Chapter 5 5. Lovers

5. Lovers 31 Who was the girl that the painter broke into that labyrinth-like beautiful house to find when he was nine years old?Maybe I, maybe any boy, who was that girl whom I went to for the first time in my life with the passion of a man?Or, in the future, of all the women who impress me, who is the continuation of that dreamy girl at writing night? N.I sometimes feel that she is N.Yes, female director N. At certain times, at certain places, at certain events and in certain thoughts of mine, the girl became N, and became the woman Dr. F had been obsessed with since childhood.The erratic and long-lasting phantom has passed through several years and several people, and stopped when it passed by N. It found a certain harmony in N's image and life experience, and it was able to continue.Then, another kind of emptiness manifests into reality, and it is woven into the knots of N—to be precise, it should be woven into the N knots of a net, so that there is a history.

(Although calculated, N does not match the age of the little girl, but thoughts have no age. Therefore, she does not necessarily stay on this N knot forever, before, after, or at the same time, she may also be Other women, such as T, is X, for example, maybe she is simply O. No one can know in advance, who the thoughts will turn her into.) N first appeared in the movie pictorial.It was the pictorial I was reading while squatting in a patch of spring grass.When no one is playing with me, I often look at the pictorial and see stills of a group of beautiful girls on it.From childhood, to teenagers, I have seen that movie many times.Grandma asked me: "What movie did you watch again?" or: "What movie did you watch again?" I made up a random title to deceive her.In fact, all I saw was that one.Never tire of watching.Look at their fairytale beauty, look at their fairytale campuses and classrooms, fairytale summer camps, bonfires, pigeons, sunflowers and poplars... look at their fairytale future with fairytale innocence.I don't know if the old man who sells tickets in the movie theater—I like to think of several ticket sellers as an old man, an old man who is almost a church gatekeeper—has noticed that there is a boy who goes to that movie again and again, after the show is over. The boy's childhood admiration turned into a teenager's delusion.That boy, that ethereal boy is like me, like all men's childhood memories, in the fabled bygone days, under the huge clouds and sky, on a path chosen indiscriminately, maybe in In the dream, perhaps in the yearning from the past to the present, he walked in an ethereal way, but maybe he really braved the cold wind after the snow and walked into a beautiful house.The lonely and melodious cries of peddlers or craftsmen were carried in the afternoon sun, until the sun gradually faded away. At that time, he thought in his heart that he should be looking for one of the girls.

Unexpectedly, in the future, he really met one of those girls. That one, she is N. When I met N, she was almost middle-aged and was working as a director in a film studio.She was tall and slender, and she was still beautiful.I was drinking at her house on her fortieth birthday.intoxicating wine.I asked her if she remembered the house she lived in as a child.She said of course she did.I said, that house is simply, almost like a palace!She said why have you been there?Who did you know there?I said, does your sister still play the piano?what did she say?She said she had no sister.I said, and your brother, he is too quiet, he seems quite depressed, doesn't he?She said oh well, don't drink any more.She snatched my glass and said she had no sister, no brothers or sisters.I looked at her and wondered who the hell is she?I looked at her almost disrespectfully and thought it doesn't matter who she is, she's still beautiful and suave like her mother although I hardly ever met her mother, she's still beautiful but not like her sister, (her sister beautiful, but cold), although she said she did not have a sister.No matter who she is, it really doesn't matter, she still needs an old church doorkeeper to guard her. Forty years old is nothing, even eighty years old can't hide the fairy tale on her face.I said it's okay, really, it's okay.At the same time, I imagined that when she loves, she must be crazy and extremely hot.

I said, "Did your parents scold you after he left that day?" "Why scold me?" "They were wrong. It was their fault. Your parents, your sister and brother, even your nanny, it was their fault." "Let me see if you are sleeping for a while?" "They were in Chapter Four, thinking the painter was a wild boy. That is--bad boy. Really, they were wrong." "Okay, okay, lie down, what chapter four is not chapter four, yes, just lie here, lie down." "Oh it's ok, really I'm ok. But the painter is obsessed with it." "Painter? Which painter? Who are you talking about?"

"It doesn't matter. The painter was like all the kids back then. All the kids were the same, weren't they? But the painter didn't go, and he remembered it more and more. I knew him, and I knew why he was always there." Draw that feather, that feather that is becoming more and more elegant, more and more cold and more and more lonely. I even know why O left this world..." "Go to sleep for a while, okay?" "Why...why sleep...sleep for a while?" "You're already dreaming." I looked at her for a long time (even to this day, even forever), not sure whether she is in a fairy tale or has accidentally entered reality from a fairy tale.

