Chapter 8 Part 1 This is how we once learned love story

The first part of this is how we once learned love story (1) Tan's story Heroes: I went to the special education to stay up late tonight. I didn't see you when I came to see you. I wanted to see you before I left. tomorrow, okay?Submitted the picture and we went to have lunch together.If you want, come to the dormitory to find me at noon, because I'm afraid I'm sleeping. Are you going to study by yourself tonight?If you want to find me, take the elevator to the 7th floor in the main building, then take the stairs to the 8th floor, turn right, then turn left, the classroom at the end is our special teaching.My seat is the third in the middle row.You can see me painting watercolors as soon as you walk in.

miss you.I want to see you, but I'm afraid you don't want to see me. If you miss me, come find me.It doesn't matter if you don't come, it's up to you. Well, time is running out, I'm leaving. Miss you, kiss you. Don't come to the college to look for me, sleep well, be good. Nineteen-year-old boy Qin put the note in an envelope. There was a battered intercom phone on the window sill, and a battered notebook for men who visited.Nineteen-year-old Tan put the envelope next to them. The concierge from a certain county in Hebei proudly looked down on the 19-year-old male sophomore in the Department of Architecture.She has good reasons for her pride: she is one of the two important concierges in the reception room of the girls' building of a nationally renowned key university, and she is in charge of the daily life, letters, love affairs and lovers of the 850 Marie Curies in the building with ease. Last moment to say goodnight.

Qin, a nineteen-year-old boy from the south, was full of blood, but when he asked the concierge to page the first-year girl from the Department of Physics who lived in Room 240, his attitude was always very humble. I think Tan, a boy from the south, loves that naughty girl whom he calls a hero. He might also have considered marrying her. Although this may be just my wishful thinking, it may be true, or it may be a forgotten fact. Every nineteen-year-old boy once mistakenly thought that he could marry his beloved woman, and every freshman girl once naively believed that he could have the love of an infatuated man.Many years later, when I took out this yellowed note from an old envelope, I was still as excited as the freshman girl from the Department of Physics who lived on the second floor of the girls' building.

We cannot second-guess the past, even though we are calm and the dust has settled.We also know that waiting is never to get again.Waiting is as futile as hopeless love. The nickname Daxia is a bit inappropriate for a short southern girl.Generally speaking, they will be called Tingting, Lulu or Xiaojia by their lovers.However, Tan seems to like this title very much. He uses it repeatedly in his letters, and he only uses it in his letters.He never calls me by my name, neither do I.Our names are only used by others to identify us. We consciously or unconsciously avoided names.It may be because of fear and fear of making mistakes; it may also be because of reluctance.The name is blunt, unfamiliar, and full of compulsion.Tan once waited for me in front of a girl's building, but I didn't see him, I just hurried past a girl side by side.So he called my name several times.His voice was unfamiliar when he called my name, as if he was not calling me but a stranger, as if a stranger was calling another stranger.He hurried towards me in the twilight, uncharacteristically calm and calm.I saw the surprise and sadness on his face, and saw the faint sunlight leaking from the gaps in the leaves behind him.From then on, I began to gradually understand that although this young man who was full of doubts, melancholy and sadness was my only relationship in this strange northern city, he was still far away from my life in the end.

From the summer when I was sixteen, I began to correspond with Qin, a freshman in the Department of Architecture of the University in the far north, and carefully deceived the dedicated teachers and parents.Until we study in the same university, this habit is still maintained, although our dormitory buildings are not far from each other.We still seal the letter carefully and drop it in the same mailbox at the intersection—the very intersection you see every day as you pass by.When I went to post letters at night, the street lamps made the shadows thinner and longer, and the sorrows and joys of our youth were thinner and longer.

Everything is solemn, just like playing house.During those days, it was like a fish spitting out bubbles one after another in transparent water, rising slowly and silently, and bursting one by one on the water surface, making a subtle crackling sound. After Qin left, no one called me a hero. Every girl in love goes through a certain moment, and that one was mine.The sudden parting damaged my valuable logical thinking when I was young, as well as the ability to judge the truth of things.For a long time, I have been repeatedly hearing a sound of cracking silk in April.I'm starting to forget, forgetting everyone I've ever known.I left this northern city without getting my degree certificate.I shuttled back and forth between the cities on the land of my motherland, wasting my time and being penniless.I eventually learned to be patient and wait, and to be a woman.This woman is not called a hero, she has her own name, and together with her name, she lives and works in this not-so-optimistic world.When people call this name, she will turn her head and smile, but there will be no surprise or sadness on her face.

