Chapter 8 Chinatown at night
Wang Da cashed his $100 check at the Ann Pharmacy and decided to spend some of it.He couldn't figure out why his father had doubled his monthly bill.Maybe the old man thought he had reformed himself and wanted to give himself some kind of reward.He believed that if the extra money from his father was really a reward for his own good behavior or progress in his moral life, he must throw it away as stolen money.Because my life has always been a mess, not only immoral, but also under the oppression of a heavy sense of guilt.Since Miss Zhao's death, he has always felt that he was the murderer.
He wandered around North Beach, always avoiding brightly lit areas.Passing Vesullo, the artist's bar where he and Ms. Zhao used to hang out, he turned hastily and crossed Columbus Avenue.A motorcyclist honked at him, "Hey, jaywalker! What's going on? Enough?"
He liked the Vesuro Bar, especially the paintings on the walls by unknown artists.He likes the atmosphere, not stuffy or boozy like most bars elsewhere.The Vesuro Bar, to him, was a cross between a collegiate café and an artist's bar, frequented by mostly black musicians and pale young men in blazers and baggy trousers who looked alike. A down and out writer or artist.They drank beer and chatted intimately or passionately with very attractive girls.In a sense, it's a bit like a Chinese teahouse.Customers can buy a bottle of beer, soak it all night, sip it, talk about it, and finally hold a nearly empty glass and drink it slowly.It was really an ideal place to spend lonely nights; but tonight Wang Da felt that it was horrible.He just wants to walk in the dark, as if his soul cannot withstand inspection under the strong light.
He walked across Columbus Avenue and wandered in the shadows of Pacific and Montgomery.He passed a bar and saw a short Filipino and a tall blond get out of it and get into a waiting taxi.It was a beautiful girl, already very drunk, she held out a handkerchief in her hand and stretched out the car window to wave to Wang Da, and shouted drunkenly: "Hi, baby." He really wanted to get drunk too.He pushed open the revolving door and stepped into a dimly lit bar, where cowboy music was playing from the jukebox.He sat down at a small round table near a faux palm tree and was greeted by a blond waitress with a smile.He couldn't figure out why there were so many blondes in the bar.There was also a blonde at the bar who was arguing with another Filipino man. "Shut your mouth," she said, "I tell you, I don't care who said that kind of nonsense."
"Okay, I won't say it," said the Filipino.
"Sir, what would you like to order?" asked the blond waitress, who spoke standard English with a slight British accent.Wang Da ordered a soda and whiskey.Sitting at another round table nearby was a middle-aged American with a red face and a big brown beard.He was drinking beer while talking, but he didn't see any specific audience. There were four beer bottles on his table, three were empty, and one was only half bottle left.He poured himself another glass and watched the beer foam overflowing from it. "Money is everything, it's over." He said, "Good night, it's over."
"Next time, don't open that stinky mouth of yours." The blond woman at the bar reprimanded her.
"For God's sake, don't be angry." The Filipino said in Filipino English, "Didn't I apologize to you, can't I?"
"Okay, okay," said the bartender, "speak less and leave the lady alone for a while."
"You say you're a cop, and I'm Rita Hayworth, the movie star. I'm telling you, you're not as good at a fake as I am," said the blonde. "If you're a cop, put your damn badge on." Come out and see!"
"I was just joking with you," said the Filipino. "I've apologized. What more do you want from me?"
"As I said, let the lady be alone for a while," said the bartender.
The waitress came over with Wang Dayao's wine. "Actually, there are quite a few pretty good people here." She said apologetically, "Did you see that girl sitting over there? She's a poet." Wang Da glanced at the black-haired Caucasian girl, slightly Plump, sitting at the other end of the bar. "She writes really well, and she's a bright girl. It's fifty cents, sir."
Wang Da paid for the drink and gave her a tip of fifteen cents.
"Money is everything, it's over." The red-faced man said, "If you don't pay, you won't get anything. It's over."
The waitress came to his table, took away the empty beer bottle, and brought him another.She took a dollar bill from the table and put his change on the table without saying a word. "No business, no money, nothing, it's over." The red-faced man said, pouring himself another glass from a new wine bottle, "It's over."
"Don't tell me you're a policeman." The blonde was still cursing, "What am I doing, it's none of your business..."
"Hey, Miss, keep your mouth clean." The bartender said, "There are a lot of gentlemen around." As soon as the words came out, there was a burst of laughter, and the blond girl became even more angry.She yelled, "I'm sitting here fucking my own business, but that son of a bitch insists on coming here and saying he's a cop. Get your badge out if you can, fake !"
"Okay, okay," said the Filipino, "I've apologized, haven't I? What else do you want from me?"
"Tell you to shut your stinky mouth," said the blonde, crazier, "I'm telling you, I don't want to hear anyone bragging in front of me! You're a fake! If you're not a fake, you're a big star Clark Gable..."
"I said, baby..."
"Don't call me baby!" the blonde screamed.
"Okay, okay! That's enough noise for today!" said the barman. "Let's be quiet for a while. I've never had a mess here, and I don't want it to be—"
"Oh, is it?" said the red-faced man.Several people laughed, and the red-faced man raised a hand, as if facing warm applause, "It's over, it's over."
"That's the right atmosphere." The bartender patted the bar with his palm. "Happy everybody! That's what I'm opening the bar for! Sally, bring that gentleman another beer. Charge it to my bill." .”
The turnstile swung again, and two Mexicans entered.As they passed the bar, they pulled the blonde up.They went to a table in the corner and sat down.One of them was darker, with thick hair and a Spanish mustache, and he turned his head sharply when he caught a glimpse of the poetess.The other fat guy said a few words in Spanish, and they laughed together. "Who is she?" Blackface asked the waitress.