"So, what were you doing when I was squatting in that spring grass looking at you?" "I don't know. Maybe, my father was writing a book at the time, and I was watching him write it." "Those fairy tales?" "No, he is devoutly writing a book that would ruin all fairy tales." 32 Writing night, N is a female director N, so I have this kind of career in my impression, because in that early summer, it is said that she had a whim, borrowed a camera, and invited a pair of young actors , on the street full of crowds, three films were shot.She believes that, no matter in the past or in the future, it is impossible for any director to reproduce such a grand and spectacular scene.The plot that the female director N wants to shoot is very simple, just that the hero and heroine are anxiously looking for each other in the crowded crowd.Her hint to the two actors is also very simple: "First, the hero and heroine are in the frenzy of first love. Second, they accidentally lost each other in this turbulent crowd." The actor asked: "What's next?" N shook his head and said, "I don't know." "Where's the script?" "No. There's no script, not even a story. Now there's no time to think about anything except that the couple is looking for each other." "Then how do you Why do you believe that this plot will definitely be used in your future stories?" N said:

Because I believe that no matter when, what we may be lost and what we are really looking for is - love! "N said: "Even now, I dare say that within our field of vision, there are at least thousands of couples looking for each other and praying to God for love. "N stood on a flat tricycle, pointed the camera at the two young actors, and walked slowly in the sea of ​​people, following the lovers who were anxiously looking for each other. A group of reporters chased her and asked : "When do you think this film of yours will be released? "N replied: "That's not a problem. The reporter asked her: "Have you ever thought that you will be able to finish filming it?" N replied: "I will finish filming it sooner or later." The reporter asked: "What if the two actors are no longer suitable at that time?"Like, are they old? N thought for a moment and said, "For love, any age is suitable."As long as I was alive at that time, I would still invite them, and I would shoot two gray-haired old men kissing each other to recall the past, kissing each other, and recalling their hard search for decades and even their entire lives. A voice in the crowd asked, "Hey, female director, is it just kisses?"Do you plan to have sex in your love story? The crowd snickered a little. The female director replied: "Yes, sir, you reminded me that the touching love must have an unobstructed and beautiful ceremony, which is indispensable!" The laughter was submerged in the momentary silence, and the sudden burst of applause from the silence. The reporter then asked: "So from youth to old age, how do you plan to film this interval?"Who will play them during this period? "N said: "It's up to everyone to play. She slowly panned the camera three hundred and sixty degrees, and said: "From now until then, all lovers, come and add!" The crowd responded with applause again. According to legend, a young bass voice suddenly sang in the applause: "Ouch, mother, please don't be angry, this is how young people love each other... It is said that all the young people present sang in different parts: Ouch, mother ,Ouch--!Ouch, mom, hey-yo... Legend has it that a person my age asked, "Has this female director ever acted in any movies? Why do I look so familiar with her?" It is said that all the middle-aged people present And the people and the old sang along: Oh mother, please don't be angry, Oh mother, please don't be angry--that's how young people love each other

33 Dr. F has not cared about politics for more than 20 years. For more than 20 years, he almost did not read books or newspapers (except for medical books and periodicals), listen to the radio, watch TV, or watch movies, except for operations. He seldom deals with people, and besides medicine, there is almost no second thing that fascinates him.Needless to say, he was a master of medicine - which is what we hope when it comes to the story of a doctor, and it is exactly what the doctor is.But he is still only an attending doctor, not a professor, associate professor, director or deputy director, because his qualifications and level are sufficient, but unfortunately there are no corresponding books or papers.His dissertation has been written for more than ten years and has not yet been completed.What attracts him is the question of nerve cells, brain organization and even spiritual aspects: what kind of structure can matter be organized to feel, and what form can brain cells be connected to be able to think?Whenever he sees the coiled brain through the skull, and feels the temperature and movement of these white and tender substances, he always asks secretly in his heart with amazement and respect: How much happiness and pain has been hidden in it?How many hopes and dreams are there in this?Can't those pains be taken out of it, or more joys transplanted into it?When he led students to perform autopsies, the great mystery always excited him, and this excitement began to follow him from his student days: dismantling the brain is a common thing, then Where is the soul?Where was the soul?How does the soul leave here?It seems that the soul is produced from the structure, and the soul is not matter, or the soul is the structure of all these matter.Once this structure is destroyed the soul also disappears.Does it mean, then, that as long as those necessary substances can be brought into a proper sequence, the secret of the soul will be revealed?We can create the soul we love?Can we ennoble an ugly soul in the same way a dentist straightens any unsightly tooth as beautifully?But his train of thought probably went wrong somewhere, or it was because he needed too many more practical operations, too little time for researching the above-mentioned problems, and the conditions for research and experiments were too crude. Not much progress has been made over the years.Conformist medical colleagues felt that he was simply trying to compromise his thesis and title.During the Cultural Revolution, some people even said that he was opposed to the leader’s thinking: “Soul? You stinky intellectuals, the old man has already said that politics is the soul!” But the poet L understood his profound thinking one day. , said to him: "But don't just stare at the brain, you were right and you have noticed the structure! But there is not only the brain in the whole structure, for example, there is also an anus. A person who can't shit can't let go People who are subdued, think about it, can they survive?" F believes that the poet gave him a precious understanding, although he does not intend to cooperate with the poet because of this.By the way, he asked the poet again: "What do you think of the prospect of artificial intelligence?" The poet said: "You don't necessarily want to make a perpetual motion machine, do you?" Perpetual motion machine? Do you think there is any connection between these two things?" The poet said: "Forget it, forget it, don't be so serious, I'm just talking for fun." Doctor F asked: "Then, do you believe that artificial Will life with the same intelligence as humans emerge?"

