Chapter 13 wandering

wandering One autumn night, I sat in his small study with P, under the dim electric light, talking about W's novel. "Is he still in Henan? C University is good, right?" I asked casually. "No, he went to America." "America? What are you going to do?" "You think it's strange?—Perdingmer John Hobkin's Hospital telegraphed him as an assistant." "Oh! That's where he studies psychology! He always gets good grades there?—Is he willing to go back now?" "I don't think so. He came to Beijing before leaving, and I invited him to dinner at Qixin;

He looked very unhappy. " "And why?" "He felt that there was no place for him to do things in China." "It's only been a year since he came back. There's no money at C University, right?" "Not only did he have no money, they said he was crazy!" "madman!" We faced each other in silence, and had nothing to say for the time being. I remembered that the first time I knew W's name was in the "New Life" magazine.At that time I was studying at P University, and W was also there.I saw his novels on "New Life"; but a friend told me that he read a lot of books on psychology; he read all the books in the library of P University.He also read a lot of literary books.He said that he was reading all the time.The first time I met him was in the hallway of P's university dormitory; he was walking with his friends.Someone told me that this is W.Slightly curved back, small and dark face, long hair and nearsightedness, this is W.In the future, I often read his writing and remember him as a person.Once I took a translation of psychology and asked a friend to ask him to read it.He corrected dozens of items for me one by one, never relaxing a single word.Forever ashamed and thankful remain in my heart.

I thought about that night in Hangzhou again.He came to see me suddenly.He said that he had swam with P for three days and was going to Shanghai tomorrow morning.He was originally from Shandong; this time he came back to Shanghai to go to the United States.I asked about Columbia University's Journal of Psychology, Philosophy, and Scientific Method, which I knew was a well-known journal.But he said that there is often not a good article in it for a year, which is not very interesting.He said that recently various psychologists held a conference in England, and some of them spoke interestingly.With a pencil, he casually wrote the title of "Science of Philosophy" and its publication place on the back of a notebook on the table, saying that it was a new book and you could read it.He said he was leaving.I take him to the hotel.Seeing a copy of "Life and Geography" spread out on his bed, he casually picked it up and flipped through it.He said the little book was famous and very good.We met each other in silence for a while under the faint yellow electric light, and asked and answered a few simple words; I left.Until now, have not seen him.

After he went to the United States, he wrote some texts at first, but then they disappeared.His name, in the hearts of ordinary people, is like a cloud in the distance.I still remember him.Two or three years later, I saw another poem by him in the "Literature Daily", which was written in a light and interesting way.I have only read one of his poems.However, I have read quite a few of his novels; the one I will never forget the most is "Rainy Night", which is about the life of a Beijing rickshaw driver. W is a science student, so he should be very calm, but his novels are very hot.

This is W. P also went to America, but came back soon.He lived for some time at Potemme, and W was often seen.After he returned to China, he talked with me about W on Qingliang Mountain in Nanjing on a hot day.He said that W was studying behaviorist psychology.He was in the lab almost all the time; he dissected many mice and studied their behavior. P said that he would also like to study psychology; but seeing the trembling of the dying mouse, he could not let go of the hand holding the knife tremblingly.So I had to change my job.And W is "playing swords and running wildly", "full of ambition", which p thinks is unattainable. P also said that W has studied animal behavior for a long time, and he has seen that all their lives are just a few physiological desires, such as appetite, sexual desire, and tricks played, and there is no great reason in them.Therefore, there may not be any noble motives for conjecturing human life; we must first admit that we are animals, and this is the real person. W is indeed such a man. P said that he also believed W's words; indeed, P's attitude was very different after returning to China. W just wants to be his own person, but he won such a believer as P, which he himself may not have expected.

P also told me the story of W's love.Yes, a love story! P said that it was a Japanese who studied with W, but then left, and the matter was over. P spoke so coldly, it was nothing like the love story we imagined! P also pointed out W's article "Moonlight" in "Tomorrow" for me to read.This is a novel about a man and a woman talking secretly in an empty boat by the river under the moonlight.That woman is a married woman.At this time, there was no one around, and they talked very affectionately.But P said that W was too timid, so after this round of secret talks, he gave up.This article was written by W himself. Although it is not as lively as a fire, it has a special meaning.Science and literature, science and love, this is W.

"'Madman'!" I said suddenly, as if I had a clear understanding, "maybe it is? I think. A person who is cold and hot can become a madman." "Well," P nodded. "In fact, he doesn't have to care about whether China is China or not; but he is reluctant to part with it!" "That's right. W is really unhappy this time. K borrowed his money in America. This time he went to Beijing and went all the way to ask K for money. He knew that K had no money; he didn't mind either. I hope the money will be used. I just want to use this to scold him, it is said that he slapped the table and scolded him!"

"This is the same reason as his writing novels! Well, this is W." P was speechless, but I remembered one thing: "Has there been a letter from W since he arrived in the United States?" "In the long run, there is no letter." We were all silent again. On July 20, 1926, White Horse Lake. (Originally published in Issue 236 of "Literature Weekly" on August 1, 1926)