Chapter 10 10. White Bird

10. White Bird 90 No, in fact, it was my letters that were not sent.My day and night dreams have long since been burned.The poet L's letter has already been mailed, the envelope is sealed and stamped, as if a solemn ceremony is held, it is put into the mailbox and sent to his sweetheart. I didn't send it, I didn't even write it, I just let him hide those desires like L's.I know how dangerous truth can be in this world.The dangers of love and poetry.When my body and mind began to develop, when the beauty of a girl excited me, fascinated me, and drove me secretly to my soul, I already understood the dangers of heterosexual love and the need to hide this real desire.I don't remember when I learned these things.As if the danger was inherent.I only remember how surprised I was when I first discovered the beauty and allure of young girls. I couldn't help looking at them, as if I suddenly discovered the magic and beauty of this world, and found a moving direction.

It was noon at the end of the term. I was in the teacher’s preparation room preparing to draw the last issue of the blackboard newspaper. At this time, she came, and she was talking to the teacher. The sun shone on her, indeed It makes people think that she is water, made of water, her eyes are really like a pool of water, the long eyelashes caress the pool of water, and the sunlight outlines her nose, lips, neck, and neck The fluffy hair fluttering in the back.The sun, like rippling in the water, shows bursts of harmonious brilliance, condensing into a charming girl.She spoke very little, smiled a little shyly, looked at her fingers, at her toes, at the teacher, and then hurriedly turned her face to look at the sunlight outside the window.The July sun is getting restless outside the window. On the fence along the street, on the empty playground, among the thick leaves and growing flowers, the sun seems to be roaring.The room was very quiet, only the sound of my chalk on the blackboard coming out of "The Dada".I gradually heard that she came to say goodbye to the teacher. She was two grades higher than me. She had already graduated and was admitted to middle school.That is, she is leaving.Which means she's leaving here.That is to say, I just discovered her amazing existence, but she is leaving, I don't know where she is going.Before I could think about it, my heart was like that empty playground, like that long wall scorched by the sun, like those countless leaves fluttering in the wind.

On the empty playground, there are traces of clouds passing by.I was born a restless boy.The wall stretched and embraced, so that it could not see the end.The fluttering leaves are in the sky, on the ground, outside the body and in the heart.I was born a timid boy, timid on the outside, but full of desires on the inside. Later, I met her again on the street, and we passed by head-on, my heartbeat accelerated and my walking became unsteady, time seemed to be densely packed in my ears and the noise made me unable to hear anything.I was afraid she would find out my admiration, for I was only a boy, and I was afraid she would think me an unclean boy.I walked past her, but she noticed nothing, not even the slightest sign that she recognized me, she walked past me with her usual splendor and beauty.With such a stretch and beauty, the heart must be as clear as water, and the world will not leave a trace of mortal dust there.I turned to look at her, but she didn't look back, she was wearing a blue suspender dress, the fluttering blue gradually became smaller, only occupying a point in the vast universe, but the fluttering blue would never go out in the infinite summer ...

I kept looking at her, watching her walk into the orange-yellow building like the sunset. Yes, it is the house that is as beautiful as a mirage in the depths of the alley.The place that I or the poet L yearn for every moment.I or the poet L, find a reason for myself to go there every day, hoping to see her.I or the poet L lingered under the poplar tree in front of her window and looked up at her window.The beauty of sunshine and water, the brilliance and stretch of sunshine and water, that is her.The girl is she, N, O, and therefore T.That maiden who made all my summers, or the poet L's, full of fantasy, full of adventure, full of passion, who made our summer nights never sleep, it was she, as if N and as O, who, through the poet's blindness, Crazy first love, she becomes T.

The poet turned his schoolbag upside down, thinking that he had accidentally lost those letters, but he forgot for a moment that he sent all those literary nights and daydreams to his sweetheart.I didn't write it, and I didn't send it. I was lucky enough to walk through a dangerous door.I watched the poet L go in very piously, and I still wondered how those summer poems were lost along the way. 91 It is meaningless as to which event happened first and which happened last.History is not discovered while it is going, but has been reorganized when it is discovered. For example, Mistress O is dead, but if the dead cannot be resurrected, we have no history.For example, where the female director N is now, I don't know, but if the disappeared people can't reappear, we have no history to speak of.So now, this T, which is condensed by N and O, can still carry the history of N and O, and can have a completely different experience from N and 0. She can be in F and WR (and later Z ) retains the image of N and 0 in the nostalgia, and can also have another voice and smile in L's first love.Thus T, she is still a maiden, still a young woman, still a child, still dead, still continually rising from the dead, still gone, still going on in disappearance, becoming my diverse impressions, becoming a poet One or two parts of life enable the history of the poet L to proceed.

Even the logic of who is who, who must be who, is boring.Hundreds of millions of names have long been annihilated in history, but the crowd still exists, the traces of some men and some women still exist, which make people dream and extend history. In a little while I'll put down my pen, go to lunch, forget O, forget N, stop thinking about T for a while, then O dies again, then N disappears again, then T is barely born.If it occurs to me over lunch, O must be resurrected again, N must continue, T is being created again, not only on the trail of N and O, but also in some unknown Resurrection, continuation, and creation on the trail of the young girl.

92 At night, the father asked his daughter, "I heard that you handed over the letter that a male classmate gave you to the teacher, did you?" "Yes," T said, "I handed it over. I handed it over to the Revolutionary Committee." "why?" "Why? You know what he wrote? Shameless, I can't even say it." "But now he's in trouble. He can't hold his head up in front of others." T bowed his head in silence for a long time.Then he said, "As long as he changes, he's still a good boy, isn't he, Dad?" "Yes. Yes. Logically speaking, it should be like this." But my father thought, in fact, it may not be so simple. People who know this matter will always remember this matter. Maybe someone will always mention this matter to let the person named L It was embarrassing for his child, and in the future someone might use this incident to attack him, the person named L.Besides, what did you want the boy to change?Get rid of sexual desire or get rid of love?If he had to change something; it couldn't have been anything else.What he changed must be honesty, frankness, trust in others, learning to hide, covering himself up, and learning to be on guard against everyone.