The poet's answer was shocking: "Sex, sir, is there anyone who doesn't believe in this method?" L is F's closest friend, and their friendship started from the year L broke up in love.That year, the pain of losing love made L become F's patient.One night, L got half a catty of wine from nowhere and poured it all into his stomach. Ten minutes later, he lay on the ground crying and shouting, causing chaos in the entire ward.The repeated reprimands of the nurses can only help the evildoers. The poet yelled at him, his father, his mother, the sky and the earth, and this era and this planet. Everyone trembled and considered whether they should send him to the Public Security Bureau to convict him of counter-revolutionary propaganda. His cursing changed, and the foul language was directed at himself. He beat his chest and stomped his feet, saying that he was not worthy of living at all, that he should not have been born at all, that his parents wanted to have a momentary pleasure without thinking about the consequences, and that he himself To live shamelessly is a sufficient proof of the hopelessness of human beings.The nurses were discussing to give him a sedative when Dr. F came.

Dr. F asked the nurses to leave, and then said to L: "If you have anything to say, don't hold it in your heart, can you tell me? If you trust me, I can stay here all night." The poet's crying was greatly reduced. It seems to have turned into another movement, this movement is the weeping andante, the nostalgia for the past swaying in the autumn water, the echo of the spring that fell into the abyss, the thirst in the summer wilderness, the endless winter night. Dreaming, incoherent and chattering are the main themes of this movement. From this long-lost symphony, Dr. F certainly heard the cruel dance steps of Cupid. He guarded the poet and listened patiently (or rather enjoyment) to the poet until the early morning. Finally tired and awake, L noticed that the doctor's head had almost sunk into his arms. L waited for a while, wondering if the doctor had already fallen asleep?Dr. F raised his head after he couldn't hear the poet's moving movement for a while.This time the poet was completely drunk—the doctor's face was frighteningly pale.It was the patient's turn to ask the doctor: "Are you okay? Go and sleep for a while." Then the doctor stood up slowly and told the patient: "Yes, yes, sleep for a while, we are all sinners." L looked at him in astonishment. Writing F, I believe that F should write poetry.

But Doctor F not only does not write poetry, but also does not read poetry, especially those modern poems by L. Every time L has a favorite work, he would come to read it to F. After he survived the painful lovelorn, he hoped that he could also share a little bit of worry for F, and that he could add a little bit to F's silent river. The wild poetic sentiment even makes it overflow.However, to the poet's high-spirited or weeping recitations, F always responded with silence and distraction. Only once did Doctor F turn pale again—— I'll wait for you until the twilight years / Weeds have / A hundred generations of descendants, there is still / A place left on that bench /  … The doctor asked the poet for three cigarettes in a row.After the three cigarettes were burned out one after another, F said, "Do you think such things must be said?" 34 More than 20 years ago, the young man F had spoken 90% of his life, and the rest belonged to medicine. On the night when he finally broke up with N, or those countless nights, Dr. F just cried and couldn't say anything.No matter what N said, how to say it, begging him to open his mouth no matter what, it would be of no avail... ... I am not afraid of anything, N said, no matter what people say about me, no matter what they think of me, N said, I am not afraid of everything... N walk by the window, by the pot of flowerless green leaves blown by the night wind Come here, take a diagonal line, and walk in front of F... As long as you are not afraid, N said, as long as you persist, I believe there is nothing wrong with us, if we really love each other, N said we don't have to be afraid of anything... ...N turned around from the stone gate of the ancient altar, walked past the street lamp, the fallen leaves under the bright