"Her name is Joan," the waitress asked after finishing speaking. "What would you like to order?"
"Two shots of whiskey and soda," said Blackface, "and I want to buy her another."
"To whom? Is it Joan?" the waitress asked.
"that is."
After the waitress left, the two chatted more passionately in Spanish, laughing now and again.When their wine was served, Blackface took out his wallet from his back trouser pocket, took out a wad of dollar bills, wet his fingers with his saliva, twisted twenty dollars out of the pile of bills, and slapped them on the table.I don't know what kind of witty thing the fat man said, their laughter grew even louder.The waitress took the bills and went looking for change.The black-faced Mexican put his wallet back in his trouser pocket with one hand, and smoothed his long, shiny hair with the other. The fat man kept talking and laughing.
Wang Da looked at the two Mexicans, thinking how happy he would be if he could be as happy and carefree as they were.He saw the bartender pour another glass of wine for the poetess, then pointed to the Mexicans, but the girl didn't even bother to look at them.The black-faced Mexican watched her, tapping his fingers on a drumbeat on the table.The fat man called for toast in Spanish and drank half of it in one go. "Call her over here," Darkface said to the waitress when she brought the change.
"She won't come," said the waitress.
After the waitress found the change, the black face flicked a one-dollar bill lightly, "Buy her another cup."
"You can buy her ten cups, but she just won't come," said the waitress.
"Buy her another cup!"
"Okay!" The waitress took the banknotes, walked to Wang Da's table, and asked with a smile, "Sir, do you want another drink?" become different from others.Does she think I'm an FBI agent, or a talent scout looking for new movie actors or something?He couldn't figure it out.He ordered another whiskey and soda. "You don't know?" the waitress whispered to him. "Joan is crippled by a car accident, and if you buy her ten drinks she won't move. She'll just sit in that corner all evening. She writes really good poetry and she was on TV last week. If you want to chat with her you can go over there, she's a pretty nice girl."
"It's over, it's over!" The red-faced man suddenly called out again.Made some people laugh.A dark-haired Hispanic woman turned to him and asked, "What's up, beer?"
The red-faced man raised a hand and said to himself, "It's over!"
Everyone turned to look at him except the poetess.Wang Da looked at the poetess, and suddenly felt a strong sympathy for her.He didn't know what was bothering her.Besides the broken leg, she must have other troubles.Since everyone is so unfortunate and sympathetic, Wang Da decided to get to know her and have a chat with her.He picked up the wine glass, walked to the corner, and sat on the stool beside her.
"I know you're a poet," he said politely. "Can I buy you a drink?"
She turned slightly and asked, "Who told you?"
"Waitress. She told me you wrote beautiful poems."
"Oh." She picked up her own cup and took a sip, the hand holding the cup was shaking slightly.
Wang Da asked her after ordering a glass of wine, "Which category do your poems belong to?"
"Oh, whatever you say." She said, lighting a cigarette, her hands trembling even more.
"Has your poem been published?" Wang Da asked, "I really want to read it."
"Not published." She kept puffing, as if feeling very uncomfortable.For a while, neither of them spoke.Wang Da took a deep sip of his wine and said, "I heard that you were in a car accident. I feel very sorry. When did that happen?"
The girl turned and stared at him: "Who told you?"
"Waitress, she told me that your leg is disabled. I feel very sorry."
"I don't want anyone's sympathy," she said to the barman, snuffing out her cigarette angrily and uneasily. "Joe, tell Pat not to overdo a good thing. I don't want anyone to pity me!"
"What's the matter, Joan?" The waitress hurried over to her and asked, "What's the matter?"
"Just keep your mouth shut and you'll be fine if you don't talk about me," she said angrily.
Joan took a sip of her drink and slammed the glass on the table, spilling some of it, "I don't need you to broadcast and let the whole of America know that I'm crippled, it has nothing to do with anyone else... ..."
"Okay, okay," the waitress said hastily, "don't be so angry. I just want to help you as much as possible..."
"And I'm not a poet," Joan said. "Shut your mouth and stop talking about me. I don't need anybody to fuck..."
At this point, the waitress dropped a coin into the jukebox, and the blaring music blared, drowning out Joan's complaints. "I'm sorry to disturb you." Wang Da said to Joan, "I would like another drink, please." He put the fifty cents on the bar, got up and left.When he pushed open the revolving door, he heard the red-faced man's voice over the music, "It's over, it's over!"
After walking out of the bar, Wang Da wandered aimlessly for a while.What had just happened made him feel depressed.Joan's uneasiness reminded him of Zhao Helen.Why people were so sensitive to their own biological defects, he couldn't understand.Joan was a beautiful girl, with a striking face, a straight nose, and full lips.If she can accept people's kindness, he is willing to take her to the movies and dinner.Physical defects will not cause him any trouble.If he met a nice girl, even if she was crippled, he would marry her without hesitation.
He turned off Clay Street and walked up Kearney Street.When he passed by the police station in the old municipal building, a policeman stopped him and greeted him in Cantonese: "Hello, hello." The policeman showed him two tickets and asked him to buy them.Although Wang Da didn't know what the tickets were, he bought them for two dollars. "Take your best girlfriend," the policeman said to him, "bye, bye!"
