very envious, but I am not so lucky.Lying on the bed at night, I salvaged the memory of Hepburn’s story bit by bit. These memory fragments would float out at any time. I put a notebook by the bedside and jotted down what came to mind, which made me practice in the dark. The ability to write quickly.This book is my treasure, and I plan to give it to you when I am admitted to university and leave home.But we haven't seen each other for two years, and we don't have any news about you. I only know that you went to the south.When I got the admission letter from Beijing Institute of Fashion Technology, I longed for you to go home and have a look, but our home is broken.That book is full of textual memories related to Hepburn, and I can only read it by myself.Dad, without you, I don't know Hepburn; seeing Hepburn, I found motivation and hope that I never had before, and Hepburn changed my destiny.When we graduated from college, we met in our hometown.Goodbye for six years, your hair is already gray, and your body leans more obviously.Mom finally married Uncle Shi Feng.For me, the house in my hometown is being pulled away by invisible forces and will eventually be broken into pieces.I took out the book that recorded Hepburn, and wanted to give it to you, but your face suddenly changed, and you said that you didn’t want to read it, it’s all over, and you don’t want to hear this name again.You lower your head and keep waving your hands in refusal.I failed to tell you the idea of ​​establishing "Love Hepburn Fashion Design Studio" with my college classmates. We want to pass on Hepburn's simple and elegant life philosophy to more Chinese women.In the three years of starting a business in Beijing, we have experienced ups and downs and moved forward step by step. I want to share with you my life and work experience in the past few years, but every time I pick up the phone, I hesitate again.Until today, I have gradually understood a truth: a daughter who does not understand her father cannot truly mature. Looking