英译汉和汉译英翻译实践报告

目录 ....................................................................................................................................... i 第一部分 英译汉 A Red Sweater翻译实践报告 ..........................................................................1 第二部分 英译汉 参考文献 ...........................................................................................................5 第三部分 汉译英《华威先生》翻译实践报告 .............................................................................6 第四部分 汉译英 参考文献 ...........................................................................................................9 附录 .................................................................................................................................................10

1、英译汉原文 A Red Sweater ..................................................................................... 10 2、英译汉译文《红毛衣》 .......................................................................................... 17 3、汉译英原文《华威先生》 ....................................................................................... 24 4、汉译英译文Mr Hua Wei ......................................................................................... 29

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A Red Sweater翻译实践报告

A Report on Translation of A Red Sweater

摘要: 在华裔美国文学中，小说家伍慧明的这部《红毛衣》深受众多读者的喜爱，

作者通过描写一个家庭中两代人不同的经历，展示了在美国社会中，华人是如何努力争取实现自己的梦想。作者以独特的角度观察和描写两代人的相同与不同之处，展现美籍华人的心路历程。该报告基于笔者A Red Sweater的翻译实践，旨在通过提出自己在翻译中遇到的困难及该注意的方面，对其翻译中的问题的处理进行了描述，最后得出一些译文的反思与总结，对原文有了更好的理解的同时进一步地提升自己的译文。

关键词：年轻的一代；年老的一代；美籍华人；美国文化

Abstract: In Chinese American literature, A Red Sweater written by the novelist Wu

Huimin is popular with readers. The translator shows how Chinese strive to realize their dreams in American society by describing the different experiences of two generations in a family. The translator observes and describes the similarities and differences between the two generations from a unique perspective, and shows the psychological course of Chinese Americans. Based on this translation practice, the report aims to describe the solutions in her translation by proposing the difficulties and she encountered and the aspects she should pay attention to. At last, the translator draws some reflections and summaries of her translation, so as to has a better understanding of the original text and further improve his own translation.

Key words: The younger generation, the older generation, Chinese Americans, American culture,

1.任务的描述

本次翻译的实践内容是一篇英译中的短片小说A Red Sweater《红毛衣》，1一共3860个字符。故事主要描述的是一个美籍华人家庭的生活状态。两姐妹在唐人街的餐馆见面，谈论父母、她们自己以及过去的生活。聊到家常时，妹妹想到自己堕胎之事父母的不理解，同时又回忆起父母对自己的爱。通过本次的翻译实践，针对实践中遇到的翻译问题给出案例分析，阐述自己的处理方式，探讨更好的解决方案，进一步完善自己的译文。

2.译前准备

2.1 作者简介

伍慧明(Fae Myenne Ng)是美国新生代作家群的代表人物，她于1956年出生于旧金山的唐人街，是典型的第二代移民。大学毕业后，她利用业余时间完成了处女作 《骨》。《骨》发表于1993年， 此书不仅获得了福克纳小说奖提名，还被收录到 “手 推 车 奖 文 选 ”。 处女作小说《骨》获得巨大成功，A Red Sweater中也出现了“骨”这个意像。她的母亲在A Red Sweater中，每次都要吮孩子们吃剩的鸽子“骨”，“骨”反映了父母这一代移民在美国生活的艰辛。伍慧明这一代美国移民的孩子，亲眼见证了中国移民在美国社会被边缘化，难以进入美国主流社会，却仍然努力实现梦想的现状。 2008年，她又出版了第二篇小说《望岩》，这部小说也是受到国内外评论者和读者的赞誉，荣获了美国的图书大奖。

2.2 文本分析

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小说的篇幅较短，对话形式占主导，情节简洁，人物集中。整篇文章的基调，笔者认为是忧郁的。这种基调与作家本人的生活经历有着紧密的关系。作者在文章中的字里行间是有体现的。比如，谈到自己的父母认为自己未婚先孕堕胎的事，她在原文中用到这样的句子来形容自己的感受“They made me feel like dirt, that I was a disgrace.”由此，译者也能深刻地感受到原作者的情感。

