Beast Press: Li Jingrui's "Survivor's Notes: Stranger in the Plague" written in 2017 touched me deeply. I reread it this morning and saw that it mentioned her novel "Northern Avenue".

"Our neighbor Wang Lixiong (when I first met Xiao Han, knowing that the author of "Sky Burial" and "Yellow Peril" lived downstairs used to make me feel extremely magical) said that during a certain "sensitive period" (" The definition of "sensitive period" is very vague, before and after the two sessions, early June, July 1, August 1, 11...every one month sensitive period, by the end, you can hardly find a "non-sensitive period" for two consecutive weeks), in the corridor The people in charge of watching him are all children in their early twenties. When asked, they are senior students of Public Security University. This is their "graduation internship". Lixiong talked with the children seriously, and said sadly: "For more than 20 years, Before, college students of the same age as you are shedding blood for China's struggle for freedom and democracy. Think about what you are doing? ! "Children are obedient and don't dare to answer, maybe they don't understand at all. After all, we know many students from first-class universities who have passed CET 4 and 6 early, but have never heard of June 4. I once had an editor in 1988. The little girl who was born is smart and beautiful and loves to read. She read my short story "Northern Avenue" based on the June 4th Movement and said she liked it very much, but she asked me why the male protagonist was imprisoned. This is a very sad and angry story. , Lixiong must have brought his own background music such as Tchaikovsky's "Sadness" when he told it, but for some reason, everyone who heard this story would laugh out loud."

1. The 2nd One-way Street • Bookstore Literary Award Young Writer of the Year - She is one of the most sensitive feelers in modern society. She manages language gently, accumulates strength bravely, and uses her own unique form to make a voice for the future. The most promising young writer in the contemporary era—the works have been translated into multiple languages and published, and the film and television adaptation rights of the works have been granted to the production company of well-known Hong Kong director Pang Haoxiang.

2. Following "Small Town Story", "May Your Road Be Long", "Small Town Girl" and "Tiny Destiny", the latest masterpiece of Ithaca's Li Jingrui - the spiritual corner under the sun - this is Li Jingrui's most satisfying work so far s work.

3. In the era of silence, life flows as usual, and individuals struggle to retrograde - the book contains eight gripping stories, asking from different perspectives the choices young people must make today: compromise with the world, or remain angry? Whether to be free or to be safe, entanglement and hesitation make people weak, and weak people are often swallowed up by the times. Li Jingrui's story is rich in layers: from politics to love, from the world to people's hearts, but the only thing in common is human weakness, struggle and hesitation.

Eight stories spanning time and space and running through family and love.

Telling how you, me, and him have galloped against the wind and against the current in the best of times and the worst of times.

"Northern Avenue" writes about a person who thought he had given up long ago, but unexpectedly discovered that there are some things in life that should never be given up.

"Yanjing Kite" is about a person who sees himself in the reflection of the same kind.

"AI" writes about a person who always cowardly chooses the best part to start when he should start with life.

"Lemon Dress" is about a person who escaped the punishment of the world, but there is no judgment of God, he just has a rare good luck.

"Shahe Rising Water" writes about a person who is neither good nor bad, he is just weak.

"Long Shadow of Coconut Tree" writes about a person who thinks that everyone has no choice like him. In fact, we always have a choice.

"Eternal Life" is about a person who doesn't want to get when he gets it, and finds that he can't lose it when he loses it.

"I Only Have These Four Nights with You" is written by one person, and at the end, I finally understand that even if all people form the Milky Way, we can still operate outside the universe on our own, and do not obey all the laws of celestial mechanics.

Li Jingrui, born in Zigong, Sichuan, graduated from the Department of Journalism of Nanjing University, worked as a legal reporter for eight years, and now writes professionally. The 2nd One-way Street • Bookstore Literary Award for Young Writer of the Year. He has published a collection of short stories "Small Town Stories", an essay collection "May Your Road Be Long", novels "Small Town Girl" and "Tiny Destiny".

"Northern Avenue" Preface: The Antonym of Times

Li Jingrui commented on Northern Avenue 2017-06-30 09:49:23

Antonym of era

This book was written from 2013 to 2016. For a few years, my life seemed peaceful, but in a hidden place, changes were quietly happening, and I tried to watch these changes, like trying to see clearly in a long-lasting haze. The vague outline of a monster, hence the book.

This does not mean that the stories in the book have convergent themes, there is no obvious connection between them, and the book is a mixture of politics and people's hearts ("Northern Avenue", "Long Shadow of the Coconut", "Eternal Life"), but also Completely pure emotional story ("You and I only have these four nights"), and some indefinable works ("Salt Well Kite", "Lemon Dress"). Because there are so many things I want to write about, from politics to love, from the world to the heart, the only thing in common is probably people's weakness, struggle, and hesitation, and sometimes in the face of power,

Sometimes it's about love.

The people in the book live in Beijing, Zigong, New York, and Tokyo, because these are the cities I am most familiar with in the past few years. I made up the characters, but I cannot blur the background, and the city itself seems to imply destiny. In 2015, I lived in Tokyo for three months. Tokyo is rigorous, determined, and orderly. Everyone lined up to cross the intersection and then lined up to take the subway escalator. This city may have secret impulses and confusion, but at least it seems from the surface. , it surrenders to a definite order, to established rules, like a person who has reached middle age and no longer wants to fight against something. At that time, I missed New York very much, the subway at night, the chaos of downtown, the whole city was flowing without direction, like the beginning of chaos, everything has not been named and finalized, like me when I was 30 years old.