My father had nothing to say for a while, and returned to the bedroom with confusion, sitting blankly, thinking. "Did you tell her?" Mother came in. The father let out a "hmm". My mother just took a shower, took off her bathrobe, and was about to change clothes.Mother took off her bathrobe in front of her father, exposed her body under the light without hesitation, and concentrated on drying her body.Father looked at her. "What did you tell her?" Father didn't answer.Maybe I don't know how to answer. The woman was naked, picking out the clothes she wanted to wear here and there, with an extremely calm expression.She walked up and down in front of a man, as if she didn't need to wear clothes just because it was summer and because it wasn't cold at all.The man looked at her, a little excited, but the father knew that it was not entirely sexual desire, but this woman's defenselessness towards this man moved him, surprised him, and made him unable to restrain himself in what way to express this feeling. Feeling, confirming and affirming this feeling in a certain form, responding to her with some extreme language, making her and him rebel from the lies of the day, returning home from the outside, returning from the strange peace to the freedom. Come in peace.And at this time, the extreme language is sex, it can only be sex, although this language still seems very insufficient...

Father seemed to have just discovered that mother was old, she was a little old, she was getting old, she was getting fat, her waist was thick, her belly was heavy, and the years had made her less beautiful.do you still love herDo you still love her if she is no longer young and less sexy?Of course, without a doubt.Why?Father never tried to answer such questions.Only his father knew that he had been infatuated with a young woman. That woman was younger and more beautiful than his mother, and she was not inferior to her in any way. His father used to live with her on the pretext of a business trip... That woman wanted him Make a choice, choose one, "You should be a little manly, who is your favorite? Is it me or someone else..." Nobody knows.I don’t know about this matter, I just know that there are such things in the world, it has happened in the past, it will happen now and in the future, it can happen to men or women, it doesn’t matter who it is.Mother didn't know about it, she didn't notice it, and father still feels guilty for this.In the end, the father made a choice and left the woman, came back, and returned to his mother.Why?The man asks himself, but there is no answer, or the answer is only that he wants to come back, does want to come back.This is love.If it wasn't because that woman was inferior to this one, if it wasn't because he had to come back, but because he really wanted to, the father thought, that's love.

"Daughter, what did she say?" asked the mother. The wife looked back at her husband and found that the man's eyes were shaking. Only then did the woman realize her appearance and smiled knowingly.Then she draped a nightgown over her naked body.Not for hiding, maybe for cunning or for grandeur. The man remembered the south, in the south, a summer night some years ago, when he first saw this woman naked.At that time, the woman was too ashamed to take off her clothes, the man was burning with lust and even a little rough, the woman said "Don't, don't do this", she broke away from him, stood and looked at him from a distance, for a long time, murmured Saying "Let me be, okay? Let me, let me give you...", and then under the man's scorching gaze, she slowly opened herself up and turned into a naked woman. "Let me give it to you myself", this sentence will never be forgotten. When the burst of crazy expressions is over, the trembling stops, and this sentence is what remains.What stays forever is what she gave you by herself, she gave you wholeheartedly, that scene, and that voice.She wants you, she wants you to want her, the chaotic world is intertwined around, the lonely earth is spinning lonely in the universe, at that time, she opens up to you, allowing you to touch her, touch all her secrets, let you enter She, with nothing to worry about, breathes, observes, travels and imagines freely and boldly in all the other's secrets.Under the banana tree in the south, under the moonlight or the drizzle, in the courtyard in the south where there is only the sound of insects and wind, "Let me give it to you myself", it is these words that excite and move men time and time again , wild and submissive, leaving him with aftertaste and inexhaustible attachment.