3.译中

在动笔者翻译之前，笔者通读了全文，感觉原作者应该是一位华裔作家，因为从整体的用词方面，语言结构一直延生到一些思维上的问题，在某种程度上，显得有点贴近中国人表达英文的感觉，没有特别的欧化语言。可能还是受到母语的影响，使得文章的整体语言通俗易懂，靠近中文目标读者的接受思维和阅读模式。通读了全文但是对原文内容有多处不太理解，直到查阅了作者及小说创作背景后，才慢慢领会到原文的真正含义。以下就是笔者就其自身在翻译中所需注意的方面及所遇翻译问题的处理进行详细的描述。

在翻译的过程中，译者需要注意的两大的方面：1.视角的问题；2.情节的问题。首先是叙述视角的问题。简单的说，“叙述视角”是“指叙述时观察故事的角度”。也可以说，叙述视角其实就是指如何讲故事。按人称可以分为第一人称、第二人称、第三人称叙述视视角；按视域范围程度，又有全知型、参与者型、旁观者型、听众型等几种。本文主要是以第一人称和第三人称交叉来叙述。作者是这个故事的参与者她以第一人称来叙述故事。比如文中第四段，讲到家里的情况，家里是三个女孩子，生来生去，都是女儿。这个按中国的标准来看，有点晦气。作者在文章开头就开始大篇章的使用第一人称来叙述，所以译者在翻译的过程中要多加注意译文的遣词造句和感情色彩以及所要传达的信息的完整。比如

“Now, I try to make up for it, but the folks still won’t see me, but I try to keep in touch with them through Lisa. ” 在翻译的过程中不仅要揣摩作者的态度同时也要有篇章意识。因为这里为什么作者先表达出一种无奈之感，这是跟前后文的内容有关系。上文讲述了家里的情况，大姐至今未嫁，二姐早年纵身跳楼致死，当时家里整个状态是支离破碎的，作者却选择了离开，于是现在想好好的弥补整个家，但是家人都不接受，作者只能通过姐姐莉莎来了解家人。这里就不能直译，要结合上文的背景知识，注意用词得当，以及表达的内容要完整。所有我就处理成“现在，我试图努力去弥补过去，但家人仍不愿见我，我只好通过姐姐莉莎来了解他们的情况。”

以第一人称叙事的角度，在某种程度上作者自己对父母的态度也是显然易见的。比如文中有一段的叙述是关于大姐有份好工作的，然而父母的举止行为。“They tell everybody, “Yes, our Number One makes good pay, but that’s not even counting the discount. ”我译成“他们见到谁都说一下，我们大女儿的工作很好，工资待遇都不错，外加津贴。”短短的三句话就把中国传统父母的那种“好面子”的性格特点展现的活灵活现。这里的作者态度笔者推测不是抱怨，厌恶，只是为了凸显他们的人物性格。在文中后部分的时候我也读到了作者对父母从小给予她们的那种“爱”，通过回忆的方式与前文对父母的看法形成一个对比。其实，我们大多数的人对于父母的爱都是又爱又恨，恨的是他们有时候的不理解，爱的是他们全心全意地照顾我们。尤其是后面作者谈到鸽子肉的时候，对母亲自己舍不得

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吃这么好的食材，把最好的都留给我们-------这种母爱的称赞（感动）。

文中作者在对话中也用“她，”的称呼来叙述故事，这里主要是针对姐姐莉莎与作者吃饭时的面部表情以及动作的描写。比如“Her lips make a contorting line; her face looks sour.”这里肯定不能生硬地译成“她的嘴唇在做一条控制线”，这显然不对。这里就要翻译就要做到具体化，嘴唇怎么能控制呢，只能将它的画面感跟现实中的情景联系起来，具体到一我们常见的动作上去。于是，我就将其处理成“姐姐抿了抿嘴唇，”后面的“sour”也不能直译要意译，所以在这里我就译成“没精打采的”，或者“脸色不太好”等之类的意思，使之更符合目标读者的用语习惯。