It took about ten years for me to change from a literary young woman in the normal sense to who I am today. This transformation is not happy, but it is irrevocable, just like after the chaos began, God said, "Let there be light", So I know light and dark, and distinguish between good and evil. Eating the forbidden fruit means being banished from utopia, away from endless joy, which means sin, but also freedom, freedom makes me not want to reconcile with life, but determined to stay angry, determined not to go gently Into that good night, and rage against the passing of the light. Anger is not a graceful thing, and it doesn't seem to be suitable for middle age, but it confirms the existence of the self. I have read Dostoevsky's "The Inquisitor" repeatedly over the past few years. Schiller's "Wish": "There is no guarantee from heaven, but you have to trust your inner voice." I tried to find my inner voice, and I repeatedly asked myself: Do you want freedom or safety?

Freedom of course, even if it means a burden, an unknowable and turbulent future, as Hayek said in the Freedom Charter, "More importantly, we must also recognize that we may be Free, but at the same time it can be miserable. Freedom does not mean all good things, or even the absence of all evils or evil deeds.” This is the kind of story I want to write, wanting freedom, and Can't escape sorrow.

One thing is very strange. I am used to writing about weak human nature and vague emotions, but in the process of writing, I have acquired a certain courage that becomes clearer and clearer. This courage makes me determined to live more seriously, not only embracing literature, but also Caring about politics, working in vain for the values I believe in. This era probably has its hot themes, but I just want to stay aside and make a cold antonym.

Li Jingrui

March 29, 2017 in Beijing

There is also a Q&A with the editor.

You have been writing novels since you were a teenager. In the golden age of young writers, you were as famous as several writers who were regarded as spiritual corners by a generation (post-80s and 90s), but you did not follow that group of writers. Do you think there is any special motivation or opportunity here?

I seem to have answered this question many times. I started writing novels in junior high school, and the first one was published in "Youth Literature and Art". At that time, I had a little achievement, won awards, and had a lot of readers. In recent years, readers have been telling me that I remember a certain novel when I was young. Strangely enough, I myself completely forgot.

When I went to college, I suddenly got tired of the illusion of "becoming famous when I was young", and completely lost interest in the "youth literature" I could write at that time. For ten years, I was immersed in reading, falling in love, and working. A kind of life on the track, when I was twenty-seven, I suddenly got tired of the track again, so I quit my job, wrote, and slowly got the opportunity to write a column, and slowly I got the opportunity to publish a book, and slowly I got some readers again. In terms of writing, I have always been a very lucky person, with no special sense of struggle, no grievances, and even more than what I deserve.

Some of your early works are based on small town life, and some are read with personal experience, but in general, you will pay more attention to how individuals get along with their inner world, but in recent years everyone seems to be able to see Your writing direction is slowly changing (is the theme of writing becoming "heavy"?), can you briefly talk about this change?

I studied journalism, and after working, I have been reporting on the legal field. First, in Guangzhou, I went to the court every day for three years, and reported various very specific cases. Later, I went to Beijing to report on the Supreme Court, the Supreme Procuratorate, and the Ministry of Public Security. And the policy interpretation of the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection, I have been a reporter for the two sessions for many years. At that time, few colleagues in the newspaper office knew that I was a young literary and artistic youth. The discussions we discussed together were also current political topics. The Criminal Procedure Law will be revised again. What's the matter? Was the entire meeting at the detention center recorded and videotaped, and so on.

But outside of work, I read Dostoevsky and Rilke, watch a lot of boring European movies, and write lingering blogs. Like every young literary man, I have a lot of thoughts. I like that I can have multiple dimensions in myself, and there is no need to show my whole self to the same people, but writing is a draining job, and you will hardly spare every bit of your soul. These things will eventually be reflected in In the text, so I write about my hometown, about love, and about politics.

I did not deliberately be heavy, and I do not despise those subjects that seem to be "light". Lightness and weightiness are not a high-level judgment for me, but a writing technique. The subject is well articulated, he says "my method of work tends to involve weight loss".

I hope I can do the same, using very light language to write heavy propositions. Several articles in "Northern Avenue" are like this, at least I am working hard in this direction, but I also write very "light" emotional stories, For example, "I have only these four nights with you", I like this very much, this is the only pure love story I have ever written, because I sold the film and television copyright and made some money for me. When I wrote these stories, there was no difference in my heart. What ultimately reflects their value is their degree of completion. The subject matter is important, but how to complete them is always more important.

Many readers who have been following you since the early days will have the illusion that A Hua has gradually transformed from "literary and artistic youth" to "literary and art public knowledge" (is this an illusion?), how do you think about such an external gift to you? the label?

Part of this question has already been answered before. I have never been a pure literary and artistic youth, but in the past, my professional identity and private life were clearly demarcated, and my concern for public life was mainly reflected in my work manuscripts, but later I was no longer a reporter. These concerns and emotions needed an outlet, so There will be more speeches on Weibo. The emergence of Weibo has indeed encouraged many people like me to talk about current affairs more bravely. The public space is a square. When others speak, they will also speak to you invisibly. courage. Plus I'm married, my husband is a real public figure (although the term is now stigmatised) and he has a lot of influence on me too, on his recommendation I read more informative and Ideological works, a person's cognitive structure is like this, intellectual and ideological works shape bones, aesthetic works fill in flesh and blood, I used to have flesh and blood, but now I gradually grow bones.