Father and mother start having sex. They want to create an unprecedented form, an unprecedented form, free talking and listening that the outside world cannot tolerate, and let all the shy flowers and plants open to return to their beautiful position. That's why he was once a wanderer, but he had to come back in the end, right? That's the reason why she might have known about his fall, but she didn't say anything in the end, and saved him back, right? Men are gushing, women are flowing. On a summer night, the stars move and turn, the moon surges and the moon sets. Father, and mother, making love. At this time, the daughter grows up day by day. The father and mother heard, daughter, she went to bed very late that night, and the light in the daughter's room took a long time to turn off. My father thought of the boy named L, and when he was his age, my father, like me, congratulated himself, we avoided a dangerous door, and we saw L go in. Father asks mother: "Why, sex, is the most humiliating thing?" The mother was sleepy: "What did you say? Oh, yes." My father asked, "Really, it's very strange. Why do people think that sex is disgraceful? Why is sex more humiliating than anything else? Why not eating? Both things are necessary for survival. Necessary, and they both give people pleasure, but why are they treated so differently?" Mother opened her eyes and turned over: "Oh, go to sleep." "Don't you think that's weird, huh?" "Yes, very strange. Go to sleep." The father asked: "Daughter, should she understand love? At this age. Hey, when you were her age, did you understand?" "I forgot" "At least, boys, are you starting to pay attention?" "Maybe. Maybe a little." "What's the feeling? What's the main feeling?" There was a snoring sound from the mother's side, and it gradually became heavier.Not so when she was young, when she slept lightly and gracefully. In the middle of the night, the man woke up from his dream, leaned on the woman's shoulder, and suddenly had a very clear inspiration: "Hey, hey, I think so, because that's when people are the weakest, and that's when people express their weakness. " Mother opened her eyes and looked at the starry sky outside the window, making father sleepless. Father: "To express your weakness is to express your need for others. To love is to depend on others, to be free and safe, to be dependent, so... so..." Mother: "So what?" Father: "So that's dangerous..." Mother: "Dangerous?" Father: "You don't know if the other person will respond. Response or contempt, you can't be sure." Father and mother, man and woman, him and her, or me and you, looking at the starry sky in silence... 93 Therefore, the ambiguous girl T splits into N and O again in the summer when the poet L first loses love.This is firstly because the girl o fell in love with the boy WR. The clear love affair of girl O temporarily dissipates the vague girl T. WR came to this city from the countryside with his mother, and studied in the elementary school converted from the temple. His first friend was O.When he graduated from high school, got into a catastrophe, and had to leave the city, I remember his last friend was O. Many years later, times have changed. WR came back from the little-known western border, and we went to that temple together.At that time, our primary school had already moved out, and the old temple was about to be restored.We seem to inspect our childhood there, see the familiar cracks and damages on the stone steps, see if there are still pictures we carved on the brick walls, see if there are still crickets hidden in the grass under the walls, and look at every hall. It used to be our classroom, look at a few old trees, the short decades of time do not make the old trees show changes.There are no tables and chairs in each classroom, and there are a few monks planning.The monk asked us why we came and where we came from.We said we had lessons in every room here.An old monk nodded with a smile and said, "I hope you will come back in the future." The other monks seemed to be no older than us. "Did you take classes in every room?" "Each one. How about you?" At different times, we read the same book in the same space, and at the same time, we thought about similar things in different spaces.It's just a matter of time or space.Impressions have nothing to do with this, unhindered by time and space, I can always see now that I studied with WR in that elementary school.If so, I think of that horrible child who is puzzling, and of course he is also in the same class as WR.At that time, summer had passed for a long time, and the wet ground in the temple courtyard was covered with a layer of fine soil by the wind. The sun shone into the threshold of the classroom, and the warm and bright line was cherished in late autumn.Here he comes, boy WR standing outside the door in the sun.Look into the classroom.Someone said: "Look, a child from the countryside".One can tell at a glance that he is from the countryside. His clothes and pants are all sewn with black homespun cloth, and he is very strong.The teacher came in and said to the whole