I shuttled back and forth in the city with the letter Tan wrote to me.I lost those letters.I know that I have begun to age, because I have begun to put on the blue cheongsam and try to remember the past. I can't remember his name or what he looked like.The last thing I can remember is his body. The first part of this is how we once learned love story (2) Yes, body.Those dim little memories, his unclothed body.Nineteen-year-old Qin's body is thin, sensitive, and suspicious, and the years have made it stiff and cold.In the room, it wasn't our room either, it was his brother's bachelor dorm who had just graduated, and we'd never been able to have a room of our own.During the winter vacation, we returned to the south together, back to the southern city where we met for the first time.I zipped through that city on a bicycle, past the crowds and the scent of sugar cane in the twilight.You must have never seen a girl who rides a bicycle faster than me, I said to him with a smile.Qin stretched out his hand to me.He helped me take off my jeans and sky blue sweater, and his, so I could see his body.That was the first time I saw Tan without clothes, and it was also the last time.Shockingly, it's thin.We start to feel overwhelmed.I've never touched Tan's body, never.That's why I ended up memorizing only his body, simply because I never got to know and understand it.Finally Tan put on all the clothes for me, and I heard his urgent and sad whisper: You say, you are mine, you say.

I am his—sorrowful and secret accomplice.The grove of the campus, the corner of the teaching building, the empty drawing classroom, the benches by the lake, the bushes behind the main building, the side entrance of the gymnasium, the corner of the stairs, the grandstand in the playground, the single bed in the male dormitory, In all the dark and hidden corners, even during the day when everyone is taking a nap, Tan's hand always slips into my tight jeans involuntarily, and I have never been able to stop him.We were so young and old, so pure and so indulgent, so obsessed with a game between child and man.How did Qin know about this game?Is Qin aware of my body?Why does he know how to make it happy but not comfort its sorrow?I don't know, and at the same time I can't describe desire.I knew it, it rose slowly from within the body, it was so close to death that I thought they were the same.Algebraically, they can be expressed concisely as:

A=B or: X=Y Later, I was obsessed with making up Fengyue novels, like a sallow and emaciated child who develops the bad habit of sucking his fingers.Back then I was thin, stunted, and still a preppy young woman who didn't know what to do.The days are like a conspiracy, wasted uselessly in the secret conversations of girls, in the dark and noisy corridors, in the silent walking of a half-year-old female cat.When I wake up in the morning, my heart is always empty and scared. I lie on the bed, and I don’t know why I am so scared.Stomach empty and want to vomit.So I got up, washed, and changed the clothes I took off yesterday, but I couldn't help being afraid.I went to the old library that Tan and I loved together, and sat there. I saw the dull and unfamiliar faces of engineering students, and there were many couples who took the postgraduate entrance examination and the postgraduate entrance examination. I used to think they were very big, but now Again I think they are too small.How pure they are, and in the university everyone is always pure without exception.There will always be all kinds of beautiful girls on campus concocting clean and innocent stories, which are warm, romantic, well-written and full of aura.But I am tired of this kind of innocent life. Among them, I always have a shame of pretending to be fake and pretending to be fake.I made up stories about Fengyue not without malice but almost out of shame. I always thought this way: Turn this page, and Tan will disappear from now on.In all the words, even if there is a small gap, there will be no him.I will never need him again, ever.