But of course I am not a "public intellectual". This title requires serious intellectual support. I do not have this ability. I am just a person who has his own concern and understanding of public affairs.

Can you share with us your next writing plan? Will you keep writing novels? Is there any particular subject you would like to challenge?

In the foreseeable future, I will continue to write novels. Currently, I am writing a long novel on the theme of the Republic of China. There are already 120,000 words. I hope to finish it this year or the first half of next year. I never specifically want to challenge any subject matter. Writing is not about fighting. What matters is which subject matter touches me. This event is like an affair, you never know when and how the next time will be. This sense of uncertainty itself is part of the charm of writing.

The current living environment of the writer is a question that all people who "have a literary dream" have to consider. Many people admit that they are forced to write some "fast-moving" works with strong commercial meaning because of their livelihood. There are also many serious Authors in the fields of literature and news features have begun to turn to industries such as film and television creation, which are relatively more profitable in terms of economic returns. How do you view this phenomenon?

Part of this question has just been answered. I don't think there's anything wrong with writing romantic novels. I have anonymously serialized romance novels on the Internet, which are tens of thousands of words. Later, it became a pit not because I despised it, but because I felt that I was really bad at writing. A few days ago, I Curious to go to that page, there are readers urging updates, the editor is looking for me to contact me for publication, and I am also considering whether to continue writing.

As for scripts, many writers have been involved in the film and television industry in recent years, including myself. In addition to selling film and television copyrights, in the past six months, I have just completed a film script in cooperation with others. Of course, this event can make me earn Some money, but not entirely because of money, I'm just trying to find a balance between earning a living and hobbies, doing some work that doesn't go against my values and aesthetics. Of course, it will take up some time to write a novel, but sometimes it is strange that work makes you want to work more. In the past six months, I have finished writing this script of more than 40,000 words, revised three manuscripts, and advanced the long novel. After tens of thousands of words, I know that many writers of novels can't go back to novels after writing scripts (or anything that makes money), I hope I don't, but if it does, I can only Accept that life is like this, any choice, there is a price to pay.

Can you share with the readers about your daily work, writing and life status?

When an event is incorporated into the routine, there is nothing to describe. I deal with chores every morning, eat a very early lunch, and then start writing. All the thrill of writing can only be reflected in my heart. No matter what happens, I get up at five o'clock to make dinner anyway, and read or watch at night. Movies, I don't have the kind of ambition to write a masterpiece, I just want to keep working.

Many people will read author biographies and struggle with trivial matters such as what time of day to write, where to sit and write, but the ability of a writer is based on talent and heart, the writing process is not important at all, the work you come up with is the only important thing. Very ideal creative attitude, writing extremely bad works, there are actually many such things, and vice versa, many of Dostoevsky’s novels are to earn manuscript fees to pay gambling debts, and he has a long novel because it is too late to write or even dictate Yes, it seems to be "The Gambler", so what? He is still immortal.

Do you still have confidence in your present and future life?

A few years ago, a friend had a conversation with me and asked a similar question. My answer was similar to that of the year: I am insecure about my current life. Over the years, I watched a scene from Tarkovsky's "Ivan's Childhood": a blond child, a laughing mother, happy and joyful. Suddenly, the reels of the well turned wildly, and the mirror of the lake was shattered by a rumbling explosion: war.

That's the feeling, as if I were waiting for the explosion at any moment. Unlike a few years ago, waiting relieves the fear, and life itself breeds strength, and I'm not so scared anymore.

How is your relationship with Sichuan pepper?

I love peppercorns passionately, peppercorns love my husband passionately, and that's it, a very sad and sweet relationship. Being able to live with peppercorns is the best thing that has happened to me in the past few years. I have no children for now, but I think the emotions between humans and animals will be more wonderful than those between blood relatives, because the latter is actually God's Setting, the former is your free choice, freedom is always the best thing.

northern avenue

Release: 2016-9-22 16:55 | Author: Li Jingrui

1

It started raining at about six in the morning in New York, and although I slept darkly, I heard the sound of water clearly and unmistakably.

Lin Licheng dreamed that he was going to turn on the faucet, but he couldn't tighten it no matter what, there was a real anxiety in the dream, which made him sink gradually, fell all the way to a nightmare, and finally struggled to wake up. In the dark, he opened his eyes and looked at the dark again. He was used to it. Anyway, it wasn't this nightmare, it would be another one. In contrast, he was willing to turn a faucet that could never be tightened.

It was exactly 6:30 when he got up to go to the toilet. Lin Licheng found that he forgot to close the window, the sky was getting brighter, and a bird was standing on the desk, wet with wings, pecking at his last two slices of whole wheat bread. The bread was supposed to go in the fridge, but the fridge broke the other day. The things in the house broke down in batches, the lights in the toilet were always black, three of the four stoves couldn't get out of gas, and one leg of the sofa was lame. Adjust back to continue reading.