class: "From now on, we have a new friend." He stepped over the threshold, came in, and stood there.The teacher said: "Tell everyone your name." He said his name in a loud voice, with a southern accent and a northern accent, which caused a lot of laughter.The teacher led him to sit on an empty seat, which was next to the little girl O.I remember little girl O didn't smile, or did.But he held back and turned into a welcome smile to WR. 0 softly told WR where to put the schoolbag, where to put the pencil case, put the pencil case in the middle of the front of the desk, and put the textbooks on the side of the table. "The teacher asked you to open the book, and you take it over and open it," the little girl 0 said to him. "Okay," the sister-in-law said without hesitation, "That's it for now, put your hands behind your back." "What's your name?" the boy WR asked, his voice still loud. O answered him in a very soft voice. Someone let out a strange laugh.I know, it must be that horrible kid.Then someone joined him. "Who is it? Who is so rude?" the teacher asked, looking at the whole classroom seriously. O looked at the eyes of WR apologizing to him for others. In that season, maybe the resin on the old whitebark pine had hardened, and that terrible kid couldn't put the resin on WR's hair, and couldn't use the method against me to test WR's strength.Maybe so, because the pine resin is hard.Anyway that horrible kid chose another way.He first discovered that WR's accent was a weakness. After class, as soon as the teacher walked out of the classroom, he imitated WR's accent and called WR's name in a strange way. WR thought it was friendly, and asked him: "What's your name?" The scary child didn't answer, and continued to call WR's name in a different tone.His name has another meaning through the homonym, which has the meaning of insulting people.So all the boys in the class yelled like this, laughing loudly and yelling back and forth.I also called him and laughed at him. I really thought it was fun. When I called him and laughed at him, there was a cold thing in my heart that made me sympathize with him, but I couldn't stop. I didn't want to be isolated from everyone. WR didn't understand what it meant, so he didn't say a word, looking at everyone, he felt very strange: Is it really that funny?Maybe it was so funny, WR was a little ashamed, occasionally smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to say. The little girl O stepped forward, stood beside WR, and shouted at all the boys: "Why are you, why are you bullying your new classmates!" I, and several other boys fell silent. WR sort of gets it, staring at the scary kid.The class bell rang. When we were leaving school, we were walking on the road, and the scary kid suddenly called out the names of WR and O together, and said, "Hey, they are a couple." All the boys got excited again and shouted after him. "They're getting married!" "They kissed!" WR walked over to the scary kid, looked at him for a moment, and then, very simply, punched him to the ground.The scary kid sat on the ground and looked at WR calmly.But this time he didn't run into me, it was WR. WR also looked at him and asked him: "Are you going to talk anymore?" The scary kid stood up and stared at WR fiercely.But still very easy, WR punched him down again.This was unexpected for the scary child, and he stood up, flustered for a moment. WR grabbed him and refused to let him go: "Did I ask you to hear me, will you say it again?" The scary child also has an extraordinary will, he doesn't answer, and he has an unusual scheming, he knows he can't beat it WR, so he didn't fight back, he wanted to win the sympathy of the public opinion, he turned his head to look at everyone, in this way, he was not only rejecting WR, but also saying "You all have seen it".Another punch.Another punch.The terrible child sat on the ground and couldn't get up, but he regained his composure. He wanted to win sufficient evidence for tomorrow's complaint.All the boys stood still in shock.That horrible, unbelievable kid, and when I think about it now I still can't believe he was just a kid.I was terrified, for WR, and for myself.The little girl O and several girls came and pulled WR away.The terrible boy won anyway, he didn't give in, which made the other boys admire and fear him, and he didn't fight back, he won public opinion and had a certain victory in his hand. WR still fell into the trap of being isolated, and he walked home alone.Terrible child in the crowd, the boys followed him, around him, me too, we followed him as if to escort him home.Finally he said: "Who will come to school tomorrow morning? Let's go together." Tomorrow, several children will come, so go to school with him, for sure. There were many days when I was with that horrible kid, in the midst of everyone, watching the isolated WR