Wang Da stuffed the ticket into his pocket, walked across Kearney Avenue and walked towards Gran Via.Traffic on the narrow streets was as heavy as usual.On the sidewalk, young lovers wander arm in arm, browsing the merchandise in the window; old couples look up at the top of the tower building, studying the recipes posted outside the restaurant; a bald man , with a baby in his arms, reluctantly followed his wife into a gift shop.Their young daughter followed them, squealing with delight as she gazed at the displays in the windows.The streets are full of life, but Wang Da's mood is full of melancholy.The briskness and aboveboard seem to make his presence seem all the more empty and inactive.
He hurried home and lay down on his bed, trying to drive away the intense depression in his heart.He took out the ticket that the policeman had sold him, looked at it carefully, and saw that it said: "Policeman's Annual Ball".
"Richard Stern's dance accompaniment and orchestra..." and that "bring your best girlfriend" that the policeman said.He looked at the ceiling, just wanting to laugh.He doesn't even have a girlfriend, where to find the best one.And the dance is scheduled for Friday night.He thought about it, and that was tomorrow.Even if he has a girlfriend to invite, this can be regarded as an urgent notice.He threw the tickets in the wastebasket and turned on the radio.At the point of a comedy climax—full of singing, laughing, and cheering—he turns off the radio.A strong sense of loneliness came over him suddenly.He immediately got up, came to the desk, and wrote a letter to Zhang Lingyu: "I think I'm just wasting my father's money by staying in the United States; besides, he may not have so much money now... I think, here My existence is meaningless. The feeling of having nothing, doing nothing, and being needed is nearly breaking me... You may think I'm out of my mind, but at this point I'm seriously considering going back to the mainland..."
The next morning, after sending the letter, he felt a little better.Two days later, he received a reply from Zhang Lingyu: "I wanted to send you a telegram, but I changed my mind because I was afraid of scaring your old man, and he might ask you to translate the telegram. Then I wanted to send you a telegram." You send an air letter, but the difference between sending an air letter from Los Angeles and sending a surface letter is only a matter of hours, so I figured I'd save my three cents. At first glance, your question seems pretty urgent , but now, as I write this, I think your problem must be no worse than that of a street urchin with a spanked ass? I'm flying to San Francisco for the weekend. Would you please Wait for my call around one o'clock."
On Saturday afternoon, Wang Da went to the airport to pick up Zhang Lingyu.Zhang Lingyu looks healthier and more energetic than before.He was still wearing the same sale-price casual suit he had bought in Berkeley four years earlier.As they drove back to Chinatown in Wang Da's car, he said to Wang Da: "Look at my hands. Months of hard work have really made a difference, transforming them into typical proletarian hands. Since I Withdrawing from intellectual life, the most obvious change is my hands." He spread his hands and looked at them admiringly. "These strong, rough hands help me get my meal to my mouth and my guys get their potatoes. Since I've been a grocer, I've gained a strong sense of being wanted and making a difference .”
Wang Da looked at those hands, and found that they had become rough, with many healed wounds, and many cracks in the nails. "Do you think I should follow in your footsteps?" He asked Zhang Lingyu.
"For God's sake, don't do that," Zhang Lingyu said. "If I were as lucky as you, I wouldn't be a manual laborer at all. What's wrong with studying medicine? Your father is rich, but You are young again."
"Are you preaching the Bible?"
"Yes, I am preaching. But I will not preach to you with abstract and empty nonsense, such as 'contentment is always happy', 'happy with circumstances' and so on. I want to analyze the current world situation for you, so that you Draw your own conclusions. Are you still thinking about going back to China?"
"yes."
"That's good. You gave me a chance to preach. The world today is divided into two camps, the Soviet camp and the American camp. Returning to China means joining the Soviet camp. Are you aware of this?"
"No." Wang Da said, "I just want to live a normal life and do something useful. I don't want to do things I don't want to do. I hate having to do things I'm not capable of doing."
"That's good." Zhang Lingyu said, "You are an honest person. But you must realize that in this country you may be the only one who refuses the opportunity to do what you want. What I said sounds like propaganda But this is the fact that we are facing. You must always remember that communism and capitalism are like fire and water, never compatible. As long as capitalism exists, communism will fight it. And you are very Clearly, capitalism is not like some backyard weed that can be easily pulled out."
"I don't think it is necessary for everyone to participate in the struggle," Wang Da said.
"I mean, if you go back to China, it is absolutely necessary," Zhang Lingyu said. "You forget what the mainland said a few years ago? You either turn to the left or you turn to the right. There is no middle way." .”
"Are you really on the side of the rightists?" Wang Da asked.
"If not, would I preach to you? Look, besides ideological reasons, you have to be on the right side for practical reasons. First of all, you, like me, are not used to communism. Just You're too old for a conversion; they wouldn't believe you even if you could. Oh, I've been talking like a street speaker. I'm hungry, where shall we eat? "
"Have you ever eaten in Qiqiju?"
"It's more than just eating! When I lived in San Francisco five years ago, because I used to eat there, the boss there started calling me by my first name, and sent me a Christmas card on New Year's Day. According to my guess, he probably I don't understand English. Come on, let's go there. I like the herbal pig tail soup and pork stewed duck feet there best. I want to go see Charlie again and see if he still smiles. Since fifteen years ago he After buying that restaurant, his smiling face never stopped. He plans to retire and return to his hometown after earning a million dollars, and go back to rural China. Hey, are you still thinking about going back to China?"
"I don't know." Wang Da said, "However, you have shaken me a bit."
"Okay, then I can get out of politics. I've never talked about politics at such lengths, though I could talk all night. You know what I've been talking about all day since I was a grocer? Bowling. Now I Became a master bowler and captain of the Black Dragon bowling team organized by my fellow grocers. Don't look down on bowling, it is not only a good sport, but also good for cultivating sentiments."