light, and the old cypress tree, grabbed his knees and knelt down to face him... ...I don't want to accuse people I especially don't want to hurt them, you know I mean your parents, N said I always respect them how I wish I could love them but... ...N's footsteps, the footsteps of N and F, resounded through the dark street, the rain stopped, the umbrella was put away, the wind blew the rainwater off the trees, and I didn't feel it when it fell on my face... But I know I'm not wrong, if you ever said you love me it's true, if it's true now, N said I remember we said to each other, only love, it's never wrong, N said, if love If it's true love, it can't be wrong. If it's fake, it's not love at all... ... N did not come.Waiting for her at the station but never seeing her.I searched everywhere in that ancient garden, but there was no trace of her.Her window is dark, where is she?Back home in the middle of the night, on F's desk, under the lamp, there is a letter from N ... N said, if I don't know where I am wrong, if we are not right, why should I give up, why should we separate... ... N walked in front, along the ruined wall of the ancient garden, walking between the moonlight and the shadow of the wall, the light blue scarf and swaying shoulders appeared and disappeared, and then she turned around and stopped Wait for him, wait for him to come to her, stop watching him, watch his eyes stop on the bleak moonlight on her shoulder... Can you tell me again, N said, you once told Mine, is it true? N said, please tell me, can birth make love a mistake?Is there something that can make love wrong? N said I don’t mean reality, I mean logic, let reality go, I just want to prove it... N walked into the cold grassland under the starry sky, there was a big bronze bell that was forgotten by people on the grassland, it was as tall as a person, and the bottom was sunken His body was covered with green rust in the soil, and beekeepers often stayed there, setting up beehives and setting up tents. N looked at the shadow of the big clock from a distance, sat in the grass, and waited for him to leave. Come, wait until you hear him stand behind her, for a long time... N said I can admit reality, I may have to accept reality, N said, if my father's sin is destined to deprive me, N said at least I don't want it to deprive me again You, let's go and study in the Soviet Union, N said, I don't want to damage the bright future your parents arranged for you, but I have to know that this is just reality and it is not the proof of everything... ... N stood up, walked away, walked a diagonal, walked to the pot of flowerless green leaves as quiet as the night, and walked to the window... Now I want to hear what you think, what is your real thinking, As long as it is true, it is at least beautiful. You must have a definite answer. I just want to prove that there is nothing else in this world other than reality. But I wonder if it could be true too, and I beg you to speak up anyway?Excuse me, can you open your mouth... It was probably from then on that young man F began to understand that not all words in the world can be said, or not all are meant to be said.All night he wept like a frail child, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand unscrupulously, crying with all his heart and relish, as if he had come to cry only to enjoy this last freedom. N wished he could beat him. The last words N left him were: "There is no man in your bones!" This incoherent sentence may have happened to be a spell or coincidentally worked with some kind of spell, and F stopped crying immediately (his Tears have been exhausted for the rest of his life), he stared at N for half an hour, as if he was going to recite an inscription word for word, then he turned around slowly, left, and never looked back.On the way, his hair started to fade. A difficult problem that F calculated with tears is: if he announces his marriage to N immediately, then his parents' hearts may stop beating immediately; if he wants to wait until his parents' hearts stop beating before marrying N, then his parents' hearts Maybe jump another thirty years. He walked slowly all the way, taking his steps out of habit, and had no more thoughts in his mind, but when he returned home, his temples were