at the few pages of text that I had written, my mood gradually became more relaxed and clear.I picked up the notebook at hand, and I especially missed it for my father, who was sitting on the sofa opposite me, smoking a cigarette and drinking tea.I began to read: "Hepburn, an angel who fell into the mortal world. On May 4, 1929, Hepburn was born in Brussels, Belgium. Her hair was brown. She liked to dance ballet since she was a child. Hepburn loved white the most. In 1935, Hepburn's Her father suddenly left home and went to England, and Hepburn was a girl who lacked her father’s love since childhood.” (Father frowned slightly) “In 1938, Hepburn’s parents officially divorced, and the father and daughter never saw each other again; Hepburn’s father could He spoke 13 languages, but he was a man with emotional communication barriers. Many years later, Hepburn met her father only once, and she hugged her father tightly, knowing very well that this would be her last Hug my father once." (Father opened his mouth wide in surprise) "In 1945, the fifteen-year-old Hepburn was 168 centimeters tall, but weighed only 40 kilograms. Hepburn grew up in the war years as a child, and had long-term nutrition. The bad condition caused her to suffer from asthma, jaundice and other diseases, which made Hepburn's body thin all her life. At the age of nineteen, Hepburn has realized that it is difficult for her to become a top ballet dancer." (Father shakes his prosthetic limb, shakes his head regretfully ) "In 1951, French novelist Colette saw Hepburn and immediately decided that she would be the best candidate for the leading role in the Broadway play "Gigi", so Hepburn went to New York, USA to participate in the performance of "Gigi". Soon after, Hepburn successfully passed the director William Weller's audition in London for the lead actress in the American Paramount film "Roman Holiday." In 1954, Hepburn won the Academy Award for Best Actress for her performance in "Roman Holiday." (Father vertical Thumbs