Every fall, I start writing Fengyue novels.I write and write as if I were sick. I walked in the autumn sun, like a fish, for a long, long time.In this recessionary time, I was always penniless and wandering around.No one cares about us—workers, peasants, intellectuals, and homeless people, and they don't care about each other.I should have lovers.A devout Christian whom I happened to meet once solemnly exhorted me to live a chaste life.I stared at him in amazement, for I had never known him before, and he was so presumptuous.Then you will be more beautiful, he said.I don't want beauty, I laughed and threw a piece of vegetarian pie in his face as a kind gift from him into the trash can of the subway, which made him very angry.What right do they have to direct my life?I don't need teaching, I am self-conscious.Now that I have promised myself to wait, it means that my total loyalty to my illusory lover at the age of nineteen is as firm as the belief instilled in us by our teachers when we were young.The reason why I want to live a chaste life is because I am hypocritical. I am more hypocritical than others, and I prefer this drama-like spiritual setting, but I absolutely refuse to admit the love as a woman and the innocence and pain derived from it. desire.The hypocrisy of the 19-year-old boy Qin's touch, the hypocrisy of the words in the letter, and the hypocrisy of time's understatement, they are all hypocritical, because they have always been just imagination, and have never really existed.I'm utterly enamored of the word "enter"—you'll find it in feminist writing: it doesn't just refer to an erotic situation, but more to suggest a meaningful religious ritual.Because "entering" directly stabs not only the deepest flesh, but also hurts your very secret heart that has to be opened without reservation.

This kind of life hurts, I know it.So I decided that if I could love a stranger again, after years of silence and waiting, if I still had the courage and the kindness to love a stranger, I would ask for sex with him.I will definitely call out his name.I definitely will. fish story Let me read your Fengyue novel, Yu said. I'm walking in a city and someone will call me from behind.When I looked back, they said sorry, sorry, it was too similar. They say I'm like a fish.At first I thought they meant a scaly, icy creature that lived in water, but then I learned that there is a fish that walks on land.When I saw the fish later, I realized that we were not alike.In fact we are far apart.I am plump and beautiful, while the fish is thin and plain.I don't understand why they would admit the wrong person. The fish always visit in the middle of the night; the origin of the fish is unknown; when the fish puts on bright red lipstick in front of the mirror, it looks like a prostitute.We lie on the big bed.The room was very dark, a kind of empty black.We are afraid of the dark and do not yearn for the light.A fish is a poet, and a fish may be the best poet at the end of this century.A Beijing ruffian once told a joke: There are many people on the streets of Beijing, one next to each other.Suddenly a strong wind blew up, and ten people fell down.When the ten men got up, they found that they knew each other, because they were either poets or prostitutes.This joke is very funny, I died laughing at that time, Yu said it was just that I couldn't imitate what the Beijinger said at that time, otherwise you would die laughing. Perhaps it was just a coincidence that the fish happened to be both a poet and a prostitute. We all know that whore is not a nice word.The girls in the university go out dressed up in fancy clothes, and when they come back late at night, they proudly wear men's shirts that are obviously too large, and write sweetly in their diaries: Fengyue, how can I compare with the snow tonight?They are not whores, fish are.A prostitute can be defined as: A woman who exchanges her flesh for money.Fish traded her flesh for money, and she only wanted money.So she is. There are also beautiful prostitutes, in the legends of Tang Dynasty, and on the singing boats of the Qinhuai River.Have you heard the story of the whore and the lemon?The woman just joyfully comforts her lover with her body every day.She always cut lemons into small slices and rubbed the juice on her body and hair.Her lover, with his head buried in