from afar.He found it odd that no one was playing with him, but he didn't seem to mind much.He had just come to this temple, and everything was very novel. He played on the parallel bars and the climbing frame, and had a good time alone.He looked at us sometimes, and watched that terrible child with attention.Probably at this moment, the little girl O became his friend, his first friend in this city.He borrowed many books from the little girl O, and sat on the window sill between classes, reading one book after another fascinated.He actually knows so many characters, and he reads as fast as an adult. "Did you really read every word?" the teacher asked WR. "I've seen it all, teacher." "understood?" "I don't understand some places." "Who taught you so many words?" "my mother." 94 "Then, where's your father?" the little girl asked. It's Sunday at O's, in that beautiful house. "I don't know either," Boy WR said. "You haven't seen him?" "No. Maybe I don't have a dad." O's mother walks past here, stops. "I think maybe some people have dads and some don't have dads at all." O's mother bent over WR and asked, "Who told you that?" "It's like some people have younger brothers, some have no younger brothers, some have two younger brothers, sisters, younger brothers, and some have only mothers." O's mother couldn't help laughing, and began to like the boy with infinite love in her heart. The little girl O looked up at her mother: "He seems to be wrong, isn't he, mother?" o's mother, the smile on her face disappeared. WR said: "I was born by my mother and has nothing to do with others." O's mother said, "I think your mother must have told you so?" "How do you know?" "Oh, didn't you say there was only mom?" O's mother touched WR's head, sighed, and walked away. It was the first time WR walked into that dreamy beautiful house.The little girl O has loose hair, shouting and laughing like a little lunatic, and the arrival of the boy WR made her very happy. "Hey, why are you here?" She welcomed him into the living room. "Hey, where are you going, where are you going?" She disappeared and reappeared like the wind, bringing her favorite books and toys, and bringing her favorite candies to entertain WR. "Are you here to find me? If you don't go anywhere else, you come to my house, right?" The boy was infected by her emotions, and his restrained mood was swept away.It was a weekend in winter, during the snowmelt season, and it was very cold outside. The afternoon sun passed through the floor-to-ceiling windows and spread flatly on one side and the other side on the floor. When it hit the bottom of the wall, it bent up and stood upright. It turns into a mild green, and in some places it turns into a warm lavender.The backlit window lattice is silver-gray, and the glass is painted hazy and dazzling by water mist.On the wide floor there was the standing still shadow of a boy, the dancing shadow of a little girl, and another fluttering shadow, the feather of a large bird.Beside the window, there is a log-colored square platform with a porcelain vase on it. Inside the vase is a big white bird feather. The strands of whiteness are always relaxing and rolling, like a wonderful flame in the sun—— But it didn't catch the boy's attention because he was not Z but WR. The boy unwrapped the candy.The boy turns over a jigsaw puzzle.The smell of candy was tempting, and the boy peeled off another one.Now the boy and the little girl sat on the sofa, now on the floor, now on the windowsill.The boy listened to what the little girl was talking about, but he didn't know what she was talking about.The little girl asked each sentence here and there, and the boy answered every question he had.WR hasn't felt this happy since leaving the countryside. O's mother went to another room and sat in front of the piano to calm down. O's father walks in to take a casual look.The mother said: "That boy is very nice, I really like him." "But," the mother said again, "he said he didn't have a father." "Why?" "He said, just like some people don't have a brother, he doesn't Not at all, Dad." Mother didn't smile.Father didn't laugh either.After the father walked out, the mother started to play the piano. The sound of the zither is slowly swirling and flowing in the whole house. "Hey, can I go to another house to see?" WR asked. "Look. Oh, I'm sorry, I'm going to the bathroom and you can go and see by yourself." The little girl was very polite. Accompanied by the sound of the piano, the boy walked around the whole house. To WR's surprise, there are so many doors here, one door is opened and another door is seen, and one door is opened and several doors are seen, the boy walked a little confused. "Oh, o—! Where are you?" "I'm here, I'm in the toilet. Can you wait a little longer? I just wanted to pee, but now I want to shit again!" the polite little