"I do not understand what you mean."
"In other words, it's also good for mental health, and it's sure to save a lot of people from the brink of insanity. If you've had a run-in with your boss and you have to swallow it to keep your job, you can go to the bowling alley Let it out, knock down those pins, and think of them as your boss and his family, even his mother-in-law. When you come home from bowling, you, will feel happy and never The whole world is hostile. I have a lot of bowling friends who agree with me. Now I've bought my own ball and canvas bag. Maybe you should try it too."
"I've tried, I can't even bowl well."
"That's your problem, you're afraid of hurting anything, even the pins in the bowling lane."
"I just don't like bowling, and that has nothing to do with me being soft-hearted or anything."
"I want to tell you a story." Zhang Lingyu said, "but now I'm too hungry to tell. Let's drive. My God, I can smell the pig tail soup in Charlie's shop!"
They drove to Chinatown and parked in a parking lot a few blocks from their other residence on Jackson Street.Parking in Chinatown is the biggest problem, but Wang Da has learned to grab the first vacant parking space he sees, without thinking about walking a few more steps.Zhang Lingyu was really hungry. On the way to his residence, he bought a pack of peanuts and ate them as he walked. "I'm a person who can't stand hunger," Zhang Lingyu said. "That's the real reason I'm in this country. You can at least name one good thing about America—no one goes hungry."
They climbed the stairs of the old red-painted wood building where Charlie had been running a typical Cantonese restaurant for fifteen years.Zhang Lingyu grabbed Charlie's hand and shook it for a long time before the boss recognized him. "Oh, Mr. Zhang!" The little boss shouted happily, "It's you! I thought you were a bandit just now!"
"I know you are terrified." Zhang Lingyu said, "Actually your smile disappeared for ten seconds. How about it, have you earned enough for one million?"
"Not so bad," Charlie said, "but it's got to be exchanged for Chinese money. You're in good spirits, like a cannonball. Where have you been?"
"I moved to Los Angeles. I came here specially this time to eat your medicinal pigtail soup."
"It's an unfortunate time for you," said Charlie. "It's seaweed soup today. It's delicious, too. Come to this room, please. It's the best room—seems like it was reserved for you." He ushered them into the One of the four small private rooms lowered the white curtain for them, and immediately brought today's menu and poured them tea.They ordered squid and cabbage, beef with bitter gourd, roasted tofu, and stewed pork with duck feet. The last dish was not on the menu that day, but Charlie insisted on making one for them.
Wang Da has been to this restaurant twice before, and he likes the authentic Cantonese food here.The restaurant is not decorated to please tourists, so few tourists know the existence of this restaurant.The red-painted walls have turned dark black over the years, and diners sit on long wooden benches to dine under the bare light.Chefs cook in large pots without handles, like an upside-down umbrella.Everything in the restaurant is Chinese except for the absence of the crackling of an ancient abacus.It inevitably reminded Wang Da of the restaurants in small Chinese towns and aroused his nostalgia. "Should I tell the story you want to tell me?" Wang Da asked after finishing the seaweed soup.
Zhang Lingyu ate squid with relish. "This is a story about a pair of romantic conjoined twin brothers," he said. "Maybe they are the only living conjoined twin brothers in China. They are a pair of brothers surnamed Liu in Jiangxi province. Maybe you have heard of it too." them."
"I saw it in the papers years ago."
"Well, at sixty-five, they're still showing themselves around and earning school money for their kids. They look exactly alike. To avoid confusion, people have to tell them apart by a little metal plate with their names on it They, for example, have a sign that says 'Liu Shundi, right, elder brother; Liu Shunkai, left, younger brother'. When they were very young, their parents tried every means to separate them, and once tied them to each other with a string. They were joined under the arms to stop the blood flow. They almost died. Since then, the parents never dared to try to separate them."
"Later, the brothers made a lot of money by showing themselves. They both got married and had many children. One day, Liu Shunkai, the younger brother on the left, wanted to marry a concubine. But Liu Shundi, the older brother on the right, firmly opposed it. They quarreled got up, and soon developed into a big fight. They headbutted each other until their father got a carpenter and made a plank to separate them. But, it turned out, the wooden partition was in the way. Several Months later, the brothers unanimously agreed to remove the partition and promised their father that they would not fight again. However, Liu Shunkai, the younger brother on the left, still insisted on taking a concubine..."
Zhang Lingyu took out a fishbone from his mouth, swallowed a mouthful of rice without chewing it, and continued: "Okay, this problem must be resolved. After mediation and persuasion by friends, the elder brother Liu Shundi on the right finally agreed with the younger brother." request." He swallowed a sip of tea and paused for a while. "Two days after the younger brother took a concubine, for one reason or another, the elder brother decided to marry one too. That is to say, the six of them—the conjoined twins, their wives, and their concubines—lived happily together for a while , until one day, one of the wives had an affair with another man and decided to elope with him."
Wang Dalue smiled slightly: "What is the moral of this story? Are you advocating something?"
"Of course." Zhang Lingyu said after swallowing a sip of tea, "When you told me you didn't like bowling at all, you reminded me of Liu Shundi, the elder brother who hated taking concubines at first."
"Are you trying to sell some bowling lanes now?" Wang asked with a laugh.