her hair, would say, I dreamed of a grove of lemons.Her lover is poor, but she still loves him very much.Later he got rich and left her.She has new lovers, but they are all poor.They leave her one by one.And she still loves them, and still cuts lemons into slices and puts them on her body and hair.As her lover buried his head in her hair, he would say that he dreamed of a grove of lemons. The first part of this is how we once learned love story (3) This story was not written by me, but by Yasunari Kawabata.I can't speak well, he tells the story beautifully, he doesn't even use the word whore. It has to be money, or it's not.If you are determined to be a prostitute, you must be dedicated.Yu carefully rummaged through every pocket of a young man's clothes. When she lowered her head, she revealed her beautiful white neck.Fish turned out a one-yuan note and two dimes.The man took off an old watch, the fish pushed it away, and said flatly, only money, nothing else.It was snowing outside, and the penniless man walked on the snow for two hours, and his feet were frozen when he got home.He could never understand why the fish could be so cruel, she looked so small. The snake was frozen in the snow. The farmer saw it and put the snake in his arms.The snake woke up and bit the farmer, who died when he got home. So, a man is like a snake, don't pay attention to him when he is hurt, otherwise he will warm up and bite you to death. What stories are you telling, a girl in the next room asked innocently, sticking her head out. We are telling the story of the farmer and the snake.Fish smiled. Xiaolong, an unknown painter who fell into the capital city, travel-stained and ragged, he said he was looking for fish, and he had been looking for her for a long time.He told me the story of the fish, or rather, another legend about the mermaid. I returned very late that night, and the street was deserted.That area is very remote, and there are few cars passing by.The street lights are dark all the way, and I always feel that someone is following me.Finally I couldn't help turning my head, and saw a little gray person through the fog.She is wearing a thick cotton coat, but she is so small, you always feel that you can put her in your pocket and take her away.It was "poured snow" that day, that is, when it was about to warm up in winter, the weather suddenly turned cold again.There was a little snow in the air, and she wasn't wearing a scarf, so I could see her face.She looked at me and said: I am a fish. It was three o'clock in the morning and I took her back to my house.There was no heat in the house, so I plugged in the electric stove.She curled up next to the electric stove, shivering.Then she took off the big thick shoes, revealing a pair of small feet.She continued to take off her cotton-padded clothes, and lay quietly on the bed, her long hair falling softly on her thin shoulders.I walked to the bed and saw her eyes were big and bright, as if filled with water, but they were too hollow to see anything.When I undressed her, she was meek, not struggling or trying to help me.Her body is small, like a fish, silver. I'm a virgin, she whispered.She has a strong girly smell about her. You should give me money, she said innocently, hearing that they can earn three hundred dollars a night. I said, they earn more than three hundred yuan a night, besides, I have no money, and I have not paid rent for three months. It doesn't matter, she said softly, after you earn money, give it to me. That's how I got to know Yu, but Yu insists that's not the case.It's like this, she said, one day I was walking in the village, I was walking like a fish, suddenly a man came from another path, when I walked by him he said hello, I ignored him.He said hello again, so I turned around and smiled sweetly. In this way, Yu met Xiaolong.How does the fish know that he is smiling so sweetly?In fact, I am not a dragon.But the fish called me Xiaolong, so I am Xiaolong.Yu also misremembered the time, she remembered it as autumn, when the little golden wild flowers in Yuanmingyuan Village bloomed without hesitation.She said she had never seen so many flowers, so much waste.She hugged her arms full of flowers, and brought them back to the dark and damp little bungalow, where someone was practicing the piano, and there was half a steamed bun left in the basin—there