girl shouted innocently. Another door was opened, and there were bookshelves inside, and only one person could walk between the bookshelves. The bookshelves were so high that they touched the roof, and there might be ten thousand books.Walking through rows of bookshelves, there are some potted flowers on the windowsill, and there is a sleeping cat. WR didn't wake up the cat. What excited him was that there were so many books here. He looked up at those books quietly for a long time, thinking of the south, and remembering what his mother said, there were many, many books in the old house in the south. "Whose is it", "A person who likes to read left it", "Where are those books now", "It's all gone", "Where did it go", "Uh... oh, that person took them all away again ", "Have you taken it all away", "Do you like reading", "Like"... The sound of the piano flowed in, and with brisk steps, o walked in. "Who am I?" The little girl covered the boy's eyes. "Huh, I know, I heard you coming. You shit so fast." "I've always pulled so fast, not like my father, pull, pull, pull for an hour." "Stop talking nonsense, it's so long?" "Why am I talking nonsense? If you don't believe me, you can ask him yourself. Dad——, Dad—!" "What's the matter?" O's father answered from another room. "Does it take you an hour to poop?" "You said less, my daughter, the highest record is an hour and a quarter of an hour. But I read a novel at the same time." The two children laughed. "I'm not talking nonsense, right? Because he doesn't like vegetables." The boy looked up to those books. "Are all these books your father's?" "Almost. My mother too." "Can I read a few books?" "Can you understand?" The boy was ashamed and silent, but still looked at the tall bookshelves. "Dad—! Mom—!" the little girl shouted, "Can you lend some books to my classmates?" O's parents all come in.Father said: "Probably there are no books you like here." Father said: "Come with me, there may be some books here." Father pointed to another row of bookshelves and said, "Let's take a look, is there anything you want to read?" WR found one.I think it might be a novel, yes. Mother said, "Oh, can you understand this?" "It's like a book about war," WR said, pointing to the picture on the cover, "I've read several of such a thick book." Father and mother looked at each other and smiled. Father said, "Let him try."' Mother said: "Who taught you so many words?" "my mother." The little girl O said, "Okay, I'll lend it to you!" The boy WR was walking on the way home, the sun had set at that time, it was getting dark, and it was colder than when we came, and the melting snow on the eaves of the old houses along the way was frozen into ice again.With the help of the dim street lamp, he walked and read the book all the way, constantly licking his hands that were almost frozen.I still remember several illustrations in that book, two of which impressed me the most: one is the Gadfly, whose face suddenly becomes terrible, leaning out of the window to see a group of jugglers passing by in the street In one, the Gadfly buried his head deeply in Gemma's arms, trembling all over. If Gemma asked "Who are you?", Arthur, whom she had lost for many years, might come back.In the future, I think WR will especially remember another picture in the far western frontier: Arthur used his only money to buy off sailors, and sat in a boat late at night, leaving his hometown, that city, and thirteen Years later. 95 WR asked me: "Do you really like him?" He meant that horrible kid. I froze for a moment and didn't answer. Along the river bank, along the setting sun, we went to the courtyard temple.Grandma is going there for a meeting, and so is WR's mother. WR said that it was very fun there at night, there were no teachers, there were only a lot of children and crickets, and the old man at the door didn't care about us. WR said "Are you really okay with him?" He still said that horrible kid. I said, "He is with me now." The old temple has several floors of yards, and it was still dark, and Zhizhi was singing "Fu Tianer—Fu Tianer——" on the tree.The adults all went to the backyard for a meeting and told us a group of children to have fun and not fight.The children readily agreed, and then shouted and laughed over Cicada's cry.The old gatekeeper shakes a plantain fan and sits under the old white pine to drink tea.The boys played horseback riding and fighting, and there was a lot of "killing" in the yard, and sometimes people turned their backs on their backs; WR is a good "horse", and he is invincible on a rampage with me on his back.The girls kicked and hopscotched, jumped rubber bands, and were scattered by the boys' war from time to time, and their high-pitched voices sounded like sirens.The old man at the gate closed his eyes and shook his fan, sang a few lines, occasionally scolded during