up) "On January 17, 1960, Hepburn became a mother. Her husband was named Mel, and her first son was named Sean Hepburn Ferrer. Hepburn and Mel divorced in 1968. In the same year Married to Dotty..." (father gave me a surprised look) "Hepburn announced at the wedding 'I am no longer Audrey Hepburn, I am Audrey Dotty.' Hepburn resolutely left the film industry She said 'I'm in love and happy again...I'm married to someone I love and willing to live on his schedule. Why go back to work? Been to something I don't want What about life?" (Father cuts off a piece of apple and hands it to me, I took a big bite and continued to read) "A year later, Hepburn's second son, Luca, was born, but this marriage only lasted seven years. Hepburn said with deep emotion, "Love is always accompanied by risks, and we should maintain the essence of love—love is not a temporary impulse, but a long-term test." (Father shook his head repeatedly, he must have been deeply touched , I fell silent, feeling inexplicable sadness pervading all around, but my father said, continue to read) "Hepburn's most famous film works are "Roman Holiday", "Dragon and Phoenix", "Sweet Sister", and other famous works Also, "Mystery Among Mysteries", "My Fair Lady", "Li Ren Xing", etc..." (Father muttered in a low voice, as if he hadn't seen any of them. I said that there are CDs of these movies at home, what do I think Time matters)" Hepburn played Ann in "Roman Holiday"The big swing skirt that Princess Anne wore when visiting Rome was a suit consisting of a double-breasted short jacket and a bias-cut round skirt. In the movie poster, Princess Anne's skirt was colored blue. In fact, the princess skirt The actual color is brown. "(Father looked very interested, he said it's good for a girl to be a fashion designer) "In the summer of 1953, Hepburn met Givenchy, and they quickly became good friends. The wedding dress that Hepburn wore when she got married for the first time was designed by Givenchy of.This wedding dress is very chic, it is a short