The landlord is a middle-aged man from Guangdong, and he is reluctant to pay for workers. When pressed by Lin Licheng, he will bring a toolbox by himself, beat and beat for a while, and sometimes the lights will be on for a few days. Lin Licheng stood on the side and looked at it, and also expressed his opinion weakly: "You can't do this, the landlords in the United States are all repairs... If you continue to do this, I will complain." In fact, he didn't know where to complain. He is a student of the Department of International Politics of Peking University without a graduation certificate. After coming to the United States, he has been a visiting scholar, Harvard, Yale, Columbia, the best university, the best scholarship. The furthest I went to Chicago, on a summer morning, I had sex with my girlfriend at the time on the edge of Lake Michigan. Two seagulls looked at them from a distance, murmured and expressed curiosity and doubts. Lin Licheng tried his best to concentrate, but he was still getting weaker. When he got down, he could only close the zipper. He forgot what the girlfriend looked like, but remembered that she held his hand tenderly and said, "It's okay, there's still time in the future." But they broke up quickly. After traveling more than half of the United States, he finally returned to New York, but he also opened the Chinese "World Daily" every day. Lin Licheng didn't live in New York, he just lived in Flushing.

The landlord quickly handed over two cigarettes, in Cantonese mixed with Mandarin: "Don't do this, it's not easy for everyone, I still owe the immigration lawyer 20,000 yuan, hire a worker, do nothing, and come to the door for 80 Hey, it's not easy for everyone... Come, have a cigarette, the soft China that my cousin brought from China." Before the cigarette was finished, Lin Licheng was already soft again, and he always softened too easily, so he went to The toilet still has to take a mobile phone. There is a flashlight in the APP, which illuminates the road ahead, and the strong light burns, making the shadows appear darker.

After going to the toilet, he woke up completely, and simply smoked a cigarette, a pack of fourteen yuan of hard Chinese. The bird was still there, a hole was pecked out of the bread, Lin Licheng blew out a smoke ring, and tried to make the smoke ring go through the hole in the bread. The bird stopped, tilted his head and watched the smoke ring gradually disperse. Lin Licheng suddenly recognized that it was an ordinary tern. His ex-girlfriend—probably just a woman—loved birds and dragged him to Central Park once, after sleeping maybe ten times. The two of them took Line 7 to Times Square, and then walked all the way north into the park. They took the slow train and swayed about an hour before they arrived. When they were halfway through, they started to get restless. They hadn't been out of Flushing for a long time. , Lin Licheng was terrified and just wanted to find a place to pee, as if he was a cat raised in Queens, the only way to demarcate the scope of activities. In the end, it was done at a McDonald's next to the AMC movie theater. Halfway through, a black man came in. Lin Licheng quickly put on his pants and went out, so all afternoon he felt that he was in an unfinished state. Several times the bathroom is still the same.

At the end of Fifth Avenue, Central Park smells of sour horse dung as usual, mixed with a wild onion fragrance often found in Flushing Korean restaurants. There were dirty red velvet seats on the carriage. Lin Licheng was worried that women wanted to ride in the carriage. He didn't want to pay the fifty dollars, and he didn't want to exist so blatantly in Upper Manhattan. There were many people he knew living near the park, brother. visiting scholars, students imagining the 1980s, and Americans who study China. Lin Licheng is worried about meeting them here, embarrassingly cold in front of the grass, fallen leaves and squirrels with big fluffy tails. There is a bright tenderness in Central Park, which makes it difficult to start the memories of the past, and apart from the past, Lin Licheng feels that he is with them Nothing to say, until now, he has nothing to say to anyone.

Fortunately, the woman just dragged him all the way to the lake, pointed to a bird on the ground and said, "See, it's a common tern, Common tern, and there is a type with dark circles called Canadian tern, Forster's tern. "Lin Licheng tried his best to express his interest. The tern was covered in snow white, with bright red sharp beaks and claws, and a dark feather on the top of his head. Lin Licheng thought that the color was good, like a sexy underwear, maybe a woman would look good in it. When making love, Lin Licheng likes to turn on the light and see the blue blood vessels under her pale skin and the light blue marks under her eye sockets. She may be closer to a Canadian tern. After a while, the tern flew away, and a few days later, the woman also left Flushing, and Lin Licheng didn't keep her. He liked to touch the woman's thigh repeatedly before going to bed at night, and he was willing to take her to the East Dynasty for a weekend meal. Seafood buffet, but he didn't know where else they could go. The two have been together for exactly three months, a relationship that is neither embarrassing nor regrettable.

Lin Licheng hasn't had sex for half a year. It snowed heavily in the days around the New Year's Eve. He turned on the heating to 72 degrees, and still woke up at three o'clock every night. His lower body was especially cold. On the third day of the Lunar New Year, he wanted to find a prostitute. It was a New Year's Day. He walked to Main Street for half an hour, and the small advertisements that were ubiquitous at ordinary times disappeared. It seemed that the industry was also on spring break. , a few short dragons jumped into the shop to ask for profit. In the end, he found nothing, so Lin Licheng had no choice but to eat a bowl of mutton stewed noodles in the downstairs of the New World Shopping Mall. He went home and continued to search on the Internet. He thought about it for a long time, but did not know what search keywords to use. I was about to give up, but I saw a small colorful advertisement in the crack of the door. It printed a big-breasted girl who couldn't see clearly. She wore a rose red three-dot style. Spanish. Sometimes Mexicans come over in Flushing, but it is said that they like fat and black Chinese women, not the snow-white girls in front of them. The phone number on the advertisement, Lin Licheng, didn't call in the end. That night, the snow stopped, and the temperature slowly went up. Sometimes when I woke up in the middle of the night, I would miss my very crisp body. Lin Licheng tried his best to recall the big breasts in the advertisement. The girl, her whole body turned pale, her pink nipples faintly exposed, and he did it himself. The small advertisement was not thrown away, but kept on the windowsill. He thought, there will be another cold winter.