"I'm selling you a new outlook on life," Zhang Lingyu said. "Many people have too stubborn stereotypes about what they like and what they dislike. They are never willing to compromise. Take me for example, I am a Ph.D. When I was an intellectual, I despised many things, and I was unwilling to touch many people. One summer, under the influence of my uncle, I traveled to Washington, D.C., and stayed with the Chinese ambassador for a while. Time. My Excellency the Ambassador and my family went to New York and stayed at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. I dined with some diplomats and danced with a European Duchess at a banquet given by the Governor of the State of New York .I thought I belonged to that society. If I knew at that time that I would become a grocer today, I’m afraid I’d have to kill myself by caesarean section.” He put down his chopsticks, poured some abalone soup into the rice bowl, and continued, "However, now I have discovered a new world, just like my brother Liu Shundi, who has discovered the beauty of concubines. Now I have realized how boring certain so-called intellectuals and aristocrats are actually. From another On the one hand, I find the down-to-earth working people to be fun and easier to get along with. This has become even more so after I've been a part of it. And those are the kind of people I wouldn't even have dreamed of interacting with years ago .In those days I had a deep-seated belief that they were nothing but a bunch of daredevils, ill-informed fools, uneducated. Last week I met a washerwoman at the house of a fellow worker. She was at the bridge table and crossword The game beat me to pieces. Her husband is a watchman, but he is the best philosopher of life I have ever met. Moreover, they are straightforward, simple, and easy to communicate with. Living with them, you will find that life is easier For ease. Oh, I'd better stop talking about these simple working people, or I'll never stop."
"I understand what you mean." Wang Da said, "I think it's a matter of adjustment."
"Exactly," Zhang Lingyu said. "By compromising, being more realistic, and adjusting, you'll find something good in everything. Oh my God, now I sound like a middle school teacher again. Let's Quickly finish your meal and check out some other places. There are a few more places in Chinatown that I want to visit again. They are all my old hunting places.”
"Where did you hunt?" Wang Da asked curiously, "What kind of hunting did you hunt?"
"Looking for a moment of happiness and relaxation, I think I was very lonely in those days. Hey, you don't eat much, what's the matter?"
"I'm not very hungry."
"I'm not hungry anymore." Zhang Lingyu said: "But I still want to eat more. I have to eat American beef when I go back next week. I have enough beef, but the wholesale price of American beef is so cheap. I don't want to eat it." It's just a sin."
They ate and paid their bills, said goodbye to Charlie, and descended the rickety stairs.They praised Charlie's cooking skills and agreed that his cooking recipes should be stolen and written in a book.The traffic on Jackson Street was heavy, and the entire street was flickered with the colorful neon signs of the big restaurants.The streets are filled with the music accompanied by Cantonese opera gongs and drums. The shrill voice of Cantonese opera actors cut through the cool night sky, attracting every passer-by to turn their heads involuntarily to the second floor of the bustling Universal Restaurant, where a wedding banquet is being held . "Look, a rich man's daughter is married." Zhang Lingyu said, "I've never attended a wedding banquet in Chinatown. I don't know if it's the same as a Chinese wedding banquet."
"Except that the bride is not shy at all, everything else is exactly the same." Wang Da said, "Last year, my father and I attended a wedding banquet. Not long after the banquet started, the bride dragged the groom away because their honeymoon car was parked." Somewhere in violation of the traffic laws. The elders put up with their lies too, and kept the party going until well after midnight. Now, where shall we go?"
"Just follow me." Zhang Lingyu said as he walked towards Gran Via, "There is a place on the edge of Chinatown that fascinated me a few years ago. It was a place where artists met, we could buy a beer and sit in the corner You can chat in there, and you can also see those characters. There is no loud music there, and no one interferes with what you are doing or talking about. Once, I saw a bearded man scratching his back with a bamboo scratcher for more than two hours. He didn’t even say a word to his girlfriend, and she ended up leaving with a man with a fortune-telling bird. I guess, the fortune-telling bird must have helped her tell her fortune and advised her to change her boyfriend quickly.”
"You mean Vesuro Bar?" Wang Da asked.
"Yes, it's just at the intersection of Gran Via. It's like a fascinating island in the Yangtze River Delta. Have you ever been there?"
"If you don't mind, I'd rather change places." Wang Da said.
"You are really a character." Zhang Lingyu said, "I think everyone who doesn't like that place is a character, but for you, there are more reasons not to go there."
"It's not that I don't like Vesuro." Wang Da said, "I don't want to go there because there are other reasons."
"Oh, that's interesting." Zhang Lingyu said, "Why? Did someone scar your heart there?"
Wang Da told Zhang Lingyu about Zhao Hailun, their emotional dispute and her death.Zhang Lingyu listened intently without interrupting, and even remained silent for a while after Wang Da finished speaking. "Do you know why you are often unhappy?" Zhang Lingyu finally said, "You need to talk. You keep everything in your heart and let it torture you for years and years needlessly. You should have told me this secret long ago."
"I was close to telling you several times, but I changed my mind. The family scandal should not be publicized, and I think it is a scandal in my life. Miss Zhao and I used to come to Vesuro to chat, and now whenever I pass by that Everywhere I go, it reminds me of her and makes me feel like a murderer."
"I want to tell you another story, but I still have to take you to another place first." Zhang Lingyu said, turning around, "That place is full of ghosts, but it provides an appropriate atmosphere."