the "war chaos", and opened his hands to protect his teacup. "Are you really willing to be nice to him?" WR still asked me. Tired from running, we sat on the steps, WR rolled up some small paper buckets with newspapers, ready to hold crickets. I said, "What about you?" WR said with his inherent bluntness: "I hate him. Do you?" I replied with my timidity: "I don't know either." This is the inherent difference in our personalities. WR said: "You are afraid of him, you don't like him at all, right? Everyone is afraid of him, but no one really likes him." I was silent, but I wanted him to go on. WR said: "It's strange that you are all afraid of him. What's so scary about that kid?" I said, "Aren't you afraid?" WR said: "I'm afraid of his ass! If he calls my name like that again, you see I will beat him. But why do you all listen to him?" It occurred to me that that horrible kid never made fun of WR's name again. The sun had completely set and it was getting dark. WR said: "Shhh, listen." There were crickets in the temple courtyard, "Doo-doo--", "Doo-doo--", the sound was still very soft. WR said: "It's not much now, I just woke up." After saying that, he jumped into the grass at the bottom of the wall. The moonlight was so bright that it sprinkled spots on the courtyard wall and the grass through the thick black branches and leaves of the old trees. "Toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-too-too-too-too-too-too-too-too-too-too-too" here and there, and there are more crickets.The boys crawled along the wall on their buttocks, stuck their heads into the grass, and kept their ears close to the ground. They listened motionless for a while, and then crawled quickly in a "grinling" manner, vaguely like a group of cats. .The temple courtyard fell silent, and in the empty moon there was only the soft and delicate singing of the girls: "Two five six, two five seven, two eight two nine thirty—..." They danced endlessly. WR found a crack in the wall: "Hey, this guy is not small, and his voice is loud." He took out his chicken and urinated at the crack in the wall.After a while, a bright black cricket jumped out and remained motionless under the moonlight. That night, we caught many crickets and packed them in paper buckets.That night, we made promises to each other that whether that scary kid was with us or not, we were both fine.Then we were joined by two other boys, and we said that it didn't matter which one of us didn't love that horrible kid, we were good to each other.The old janitor snored.There are crickets chirping everywhere.The girls may plan to jump to the dawn, "eight five six, eight five six, eight eight eight nine nine ten..." The moon rises and shrinks, and the temple courtyard looks bigger and deeper. I am happy and worried at the same time . 几天后，我听到一个喜人的消息：那个可怕的孩子要走了，要跟着他家里到外地去了。 "Really?" “真的，他家的人已经来给他办过转学手续了。” "when?" “前天，要么大前天。” “我是说他什么时候走？” “不知道，可能就这几天。” 我再把这消息告诉别人。 一会儿，那个可怕的孩子出现在我面前：“你很高兴是不是？” I froze there. “我要走了，你很高兴吧？”他眯缝起眼睛看我。 我愣愣地站着，不知怎样回答。 “你怎么不说话啦？你刚才不是还挺高兴吗？” 我要走开，他挡在我面前。 这时WR走来，把我护在身后，看着那个可怕的孩子： “反正我很高兴，你最好快点儿滚蛋吧。” 可怕的孩子恨恨地望着WR，WR也毫不含糊地望着他。 在我的印象里，他们俩就那么面对面站着，对视着，互不示弱，什么话也没有，也不动，好像永远就这样，永不结束。 96 与此同时我想起，在那间有一万本书的屋子里，WR和O也曾面对面站着，什么话也没有。 中间隔着高高的书架。从一层层排列的书之间他们可以看见对方，但都低头看书，谁也不看谁。左手端着翻开的书，但从一层层排列的书之间，他们的右手拉在一起。那是他们即将高中毕业的那一年。 那时他们都长高了。少年更高一些。少女薄薄的衬衫里隐约显露着胸衣了。他们一声不响似乎专心于书，但两只拉在一起的手在说话。一只已经宽大的手，和一只愈见纤柔的手，在说话。但说的是什么，不可言传，罄竹难书。两个手指和两个手指勾在一起，说的是什么？宽大的手把纤柔的手攥住，轻轻地攥着，或使劲攥一下，这说的是什么？两只手分开，但保持指尖碰指尖的距离，指尖和指尖轻轻地弹碰，又说的是什么？好半天他们翻一页书，两只手又迅速回到原处，说的是什么？难道真的看懂了那页书么？宽大的手回到原处但是有些犹豫，纤柔的手上来把他抓住，把拳头钻开，展开，纤柔的手放进去，都说的是什么呢？两只手心里的汗水说的是什么？可以懂得，但不能解释，无法说明。两只手，纠缠在一起的十个手指，那样子就像一个初生的婴儿在抓挠，在稚气地捕捉眼前的惊讶，在观看，相互询问来自何方。很安静，太阳很安静，窗和门也很安静，一排排书架和书架两边的目光都很安静，确实就像初生之时。两只拉在一起的手，在太阳升升落落的未来，有他们各自无限的路途。 WR的目光越过书的上缘，可以看见O的头顶，头发在那儿分开一条清晰的线，直伸向她白皙的脖颈。O呢，从书的下缘，看见那两只手，看见这一只比那一只细润，那一只比这一只黝黑、粗大。我想不起他们是怎样找到这样的形式的，在那间书架林立的屋子里，他们是怎样终于移动成这样的位置的。那必是一段漫长的时间，漫长如诗人L的夏夜，甚至地球的温度也发生了变化，天体的结构也有了改变，他们才走到了现在的位置。 但发生，我记得只是一瞬间，不期而至两只手偶然相碰，却不离开，那一瞬间之后才想起是经过了漫长的期待。 我不记得是从哪一天起，WR不再贪馋地剥吃小姑娘的糖果了。也不记得O是从哪一天起才不再坐在厕所里对男孩儿大喊大叫了。尤其不记得是从什么时候，少年和少女互相开始彬彬有礼，说话时互相拉开至少一米距离，有时说话会脸红，话也少了，非说不可的话之外很少说别的。躺在沙发上，滚到地板上，蹿到窗台上，那样的时光，没有了。那样的时光一去不再。不曾意识到它一去不再，它已经一去不再。周末，O的母亲仍然喜欢弹那支曲子，她坐在钢琴前的样子看上去一点儿都没变。琴声在整座房子里回旋，流动。少年WR来了，有时少女O竟一直呆在自己的房间里。他来了，直接到那间有一万本书的屋子里去，常常都见不到她。有时WR来了，在路上碰见O的母亲，O的母亲把家门的钥匙给他，说：“家里没人，你自己去吧。”有时WR来了，O正出家门，他问：“家里有人吗？”她说：“我妈不在，我爸在。”然后擦肩而过。WR走时，要是O还在自己的房间里，母亲就会喊她：“WR要走了，怎么你也不出来一下？”她出来，可他已经走了。他走了，在那间有一万本书的屋子里呆了整整一下午，然后回家。他走时常常借走好几本书。再来时把那些书还回来，一本一本插进书架，插进原来的位置。 O的父亲说：“嗬，你要把我的书全读完啦。” O的父亲说：“关键不是多，是你有没有真正读懂。” O的父亲说：“承认没有读懂，我看这态度不坏。” O的父亲问：“那么，你最喜欢哪些书？” O的父亲问：“为什么？” O的父亲问：“将来你要学什么呢？将来，干什么？想过吗？” O的母亲坐在钢琴前。O的父亲走进来：“WR我很喜欢他。”母亲停止弹奏，扭脸看父亲。父亲说：“他诚实。”母亲又翻开一页乐谱。父亲说：“他将来或者会大有作为，或者嘛……”母亲又扭过脸来。“或者会有，”父亲说，“大灾大难。”“怎么？你说什么？”“他太诚实了，而且……”“而且什么？”“而且胆大包天。”“你跟他说了什么？”“我能说什么？我总不能劝他别那么爱看书，我总不能说你别那么诚实坦率吧？” 有一天WR走过那间放书屋子，看见O也在那儿，看见好几架书都让她翻得乱七八糟，地上、窗台上都乱堆着书。