其次是情节。情节不是原事态的经历，而是使经历转化到话语叙述形态之中。情节的范畴可以大到谋篇布局的宏观组织，也可以小到单个句子的微观调整。把握小说话语，尤其是句子话语层面上的情节因素，这点很重要。同一个信息可以有种叙述方式，但每种叙述方式所产生的阅读效应是不相同的。比如，“We laugh. It makes us feel like children again”，这里不能直译成这件事让我们感觉我们还是小孩”，要考虑到整个文章的内容，这句话在这里指的是《我爱露西》这个电视让我们仿佛又回到了童年这个意思，像这种类型的例子文中还有很多很多。

另外，在这次翻译的过程中，对于一些小词的处理笔者也是花费了心思。比如，formica, Bok chog, well-bed等等这些词。我是通过将原文放在维基百科礼查询其大意之后，再将原文放在百度度图片里加一些范畴词进去一起搜索得出的参考译文。比如，bok chog它就是我们中国人经常吃的卷心菜，大白菜；然后well-bed不是什么挂在墙壁上的床，它指的是床。formica也是，指的是一种抗热的塑料贴面板。 还有酒牌子的翻译，比如文中出现多次的Johnny Walker. 尊尼获加（英语：Johnnie Walker）又译翰尼·沃克，是世界著名的苏格兰威士忌品牌；Seagrams7 ，它是加拿大的一种威士忌酒——西格伦姆斯。 在文中，出现频率也是很高的“Mah and Deh”，通过快速阅读该文章时候我就有意识注意到了这里其实不是指哪两个人，其实就是指的是母亲和父亲。英文里是没有这两个单词的，这里是指作者对家人的一种称呼。

除此之外，文中有两处是笔者觉得比较难措词的地方 (1)another who-cares-where (2)Hung toh-vee-foo-won-tun 前者我结合前后文的意思，我就处理成了远走高飞或者是毅然离开的意思。作者的母亲在小说里将三姐妹分了类，笔者根据文章意思推断就是指的原作者当时离开了家这个意思；而后者的处理，笔者暂时没有想到更为合适的措词，既能紧贴故事内容，又能符合对话的语言风格。

最后一点，小说A Red Sweater名字的翻译 ，正常情况下我们都是译成一件红色的毛衣。但是中英文的差异，就好像我们之前在文学翻译课上做过一篇萧红《当铺》的翻译，在中文中，我们没有冠词的概念，但是在英文中它就很重视这点。我们当时翻译《当铺》的时候，直接是译成“Pawnshop”，这是不对的，应该译成“The Pawnshop”才对。同样道理，在这篇小说中，我们应该把名字译成“红毛衣”比较符合小说的文本特点，名字听起来，主题明确富有故事性。

4.译后反思

翻译完此次任务后，笔者又重新倒回来看自己的译文，发现要想将这篇小说的内容

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理解正确的前提就是得了解作者的背景及小说的写作背景，才能对原文的理解更加透彻，而不是拿着翻译材料就开始翻。这类小说，不仅仅是翻译字面上的意思，还要注意小说的写作背景和作者的思想情感等等。总的来说，我觉得翻译真的是一门让人时而绝望时而又充满希望的艺术。每经历过一次实践，都会有很大的收获和感悟。像英译汉小说这种题材的翻译，对英文原文的准确理解是翻译的第一步。形象地说，这一步就像是“踩点”，一定要踩得准、踩得到位，只有这样才能为下一步转换成中文打好基础。第二步就是用地道的中文表达原文的含义。这对译者的中文功底是一个十足的考验，尤其是小说这样的文学作品翻译。译者平时除了大量的翻译实践练习之之外，还应反复地思考和总结自己的翻译，课余的时间还需进行课外阅读，学会多积累一些用词素材，这样才有可能提高自己的翻译能力。俗话说，翻译能力非聚沙成塔、集腋成裘之功，不能成矣！我深信，日复一日，只要译者秉持初心、奋斗不息，定能厚积薄发。

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参考文献

[1]尚必武.创新意识与经典重读——评《叙事、文体与潜文本——重读英美经典短篇小说》[J].当代外语研究,2012(09):75-76.

[2]黄海军.叙事视角下的翻译研究[J].外语与外语教学,2008(07):56-59.

[3]黄立波.基于双语平行语料库的翻译文体学探讨——以《骆驼祥子》两个英译本中人称代词主语和叙事视角转换为例[J].中国外语,2011,8(06):100-106.