They walked back to Jackson Street and turned into a dark alley that Wang Da had never been to before.It was a narrow corridor sandwiched between dilapidated two-story buildings.All the doors in the alley were closed tightly, and there was not even a ghost. “人们说这里曾经发生过黑社会的大火拼。”张灵羽说，“许多侦探小说家都选用这里做他们描写暗杀事件发生的场所，但到现在为止，我还没发现有哪个小说家在书中将神秘过道描写得栩栩如生。”他走进一个直径约八英尺的圆门。王大跟在他的后边。一辆漆着红漆的老式人力车停在走道的一个角落。 “据说这个地方曾经是一个赫赫有名的黑帮的总部。这个门是钢制的，围墙像城堡的墙一样厚。现在却变成了一个鸡尾酒酒吧。这个月亮门，实际上根本没有安装门，象征着和平。我以前经常独自来这度过一个安宁的夜晚，它让我回想起我在乡村的老家。我爷爷的房子在外表上和这座房子大体差不多，有一个通往竹林的月亮门。走，进去，这家酒吧的主人曾经当过电影演员，他讲起这个巷弄来可有说不完的故事。”
他们进了第二道门，走进暗得像个庙宇的酒吧，只有天花板上挂着三盏马灯。一进酒吧，迎面的墙上有个神龛，供奉着一座涂金的神像，也不知道是哪路神仙，神像的两侧是摆满了古董坛坛罐罐的架子。酒吧的另一面墙上，摆设着搜集来的形形色色闪闪发光的鼻烟壶。“咱们就坐在这儿吧。”张灵羽指着神像旁边的一张圆桌说，“不要惧怕这位涂满金粉的先生，他或许还是中国神话中的'酒神'之一呢。”
王大坐在一把藤椅上，浏览着像博物馆般沿墙摆设的银质和琥珀制的鼻烟壶，以及苏州朱砂漆器上面光泽耀人的珍珠母。“店主今天晚上不在这里。”张灵羽说着，从吧台拿来两瓶啤酒放在桌子上，“你知道我为什么会喜欢这个地方吗？因为这里很安静，没有年轻小伙子到这里来玩自动点唱机，所以我们聊天用不着高声大喊大叫。而且这里是自助酒吧，不会有女招待每隔五分钟就来看看你的空杯子。”他坐下后倒满啤酒，“你还觉得自己像个谋杀者吗？”
“在某种意义上说，仍然有那种感觉。”王大说，“我认为，我会永远觉得自己是个谋杀者。我还记得读到有关赵小姐死亡新闻的那个夜晚。那时我刚看完一场好电影，正在一家餐馆喝咖啡。我当时心情特别好。但是，当我读完那条新闻后，我突然觉得变成了一名逃犯。报纸上说：'警方尚未确定她是否遭受了抢劫或谋杀……'我差点因为出于好意而给警察打电话，告诉他们我就是杀人犯。”
“我想这就是你麻烦的根源。”张灵羽喝下一大口啤酒后说，“你想回中国大陆的想法也萌生于这个根源。我再给你讲一个故事，是我自己的故事。你愿意听吗？”
"Let's talk."
“几年前，我在旧金山有一个女朋友。因为这并不是个光彩的事情，所以我就不讲她的名字了。她性格开朗，对我很好，也很具魅力。我们经常约会，她所有的女朋友我都认识。我们在一起的时候相当多。每到星期天晚上，她都在她的公寓里举行饮料派对。我和她约会了几乎整整一年，但从未在星期六和她约会过。星期六她总是很忙，忙着洗衣服、熨衣服、打扫房间，等等。但有一个星期六早晨她打电话给我，那真是出乎我的意料。她说想让我开车带着她和她的一个女朋友一起到乡下去兜兜风。她的女朋友是儿童医院的一个病人，有轻微的小儿麻痹症。我很高兴，我甚至为了和她们一起出游而取消了另一个约会。因为我和女朋友在一起的时候总是很开心。她性格开朗，幽默起来头脑相当敏捷。”
他讲到这里停了下来，把酒瓶里的啤酒全都倒入自己的杯中，然后接着讲：“我们开车到半月湾。我们说着笑话，唱着歌，海阔天空地聊着。在回来的路上，我的女朋友突然变得不安起来。她不停地催促我踩油门加速，说时间太晚了。我问她为什么这么急着回家。她说她有许多事情要做，像是洗衣服、熨衣服、打扫房间等等。但是，我怀疑她另有约会，因为那是星期六，她欺骗不了我，我一下子感到非常嫉妒。”
张灵羽喝了一口啤酒，抹了抹嘴巴继续讲：“所以，我故意放慢速度。我女朋友气得够呛，她开始出言不逊。那更是火上浇油。当车子驶入旧金山的时候，我故意拐错了弯，并迷了路。我开着车转来转去，假装找不到回家的路。我女朋友叫我停车，让她下去。她想坐公共汽车回家。她那么急着回家，甚至连她那个患有小儿麻痹症的女朋友都顾不上了。我坚持让她先把她女朋友送回医院。她气得开始打我，揪我的耳朵，甚至去抓方向盘，以便强迫我把车停下来。我差点撞到一辆大卡车上。这才把她吓得不敢再抓方向盘，且终于松开了手，她的手攥得那么紧，使得指关节都变成苍白色了，她在我身边坐立不安，不停地乱叫乱骂。而这时，我在旧金山城内错综复杂的道路上却真的迷了路。”