Tonight, Lin Licheng is going to see Wang Lingwei. In the winter of senior year, they kissed under the Boya Tower. Their lips touched their lips. Lin Licheng didn't stick out his tongue. He thought, it doesn't matter, there is still time in the future. Shortly after the tern flew away, the rain gradually stopped, Lin Licheng hesitated for a few minutes, sat down and ate the slice of bread with a hole in the middle, it was slightly damp, but he had no other choice, this was the last bread. He saw the first yellow flowers bloom from the vitex under the window. Spring has come. This is another spring. It turns out that he always has no choice. It turns out that he and Wang Lingwei no longer have time.

2

Lin Licheng came to the United States in June 1990. His first stop was New York. After getting off the plane at JFK Airport, a group of students he didn't know came to pick him up, holding a large bouquet of flowers. The flowers were finally crushed, and the juice of the yellow daisies spilled on the placket of the white shirt. He kept the shirt until now, and the color has never been washed away. Lin Licheng doesn't like chrysanthemums. He always feels like he died on a summer night a year ago. Now he is being worshipped in turn. There is no word on the tombstone, and the tomb has been repaired in the United States. The streets of New York are full of gray and black pigeons. In Beijing, only in the evening, black birds fly all over the sky, making hoarse calls. If you look closely, they are all crows. That evening was exactly the same.

Everyone called him "hero". Lin Licheng was a little guilty at first, but he got used to it later. He stayed in prison for six months, and he didn't file a case. He was just locked up in a vague way. The food inside was not good. For a long time after he came out, Lin Licheng always felt hungry and ate a big bowl of braised pork noodles at twelve o'clock to sleep. Going down, he had to wake up hungry again at 5 o'clock. There was a biscuit bucket beside the bed. He took a book and rustled and ate two pieces before he could sleep for two hours. Only heavy food made him feel at ease. At the beginning, he was invited everywhere, and he was called "hero" many times at the wine table. He ate the whole roast goose and gained 30 pounds in three months, hiding under the soft fat. , Lin Licheng was happy. Later, the banquet slowly disappeared, and he lost weight. Now his weight is almost the same as 23 years ago. Lin Licheng didn't even have thinning hair, but was slightly gray. The photo taken at the door is no different from the present one at first glance. Only after careful inspection can we find his lost soul.

After returning to New York, he has been living in Flushing. The house is at the junction of Northern Avenue and 150th Street. In fact, it has already reached the Korean place. The smell of kimchi can be smelled two blocks away, and the yard is full of Chinese cabbage, like It was winter in the north, and sometimes he would be stunned and feel that he had returned to Beijing. He struggled to find a Chinese landlord. Lin Licheng didn't want to live too close to the Chinese, but he didn't dare to live too far. The house was on the third floor of a townhouse. He didn't want to go through the front door and meet the residents downstairs. Up and down, he has not met anyone around here once in three years. Lin Licheng hopes that when he meets someone, he is completely ready. Outside Flushing, he is always ready.

There is a tall linden tree outside the window. It is full of small white flowers in late spring. The fragrance of the flowers is a bit like jasmine from his hometown in Sichuan. Lin Licheng has never gone back. He was too lazy to go back and forth to the Chinese embassy several times, he didn't want to go to Manhattan at all, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to go back that much. The embassy is at the end of 42nd Street, facing the aircraft carrier. Lin Licheng didn't know it was called the Intrepid until last year. It was also told by the previous woman. Chinese women in New York seem to know everything, the Broadway musical, the Metropolis Special Exhibition, Scottish Cuisine on Forty-Second Street. Once, after having sex in the morning, a woman said while wearing underwear, "Let's go to the Intrepid this afternoon, shall we? There is a delicious Sichuan restaurant over there. The double-cooked pork is stir-fried with garlic sprouts and green and red peppers. Fresh Caitou." Lin Licheng smoked casually, and he casually ah ah ah for a few times, but in the end he still watched pirated movies at home and stayed in Flushing for dinner. Green and red peppers, where the kimchi has no fresh head. The woman didn't say anything. She went home after eating in a muffled voice and didn't continue to live. Lin Licheng only remembered later that she didn't know when she started to stop talking.

In fact, there is no shortage of women. In the first few years, students from China were very popular, and America was too calm, and stories of a little ups and downs became aphrodisiacs. As a visiting scholar at Harvard for a year, Lin Licheng had several opportunities. A Jewish woman in her thirties talked about Arendt in his room. After the talk, she never left, her lips were blushing. Talking about totalitarianism was like calling for a kiss. Lin Licheng struggled repeatedly, and finally sent her downstairs. The stairs were cramped and narrow. Lin Licheng walked behind and saw the red mole floating on her right breast. Of course, he regretted it, but at that time, he felt that he He couldn't be the same as others. He was a little confused about who "others" were. Later, the limelight of Chinese men passed, and men from Eastern Europe began to tell the story of the Berlin Wall and Charter 77. They were taller, had solid six-pack abs, and could read Rilke and Paul Celan in German. Poetry, a more violent aphrodisiac.