[4]何其莘，仲伟合. 高级文学翻译[M]. 北京：外语教学与研究出版社, 2009, 331. [5]李虹.叙事视角下的翻译识解[J].外国语文,2015,31(02):127-132.

[6]唐娇莲. 《雪国》中心理活动的汉译考察——结合叙事学和文学文体学[D].贵州大学,2015.

[7]温秀颖,聂影影.叙事学视角下人物话语表达方式翻译研究——以《金瓶梅》两个英译本为例[J].天津外国语大学学报,2015,22(05):23-27.

[8]夏云.叙事虚构小说视角的文体学研究[D].曲阜师范大学,2001.

[9]张德明. 《藻海无边》的身份意识与叙事策略.[J].外国文学研究，2006，（3）:77-83. [10],杨艳.叙事学视阈下文学翻译的译者主体性——以《一切不可能的事》翻译为例[J].翻译论坛,2017(02):27-31. 网站搜索引擎：维基百科 百度图库

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《华威先生》翻译实践报告

A Report on Translation of Mr Hua Wei

摘要：中国现代著名作家张天翼的短篇小说《华威先生》，写于抗日时期，当时前方战事紧张，而后方的华威先生，也在天天忙碌着为抗战做“贡献“，他只不过是想把各个组织的权利抓到手罢了，作者巧用漫画式、夸张、以及对比写作的手法，刻画了一个自命不凡的官僚形象，同时也讽刺了当时的顽固派。该报告基于笔者《华威先生》的翻译实践，旨在通过提出自己在翻译中遇到的困难及该注意的方面，对其翻译中的问题的处理进行了描述，最后得出一些心得体会，为笔者下一次翻译此类型题材打下基础。 关键词：《华威先生》、抗战时期、漫画式

Abstract: Mr. Hua Wei, a short story written by Zhang Tianyi, a famous modern Chinese writer, was written during the Anti-Japanese War. At that time, the war ahead was tense, while Mr. Hua Wei in the rear was busy making \"contributions\" to the war. He just wanted to seize the rights of various organizations. The author used caricature, exaggeration and comparative writing to portray a pretentious and bureaucratic Kuomintang image and satirize the Kuomintang’s die-hards. Based on the translation practice of \"Mr. Hua Wei\ the report aims to describe the problems in his translation by proposing the difficulties she encountered in translation and the aspects she should pay attention to. Finally, some experiences are obtained, which will lay a foundation for her to translate this type of theme next time. Key words: Mr. Hua Wei, Caricature, Anti-Japanese War

1.任务的描述

本次翻译的实践内容是一篇中译英的短片小说《华威先生》 Mr.Hua Wei，共有44080个字符，其中包含了小说前上面出现的一小段有关作者简介的翻译。这篇小说是作家张天翼于1938年发表的一篇短篇小说。作者主要通过对华威先生匆匆忙忙以相同的方式，相同的发言，出席各种各样的会议，对各种组织进行所谓的“领导”的描写，讽刺了只对和控制抗日工作的“领导”感兴趣，而对加强和促进抗日的实际工作不感兴趣的政客。同时，小说也满腔热情地写出了与这种“领导”相对应的人民群众的抗日要求与力量。通过本次的翻译实践，针对实践中遇到的翻译问题给出案例分析，阐述自己的处理方式，最后得出一些心得体会，为自己下一次翻译此类型题材打下基础。

2.译前准备

2.1 作者简介

张天翼，原名元定，祖籍湖南湘乡，出生于南京。中国著名的现代小说家和作家、文学家、儿童文学作家。他善用轻松明快的笔调，讽刺与幽默的手法暴露和讽刺生活中的庸俗、可笑和罪恶。是左联时期涌现出来的现实主义讽作家。代表作有《大林与小林》、《宝葫芦的秘密》等。《华威先生》发表于1938年4月16日。 2.2 文本分析