张灵羽点燃一支烟，吐着烟圈，沉湎于对往事的回忆之中。“你要知道，她紧攥的拳头真把我吓得够呛。”他接着说，“她的行为让我想起萨默赛特毛姆在他的一本小说中描写的一个****冲动的慕男狂。我认为，她一定在预感着和她情人的销魂夜晚，这使我感到妒火中烧。但她心中的怒火却更为旺盛。当她看见一辆黄色计程车的时候，就尖声大叫起来。我赶紧把车停到路边，让她下车。在女人所有的武器中，包括拳头和牙齿，最让人可怕的就是尖叫。身为这个国家的一个侨民，我不想让自己留下卷入一位女人尖叫事件的记录。所以，我让她下了车，并开车把她的女朋友送回医院。但是，我心中的妒火越来越旺。”
“我把病女孩送回到她的护士那里之后，就抄了一条近路赶到我女朋友的住处，把车停在她的门前注视着。那时，天都几乎快黑了。她客厅的软百叶窗已经放下，但里面有灯光，所以我知道她回来了。我等了足足有二十分钟，胡乱地猜想着她正在干什么事情。突然驶来一辆轿车，它放慢了速度，显然是想寻找一个停车的位置。它拐到街角处，大约三分钟以后，一个男人出现了，他穿着一件春装，头戴一顶帽子。我看不清楚他长什么样子。他走上台阶，按响了我女朋友的门铃。房门马上打开了，把这个男人迎了进去。我坐在自己的车中望着窗子，让自己的想象力折磨着自己。而实际上根本用不着怎么想象，就能知道里面发生的是什么事情。十几分钟后，房子里面的灯光就灭了。”
张灵羽把杯中的啤酒一饮而尽，又使劲吸了一口烟，喷出一股浓浓的烟雾。“那一周我成了一个死人。”他接着说，“我成了一块行尸走肉——吃喝，呼吸，但心中万念俱灰。可是在这一周还没有过完，我就好了。那是因为那时我是个魔鬼，想到了做一些破坏性的事情。到了又是星期六的时候。我走进一家百货商店，做了一件我再也没有勇气做第二遍的事情。我走到一位女售货员身边，要求买一件女式内衣。我没敢正视她的脸。尽管我是个魔鬼，还是有点不好意思。她问我要多大尺码，我说多大尺码都行。她肯定以为我是一个刚刚从精神病院后门跑出来的精神病患者。不过她还是帮我选了一件粉红色内裤卖给了我。它的尺码差不多正合适。我把它包在女朋友上星期忘在我车上的一块头巾里，然后我就回到家中，等着演出我的大作。”
“到了晚上。差十分七点的时候，我开车来到女朋友的家。我把车停到半条马路远的地方等着。她的情人那天来晚了，一直到八点才出现。当他正往台阶上走的时候。我追赶上他，'你是去看某某小姐吗？'我问他。他看着我犹豫了一会儿，然后答道：'是的，有什么事？''她昨晚在我公寓忘了一些东西。'我边说边把小包递给他，'我正急着去赶飞机，没有时间再去见她。另外，请你告诉她明天我不在。多谢了。'我一演完我的角色，赶紧冲到自己的车里，开车跑了。以后的事我就不用操心了。一位绅士可能不会在意那块头巾中包的是什么东西，但那位男人在我眼中并不像个绅士，他是那种鬼鬼祟祟的人，他也许是城外来的，有家室妻小。不管怎么说，我把我的炸弹扔了出去，那颗炸弹是否会爆炸，我不知道。”
“你对那位女孩导演的是一场非常下流的恶作剧。”王大说。
“相当残酷。”张灵羽说，“你要知道，她对那位男人一定非常在意。可是我却成了一个大傻瓜。我认为我真的爱她。正像莫泊桑所说的那样，假如一个男人对一个女人爱到极点的时候，他的眼光都会变得盲目起来，同时他本人也会变得愚蠢和粗暴无礼。我就像一个疯子一样粗暴，极富毁灭性。那位女孩对我只不过是好友而已，她从来没有说过她爱我，而我却把她认定为自己的人，而且我对她搞了一个如此愚蠢的恶作剧。现在每当我想起这件事，真想狠狠踢自己几脚。我认为赵海伦小姐和我犯的是同一种错误，她变得有了毁灭性，唯一的区别是她毁灭了她自己。”
“我们的情况各不相同。”王大说，“我和她有非法的肉体关系。”
“我还没有碰见过一个男人，在酒精的刺激下，能够抵挡得住一个女人的诱惑。”张灵羽用手敲打着桌沿一字一句地说，“你知道，我认为她实际上是华人妇女短缺这种特殊情况的牺牲品。正因为华人妇女不多，她就不由自主地抬高了自己的身价，或者说高估了自己的价值。结果，她只能对你这样的家伙感兴趣，年轻、英俊、受过良好教育，等等。而且她认定你会娶她。她只是不能面对你根本不爱她的现实。就像我不能面对我的女朋友和其他男人恋爱——而且出于这样那样的原因，她还得要保守秘密，或许她正在等待着那男人和他妻子离婚——的现实一样。我认为，在这个世界上，有许多毁灭性事件的发生，原因其实很简单，都仅仅是缘于我们之中的许多人害怕面对现实。唉，现在我讲起话来真像个牧师。你还想喝点啤酒吗？”
“不要了，啤酒让我发昏。”
“走，咱们到格兰大道去转转。”张灵羽说，“天黑后的格兰大道景色相当不错。我希望有一天能有时间写上一本书，一本充满浪漫传奇色彩的书，书名就叫《夜幕下的唐人街》。我敢打赌，我肯定能写出这样的一本书，因为我已经把我的博士学位扔到阴沟里去了。”他喝完杯中的啤酒，然后站起身来，“咱们走。”