was only steamed buns that year, and she had to endure the police from time to time. harassment.Fish only remember autumn.She remembered everything that happened in autumn, or rather, she attributed everything to autumn. The fish came five times in total.I remember it so clearly because every time she came there was a strong smell on her, and every time she left, a swarm of yellow butterflies flew into the house and landed on everything the fish touched, and every time I It takes a lot of effort to get these beautiful and ugly creatures out of the window.The last time she turned around and said, I'm leaving.She put it lightly.It occurred to me later that she had never said that before.She did smile a little sweetly, and that smile made such an impression on me that I was strong enough to go to her later.She never came back after that.I didn't notice anything unusual at first, because the fish appeared and disappeared without any regularity.It wasn't until a long time later that I realized that she was really gone. I started to want to find her.You know, at the bottom of a city like this, when you're really connected to someone, you care a lot about her presence.Then I actually went to find the fish.After searching for a thousand and one nights, I began to suspect that this person did not exist.She is what I imagined and does not exist.Those nights, then, were unreal.The thought is hopeless. Later, I finally found her, in a bar called "Hunting Gate", where it is said that there is a female singer who turns the station.I went in and saw a girl singing on a dim stage.She kept her head down, her long hair was hanging down, and her face was not very clear.She was wearing a long dress of water red, which was dragged to the ground - water red is a very delicate and fragile color.She sang a song on stage: i am fish fish in dragon's room Actually you never saw my body In fact it is as beautiful as the soul I went up and whispered her name in her ear: fish. Still without looking up, she said: I am not a fish. She gently lifted her water-red dress and said: Look, I am not her. It was empty under her skirt.She has no legs. There is only one kind of person without legs in this world, and that is the mermaid living in the deep sea.All mermaids can sing, and they all believe that only when they fall in love with someone who only loves her, and who loves her more than his parents, can she share his soul when they are united. .This soul was not diminished by being distributed to her.More importantly, after the annihilation of the body, the soul is still immortal. We all know that sad fairy tale since childhood.I don't understand why adults are so frenzied and must tell such sad stories to children.What for?Is it heaven?I knew from a young age that heaven is not as good as a piece of rock candy that you can buy for 5 cents.The mermaid threw the knife into the sea and it turned into sea foam.It is well known that the mermaid did not kill the princess from a faraway land and let the bright red blood splash on her beautiful legs, so she had to die. It was me, I killed her.The fish clamped down on the little white teeth. I've always wanted to kill her, ever since I was a kid.I can't let her take mine; I can't let her lie naked on my lover's bed; I can't let her long hair fall over her white breast.I always watch them at night.No one knows that my sorrow is deeper and larger than the sea in which I live. I killed her.One day he went out, and I killed her while he was away from her.I've been thinking about this for a long time.I went into their room and walked towards her calmly.She was a little suspicious, but I wouldn't give her a chance.I took out the knife I had hidden under my clothes and killed her like that.She bled a lot.At this time, many little yellow butterflies flew from nowhere, and they have been following me ever since. I should tell her why she must die, but I didn't want to talk at that time, I don't know if she knew that I was the mermaid who had to die in the fairy tale book.I just don't want the book ending anymore.I watched her blood flow out slowly, so much, how amazing - we mermaids don't have blood. The first part of this is how we once learned love story (4) The police quickly and efficiently surrounded the house where the fish lived.Everyone looked at the fish in amazement, she was still