dress in white organdy fabric, the top is open in the front, three-quarter balloon sleeves, the skirt is bias-cut, and the waist is tightened with a belt. The garland is like a fairy.Hepburn's second wedding dress, also designed by Givenchy, was a knee-length double-breasted collarless high-waisted coat in pink wool twill and a turtleneck knit dress in pink mohair and cashmere. The clothes in "Sweet Girl" are also designed by Givenchy, the most memorable one is the ankle-length low-cut strapless embroidered circle skirt, made of cream silk fabric, and the wide pleated skirt is embroidered with colorful silk thread With blossoming flowers, Hepburn's posture when she released pigeons and danced in front of the fountain was so beautiful! "(I stopped unconsciously, looked at the night sky, and imagined Hepburn dancing in a skirt, and my father's expression showed that he was also in the imagination.) "In 1961, Hepburn wore the clothes designed by Givenchy again in the movie, Three-strand pearl necklaces, oversized frame sunglasses, and sleeveless black dresses that reach to the heels have all become fashion classics. In 1967, after the movie "Wait Until Dark" starring Hepburn was released, she decided to take a complete break from filming and return to family life. In 1976, Hepburn returned after a nine-year hiatus to star in the movie "Robin Hood and Marianne" with Sean Connery. During her life in Italy, she mainly wore clothes designed by Italian designer Valentino. On January 20, 1993, Hepburn died of cancer..." Silence, continuous silence. I woke up from my trance, and my father was not sitting opposite me, and the coolness suddenly filled my whole body. When I sent the letter to my father, I felt a lightness that I had never felt before. At the same time, I was looking forward to receiving a call or a reply from my father.After waiting anxiously for seven days, the courier delivered the letter from my father.I signed the receipt, and tears fell on the receipt.The courier scratched his head and looked at me in bewilderment.