她着急地问他某一本书在哪儿。他很快给她找到。他说：你要看这本的活，你还应该先看看另一本。他又去给她找来一本。他说：你要有兴趣，还有几本也可以看看。他东一下西一下找来好几本书，给她。他一会儿爬到高处。一会儿跪在地上。说还有一本也很好，哪儿去了呢？“噢，我把它拿回家了，明天我给你带来”。 她看着他，看着那些书，很惊讶。 他也一样，在她惊讶地看着他的时候，他好像很久才认出她来，从一个少女茂盛的身体上认出了当初的那个小姑娘，或者是想了很久才断定，那个小姑娘已经消逝在眼前这个少女明媚的神情之中了。 站在那惊讶里回溯，才看见漫长的时日，发现一段漫长的时日曾经存在和已经消逝。那漫长的时日使我想起，诗人L在初夏的天空里见过的那只白色的鸟，飞得很高，飞得很慢，翅膀扇动得潇洒且富节奏，但在广袤无垠的蓝天里仿佛并不移动。WR和O站在惊讶里，一同仰望那只鸟，它仿佛一直在那儿飞着，飞过时间，很高，很慢，白得耀眼，白得灿烂辉煌，一下一下悠然地扇动翅膀…… 97 天上，白色的鸟，甚至雨中也在飞翔。 雨，在窗前的大树上响，响作一团，世界连成一片听不到边际。只有这雨声，其它都似不复存在。WR绕过面前的书架，绕过一排排书架——一万本书，绕过寂静地躺在那儿的干年记载，在雨声中走进诗人L屡屡的梦境。 “哦……会不会有人来？我怕会有人来……” “不要紧，我只是看看，你的手……” “我的手？哦，不是就这样儿……我怕也许会有人来……” “今天他们，都不出去吗？” “谁？呵，早晨我妈好像是说要出去……你的手这么热，怎么这么热？哦别，会有人来的……” 贴着灰暗的天穹，那只鸟更显得洁白，闪亮的长翅上上下下优美地扇动，仿佛指挥着雨，掀起漫天雨的声音。 “他们说要去哪儿？” “好像是要去看一个什么人。” “喔，你的手这么小。” “早晨他们好像是说，要去看一个朋友。什么？呵，比比。” “这样，手心对手心。” “唉——，为什么我们的这么小，你们的那么大？” “你听，是谁……” 雨声。雨声中有开门声。隆隆的雨声中，开门声和脚步声。 “噢，是爸爸。爸爸出去了。” 铃声。是电话。脚步声，妈妈去了。电话不在这边，在客厅里。 “你的头发真多。我见你有时把头发都散开……” "OK?" "what?" “散开好吗？还是这样好？哦别，哎呀哎呀我的头发……” "Huh? What's the matter?" “我的头发挂住了，你的钢笔，挂住你的钢笔了……” 白色的鸟，像一道光，像梦中的幻影，在云中穿行，不知要飞向哪儿。 “哦，你的脸也这么热……哦轻点儿……妈妈还在呢。” “她不来。她很少到这儿来。” “也许会来。哦哦……你干嘛呀，不……” “没有扣子？” “不。别。不。” “没有扣子吗？” "No." "Where?" “别，你别……她也许会来那就来不及了……” 门响，妈妈房间的门。footsteps.厕所的门响。雨声，远远近近的雨声。马桶的冲水声。 “喂，我也走啦，”母亲在过道里喊，“家里就你们俩啦，别光看书看得把吃饭也忘了。喂，听见了吗？”“听见啦。”“下挂面，总会吧？”“会！你走吧。”开门声。关门声。是大门。脚步声，下楼去了，脚步声消失在雨里…… 雨声。世界只剩下这声音，其它都似不复存在。 "Where?" “哦你，干嘛要这样……” "Where?" “后面……你干嘛……在背后，别……” "Where is it?" “不是扣子，是钩起来的，哦……一个小钩儿……” 那只猫，在过道里、客厅里、厨房里轻轻地走，东张西望。那只猫走到阳台，叫两声，又退回来，在钢琴旁和一盆一盆的花间轻轻地走，很寂寞的样子。那只猫，在空空的房子里叫了一会儿，跳上窗台，看天上的雨。天上，那只鸟在盘旋，穿云破雾地盘旋，大概并不想到哪儿去，专是为了掀起漫天细雨…… “我怕会有人来，哦……你胆子太大了，也许会有别人来……”“你真的喜欢……真的这么想吗……”“喔，你怎么是这样……”“不知道。”“一直都是这样吗？你……”“不知道，我也不知道……是不是，男人，都喜欢这样？”“从什么时候？喔，你一直这样么……这么……”“你真这么想这样吗……”“想。嗯，想。你呢？”“不。不，我不知道……我只想靠着你，靠在这儿……哦，我也不知道……可我只是想靠在这儿，你的肩膀真好……”“你看不见你自己。因为，你看不见你自己，有多漂亮。”“是吗？”“当然是。”“哦是吗，真的？”“不骗你，我不骗你。”“真的吗，我？”“你，可不是你？你自己不知道？你不知道你有多好看吗？”“不知道。我不好看。我不知道……真的，我不知道……”“我想让你把裙子……”“我真长得好看吗？你说你觉得我很漂亮？”“我想让你全都脱掉，好吗？全都……”“噢不！不。我不。”“我想看看你。”“不。不。我不。我不敢。不……”“让我看看你。我想把你全看遍。”“哎呀，不！那太不好了……”“喔，我要看看你……” 那只猫卧在窗边，闭一会儿眼睛，看一会儿天上那只鸟。the phone is ringing.雨声很大，雨大起来。电话响了三下，猫叫了三声。没人来。 “那……你别动。除非你不动。” “哦我不……除非你别动，你离远点儿。” “不，我不。你真的觉得我……哦……那你别过来，让我自己给你……” 电话响了七下。猫跳下窗台，回头看电话，电话不再响了。猫又看见那只鸟，看着它在大雨中飞……那时，WR看见了诗人L的全部梦景。 “不，你别过来……你别动你别过来……”“你真觉得我很漂亮？哦，你别过来！哦——！”“哦哦……哦……我丑吗？”“你真美，真的不骗你……”“真的吗？”“你怎么了？干嘛哭？怎么了？”“就这样，那你就这样，搂紧我就这样，别动就这么搂紧我……哦，就这样就这样……”“把头发也散开，好吗？”“嗯。”“都散开。”“让我自己，不，你不会……”“你的头发真多，喔，这么密这么黑，喔……你真白，你这么白……”“搂紧我，哦搂紧我搂紧我，吻我……”“好吗？”“不知道……”“你不高兴？”“别问我，吻我，吻我别说话……” 门开了，那只猫推开门轻轻地走进来。 “喵呜——” “噢——！猫！” “去去！去，出去！” 猫着看他们，绕过他们，跳上窗台，从这儿看天上那只鸟。那只鸟还在盘旋，在雨中，或在雨之上，划一个很大很大的圆圈，穿云破雾地飞着。如果它不愿意离去，我想，在它下面，也许是南方。 “搂紧我，哦，搂紧我……”他们一同仰望那只白色的鸟。看它飞得很高，很慢，飞得很简单，很舒展，长长的双翅一起一落一起一落，飞得像时间一样均匀和悠久。我怀疑，这也许是南方。在南方，在那座古老的庭院里。曾经，母亲也是这样说的：“让我自己给你。”如今，女儿也是这样说：“让我自己好吗，让我自己给你。”一代代，可亲可爱的女人，都是这样说的。时间和空间无关紧要，因为她们，都是这样说的。雨，曾经是这样的雨。雨声，现在还是，这样的雨声。我有时祈盼那只鸟它盘桓不去它会飞下来，说这儿就是南方，说：这永远是南方，这样的时间就是南方，这样美丽的身体就是南方。 98 南方不是一种空间，甚至不是时间。南方，是一种情感。是一个女人，是所有离去、归来、和等待着的女人。她们知道北方的翘望，和团聚的路途有多么遥远。与生俱来的图景但是远隔千山万水，一旦团聚，便是南方了。 比如说Z的叔叔，画家Z五岁那年在北方老家见过他一回，在向日葵林里见他风尘仆仆地归来，又见他在向日葵环绕的一间小土屋里住过一阵。那时，正是北方的向日葵盛开的时节，漫天漫地葵花的香气中隐含着一个纤柔的名字，因此那便是南方。葵花的香气，风也似地在那个季节里片刻不息，灿烂而沉重，那个纤柔的名字蕴藏其中，那样的情感就是南方。 那时叔叔劝母亲，劝她不要总到南方去打听父亲的消息。母亲说：“你哥哥他肯定活着，他肯定活着他就肯定会回来。”母亲说：“他要是回来了，我怕他找不到我们。他要是托人来看看我们，我怕他不知道我们到哪儿去了。”很久很久，母亲流着泪说：“你有你忘不了的情，我也有我的，不是吗？”叔叔便低下头不再言语。叔叔低头不语，因为这时，叔叔也在南方了。 离开那间小土房，五岁的儿子问母亲：“叔叔他为什么一个人住在那儿？” 母亲说：“他曾经在那儿住过。” 穿过向旧葵林，回去的路上儿子问母亲：“叔叔他不是在等一个人吧？” “谁？你怎么知道，爷爷告诉你的？” “不是。爷爷他什么也不说。是我自己猜的。” “那你猜他在等谁？” “他在等婶婶吧？” 母亲叹一声，说：“不，不是。你的婶婶不是她。” 向日葵林走也走不尽，儿子问母亲：“那她是谁？” “她本来可以是你的婶婶。她本来应该是你的婶婶。” “那现在她是谁呢？” “呵，别问啦，她现在是别人的婶婶。” “那我见过她吗？” “见过，你看见过她。” “谁呢？” “别问啦。你见了她，你也不知道那就是她。” 无论她是谁，无论见没见过她，无论见了她是否能认出她，都并不妨碍那是南方。葵花的香气昼夜不息漫天飞扬，那个纤柔的名字如果也是这样，对于一个男人是无处不在无时不在，那么这个男人，他就是在南方。 99 但是WR惹下大祸，不得不到遥远荒僻的西北边陲去，在那儿度过他的青春年华。一切正像O的父亲所预感的那样，只是没想到来得这么快。“他将来，或者大有作为，或者嘛……”O的父亲现在更加相信是这样，如果眼前这个孩子，这个青年WR，他能从大灾大难中活过来的话，包括他的心，主要是他的心，他的诚实和锐气也能从这灾难中活过来的话。 WR把所借的书都还回来，一本一本插进书架。 O的父亲说：“你喜欢的，随便挑几本吧。” “不用了，他们不让带书。” “是吗，书也不让带？”' “不让自己带。需要看什么书，他们说，会统一发的。” 火车站上，少女O从早晨一直等到下午，才看见WR。从早晨一直到下午，她找遍了所有的站台，所有开出的列车的窗口她都看遍了，她不知道WR要去哪儿要乘哪趟车。WR也不知道，没人告诉他要去哪儿，只告诉他要多带些衣服，要带棉衣。从早晨到下午，太阳一会出来一会消失，疏疏落落的阳光斜照在墨绿色的车厢上。O终于看见WR排在一队人中间来了，一队人，每人背一个背包，由两个穿蓝制服的男人带领着走进站台。O冲他招手，他没看见。O跟着这一队人走到车头，又跟着这一队人走到车尾，她冲他把手，她看见WR看见了她，但WR不看她。一队人站住，重新排整齐。两个穿蓝制服的人开始讲话，但不说要去哪儿。另一条铁道上的火车喷放蒸气，非常响。O听不大清楚那两个人都讲了些什么，但听见他们没说这一队人最终要去哪儿。一团团白色的蒸气遮住那一队人。一团团蒸气非常白，非常响，飘过站台，散漫在错综交叉的铁轨上。 那一队人上了车，O从车窗上找到WR，悄悄对他说：“我爸爸说，如果可能，我们会给你寄书去。”然后她再想不起说什么。 火车就要开动时O才想起最要紧的话。 O说：“我们不会搬家。真的我们老住在那儿不会搬家，你听见了吗？” O说：“肯定，我们家肯定不会搬走。要是万一搬家我会告诉你的。万一要是搬家我肯定会提前把我们的新地址告诉你。” O说：“要是没法告诉你，嗯……那你就到我们现在住的地方去找我，我会在那儿的墙上留下我们的新地址，或者我把我们的新地址留给那儿的新房客。” O说：“要是那儿没人住了，要是那座房子拆了的话，那……那你就记住那块地方，我每个星期都会到那地方去看看的，你能记住那块地方吧？每个星期最后一天，对，周末，好吗？下午三点。” O说：“不过我想不会，我不会没法告诉你的。万一因为什么我没法告诉你的话那肯定每个星期六下午三点我准在那儿，记住了吗？要是我们搬了家又没法告诉你我们的新地址你就到我们现在的家那儿去找我，每个星期六，下午三点，我准在那儿。” O说：“三点，一直到七点，我都在那儿。” O说：“不过不会的，我们肯定不会搬家，要是非搬不可的话你放心，我肯定能把新地址告诉你……” 火车开了，WR离开这座城市，离开O，离开他在这座城市里的第一个朋友和最后一个朋友。但是他留给O的信上说；“……木过我不会把我的新地址告诉你。