already grey.When his mother saw him, she first asked, "Hey, who is this comrade you're looking for?" Jier shouted in shock, "My God, what's wrong with you? Look at your hair!" He didn't say a word. Hair, walked into the bedroom, put his head down and fell asleep, snoring like thunder until dawn.In the first half of the night, his mother, father, older sister and younger sister came to see him almost every half hour, and each time they were surprised to find that his gray hair had grown a lot.In the second half of the night, the whole family gathered around his bed and looked at him helplessly, weeping and holding their breath, watching his hair change every second, turning white at a speed that could be distinguished by the naked eye .Just like that, youth F's black hair disappeared overnight.When the night began to recede, F woke up. The family slowly dispersed from his bed and retreated to a place where they could no longer retreat. They stood against the wall and looked at the white hair in horror. what. F gets up, gets dressed, and goes to the ground. Dawn spreads silently around the swimming mass of white.Mother was the first to see that the change was over, at least for a while, and she retreated slowly to the corner of the wall, trying to block the mirror. F knew from everyone's expressions that there must be something wrong with him, so he asked his mother to get out of the way.In the mirror, F's hair is full of silver threads, like frost and snow, glittering and translucent, like a ball of free and brilliant ice at the junction of night and day. The morning crows outside the window are crying like they used to.The morning light outside the window, as in the past, grows from the silence and gradually becomes noisy.And in this city, in this world, N can no longer see the former F—that lush white hair, "even if we meet each other, we should not know each other"! F was as calm as a different person, and looked at the white hair in the mirror, as if he was satisfied with how completely white they were. "Son," the mother finally said, "are you going to see a doctor?" "You don't need parents, I am a doctor," F said, "sometimes hair is not a medical problem like the heart." The parents were stunned. Standing, as if not understanding what he said. F said again: "However, I have already paid off your debts. If you have a heart attack in the future, it will only be a medical problem and has nothing to do with my future." After finishing speaking, he combed his gray hair and walked out of the house in an orderly manner .Since then, Dr. F's blood has gradually calmed down. Not only did he not go to the Soviet Union to study, but he did not go anywhere except where there were patients for more than 20 years. Or desolate, no happiness, no complaints, no surprises, no waste, patiently flowing at the same speed throughout the year, flowing between the hospital and the home.Not long after that he moved out of his parents' house - probably that surprisingly beautiful house, I think - and got a home of his own.He himself thought that there would be no more disturbances in his life. 35 They live in the same city, but F hasn't seen N since they broke up. It's very strange that they haven't even had a chance to meet by chance in more than 20 years, but there is not a day when he doesn't miss her.There is always a free time in the day, after an operation or a meal, there will always be a short leisure time, and he will think of her: Where is N at the moment? What is N doing? How old is N this year?Has she gained weight or will she never gain weight?Is she getting old?Will she get old too?What does she look like when she is old?Can't imagine.In front of his eyes, N was still the same as she was more than 20 years ago, with simple and elegant clothes, a fit body, and no wrinkles on her face.On the way to work, on the way back from get off work, or between reading a medical record, listening to a boring report, and when you have to squeeze in the crowd and do nothing for whatever reason, there will suddenly be a small piece of heart. During the interval, F thought of N: She wouldn't change her name on a whim, would she?Does she still live in the old place?Looking out of her window, what is there?There was a row of trees, and a road, blocked