singing indifferently while holding the piano.The fish went out surrounded by the police, and a large group of small yellow butterflies flew over, so everyone hurriedly chased them out.The group of butterflies fluttered silently and lingered for a long time. Fish was heard whispering to a young policeman: where are we going? They went to a white operating room.There the police acted as doctors, and they amputated Fish's legs because she had killed a man.Killing must be punished, so they sawed off the fish's legs.The fish is lying naked on the pale operating table, she has no legs, she is as quiet as a mermaid, she can no longer make love and dance with humans.At that time, Yu understood that everything was like a prophecy, and she was doomed to escape. For the first time, she felt that she would die soon.Fish are actually afraid of death. This is the story of the mermaid, Xiaolong said, I am still looking for her, I hope you can tell me where she is. The story you told is very nice, I said coldly, but unfortunately I don’t have the fish you mentioned here.First, the fish I know have legs; second, the fish are always weaving scarves, how can they not wear scarves on winter nights? I have her portrait, Xiaolong still didn't give up, carefully took out a roll of paper from his pocket. It was a crude oil painting.The girl in the painting has an ordinary appearance, but her eyes are beautiful, moist, like water.But I never met her. I breathed a sigh of relief and said, she is not a fish. Have you seen fish lately?Xiaolong asked. I said no, she often comes to spend the night with me, but I can't tell when. How long has it been since you saw her?He stared at me questioningly. I just remembered that the fish hadn't been here for a long time, and the fish seemed to leave without saying goodbye one day.I even forgot how long she was gone, it seemed like yesterday, and it seemed like a long time ago. You haven't seen fish in a long time, have you?Xiaolong said, in fact, you have forgotten what she looks like. If I hadn't painted her portrait early on, I would have forgotten what she looked like.There seems to be a kind of magic power in the fish, so that you can never remember her appearance, you just remember that she seems to be one of many ordinary girls on the street. I have no words.The fish disappeared, so where did she go?I really can't remember what the fish looked like.I suddenly had a very ominous premonition: the fish might disappear forever. The fish may be dead, Xiaolong said. Fish are such people.She seemed to die at any time, and she had an indelible breath of death on her body. Xiaolong, don't look for her anymore, I finally said. fish story I had a boyfriend, the fish said to me once. Really, he promised me to be his girlfriend.The fish made a quick, a little anxious voice, for fear that I would not believe it. Yu has a plain face like a girl's. She is too ordinary and inconspicuous, so no boys have ever chased her.But one day Yu suddenly made a boyfriend.They walked side by side in the street, which is a more prosperous part of the city.Fish lived in this city for many years.She looked at the colorful street lamps and signs, crowds, cars, clean and bright storefronts, and many people walking around.Yu was very moved when she saw this kind of bustling. She said that she hadn't seen such a street for a long time.The boy answered the sentence obediently, I can accompany you every day in the future.The fish took a deep look at him and lowered his head.After the bloodshed, the screams and the shame, the fish was still moved a little bit by this little bit of warmth.Fish need such sweet, sweet words during these long, lonely days.She didn't say anything, but her silence gave the boy a great chance, he put his arms around the fish's shoulders logically, and then slowly slid down to his waist.Yu became cautious, like a little girl falling in love for the first time.They were about to pass under an overpass when a double-decker bus whizzed by with its headlights on.The boy pulled the fish hard, and the fish fell lightly into his arms.She was a little unsteady on her feet, so she had no choice but to hug the boy's waist, like a little girl who didn't know anything, and hugged her tightly.So all the people on the bus saw the boy and the girl under the overpass tightly hugging each other through the