我跑进屋，拿来两个苹果硬塞进快递员的手里，脸上挂着泪，感谢他的声音却是喜悦的。我关上门，快速展开父亲的来信。这封信字迹潦草，信纸上到处是笔尖划破的痕迹，和第一封来信迥然不同。看得出父亲写这封信时情绪异常激动。我尽力克制颤抖的手指，平复呼吸，捧读父亲的回信。 小树： 你的来信我看了很多遍，我本来不想给你写回信，我不知道能对你说些什么，可是你的那句话让我忍不住提起笔——不了解父亲的女儿不可能真正走向成熟。人都是活在回忆里的，这话没错，如果过去的回忆充满伤痛，活着也就意味着更多的伤痛。事实上，自从回到家之后，我也就失去了未来。你可能会说，女儿不就是父亲的未来吗？not quite.爸爸年轻的时候有过梦想，我喜欢文学，希望将来能成为一名中学语文老师，然而命运偏偏让我扛起枪走向战场。我用枪打死过敌人，可现在给我再多的枪、再多的子弹，我也不可能杀死记忆！没有哪一个经历过战场厮杀的战士能杀死记忆！小时候你骑在我的脖子上，拉我的耳朵，拽我的头发，这情景做过父亲的都不会忘记。我把你小时候的照片放在本子里，你的照片曾陪我度过漆黑的夜晚和战火的轰鸣。你说，我转业回到家里后经常在夜里大喊大叫，用刀在墙上乱画，舞着铁锹四处乱砍。这些事我都知道。那时候的我没疯，只是控制不住自己，我知道我在干什么，但又不知道我终究想干出什么，我只是控制不住自己。我抓扯过你妈的头发，打破过你妈的头，我也吼骂过你，推搡过你，因为我依然有被子弹随时射杀的恐惧和杀人的冲动。我和战友之前从未打过仗，每个人当然有恐惧，谁都怕死，但开过动员誓师大会后我们一下子壮了胆。我们每个人都剃光了头。凌晨就要上前线了，我们在夜里唱歌、喝酒，把芹菜掰成一小段一小段在饭盒上拼出八个字：英勇杀敌，凯旋归来！我们在白胶布上写下各自的姓名、血型和部队番号，然后把胶布贴在军装袖口和领口上，有的战友喝多了就在胳膊上贴满了白胶布，这样做是为了在负伤的时候能让卫生员一下子识别清楚。我们每个人都写了遗书。我记得很清楚，我的遗书只写了两句话就写不下去了：小树在家乡的田野奔跑，蝴蝶在小树的肩膀停歇。我走出帐篷，内心非常焦虑，那一刻，爸爸特别想你，我也想到你的母亲，虽然我们彼此的情感非常平淡。有的战友边写遗书边哭。来自安徽的彭占军是机枪手，他脸上挂着泪，仰天大声说爹妈都死了，也没兄弟姐妹，写遗书没啥屌用，咱们下辈子还做好兄弟！我们被一股浓烈的情谊包裹起来，抓起装满酒的瓷缸碰撞，一饮而尽。我们每人有一个编织袋，袋子里放着弹夹、手榴弹和食物。我们一人扛一个编织袋站成一排，即将消失的月光在每个人的钢盔上洒下淡淡的光影。这是我们第一次上战场，远处响起零星的枪声。我们到达前线，战壕已成焦土，树木在冒烟，弹壳依然滚烫。我们散开，架好枪支，摆好手榴弹，瞪大眼睛搜索敌人。看着泥土里的血污和前沿阵地上成堆的子弹壳，我们突然之间没有了恐惧感，我们摩拳擦掌，想痛杀敌人，可是敌人忽然间消失了，不见了，他们好像撤退了。我们没有发射一颗子弹，但精神依然紧绷着。我们得到命令，在黄昏时分撤下了阵地。我们扛着各自的编织袋奔跑下来，一路上都没怎么说话。彭占军一路嘟嘟囔囔，说真想打几梭子子弹过过瘾。部队首长和连队战友站在公路旁鼓掌欢迎我们，我们多少显得有些尴尬，毕竟没有发射一枪一弹就下来了。可即使这样我们还是四处寻找着老乡，我看见了石峰，他来迎接我，我俩紧紧拥抱，用力拍打各自的肩膀。他说今晚就要上前线了，我叮嘱他一定要小心。不时有装满弹药的军车轰响着驶过泥泞的山路，车轮卷起泥浆，泼洒在我们身上。周围是焦躁不安的山峦和发黄的树木，大家沉默着走回各自的帐篷休息待命。离我们不远处又搭起了几个帐篷，挂在外面布帘上的红十字标志告诉我这里是伤员急救站，路过时我听见伤员连续不断的呻吟，还听见几声“快止血”的喊叫。我呆呆地站在外面，腿脚显得僵硬。这时布帘掀开了，两个医生抬着一副担架疾步走出来，白布单盖住了伤员的半个脑袋。后面的医生朝我猛点头，我跑过去，他说还有伤员需要马上抢救，让我帮他抬担架，前面戴口罩的医生回头对我说跟她走。我握紧担架把手，手心里湿腻腻的，一股血腥味窜进鼻孔，我有点恶心。伤员昏迷不醒，看上去很年轻，额头和脖颈处缠满绷带，上面的血迹已经变黑。我们一路小跑。这伤员还有救吗？我问医生。She was silent.来到一辆军车前，她停住脚步，慢慢转身，引领着我把担架轻轻放在车上。我摘下军帽，擦拭脸上的汗，余光发现摘下口罩的医生正迟疑地望着我。四目交错，我们几乎同时认出了对方。她是我的高中同学安慧。小树，爸爸现在可以告诉你，安慧是爸爸这辈子最爱的女人。我们暗恋对方，心里很清楚却没有机会表白。她在高中快毕业的时候随父亲去了外地，后来考上军校，没想到分别数年后我们竟然在前线相遇。我和安慧这一刻的相遇改变了我所有的命运，我只把这个秘密告诉过石峰一个人。