at the west end, with a tall, dark street lamp.The lamp was shaken by the wind, and the shadows of people and trees on the ground moved silently.Her window could be seen from where the leaves were sparse, and standing among those swaying shadows was like standing on a boat adrift with leaves.How many times had he stood there and seen her window open or closed, saw the light or no light there, or the dark window suddenly burst into light... ...When I~~haven't come~~ in front of you, you must~~ keep me in mind~ ~Wait patiently~~ Wait for me Patiently wait for me, aunt—~ mother!My heart is like the beginning of the East Rising red sun~~ woo hey~~, sin－sin－SO－, sin－sin -so-, the wind Ya Blow~~Move my sail~~ Girl, I~~I want to see you face~~, tell you~ ~Say the thoughts in my heart~~, sin-sin-so-, sin-sin-so The song that used to be so close and is now so far away... No, it has been so many years, F thought, N must have moved.So where does she live now?If he wanted to know, it would be easy, without much effort, but he didn't want to.He knew that Kong Ming's conjectures could be loaded with any dream scene, and the real answer would limit the actual pain.He thought that the poet L was always persevering in realizing his dream, which was really inconsistent with the poet's logic.He blamed this on the poet's youth.In F's view, the dream is made by himself, and only for himself, and has nothing to do with others, just like poetry is actually just written for himself, so there is no reason to publish or recite it.If God does not allow a person to forget all his dreams, then it is best to let the dream stay in the most beautiful position, and draw a full stop there, or a line of deletion.The so-called most beautiful position, Dr. F believes, does not necessarily refer to the happiest position, but also the most painful position, and also the saddest and most tormented position. 36 I used to wonder why. Sometimes I suspect: F keeps thinking of N, it may not necessarily be missing, it is more like a habit formed by more than 20 years of daily life, it is a ferry on his calm river, or more like a kind of silence At most, it is a slightly sad and slightly warm appreciation - just like collecting stamps, take out the collection in the past to have a look, whether it leads to happiness or pain, it is beneficial to the passage of time, and then collect them as usual Rise up, and don't let them break the flow of a river, including not letting the past turn today's face pale.For a long time I was frustrated by such doubts.Until one day, when Dr. F is no longer alive, and the poet L is no longer young, when the dream of the poet L for many years is about to be realized or shattered forever, then the poet can say to me: You are wrong, you are wrong, You really misunderstood, you still don't know what a happy position is. The poet said: A happy position is actually because it is a beautiful position. Beautiful location? By the way, it must not be a position where you retreat from honesty to politeness. A beautiful location? By the way, it must not be a position that is exhausted and understated. 37 Later, more than twenty years ago, Dr. F got married. N met F's wedding.It is to meet, not to participate.It was a complete coincidence. That day, N was having a party in a restaurant with a group of college classmates.Naturally, during the meeting, they asked each other about their post-graduation experience, where the classmates who were unable to attend the meeting were, what they were doing, whether they were married or had a son or a daughter. Naturally, it was very lively.It's just that the next door seems to be more lively, with constant laughter, one wave after another always overwhelms this side. "What are you doing over there?" "Married, can't you hear that?" "It's either the groom or the bride. The family must be unusual." "How did you see that?" "Didn't you see the car outside the door? There are several, including two 'Volga' and one 'Jim'." Everyone was interested in the appearance of the bride and groom, maybe they were curious about the parents of the bride and groom, and they took turns to go out to see, and walked back and forth in front of the wedding banquet. Only N sat still without saying a word.As soon as N entered the table, she