window.What a loving couple, they said to themselves.This is a little bit of warm scenery in this dry and cold city: the ordinary-looking girl Yu is held in the arms of a boy, avoiding the boy's burning lips in panic. The fish heard the boy's panting, and also had a kind of childish smug chuckle.In the fish's room, he leaned over and hugged the fish tightly with one hand, and with the other, he put his other hand through his sleeve and took hold of the fish's breast.The breasts of the fish are not big, but they are beautiful, full of fullness and softness in the hand.This is the most beautiful thing about you, the boy told the fish.The fish's eyes had been praised before, but this time it was her breasts.Yu lowered her head and remained silent. She was actually quite satisfied with this kind of praise—it was a kind of progress.As a woman, Yu's beauty is condensed in the two most unnoticed places: one is her eyes and the other is her breasts. I can't.It's a disease, the doctor said.Girls will always have all kinds of diseases, I just can't.The boy held the fish's face pityingly. At this moment, he felt that the fish was beautiful, pure and perfect.Fish sighed.Her demeanor and demeanor were girlish, but she knew it wasn't, she just couldn't change that face and that habit.Yu Yu has not aged obviously in this city sprinkled with mature catalysts, but she clearly knows that youth and passion are leaving her quickly, and the strange beauty on her face now will be just a flash in the pan, just like dying. The reflection of the man. I don't like dewy lovers, I don't like love overnight, I don't like it, and I don't want to.Fish said slowly. That is a lie.In the infinite flow of time, I carefully pondered this self-proclaimed statement. I don't like it, and I don't want to, but it is still a lie.I was always hesitant to speak, hesitating and telling lies.I've always been like this, I've always been lying, lying to myself, endlessly, on and on. The first part of this is how we once learned love story (5) I am a singer, a poet, a woman, silent, surly, paranoid, frigid.But this is what I imagined, maybe, it is not the case.The truth is, I don't sing, I don't write poetry, and I'm certainly not frigid.I don't know, the fish shook his head blankly, I don't know what I am.No place, no direction, no definition, just wandering, wandering endlessly. I like this.The boy I accidentally met on the street, in the dark, so close to me, didn't touch me at all. I can't see anything.so dark. Where are you? I'm next to you, he said.His voice is right next to my ear, and the breath of his breath gently touches my tangled hair.I know that he is very close to me, but I don't know that he is so close, almost close to me, his body is so soft, so that the distance between two people can reach infinitesimal like mathematics.I can't believe he's really that close to me.As soon as I stretched out my hand, I touched his face. It was very thin, with raised cheeks, just like a Tibetan.I thought, it's real, he's really next to me, clinging to my back.In such a cold night, I can't feel the warmth of his body. I stretched out my hand, touched his face lightly, and then retracted quickly.I'm grateful for the thought that he'll be with me through the night. So I said softly, that's great. Fish, you are tired, take a rest. Fish smiled.Such a beautiful smile.But fish don't know that they are beautiful. I was always alone in such a dark bar, singing, singing non-stop.He came to me.He came out of nowhere.He sat there in silence, for several nights in a row, he sat there, looking away, absent-minded.On the last night, after I finished singing, at the door of the bar, I said, I'm going back.He said nothing, and we each went back in opposite directions.The street was deserted, the lights miserably shrouded in mist.I turned around and followed him silently.He glanced back at me.He doesn't speak, like he knows I'm going to catch him sooner or later. That night, like friends we have known for many years, we walked side by side in silence.We walked through large and small deserted streets, closed shops, wheat fields, bridges, wind, dust, and gas stations lit all night. Where else can I go, the night is already so deep. I would rather go back with a stranger. The small one-story house in the wilderness squatted alone on the side of the road, like