后面的战事越来越激烈，我们连队来到中越边境骑线点上，越军占据一个巨大碉堡，向我们猛烈射击，我们必须在十二个小时之内夺下碉堡，只有这样才能减少伤亡，并夺下边境两侧村庄和道路的控制权。碉堡工事坚固，进攻受阻，伤亡惨重，我们班接到命令，再组建一个四人爆破组火速行军，迂回包抄，从后面发起进攻。我们每个人都背上一个炸药包，包里也装满了雷管。出发前我去见安慧，因为我有不祥的预感，担心以后再也不到她了。我想送给她一样东西留作纪念，可是身上除了弹夹、雷管和手榴弹，没有可赠的物品。我忽然想起夹在本子里的你的照片，最后又犹豫了，万一死在前线阵地，我想让你的照片陪着我。她的眼圈是黑的，低着头，一脸愁容，欲言又止，手指焦躁地缠绕在一起。我们静默地站了好一会儿。我说我走了，她迟疑了一下，点点头。我转身离去，过了一会儿听见她追赶过来的脚步声，她递给我一个苹果，叮嘱我一定要小心，她的眼神里充满了挂念之情。我永远忘不了临别那天她的眼神。我们四人爆破组出发了，大雾就像诡异的棉絮缠绕着我们，相隔几米远就看不见了队形。我们紧跟前面的战友，生怕迷失方向。喷火手是个壮族小伙，名叫格森，他背着五十多斤的喷火具跟在我身后，呼哧呼哧喘着粗气。大家停下来喝水吃压缩饼干，稍事休息，格森背着喷火具去河边洗脸，忽然大叫了一声，仰面倒在地上。班长李柱扑上去摁住他，捂住他的嘴。一阵微风吹开雾气，我们全都被眼前看见的一幕惊呆了：河面漂浮着四五具赤身裸体的鼓胀的尸体，四周一片死寂，高大的树木和低矮密匝的草丛散发着肃杀之气。班长说这是我们自己战士的尸体，是越军杀死的，他们杀死士兵后再把军装脱下来穿在身上，伪装成我们的战士侦查伏击。班长看一眼手表，命令我和彭占军赶快把尸体打捞上来埋掉。我和彭占军手抓木棒把尸体一个一个推到岸边。这些尸体有的少了半个脑袋，有的胸口部位有碗口状的伤口，皮肤是惨白色的，就连尸体上的毛发也沾着一层糊状物质，而且尸体已经开始腐烂，发出阵阵恶臭，大团白色的蛆已经被水淹死，漂浮在黑褐色的伤口附近。我忍不住跪在地上干呕。班长骂了几句，伸手拽住尸体的脚脖子，拉到岸边。他把尸体翻转过来，突然看见有的尸体肛门里插着木棍，木棍上写着汉字：杀死解放军！我们的牙齿咬得咯咯响，把木棍拔下来扔掉，合力把尸体埋进挖好的坑道里，格森在一旁哭起来。我们堆好土堆做好标记，继续在雾里沉默着前行。远处的枪炮声越来越密集了，因为我们离碉堡越来越近了。红色、黄色、黑色的烟雾在树丛上空盘旋，水泥浇筑的碉堡像个巨大的圆形锅盔，在阳光下反射出灰白色的刺眼的光。班长让我们把所有的炸药集中在一起，捆绑成两个大炸药包。彭占军是大块头，他胸前挂着机枪，后背驮着炸药包。格森手握喷火枪躲在大树后面，大口大口喘气，眼神里似乎能喷出火来。我们都看着班长，眼神在问他我们能攻下碉堡吗？他没有回答，不停地咽吐沫。我们在草丛里弯腰前进，慢慢靠近碉堡，距离近到能看见子弹和炮弹碎片击中碉堡留下的密集弹痕，越军躲在里面疯狂扫射着碉堡前方，进攻的士兵伤亡太大了，可时间不等人。碉堡前的草丛在子弹的扫射下疯狂颤抖，变成焦黄碎屑四处飞散。格森对班长说，碉堡是封闭起来的，炸药包放在外面很难有杀伤力，而且碉堡的射击孔很小，炸药包很难塞进去，用喷火枪对着碉堡射击孔往里面喷肯定能使上劲。班长使劲点点头，说多带几把喷火枪就好了。格森看我们一眼，一声不吭地往前爬。他背后的喷火具死沉死沉，我感觉到脊背一阵酸麻。格森爬到岩壁下面，他前方的射击孔喷出的火舌足有一尺长。我们屏住呼吸，都捏了一把汗。格森掏出一个手榴弹扔过去，随着手榴弹的爆炸烟雾，临近格森的射击孔停止了射击。格森急速翻滚过去，将喷火枪对准射击孔一阵扫射，我们能看见火舌从碉堡另一端的射击孔里冒出来。班长带领我们冲上去。格森忽然兴奋地站起半个身子扫射火焰，一边哈哈大笑。彭占军随后往射击孔里扔进几颗手榴弹，几声闷响过后，我们听见碉堡里的惨叫声。越军没想到我们会从背后偷袭。彭占军端着机枪冲到碉堡出口，等着逃窜出来的越军。格森也跑过来，他的眼睛血红，人完全疯狂了。我和班长把身上的雷管全都扔进了碉堡，烟雾和尘土弥漫四周，让人睁不开眼。越军从碉堡里逃窜出来，彭占军扣动扳机，哇哇大叫，格森把碉堡出口变成了火场。但是我和班长忽然看见一个巨大的火球在眼前升腾，那是格森的喷火具被子弹击中着了火，格森一下子成了火人，他在拼命挣扎，手里的喷火枪依然往外喷着火焰。火球越来越大，格森痛苦哀叫，先是扭曲着跪倒在地，随后整个身体卧在火焰里向前蠕动，动作越来越小。我大声喊叫着格森的名字，眼泪快流出来了，班长端起冲锋枪，嘴角颤抖着打死了格森。随后又响了几声爆炸和极强的扫射声响，四周突然平静下来，烟雾和刺鼻的火药味在飘荡。我们发现了彭占军，他斜靠在石头上，目光空洞无神，不停地咳嗽，鲜血从嘴巴里大股大股地流出来。我走上前，捂住他胸部的伤口，才发现他的右胳膊不见了。彭占军已经说不出完整的话来，但他的眼神一直搜寻着什么，胳膊……他说他要他的胳膊，我帮他寻找胳膊。