heard a very familiar voice in the noise next door, and she soon realized that it was not only F but also the groom F. Some people who went out saw it clearly, while others didn't.Those who saw it clearly came back and joked that the bride looks mediocre, but the groom is well-mannered and well-groomed, and he might not be able to find a better one. N's sense of taste was almost paralyzed, his mouth was chewing and swallowing mechanically, and his ears were filled with bursts of laughter from the next door. In the end, she left the meeting with the excuse of going to make things easier. She didn't dare to stop at the door next door, and she didn't dare to look sideways when she passed there.She walked to the courtyard, stood alone in the shadow of a big tree for a while, and breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't want to go back but she had to go back, and she couldn't just leave without saying goodbye.When she came back, she walked into the bathroom inadvertently, and found a very suitable angle there: the door of the bathroom was ajar, and the door with the word "Happy" could just be seen from the full-length mirror.She dawdled there for a long time, and finally waited for the bride and groom to see off the guests from the door.Of course it was him, it was F, unchanged at all (in fact F only dyed his white hair black on the eve of his wedding, and never dyed it again). N stood motionless in front of the full-length mirror, looking at the bride and groom, watching them say goodbye to the guests without pain, and send the guests out with a smile on their faces. N thought it was impossible for F to find her, but F, who was seeing her off in the mirror, stopped suddenly with a surprised expression; the bride didn't notice, and walked past him back to the house alone.In the corridor, only F was left standing blankly, looking towards N, with an expression that undoubtedly spotted her. N lowered her head and fiddled with her clothes for a while, then raised her head again, F was still standing there looking at her, her eyes met in the mirror. N and F looked at each other in the mirror and didn't speak for a long time, neither showing any expression.The scene is like in an art gallery, he or she, facing a painting, a portrait of him or her, forgets himself or herself and the painting.It wasn't until the bride came out and said something to the groom that F suddenly turned around and left... As far as I can remember, this was the last time N saw F. N believes that woman loves F, but does not believe that F will love that woman. Although F will definitely "be worthy of her", N does not believe that he loves that woman out of love. N also married shortly thereafter, to a man who expressed his affection for her just then. N understands that this is hers, not out of love. When N saw F for the last time in the mirror, she had already decided that she would marry whoever proposed to her first from now on.It's really "it's better to come early than to come by coincidence". Some men who have had fantasies about N for many years can only sigh to themselves: N, your decision should be made public earlier to be fair! N smiled lightly at this, believing that it is impossible for him to have any love in this life, and marriage is just marriage, but because he does not plan to never marry. 38 About Dr. F's wife, I could not get any impression from the wedding feast.Like her doomed ex-husband, she's an overlooked character on writing nights.Her body and spirit and her life experience can only be slightly touched by Dr. F's continuous dream talk in the future, or a little sign of her existence can be found in the crowd that is often ignored by history. Dr. F's wedding went well, and everything after the marriage was reasonable, and life was running smoothly.As I have already said, in the following twenty years, he was like a small river with a small drop and even flow, gurgling all year round.There was only one time when his heart was stung, and he felt that he and the world around him were dizzy for a while. In another part of the world, the curtains of the honeymoon will flutter like this, no matter whether N’s curtains flutter like this or not, but time flows away without stopping. Such fluttering will always happen at a certain moment, the wind is the same everywhere, everywhere Even the night wind blows, such fluttering is inevitable.He flickered and listened to the wind and darkness blowing all night, and when it was dawn, the wind was calm, and his wife told him: "You kept talking in your dreams at night." Since then, he has avoided making such detailed associations.He did it.He has effectively blocked this function of the heart or brain, and his peace of mind and soul has depended on it for more than two decades.