我们一般在阅读小说的时候都会发现，故事有开端、发展、高潮等等，但是这篇小说最大的特点就是没有这些完整的故事情节。甚至是连华威先生的年龄、籍贯、生平都不曾

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交代。尽管如此，我还是能够在阅读后活生生地捕捉到他典型性格特征。这就是我不得不称赞的“漫画式写作手法”也可以称它为“漫画式人物速写”。作者以漫画家的夸张手法，粗线条地勾勒出几幅富有讽刺意味的典型人物活动剪影，凸现人物的本质。就比如作者写了华威先生赴了三个会和为两个会居然没有邀请他而大发其火的场面。总共就五个小小的人生片段，就像漫画家东涂一笔，西抹一下，一个官僚型的文化人的形象便奇迹般构成了。

3.译中

以下就是笔者就其自身在翻译中所需注意的方面及所遇翻译问题的处理进行详细的描述。

3.1作品名的翻译

首先是作者简介里的作品名的翻译。像这种涉及到很专业性的翻译，一般不能直接凭着自己的感觉直译，必须去查实这些书名的对应英文名字，这是作为译者最基本的职业素质。比如像文中出现的长篇小所《鬼土日记》，不能直接译成Diary of Ghost Land. 虽然我在网上查了半天也没查来这本书的英文版的书籍名字或者是有关的英文版的介绍，但我后来使用CNKI翻译助手来查找，找到了这本书名的相关权威例子，所以我译成The Diary of Hall. 除了这种搜素方法以外，我还用一些卖书的网站找到相对应时期该书出版的英文版的书名。比如儿童文学作品《宝葫芦的秘密》，我在一个名叫 “孔夫子”的而搜卖书网站上找着了这本书的英文版。但我发现有好几个不同的英译本，我是以作者创作这本书的时间为据，选了其种年代相符合的一本，译文名字为The magic gourd，从表面上看，书名中并没有包含“秘密”这个词，猜想译者肯定是经过仔细品读后就其故事的内容而得出这个书名的翻译。说到书名的翻译，对于本次小说书名《华威先生》的翻译处理，我一开始边看边翻译的时候暂时把它翻译成Mr Hua Wei, 当我把把小说内容全部翻译完时，我突然就想能不能翻译成 The Contradictory Mr Hua Wei, 这只是我自己个人的一个想法。因为阅读完整个故事，给我留下最深刻的印象就是他是个很矛盾的，说的是一套做的却又是另一套所以我在尝试能不能从故事内容或者是人物性格等方面上对小说书名的翻译进行近一步地完善。这样做的目的还是为了引起读者的兴趣。假设猜想读者读到这样一个名字，他（她）肯定就会事先猜想为什么说这个华威是个矛盾的人呢？他怎么矛盾了呢？这样就可以引出下文。

3.2词汇层面

3.2.1三大类词

① 个别词的意译 ②象声词 ③量词 ④专有名词 第一种对于个别的翻译，我采用了意译的翻译方法。比如文中开头处出现的“交涉”，仔细品读小说之后你会发现这的交涉并不是说华威先生与作者相互协商以便对某事得出来解决办法，就不能直接翻译成negotiation之类的；相反，我认为就只是指跟作者谈谈，说了一说自己的想法这种程度。所以我就只用了‘talk’这个词。比如，紧接着出现的“畅畅快快”，我将其理解成“畅所欲言”的意思，即痛痛快快地说出想说的话，大胆地交流。所以我将其意译成‘talk quite naturally’；又比如文中的“要是上面没有一个领导中心，往往要弄得不可收拾”，这里的“不可收拾”，我理解为如果没有人来领导的话，那么这项工作就不能完成，或者是就不能有效地完成这项任务。所以我意译为‘finish work effectively’. 第二种，文中出现了 一

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小部分的象声词，比如：“叮当”，译成‘ting’; “哇啦哇啦”，译成‘speaking loudly’； 第三种数词的处理。“抽了两口雪茄”，“两口烟”这里出现的两口，在文中还不止两次。我没有直接翻译成‘twice’,而是前者处理成‘smoking a while’，后者处理成‘puffed twice’. 第四种有关专有名词的翻译。小说中出现的一些有关会议或组织的名字，都应该经过网上核实才行。比如：“工人抗战工作协会”，“通俗文艺研究会”，“文化界抗敌总会”等等，这些会议的名字都不应随意按照字面翻译，许得上网查找有关会议的官方介绍。