an abandoned repair station.The house is full of debris.This is my drum, my violin is mine, my bass is not mine.He stood in the middle of the room, speaking clearly. I love how he says the word: mine. He sat on the wet ground, drinking alone.Have you read a lot of books?He said. I said, a little. Have you seen Rimbaud? Seen. Ever seen Allen Ginsberg? Seen. Have you seen The Catcher in the Rye? Seen. Well, you've read all the books I've read. He pulled out the light.I've only read those three books, he said. There is no light, no sound, darkness is free and comfortable.Occasionally, a night car whizzed by, and the dark shadows of the doors, windows and trees passed quickly, and then nothing was seen.I love the way the shadows run across the floor in the house, I murmured.What?What do you like?He said. He stretched out his long arms and held me in his arms.He unbuttoned my jacket, I resisted lightly, but he still unbuttoned them one by one.Ah, come, little girl, he calls me in the dark, full of infinite tenderness and life. I curled up in his arms like a ewe sheep.My dewy lover, with long fingers.We all have long hair and it's hard to tell who's whose.He is innocent, mature, kind, evil, gentle and meticulous yet cold and strong.He should have many lovers.Many years later, groups of foreign women surrounded this handsome Chinese musician.However, it will be dawn in a few hours, and I will leave when it is dawn. I curled up, curled up small.I am very satisfied with my body, which is warm, plump and light.Fleeting years have damaged my face, but failed to damage my body.I am still like those young girls, going in and out of various places, pretending to be as innocent and kind as they are.When I walked from the dark room to the sunlight, I suddenly found that my body had matured to the point that I was surprised, like a pear fruit that no one picked on the tree, falling heavily, exuding a kind of fragrance before the fall.When I hug tightly this little lover who belongs to me for only one night, it is like hugging a child that has been cherished for many years.What was it that sent me to him?This irrelevant person. Are you asleep?His voice came.I seem to have fallen asleep and woke up again, listening to him speak, slowly, with a low voice, and the sound of his little teeth grinding.Sometimes I wake up and he's asleep, sometimes he's awake. He woke me up suddenly.He calls another girl by name.Let's make love, he said.No, I said, I can't.why why?我别开脸，说，不知道，我不知道为什么，我只是不想和你的那些女孩子一样。和我做爱吧，他带着哭腔说。他说这辈子他只爱咪咪一个人，他十五岁就和她在昏暗的电影院里做爱，她什么时候都想和他做爱。但是她死了，他哭着说，我的咪咪，她死了，她是吸毒死的，她死的时候，才十九岁。我带她去做堕胎手术，我不能和她一起进去。我在外面，看到那个门里面蒸汽弥漫。我听到她的尖叫：啊——不是——不是—— 他趴在地上，脸冲着地，哭了。 每个人爱上水中倒影，以为爱上别人。 天亮了，我想，要不要告诉他，我跟每一个男人过夜，都要收钱的。 那天早上，我只好沿着旧路回去了。走着走着，人就多起来，店也开门了，就跟平常一样。我再也没有去过那个地方。 我攥住了鱼的手，我说，鱼你睡吧，你真的累了。 第一部分我们曾经这样学会爱情风月故事（6） 我的故事 许多年前，我二十岁，对着一台二手486，反复听着一盘DOORS卡带，坚持不懈、迂回不停地写我的风月小说。我热爱DOORS和Jim Morrison。摇滚乐手和诗人。贵族，神，和来自古代的冰冷雕像，英俊、冷酷、纵欲、吸毒，死前痴肥、丑陋，却仍然被人爱戴。鱼很久没有来了。背着琴，如一只夜行的蝴蝶，穿过京城冷清的夜街，在陌生男人的房间里过夜，无声走路的鱼。她在京城的各个酒吧里唱歌，赖以谋生。 鱼是真正的歌手。她穿一条水红色的裙子，披着长发，宛如无法生还的溺水者，恍惚、冷漠、绝望。她的身体不是她的，灵魂也不是她的。有一次我远远地听她唱歌，灯光打在她身上，但仍不能照亮她模糊的面容。她的声音如此单薄，尖利，无所依托。我禁不住泪流满面，这就是鱼了。 你为什么如此衷情于风月小说？ 因为我不是你。我不是诗人，也不是歌手，我只是一个怯懦的女人，需要安慰和打发心中的恐惧。鱼，我非将死之人，我还要打发我手中剩下的时日。 这似乎永远不会写完了。 让我看看你的风月小说，鱼说。告诉我，你究竟想描述什么。 抚慰。我想写的是，抚慰。抚摸并且得到安慰，抚摸因而得到安慰。 谁给你安慰，鱼？ 鱼不说话，缓缓褪去衣服，露出双乳。水，给我水，洗涤身体和乳房。 late at night.灯光昏暗。电话铃突然响了起来，我抓起话筒。电话的那一边寂然无声。那种寂静来自遥远的黑暗深处，时光无法企及。 鱼，是你吗？ 仍然无声。 鱼，我知道是你。 电话断了。 我紧紧地攥着话筒，指尖冰凉，生疼。 我知道，鱼是真的死了。 Jim Morrison在黑暗中独自歌唱着诗歌。pain. 疼，覃说。 I know. 下雪了。那是我来北京后的第一场雪，我从未见过雪。下雪的那天是星期五，早上有一大节音乐课。那天讲的是瓦格纳。偌大的阶梯教室，人很少，瓦格纳生僻的鬼魂在猩红色的帘幕间穿来穿去。从窗帘的缝隙里，可以看到雪一直在下着，不停地，下着。 下雪了，我就不想上晚自习了。我在雪地里跳着走，单脚，双脚。覃过来扶我，我趁势在他手上用力咬了一口。 疼，他说。 我笑了笑，我不咬你你也会疼的。 雪把四周映得很亮。我清清楚楚地看见那个叫覃的十九岁少年哭了，他的泪就在初雪之后无声地下来。我不由得低下头笑了。那天晚上，我相信了少年覃的眼泪。那天晚上，我顺从地跟在他的后面，踩着他的影子，跟他回去了。 覃没有见过鱼，鱼也没有见过覃。鱼来时覃已经走了很久，覃在时鱼远远未到，他们永不相见。我与他们永不相见。除非，死亡。 在回家的路上，我突然看到了多年没见的覃。他向我迎面而来，仿佛十六岁那年夏天的邂逅。他神色漠然，行色匆匆，显然已经认不出我来。难道这个城市已经让我面目全非了吗？我们擦肩而过。我的心，像被刀子划过一样，轻快而冰冷。 然而有人在身后叫我。我回头看见了覃，他向我走来，他终于认出我了。他脸上是我熟悉的南方男孩的忧郁。 他说，鱼，我终于找到你了。 我绝望地说，我不是鱼。 你是鱼，他说。他的脸上绽放着快乐的光彩，你是我深爱多年的女子。 不，我不是鱼。你爱的不是鱼，你爱的是我！it's me!你不记得了吗？从来没有过什么鱼，她死了，她死了！ 我大声哭起来。啊，我再不能忍受了，我必须离开，我必须离开。我跑了起来，尖叫着： 她死了——她死了—— 一辆庞大的卡车向我呼啸而来。在那一瞬间我再次想到蝴蝶死去的方式，像梦魇一样在流年中反复出现的无数小黄蝴蝶向我迎面扑来，我清晰地感到生命和激情正在飞快地离开我尚且美丽丰满的身体。我感到死亡很近，比幸福更近。我年轻时曾经梦见过死神，他身着黑袍，双目失明，其实不堪一击。他那时跪在地上，掩面而泣，责备我为什么不肯让他们死去。现在没有人爱我了，他挺身逼近，神情冷漠而傲然，使我感到深深恐惧。