诗人L后来赞扬抑或讥讽地说过他：“F，谁是佛？你！你知道吗你就是佛，风动旗动心不动F你已经成佛啦。” 所以，对于F医生也忽然激动走进那个不同寻常的夏天里去，F夫人惊讶不已。 F夫人二十多年来却有了不小的变化，随着人到中年，她素有的严肃、古板、一本正经的习惯逐年有所消失，以往瘦长而发紧的身材可能原本就埋藏了其他因素，现在舒展了，丰腴了，倒比年轻时还要明朗了。F医生肯定没有注意到这些变化。F夫人在一家机关的资料室里任职。事实上那资料室只由她一个人管理，所谓管理就是不让那成吨的印刷品引起火灾，至于查阅资料的人如何在那儿像一只困兽似地东突西撞，而终于从堆积无序的纸山中夺路而逃，那不是她的责任。F夫人现在喜欢看看电视连续剧，喜欢翻翻各种各样的杂志，喜欢编织和收藏各色各类的毛线，她叫得出所有影星和歌星的名字，并谙熟他们的婚恋史。丈夫的脾气好得不能再好，对她从无挑剔，给他买什么衣服他就穿什么衣服，除了吃饭和抽一点儿烟他再不需要钱。女儿已经上了大学，大致上不用她操心了。不知她从哪儿找来了许许多多奇奇怪怪的杂志，不管是站在厨房里、坐在厕所里、躺在沙发上、趴在阳台的栏杆上她都能看得入迷，真正为那些杜撰的故事动情，有时竟至一整天默默悠悠坐卧不宁，郁郁寡欢直到晚上。这样的时候如果F注意到了，F会惊慌地放下手里的医学书问她：“怎么了你，哪儿不舒服？”或者：“怎么感觉不好？”虽然一字一句都只像似医生的询问，但神情语气之温柔焦虑还是更像病人的家属。这使得夫人屡屡失去对他发火的动力。性情愈益宽厚的F夫人偶尔想过：我的丈夫是医生呢，还是我的医生是丈夫？但这问题一向没有答案。杜撰的故事缠绕着F夫人直到晚上，躺在床上要是她到底按捺不住还是想给F讲一讲书中人物的遭际，最好的结果是听到一阵安详的鼾鸣。要是F为了表明他对文学或对夫人的尊重，从睡魔的法力中挣扎着搭讪，结果倒要坏得多：开始还好，他毕竟还有能力顺从着夫人的思路，但渐渐地他的应答便南辕北辙不着边际了，也可能又是一些类似医疗的用语——中文的、英文的、拉丁文的、没有一定，也可能是些不明由来的短句，毫无规则地罗列，颇具诗意地组装。F夫人便知他正在现实和梦乡的边缘徘徊。F夫人兴致全光睡意全光，月在中天，倒不如听听这个幸福的医生还会说些什么。然而F的梦语，细听，似都有着不祥的余音萦回缭绕，加杂着仿佛缺氧般的喘息抑或是啜泣。有几回F夫人忽发奇想，躺在现实中与这个梦中人对话，一句一句跟着他的逻辑勾引他说下去，那孤独的梦者便呈现出从未有过的亢奋，虽一唱三叹般的话语依旧艰涩难解，却堪称才情横溢文采飞扬，使F夫人时而暗自惊诧，时而满腹狐疑，时而醋意萌动，时而如坠五里雾中，到后来她不敢再搭腔了，她觉得一下下毛骨悚然，那梦语中似乎隐含着一个名字，似乎一个不散的冤魂在一片历史的残迹上空留连不去。她轻轻地唤他，推他，轻轻地抚摸他，让他平息让他从那个缺氧的地带里回来，她怕他真的说入非非致使白天也丧失掉安定。不过F夫人的这份担心纯属多余，自从二十多年前他们结婚的那一天起，F医生的黑夜和白天从不混淆，他从不把黑夜的梦带进白天。不，不是不把，而是不能，随着白昼的到来无论什么稀奇古怪的梦都必然消散得无影无踪，他自己对此也深感迷惑；他记得过去母亲总嫌他做事不稳重，责备他考虑问题不实际，嘲讽他“迷迷糊糊的白天也像在作梦”。事实上F夫人明白自己没有理由担心，二十多年的每一天都在表明，她的丈夫仅止是个夜梦者，到了白天他就只在一条固定的河床里流，不同的时间里翻动着相同的浪花。因而，一想到F忽然泛滥到那个夏天的潮流里去，F夫人总要下意识地看看周围：这到底是白天还是黑夜？ 39 四月最后几天的一个晚上，F医生很晚才回到家，一切都很正常他还没有吃饭，一切都符合常规他先去书房再去卧室然后去厨房，动作有条不紊，打算吃晚饭。倒是F夫人闻声从厕所里出来时情绪有些低落。 “饺子，自己煎煎吧。”F夫人的鼻音挺重。 “怎么了你，有点儿感冒？” 夫人没回答。厕所的门没有完全关上，F看见厕所的暖器上放着一摞杂志，随后注意到夫人腋下夹了一本黑皮的小书。 F的目光在那本小书上停留很久。夫人没理会，顾自走进卧室。 过了好一会，F夫人听见走廊里分明有人在说：Love Sto-ry。声音很轻很柔很缥缈，但却分明：“Love Story。” 夫人立刻从卧室里出来，惊讶地看着F医生：“你怎么知道？” F还站在那儿，停在原地未动，目光也停在原来的地方没动。有那么一会儿F完全没有发现夫人在看着他。 “一本……老书。”然后F可能是这样说，说着走进了厨房。 （未来F夫人坚持说，F医生一反二十多年之常态，事实上从他看见那本书时就开始了，只可能比那更早！F夫人回忆说：“他一说出那本书的名字我就觉得古怪，觉得浑身上下一阵冷，就像在夜里那样，我就猜到可能要出事了，这回非要出点儿什么事不可了。”） F夫人等那阵冷过去之后，问：“你看过这本书？” no answer. F夫人又问：“喂，你听见没有！你知道这个故事？” 仍旧没有回答。然后厨房里传出煎饺子的声音。 煎饺子的声音响了好一阵子，照理说不应该响得那么久。 （未来，据F医生的儿女推断，就是在煎饺子的时候F从衣兜里摸到了一份印刷品，那是白天别人塞给他的他可能已经忘了，他可能是偶然需要一张废纸才从衣兜里把它换了出来。但为什么这份印刷品忽然使F医生激动起来，那不是F医生的儿女能够猜到的。写作之夜我猜想，那份印刷品上很可能有女导演N在人山人海中拍摄那部故事片的消息。） F从厨房里出来时已是神色大变。他步态迟缓地走进卧室，嘴里含含混混地唧哩咕噜个不停。（那个夏天之后，F夫人才慢慢听出他唧哩咕噜的正是那本《爱情的故事》1 中的几句对白——女主人公：“你为什么爱我？”／男主人公：“就因为我爱你。”／女主人公：“很好，你的理由非常充足。”）然后卿哩咕噜停止了，F坐在沙发上，面容僵滞，目光恍惚。 1 这是美国七十年代的一部小说《LOVE STORY》，中文译为爱情的故事》。 F夫人猛然醒悟到，一件从未发生过的事正在发生着：F又在现实与梦境的边缘徘徊，这样的状态终于在白天出现了。F夫人以为这完全是因为那本书，她猜他肯定看过那本书，但他为什么不承认？F夫人相信梦语更近真情，于是她像夜间曾有过的那样与这个梦者谈话，引导这个丧失了警惕的人泄露秘密。 她把那本小书在F眼前晃了晃，确信该人已经进入了梦的诚实，然后问他说：“这病1，现在，有办法治了吧？” “有一点儿，不多。” “什么病？那是什么病？” “白血病。不过你以为真是因为白血病吗？”F梦眼朦胧地望着夫人。 夫人长吁了一口气，咽喉里微微地颤动。她猜对了：F看过这本书，这本《爱情的故事》，但他不想承认，但他从不说起。二十多年中他对她隐藏了多少事呢？ “唉——！好人总是这样。”F夫人还是说下去：“怎么好 F夫人机智地跟着他的梦路：“那，悲剧的原因，是什么？” 这时F医生的样子，就好像突然记起一件久已忘怀的大 1 《LOVE STORY》中的女主人公患了白血病。事，惊惧之余，绞尽脑汁追忆着那到底是什么事。到底是什么事呢？ “譬如说你的，你自己的悲剧，是怎么回事？”F夫人从婚后第二天的早晨就想问这句话了，可一直拖延了二十多年。“说吧，要是你想找人说说，为什么不能跟我说说呢？” F的头深埋下去。他真是弄不清这是在白天还是在黑夜了。就在他懵懵懂懂浑然不知所在的当儿，那句消散多年的话又还魂般地聚拢了，并借着他的声带振荡起来：“你的骨头，没有一点儿男人。” “谁的骨头？你说谁？” 也许从来就有这样一个秘决：咒语由被施咒的人自己说出来，就是解除咒语的方法。 窗外星光朗朗，月色融融。 F喃喃地重复着那句话，心中也如外面的夜空一样清明了。 少顷，有一片如云朵般的微笑在他的眼睛里掠过。二十多年的咒语与二十多年的“佛性”便同归于尽。 F夫人又有点儿害怕了，也有点儿后悔。她靠近他，拍拍他的肩，抚摸他的背，叫他的名字，想把他唤醒回来。但这一次F医生没有睡，也再没有醒。 他站起来时说了一句话（“我得去看看她了”），声音轻虚得如同自语，F夫人愣了下神儿那句话已经过去了。但从他的语气之平和、表情之泰然、目光之迷蒙来判断，他都像是说的——“我得去睡一下了”。 40 夏天过后很久F夫人想，F医生最后说的肯定不是“我得去睡一下了”，而必是“我得去看看她了”。而且，F夫人终于知道了那个女人的名字。 那个动荡的夏天之后，女儿在父亲四月间穿过的衣服兜里发现了那份印刷，拿给母亲看。F夫人看着女导演N 的名字，一下子全懂了。“就是她，”F夫人说。毫无疑问，这就是盘桓萦绕于丈夫二十多年梦中的那个名字，云遮雾障年复年年这个名字到底显形露面了，似从洪旷混荒之中脱颖而出。就是这个名字，肯定就是这个人，就是她！霎那间F夫人把丈夫所有的呓语都听明白了。 “不，主要不是因为那本小书，”F夫人说。 “是她，而是因为她，”F夫人说。 “谁？”女儿问。 “因为谁？”女儿问，“她是谁？” “为什么？”女儿问，“你怎么知道？” F夫人一声不响，觉得再没有说什么的理由。 “妈妈，你怎么啦？！”女儿喊。 母亲感到女儿此刻看她的眼神，与自己以往在夜间看那个梦者的眼神完全一样。这样，F 夫人懂得了丈夫早就懂得了的那件事：世间的话不都是为了说的。