3.3句子层面

比如文中的“我的意见很简单，只有两点，”他舔舔嘴唇。“第一点，就是——每个工作人员不能够怠工。而是相反，要加紧工作。”这里，我采用的合并法，我把主要意思表达出即可。并怠工的意思就是要抓紧时间工作，所以我就处理成‘My idea is simple with the following two points. He licked his lips. First, every employee must work hard.’ 又比如文中的“你能不能够对我担保——你们会内没有汉奸，没有不良分子？ 你能不能担保——你们以后工作不至于错误，不至于怠工？你能不能担保，你能不能？”这属于典型的排比句，我在翻译的时候并没有用提取公因式的翻译方法来翻译，而是采取了尊重原文的形式。连用上排比，把华威先生的人物形象特征形象地呈现出。

此外，我觉得在做这次翻译实践的过程中还应值得注意的是“时态”的问题。文中有很多的对话、场景和人物动作的描写，有的地方用一般现在时，有的地方用将来时等这些都要视具体的内容而定。还有就是背景知识的注释，因为从传播学和目的论角度来说，作为译者我们是将自己国家的文学著作传入到外国去，对于很多涉及到历史文化背景的东西外国友人不是很了解，所以译后我在 写翻译报告的时候才想到这个问题。

4.译后反思

虽说我们做笔译的工作，重点是放在翻译上面，但是通过这次的翻译实践我倒学会了不少有关小说写作手法方面的理论知识，这也是为了更好地理解原文的意思，掌握说话人的情感世界和意图，才能译出更贴近原文，传递作者思想情感的译文。学习翻译是需要实践的，但不是盲目的实践，而是动脑的实践。也就是在翻译前和翻译后都需要动脑去反思和总结。翻译学习“路漫漫其修远兮”，只有沉下心思，苦学苦练，才能做成一个合格的译者。

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参考文献

[1]操萍. 中国古典小说早期英译(1800-1840)研究述评[J].辽宁工程技术大学学报(社会科学版),2016,18(03):363-366.

[2]丁哲.反讽在《华威先生》中的艺术魅力[J].文学界(理论版),2010(09):15. [3]胡兴文. 叙事学视域下的外宣翻译研究[D].上海外国语大学,2014.

[4]李可. 先锋派小说英译管窥——以余华作品为例[J].当代外语研究,2013(04):42-46+78.

[5]廖七一. 抗战时期重庆的翻译批评[J].外语教学,2013,34(05):101-105. [6]卢静. 历时与共时视阈下的译者风格研究[D].上海外国语大学,2013.

[7]石怀伟. 接受美学视域下《华威先生》经典化路径及其多重意蕴探析[J].宜宾学院学报,2018,18(07):94-101.

[8]王颖冲,王克非. 中文小说英译的译者工作模式分析[J].外国语文,2013,29(02):118-124.

[9]张奂瑶,马会娟. 中国现当代文学英译研究:现状与问题[J].外国语(上海外国语大学学报),2016,39(06):82-.

网站搜索引擎：CKNI、维基百科、孔夫子二手书网、百度百科

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附录

附录1：英译汉原文

A Red Sweater

Fae Myenne Ng

I chose red for my sister. Fierce, dark red. Made in .

Hand Wash Only because it’s got that skin of fuzz. She’ll look happy. That’s good. Everything’s perfect, for a minute. That seems enough.

Red. For Good Luck. Of course. This fire-red sweater is swollen with good cheer. Wear it, I will tell her. You'll look lucky.

We're a family of three girls. By Chinese standards, that’s not lucky. “Too bad,” outsiders whisper, “. . . nothing but daughters. A failed family.”

First, Middle, and End girl. Our order of birth marked us. That came to tell more than our given names.