In the past 23 years, Lin Licheng almost got married once. At that time, he was in San Francisco. Someone got a fund from the US State Department and established a research institute. This was also the only two years when Lin Licheng actually had a job in the United States. After tax is 2,500, and the insurance is self-insured, he has never bought insurance. He has Banlangen from Flushing. When he feels hot, he flushes two packs.

Hu Minzhi is a graduate student in Berkeley, California. She forgot whether she majored in economics or management. When they were good, she was about to graduate, and her legs were tanned. Because she went to the nude beach, she took off her clothes, and even the bikini line had no color difference. Lin Licheng didn't know why Hu Minzhi was interested in him. He had no money and no future prospects. He was a man who still insisted on being pale in California for several years.

After graduation, Hu Minzhi didn't look for a house and moved into Lin Licheng's apartment. She paid to replace all the furniture with solid wood, bought a whole set of porcelain, brewed coffee every morning before going to work, fried two eggs, a coffee cup and porcelain There was a blue bird painted on the plate, and Lin Licheng indulged in the blue, but still wanted to struggle. One weekend they drove together to watch the seals on the La Jolla coast in San Diego. The sky was a frightening blue. Hu Minzhi wore a long blue sleeveless silk dress with no pattern and a white belt around his waist. Bronze flat sandals with a piece of blue glass on the vamp, the piece of glass on the wooden covered bridge has been reflecting light, the blue is overwhelming, Lin Licheng can't keep his eyes open, and almost asks for marriage. But the sky suddenly became cloudy, and he regained his eyesight and said, "Let's go, let's go to Los Angeles tonight, shall we live? It looks like it's going to rain."

After another six months, the research institution's money was finally spent, and Lin Licheng returned to New York. Hu Minzhi found a Chinese freight company to transport the whole set of furniture and put it in the room now. Every day, Lin Licheng pulled out the bronze handle to pick up the clothes, and did not always think of Hu Minzhi. The china set stayed in San Francisco, and she probably still made coffee and fried eggs every morning, or the blue bird. Lin Licheng sometimes thinks that maybe both of them feel fortunate.

3

The appointment was set at 6:30. It was a barbecue restaurant in Little Tokyo. The location was chosen by Wang Lingwei. She could walk over from the hotel. Lin Licheng is also willing to eat barbecue, there is really nothing to say, he can also lower his head and roast pork belly and fresh beef tongue for a while, the oil dripping on the charcoal fire sizzling, like a person who is trying to round up the field sitting on the edge. He went out at four o'clock, still took Line 7 to Times Square, still started to panic halfway, still went to McDonald's to go to the toilet as soon as he got off the subway. Originally, he was supposed to transfer to the R or N line to get to NYU, but Lin Licheng decided to walk there. It was less than 40 blocks away, and the ground was slightly puddled. Lin Licheng took care that his leather shoes and trousers were not splashed with mud. He dressed it up specially today. The gray suit was a Tommy suit. He bought it at a discount for Christmas one year. It was less than $300. He occasionally wore this suit and another navy blue CK suit for meetings. But the meeting Gradually less and less, I met the same few people back and forth, and said the same few words back and forth. When speaking, Lin Licheng always felt embarrassed. He hoped that all this would end soon. He could return to his home on Northern Avenue and put on the T-shirt he bought at Walgreens. Among them, the soul is not so abrupt.

He and Wang Lingwei met again on WeChat. A college classmate set up a group and pulled them all in. Dozens of people talked in the group without a word, but it was a mess. Lin Licheng rarely spoke, but he would talk to the group every day before going to bed. After reading all the news, some people were too lazy to type, so he listened to those voices over and over and turned on the phone to the loudest. The first sentence in private was voluntarily said by Wang Lingwei. It was just two lines: "Are you in New York now? I will have a meeting for a few days next month. Come out and meet if it is convenient."

Lin Licheng saw it at the time, but it took a long time to reply. It was time difference. It was midnight in Beijing: "Okay, my phone number is (917)-982-5982. You can contact me when you arrive."

In the intervening month, they did not send WeChat again. Lin Licheng will pick up her mobile phone at any time to confirm that Wang Lingwei has not posted anything in the group, and then click into her circle of friends repeatedly, and see that she first went to Shanghai, then Hangzhou, and finally came to the United States. He received a call the day before yesterday, Wang Lingwei's voice was a little hoarse like when she was in college, and she spoke very fast. Every sentence seemed to be in a hurry to say the next sentence, but after making an appointment, she suddenly slowed down and said: " I'll wear a blue trench coat, I'm afraid you won't recognize me when you walk in."