彭占军动了动脚，说前面……前面……我看见了他的胳膊正躺在草丛里，右手僵硬着张开，其中一根手指头抖了两下突然停止了。他的手掌像要在空气中奋力抓取最后的希望；包裹胳膊的衣服上贴着一块早已变黑的胶布。我抱着他的胳膊就像抱着一根散发着火药味的木头。我看见“彭占军”歪歪扭扭的三个字。我蹲下身，把胳膊递过去，彭占军挣扎着伸出左手，把右胳膊紧紧搂抱在怀里，马上抽泣起来，眼泪和嘴里流出的血混在一起。班长走过来，低声对我说，不行了，他不行了。碉堡里共有二十几名越军，全部被我们歼灭。我和班长进去查看，又是一阵胡乱扫射，直到地上的尸体变成马蜂窝才稍稍解气。班长掏出一根香烟，就着地上的火苗点燃，猛吸几口，叹口气坐在地上。碉堡很低，空间却很大，墙边堆满了弹药箱和食物，弹药箱上还印着“中国军工”四个大字。看见这一幕真是愤怒啊！我对着眼前的尸体又是一阵点射，一个越军的脑袋崩裂，脑浆“噗”地喷到我的脸上，可我一点都不感到恶心，相反倒有极端的快感。继续往里走，我在墙边发现一个深褐色的皮箱，皮箱的一角正在燃烧，火苗正渐渐点燃旁边一个死去的越军连长的尸体，他可能是这个碉堡的指挥官。我用枪管拨开皮箱，看见一摞杂志，杂志上的女人非常漂亮，穿着裙子，正对着我笑，我突然发觉杂志上的女人和安慧很像，五官和神情都很像。Amazing!班长还在抽烟，我继续拨动皮箱，发现杂志下面还有散落的香烟。这些杂志都是我在国内没有看见过的。我想到了安慧，想把这些杂志送给她，让她看一看和自己相貌很像的外国女人，她一定会惊奇万分！当时的我非常兴奋，握在手里的枪都在抖动。我把杂志悄悄藏在背包里，把香烟拿出来扔给班长。进攻的士兵冲上来了，他们打扫战场，我和班长坐在冒烟的草地上发呆。士兵们在我眼前晃动，我脑子里全是安慧和那个外国女人的影子。一个士兵拿半自动步枪枪托狠砸越军尸体的脑袋，把眼珠子都砸出来了，说他们才死了二十几个人，我们却死了一百多个弟兄。回到营地，我顾不上停歇，去临时救护站找安慧，却得到消息，安慧去前线救护伤员去了，晚上才能回来。临时救护站里躺满了伤员，大家都在议论前线上的战事，我们的伤亡远远大于越军。越军更熟悉地形，上前线的中国士兵都没有实战的经验。到了晚上，安慧还没有回来。坐在帐篷里，看着沾满泥泞的书包，想象着几个小时前的激战，战友活活死在眼前，眼泪竟落下来，怎么也控制不住。班长仰面躺在行军床上，一边喝酒，一边骂越军的娘，说下回杀死越军，不光脱掉他们的衣服，还要把他们挂在树上，让野猪啃，让疯狗咬！我站起来大声说我也会这么干！战争让人变得残忍麻木，复仇之心是唯一可以信赖的。深夜，我躲在被子里，掏出手电筒看杂志上的女人。美丽的女人，美丽的安慧。那一刻，安慧变得更漂亮了，杂志上的女人就是安慧。我看不懂上面的文字，摸着图片也是享受。我把杂志贴在胸口上，想象安慧看到之后会有什么样的反应，她一定会笑，一定会说太好看了，太神奇了。只要安慧高兴就行。我想起过去的中学时光，我和安慧在校园柳树下讨论和，一起为主人公的命运纠结叹息。小树，那是爸爸的初恋，没有牵手、没有亲吻的初恋。班长忽然掀开我的被子，醉醺醺地说我干嘛在被子里笑。我笑了吗？我自己也不知道。他没看见我手里的杂志。我知道不上缴战利品是要挨处分的，至于香烟是不是战利品，上面没有明确说明。反正我觉得这些杂志一定属于战利品，因为每个男人和女人看见了都会喜欢，这个女人实在太漂亮了，她的美不是简单的妩媚，而是单纯之中透着亲切之情。我知道，这些都是资产阶级的杂志，我们不该看资产阶级杂志，但是我还是忍不住藏起来，我一定要送给安慧看一看。接下来的日子里，我们又打了几仗，和安慧没能见面，但我坚信一定能见到她。我背着这些杂志打仗，心情忽然变得愉悦起来。我最难忘的是一次突击战。我们连队攻下山头，俘虏了十几名越军，又接到命令去包抄另一个山头上的越军。俘虏怎么办？连长请示后得到指示，带着俘虏急行军，我们都很郁闷，但上面有命令，谁也不能违抗。我们用绳子捆紧俘虏的手腕，牵着他们快速奔跑。连长从前面传话：快速前进，看好俘虏！可是连长的话传到后面慢慢变了调：快速前进，杀死俘虏！或许是战友故意传错的。班长李柱拿起冲锋枪准备射击，俘虏一个一个跪倒在地求饶，说有重要情报，求我们不要杀死他们。不知怎的，我突然跑上前按下班长的枪管，班长满眼迷惑，脖子上青筋鼓胀。连长跑过来，狠狠地捶了李柱一拳。俘虏的情报非常重要，前面不远处就是越军一个指挥哨所，我们派了四五个人就将一个指挥官俘虏了，他无意中说出一个越军诡计：他们一边打仗一边掩埋越军尸体，就是为了不让我们知道实际伤亡数字，蛊惑我们的指挥员，让我们的士兵焦躁不安。越军指挥官带着连长去附近的山丘，挖出了几十具越军尸骸。连长后来荣获了二等功，因为这个情报大大减轻了我军前线最高指挥官的压力，鼓舞了战士们的士气！