FAE MYENNE NG made a stunning debut with her novel Bone. Born in San Francisco and raised in Chinatown, she attended the University of California, Berkeley, and Co- lumbia University. Her award-winning stories have appeared in Harper’s magazine, The American Voice, the Pushcart Prize Anthology, the City Lights Review, Home to Stay: Asian American Women’s Fiction, and other publications. My eldest sister, Lisa, lives at home. She quit San Francisco State, one semester short of a psychology degree. One day she said, “Forget about it, I’m tired.” She’s working full time at Pacific Telephone now. Nine hundred a month with benefits. Mah and Deh think it’s a great deal. They tell everybody, “Yes, our Number One makes good pay, but that’s not even counting the discount. If we call , China even, there’s forty percent off!” As if anyone in their part of China had a telephone.

Number Two, the in-between, jumped off the ‘M’ floor three years ago. Not true! What happened? Why? Too sad! All we say about that is, “It was her choice.”

We sent Mah to . When she left thirty years ago, she was the envy of all: “Lucky girl! You'll never have to work.” To marry a sojourner was to have a future. Thirty years in the land of gold and good fortune, and then she returned to tell the story: three daughters, one dead, one unmarried, another who-cares-where, the thirty years in sweatshops, and the prince of the Golden Mountain turned into a toad. I’m glad I didn’t have to go with her. I felt her shame and regret. To return, seeking solace and comfort, instead of offering banquets and stories of the good life.

I’m the youngest. I started flying with Pan Am the year Mah re- turned to , so I got her a good discount. She thought I was good for something then. But when she returned, I was pregnant.

“Get an abortion,” she said. “Drop the baby,” she screamed. “No.”

“Then get married.” “No. I don’t want to.”

I was going to get an abortion all along. I just didn’t like the way they talked about the whole thing. They made me feel like dirt, that I was a disgrace. Now I can see how I used it as

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an opportunity. Some- times I wonder if there wasn’t another way. Everything about those years was so steamy and angry. There didn’t seem to be any answers.

“I have no eyes for you,” Mah said.

“Don’t call us,” Deh said. They wouldn’t talk to me. They ranted idioms to each-other for days. The apartment was filled with images and curses I couldn’t per- ceive. I got the general idea: I was a rotten, no-good, dead thing. I would die in a gutter without rice in my belly. My spirit—if I had one—wouldn’t be fed. I wouldn’t see good days in this life or the next.

My parents always had a special way of saying things.

Now I’m based in Honolulu. When our middle sister jumped, she kind of closed the world. The family just sort of fell apart. I left. Now, I try to make up for it, but the folks still won’t see me, but I try to keep in touch with them through Lisa. Flying cuts up your life, hits hardest during the holidays. I’m always sensitive then. I feel like I’m missing something, that people are doing something really important while I’m up in the sky, flying through time zones.

So I like to see Lisa around the beginning of the year. January, New Year’s, and February, New Year’s again, double luckiness with our birthdays in between. With so much going on, there’s always some- thing to talk about.

“You pick the place this year,” I tell her. “Around here?”

“No,” I say. ‘Around here’ means the food is good and the living hard. You eat a steaming rice plate, and then you feel like rushing home to sew garments or assemble radio parts or something. We eat together only once a year, so I feel we should splurge. Besides, at the Chinatown places, you have nothing to talk about except the bare issues. In American restaurants, the atmosphere helps you along. I want nice light and a view and handsome waiters.

“Let’s go somewhere with a view,” I say.

We decide to go to FOLLOWING SEA, a new place on the Pier 39 track. We’re early, the restaurant isn’t crowded. It’s been clear all day, so I think the sunset will be nice. I ask for a window table. I turn to talk to my sister, but she’s already talking to a waiter. He’s got that dark island tone that she likes. He’s looking her up and down. My sister does not blink at it. She holds his look and orders two Johnny Walkers. I pick up a fork, turn it around in my hand. I seldom use chopsticks now. At home, I eat my rice in a plate, with a fork. The only chopsticks I own, I wear in my hair: For a moment, I feel strange sitting here at this unfamiliar table. I don’t know this tablecloth, this linen, these candles. Everything seems foreign. It feels like we should be different people. But each time I look up, she’s the same. I know this person. She’s my sister. We sat together with chopsticks, mis- matched bowls, braids, and braces, across the formica tabletop.

“I like three pronged forks,” I say, pressing my thumb against the sharp points. My sister rolls her eyes. She lights a cigarette. I ask for one.