As soon as Wang Lingwei walked into the barbecue shop, Lin Licheng saw it. The blue windbreaker reached her ankles, with black stilettos underneath. She had to take off her shoes when eating barbecue. Lin Licheng accidentally saw her toes in black stockings, but her body did not react as expected. She still has an oval face, wears very light makeup, but wears bright red lipstick. Under the warm yellow light, her skin is slightly loose, and the color is a kind of bluish white. She is still a beauty. Wang Lingwei sat down without feeling unfamiliar at all, and said, "It's very windy in New York today. You see, my hair is messed up." It seems that they only went to Weiming Lake yesterday, and now they are eating chicken leg rice in the five cafeteria.

The dishes were served in the same way. Wang Lingwei ordered two beef livers, which had a fishy smell. Lin Licheng still ate the pork belly, wrapped it in lettuce and took a bite. He did not add garlic slices, although there was a safe enough distance between the two. The roasted beef liver gradually cooled down, and the mushrooms and sweet potato chips were still being turned over on the grill. He already knew that Wang Lingwei got divorced a few years ago, and now lives alone in Beijing, "Just over there at the old Lanqi camp, you Remember, it is next to the south gate of Tsinghua University, and the east gate of Peking University is not far away... Now there is a bookstore there, and the owner used to be from Peking University, which is similar to your experience. After entering for a while, he came out again."

Her ex-husband was a professor of science and engineering at Peking University. After the divorce, she left the house to her. After graduating from an undergraduate degree, Wang Lingwei studied a master's degree in law. Now she works as an in-house legal consultant for a foreign company and works in Wudaokou, "...you know how we do now. What about Wudaokou? The center of the universe." She took out her phone and showed him pictures of Wudaokou, the subway entrance during work hours, the long waiting crowd, and many people holding pancakes in their hands. Many years ago, outside the North Fourth Ring Road was a suburb. The two of them each rode a bicycle to Shuangyushu. There was a road. Poplars grew to the sky, and ginkgo leaves fell heart-shaped yellow leaves. They sat under the ginkgo tree and ate pancakes. Go on, thinking that the road leads to a certain future.

Lin Licheng didn't talk much. He had been waiting for Wang Lingwei to ask himself how he had been in the past 20 years. He was not panicking. Anyway, every time he saw people coming from China, he had to answer this question. Lin Licheng suspected that he had silently recited it. The correct answer is: "...I don't know, it's over anyway... I didn't make any money, of course... But I don't know why I didn't starve to death. If I really can't survive in the future, I'll go to China. Supermarkets drive trucks to deliver goods, and I learned such a skill in the United States. I heard that some supermarkets have medical insurance." Then he laughed and slammed a glass of cold beer. No one would continue to ask, a tacit pity slowly spread over the dinner table, Lin Licheng felt disgusted, the Chinese restaurant in New York was too heavy, the double-cooked pork was too salty to put chopsticks in the end, and even fried anchovies , also Wang in the oil.

But this time he said another unedited version. Maybe it was because the matcha cake that was served at the end had a pure taste, or maybe it was because her lipstick faded away after eating, and there was moisture on her face, it was the Wang Lingwei he knew: "...the first ten years were spent in various universities, you I know, people who came from China at that time could also apply for funds. Sometimes, for the same project, the school and outside institutions would give two copies of money, and I would try to save one of them. At that time, I knew that this kind of day It won't be long, I have to plan something.

Later, I really couldn’t apply for money. I originally wanted to study for a doctorate, but it took seven or eight years for a doctor of arts in the United States. I felt that I had more important things, so I kept hesitating and didn’t apply... Later, I learned that there was no, in fact, Where is there any important thing, I am not an important person... After that, I lost my mind and couldn't go to study anymore... Work? Most of the time, I don’t have a job, I have a name in various research institutions, sometimes relying on my savings, sometimes relying on a little money I don’t know where, to help people do something, anyway, I always feel like I can’t make it. At that time, I found myself struggling again... I have almost no savings. In the past few years, I have been editing an electronic magazine for an organization. They paid me very little, but they bought me insurance. You know, in the United States, as long as there is insurance , I didn't panic.

...No, you don't have to worry too much. I'm not too poor. The house I rent is in Flushing. It's a whole floor of a house with two bedrooms. The house is a bit old, but it's okay to live in such a big place in New York... I've never been nervous about eating. However, every year I can go shopping in Europe, sometimes I seize the opportunity to hold a meeting, and sometimes I buy a special ticket early. You've been to Venice, I think I want to die there, that city...that city is like me, sinking all the time. There was a Nobel Prize-winning poet, a Soviet man, who also lived in New York after exile, as if in the East Village, very close to here. He was buried in Venice after his death, and Susan Sontag said it was his ideal home, because Venice was nowhere.

Really don't worry about me, I haven't had a bad time, I just had it...not what I imagined before. But you said who lived as you imagined, and you don't necessarily think so? "

The bill came, $80 plus tax for two people, and he took out his credit card and wrote a 20% tip. Wang Lingwei is not like most people. After listening to the story, she rushed to pay the bill. She went to the bathroom, and when she came back, she had already filled up her lipstick and probably her powder. Lin Licheng missed her just a little bit, his face was slightly oily, and when he approached the barbecue, he could see the fine wrinkles on his forehead and the corners of his eyes, and he had nothing to say to Wang Lingwei, who was now impeccable.