不过从那以后，我和班长的关系日渐疏远，或许在他眼里，我那天按下他枪管的举动多少有点假惺惺，但我必须承认，看过杂志上的女人，想象某一天和安慧再次重逢的情景，我明白了一个简单的道理：无论是谁，死了就没有机会了。那天从战场上撤下来，夕阳温柔地洒满山峦和田野，天空虽然有硝烟，可是鸟鸣带来的是更多的轻松，河面上泛着斑驳的光影，悄无声息地移动着。我们的部队离安慧越来越远，我对她的思念之情愈发浓烈。我提着背包，却不敢拿出杂志坐在树下田边欣赏。思念让人走神，子弹、炮弹不长眼，地雷最爱倒霉鬼。排雷兵已经开出一条安全通道，我却被前方的山野吸引，莫名其妙绕开了安全指示，走向旁边的田埂。我踩中了地雷。随着一声巨响，我看见背包和我的右小腿一齐飞上了天。没有疼痛感，只有麻木，耳膜被某种力量紧紧压迫，听不见任何声音。我看见红色的液体冲向蓝天，色彩斑斓的杂志错落飞舞，还看见班长李柱正飞奔而来。我移动目光，看见自己的右小腿挂在一棵树上晃荡。我在一闪念间提醒自己，必须赶快把杂志收好，不能被班长发现。这些是战利品，这些都是资产阶级杂志。我不能背着挨处分的骂名转业回家。写到这里，我忽然意识到班长其实已经发现了这个秘密，因为他背我走的时候我已经处在昏迷状态。我在急救床上醒来，看见班长笑眯眯望着我，指指床边的背包，一句话也没说。他嘱咐我好好养伤，又和我招招手，就走出了帐篷。班长或许因为看见我少了一条腿才没把我私藏杂志的事通报给上级吧。无论怎么说，我从心里感激他。没过多久，我听说班长在一场阻击战中阵亡了，死得很惨烈，他被越军俘获时拉响了两颗手榴弹，整个胸膛和脑袋都炸没了。他以前对我说过，当俘虏的滋味最不好受，即使活着回来也跟死了差不多，还不如在战场上自己把自己干掉，顺带再干掉几个敌人，这样的死亡方式最爷们，还能给家里落下个“烈士家庭”的荣誉。石峰也被抬下来了，他不小心踩中竹子，脚底被刺穿，不能走路。我俩在一个急救站相遇，他拄着拐杖走进帐篷，告诉我安慧死了，他亲眼看见安慧抢救伤员的时候被炸死的。我当然不相信他的话，但越是这样他的描述越让我伤心不已。他说炮弹飞来的时候，安慧为了保护伤员，整个身体趴在伤员身上，炮弹皮削掉了她半个后脑勺。她的脸没有受伤，神态非常安静，好像正在做梦。我又能说什么呢？我埋下头，眼泪滚落在被单上。我没有留下一张安慧的照片，这是我的终身遗憾。这些杂志不能弥补伤痛，真人已经死了，酷似安慧的女人只能让我更加伤心。我偷偷取出杂志，想把它们埋掉，或者一把火烧光。我最终没有烧掉杂志，一旦烧掉，这辈子就再也见不到安慧了。回到家，眼前的一切依旧，我的心却万分失落。石峰虽然只是轻伤，但他抓获了三个俘虏，立了个三等功。我失去了右小腿，失去了安慧，也失去了生活的热情，留在脑海里的只有战场上的惨烈场面和死去战友的血污躯体。我不敢看这些杂志，想来想去还是把它们包好埋在了树林里。小树，过去的一幕似乎已经淡忘，那一年，是你又让我把它们挖出来，但我不怪你，事实上爸爸还要感谢你。你母亲最终烧光了杂志，这样也好，一切化成灰也好。我不想再有牵挂，只想远远地离开这个家。我来到广西越战烈士陵园，想看看过去的战友。每块墓碑上都刻有“烈士”两个字，这是一大片烈士墓葬群。墓碑前的枯草长得太高了，都能把我盖住。我割除这些枯草，路过的人以为我是个瘸腿疯子。安慧的尸骸或许就埋在那里吧，我起先是猜测，再后来我坚信安慧一定埋在这里，每一块墓碑下面都可能有安慧的遗骸。能够这样想象，感觉很幸福。小树，当医生查出我患了前列腺癌之后，我反而变得轻松起来。我没死在战场已经知足，我比那些死去的战友又多活了二十多年。这几年，我一直关注你在北京的发展，你创办的“爱赫本服装设计工作室”我在报纸上读到过。我想你应该知道为什么后来我回避与赫本有关的回忆了。你热爱赫本，因为赫本对你是活生生的存在，而安慧已经远去。再说，哪一个父亲不希望自己的儿女工作顺心、事业有成呢？我想去瑞士结束余生，只是想让自己死的更舒服些。不过，当你为我办好去瑞士的签证，我或许已经没有力气登上飞机了。人生充满苦痛，我们有幸来过。让过去的都过去吧，能重逢的一定会在死后重逢。 “爸爸……”我听见自己内心的声音，泪水已经挂满脸颊。透过泪眼，我看见墙上的赫本，安静、纯粹的赫本。这是《罗马假日》里的安妮公主，还是赫本本人？我的思绪又和安慧联结在一起，我从未见过她，又仿佛和她认识。我为自己的母亲感到伤悲。安慧是父亲心中的女人，是父亲一辈子的女人，他们之间没有山盟海誓，没有肌肤之亲，留存在心间的却是清澈朴素的情感。 我打开电脑，查到飞往家乡的最早航班上午九点钟起飞。现在是凌晨一点，我决定马上出发赶往机场。坐上出租车，我摇下车窗，呼吸着春末夏初的夜风，感受到从未有过的异样轻松。风吹头发掠过嘴角，我轻轻咬住，随后又狠狠地咬紧嘴唇。“人生充满苦痛，我们有幸来过，”这是父亲信里的话。此刻，我体味到活着的另一层含义。我恳请出租车司机加快速度前进，因为我知道，早一点赶到机场，离家的距离就不会太远。