他们走出巷弄，穿过华盛顿大街向格兰大道走去。他们还没有到达格兰大道，就听到一声枪声。“好，”王大笑着说，“看来现在有人正在为你的书写第一章呢。”
“那是爆竹声。”张灵羽说，“你没有意识到再有两个星期就过春节了吗？”
王大看看晴朗夜空中圆圆的月亮。“一月中旬。对，再过两个星期，马年就要到了。你会到这里来过年吗？”
“我年年都在旧金山过年，从来没有漏掉过。我喜欢游行、爆竹声、龙舞、扭秧歌、赌博等等。你是知道的，唯有在春节期间，你才能在这里真正获得某些中国人的精神——马马虎虎精神。甚至警察都会有点宽容，也打算对某些限制宽松一下。就举停车为例吧，你甚至可以把车停在一块'此处任何时候均禁止停车'的牌子下，而不会得到罚单。再说爆竹，法律禁止放爆竹，但在春节期间，法律就闭上了一只眼说：'买卖爆竹是违法的。'可法律对放爆竹却一句话也没说。所以，大家把爆竹扔得到处都是。那就是马马虎虎精神的极好范例，这个城市真正抓到了它的真谛……” 他们正在边走边聊地往南向格兰大道走去的时候，被另外两声枪声吓了一跳。许多人都停下脚步，转身向传来枪声的方向望去。突然，一个人猛地从萨克拉门托大街冲出来，冲上面对鲍威尔街西侧的小山坡。很快，另两个人冲过格兰大道，其中一位正在朝天放枪，喝令逃跑的人站住。张灵羽和王大加快了脚步；当他们走到萨克拉门托大街时，一辆警车正尖叫的警着笛疾驶而过。
“刚才那声不是爆竹。”王大说，“那是你《夜幕下的唐人街》的第一章！”
“看。”张灵羽叫道。他赶紧转过来向萨克拉门托大街的东头望去，大约一条马路远的地方有一辆红灯闪烁的救护车。一小群人围在附近，指手画脚地议论纷纷。王大和张灵羽急忙赶到现场，只见一个人正被抬上救护车。“好了，咱们走。”一个警察说着，打开他停在救护车旁边的巡逻车。两个男人正在安抚车内一个哀鸣的女人。
“简直不可思议。”张灵羽说，“那不是唐小姐吗？”
“对，那正是唐小姐。”王大说。
“还有谁是证人？”警察问道。
“我们跟你去作证。”一位衣冠楚楚的年轻华人说着，拽着一个身穿浅蓝色晚装的女孩，和警察一起上了车。
救护车发动起来，往北向卡尼大街开去。警车跟在后面。呼啸的警笛声很快就在远处消失了。“发生了什么事情？”张灵羽向一个旁观者问道。
旁观者耸耸肩膀。“某个人为了一个女孩向另一个人开了枪。”他说，“你会在报纸上看到的。”
人群开始逐渐散去。“又一个毁灭性事件。”张灵羽说，“那就是和像唐琳达这样的小姐搅在一起的结果。”他们开始朝格兰大道往回走的时候，张灵羽又补充了一句：“你知道，那个人也可能就是你。”
王大好一会儿没有做声。“我会是哪一位？”他最后问道，尽量不被这个事件所压抑，“是逃跑的开枪者，还是救护车里的那位？”
“自然，是救护车里的那位。”张灵羽说，“你知道，你也许是那种罕见类型的男人，不会因为爱得太深而变成有毁灭心理的人。你只是变得不快乐，如此而已。”
“我说不准。”王大说，“有时候我真想去炸或开枪去打什么人，我们还要到什么地方去？”
“这个晚上让枪声给破坏了。”张灵羽说，“我只想到旅馆去睡觉，我不能见到鲜血，我痛恨暴力。”
“可是你却还想写一本《夜幕下的唐人街》。”王大说。
“我想写的是它的浪漫，它的特色，它的奇趣和安详。暴力只能扭曲唐人街的美好画面。我觉得这次枪声又是一种此类特殊情势的结果——没有足够的女人交往。在上海，像唐琳达这样的小姐成打成打地大把抓，套用一句美国人的话说，没有人会为她动一下指头，更不用说开枪了。”
“看来你把一切过错都归咎于女人的奇缺上了。”
“是的，你的事情就是一个好榜样。像你这样的人早就应该结婚了，正在家里和三个孩子一起享受天伦之乐呢。可你还是这个样子，在这种不合时宜的时间在街上闲逛，为自己的不幸伤心。你知道，我越是琢磨这种情势，就越相信女人的奇缺是唐人街一切悲剧的根源。你信不信，赵海伦小姐是被一支双筒猎枪杀死的。”
王大看着张灵羽，皱起了眉头，“我不懂你说的是什么意思。”
“第一支枪筒，是她在这种特殊的情势下过高地估计了自己，正像我已经说过的那样，第二只枪筒，是因为在这种情势下，像你这样英俊潇洒的男人不得不和她这样的丑女人周旋——”
“我们还是谈点别的事情吧。”王大打断张灵羽的话，“我们就此结束有关她的话题。”
“我想到旅馆去。”张灵羽说，“枪声把我的心情搅得一塌糊涂，现在我一句话都不想说了。”
王大陪着张灵羽走到布什大街的旅馆后，就穿过斯托顿街回家了。这条路还真不短。他回味着张灵羽所讲的话，发现在他的玩世不恭中还是有一些基本的人生哲理。王大发现一个人既能玩世不恭又很乐观，真是不寻常的事情。毫无疑问，张灵羽就是这样一个人物。或许他的态度正是这种特殊情势下的特殊产物；或许那就是一种正确的态度，甚至那就是一个中国难民在面对这种情势时，如果想在节制中获得快乐，所应该采取的唯一态度。当他回到家里的时候，感觉到心情稍微好些，就好像为一种痛苦的疾病找到了一个暂时的解脱一样。