Lin Licheng took Wang Lingwei to the hotel in SOHO. The rain had stopped. After walking for a while, he still knew that there was a lot of mud on his trousers. Lin Licheng was a little anxious. He had to go back early and take off his trousers and wipe them. Dollar. The emotions that were slowly roasted by the charcoal fire in the barbecue restaurant quickly disappeared within ten minutes. Wang Lingwei was walking by the side, and it was just a beautiful older woman walking by the side. Lin Licheng felt that the lights in Manhattan were too bright at night. , he wanted to go back to the dark North Avenue.

Walking downstairs of the hotel, Wang Lingwei suddenly said: "Why don't you go up and have a cup of tea, I brought some new tea this year, Lu'an Guapian."

4

At two o'clock in the morning, Wang Lingwei wrapped herself in the sheets to take a bath, and Lin Licheng took a sip of cold tea. Then he remembered that Wang Lingwei was from Anhui, and this was her hometown tea. In the past, he sent Wang Lingwei to the train station every year on vacation, and she always said: "Licheng, when will you come to my house? Let's go to the foot of Mount Huangshan and stay for two days... It's better in spring, we skip a week of class and catch up with rapeseed. When the flowers bloom, there are still rhododendrons on the mountain, and you can eat bamboo shoots at every meal.”

Shortly after they kissed, Lin Licheng promised to go back with her the following spring. Who knew that in early April, Wang Lingwei's father was seriously ill, and she hurried home to take care of her. When the first letter was sent to Beijing, Lin Licheng had already Almost live in the square. The letter was brought by a classmate. When I opened it, there were two lines of Haizi's poem. One was "You are half of my poem. I love half of it with my heart. Bury you with my body. No one can change a single word." "Sitting on the candlestick, I am a wreath, thinking about another wreath, I don't know when to lay it, I don't know how to place it." Before she went home, she knew that Haizi died in Shanhaiguan, and cried several times, Lin Licheng was in the dormitory building He hugged her and read the poem word by word: "Dusk is my hometown, you are a girl who grew up quietly in your hometown, you grew up in a quiet affection, and you have come to my heart without a sound."

It was at the end of March. Both of them were still wearing bulging cotton clothes. After holding it for a long time, Lin Licheng's hand began to move, trying to reach into the clothes, but he stopped when he entered the last cotton sweater. He still thought, There is still time later. Lin Licheng remembered that he almost held Wang Lingwei's breast through the cotton sweater. It was not big, but extremely soft. When he was inside, Lin Licheng couldn't help but stretch out his right hand into the void when he thought of that feeling.

After seeing the letter, Lin Licheng felt ominous. He didn't reply to Wang Lingwei immediately, the square became more and more chaotic, and then he forgot about it. He didn't find it until he changed his prison uniform when he entered the prison, and found it in the inner pocket of his jacket. A sheet of paper is deeply creased. After he was released from prison, he put the letter into a copy of "The Summit" and brought it to the United States from China, but he never opened it again. Shortly after handing the letter to Wang Lingwei, she slowly came over. The heating in the hotel might be 75 degrees. She was only wearing a thin white silk shirt with a smoky gray one-step skirt underneath, and her breasts were rubbing against the edges. The extremely soft touch of Lin Licheng's arm returned. Lin Licheng wanted to explain that he didn't bring this letter out to sleep with Wang Lingwei, but he was a little worried, maybe it was the last night, maybe they wouldn't have time anymore. He finally chose to pull down the skirt. The skirt was too narrow, almost stuck between the thighs. It was Wang Lingwei who let it fall on the blue carpet.

Sex is not intense, but there is a long lingering. After the end, they talked in bed for an hour. This hour was like cutting off the 20-odd years and directly pasting it on the spring of the senior year with today's tape. At that time, they were planning to stay in Beijing together, and then split up. a house.

Wang Lingwei said, I can come to New York to study LLM for one year, and take a BAR in New York State. It doesn’t matter if I fail the test, I have some savings, and the blue flag camp house is worth at least one million US dollars, enough for us to live in New Jersey or Connecticut. Money is never really an issue, you say right?

Lin Licheng said, I have nothing, but I have never thought about getting married in the past few years. If you really think about it, we will go to the New York City Hall to register tomorrow. We'll go shopping on Fifth Avenue in the morning and buy a small ring. Is Tiffany good? If it's just a ring, I can still afford it.

They kissed for a while. Someone outside the window smashed the wine bottle. Wang Lingwei said, "Can we open a bottle of wine too? I just bought two bottles of good wine and wanted to take it home."

So he opened a bottle of Piont Noir, and Wang Lingwei went to the bathroom to wash a box of strawberries, fed a huge, extremely red one into his mouth, and said, "Look, if you would go back to your hometown with me back then, we would all be together. Forget it... what's the point of your 20 years, it's all wasted."

Lin Licheng was clearly holding the red wine glass, and he didn't know how to slowly float up. He saw that he threw the glass against the wall, and the glass shattered into thousands of pieces. The blood-colored liquid gradually seeped into the wall, but the blood would coagulate faster. Even in June in Beijing, it was a sweltering late night. He saw himself open the door and walk out of the hotel again, spitting out the half of the strawberry that was spinning around in his mouth. Knowing that the imprint of the pool can never be erased.

Lin Licheng returned to Northern Avenue at four in the morning. He picked up the small advertisement from the window sill, and more than an hour later, an Anhui girl was lying in her arms, her little body was very crisp, and he felt that the fifty dollars was really worth it.