I finally say, “So, what’s new?”

“Not much.” Her voice is sullen. She doesn’t look at me. Once a year, I come in, asking questions. She’s got the answers, but she hates them. For me, I think she’s got the peace of heart, knowing that she’s done her share for Mah and Deh. She thinks I have the peace, not caring. Her life is full of questions, too, but I have no answers.

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I look around the restaurant. The sunset is not spectacular and we don’t comment on it. The waiters are lighting candles. Ours is bringing the drinks. He stops very close to my sister, seems to breathe her in. She raises her face toward him. “Ready?” he asks. My sister orders for us. The waiter struts off.

“Tight ass,” I say. “The best,” she says.

My scotch tastes good. It reminds me of Deh. Johnny Walker or Seagrams 7, that’s what they served at Chinese banquets. Nine courses and a bottle. No ice. We learned to drink it Chinese style, in teacups. Deh drank from his rice bowl, sipping it like hot soup. By the end of the meal, he took it like cool tea, in bold mouthfuls. We sat watching, our teacups of scotch in our laps, his three giggly girls.

Relaxed, I’m thinking there’s a connection. Johnny Walker then and Johnny Walker now. I ask for another cigarette and this one I enjoy. Now my Johnny Walker pops with ice. I twirl the glass to make the ice tinkle.

We clink glasses. Three times for good luck. She giggles. I feel better. “Nice sweater,” I say.

“Michael Owyang,” she says. She laughs. The light from the candle makes her eyes shimmer. She’s got Mah’s eyes. Eyes that make you want to talk. Lisa is reed-thin and tall. She’s got a body that clothes look good on. My sister slips something on and it wraps her like skin. Fabric has pulse on her.

“Happy birthday, soon,” I say.

“Thanks, and to yours too, just as soon.”

“Here’s to Johnny Walker in shark’s fin soup,” I say. “And squab dinners.” “T LOVE LUCY,” I say.

We laugh. It makes us feel like children again. We remember how to be sisters. I raise my glass. “To I LOVE LUCY, squab dinners, and brow bags.” “To bones,” she says.

“Bones,” I repeat. This is a funny that gets sad, and knowing it, I keep laughing. I am surprised how much memory there is in one word. Pigeons. Only recently did I learn they’re called squab. Our word for them was pigeon—on a plate or flying over Portsmouth Square. A good meal at 40 cents a bird. In line by dawn, we waited at the butch: er’s listening for the slow, churning motor of the trucks. We watched the live fish flushing out of the tanks into the garbage pails. We smelled the honey-brushed cha sui bows baking. When the white laundry truck turned onto Wentworth, there was a puffing trail of feathers following it. A stench filled the alley. The crowd squeezed in around the truck. Old ladies reached into the crates, squeezing and tugging for the plumpest pigeons.

My sister and I picked the white ones, those with the most expres- sive eyes. Dove birds, we called them. We fed them leftover rice in water, and as long as they stayed plump, they were our pets, our baby dove birds. And then one day we’d come home from school and find them cooked. They were a special, nutritious treat. Mah let us fill our bowls high with little pigeon parts: legs, breasts, and wings, and take them out to the front room to watch I LOVE LUCY. We took brown bags for the bones. We balanced our bowls on our laps and laughed at Lucy. We

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leaned forward, our chopsticks crossed in mid-air, and called out, “Mah! Mah! Come watch! Watch Lucy cry!” But she always sat alone in the kitchen sucking out the sweetness of the lesser parts: necks, backs, and the head. “Bones are sweeter than you know,” she always said. She came out to check the bags. “Clean bones,” she said, shaking the bags. “No waste,” she said.

Our dinners come with a warning. “Plate’s hot. Don’t touch.” My sister orders a carafe of house white. “Enjoy,” he says, smiling at my sister. She doesn’t look up.

I can’t remember how to say scallops in Chinese. I ask my sister, she doesn’t know either. The food isn’t great. Or maybe we just don’t have the taste buds in us to go crazy over it. Sometimes I get very hungry for Chinese flavors: black beans, garlic and ginger, shrimp paste and sesame oil. These are tastes we grew up with, still dream about. Crave. Run around town after. Duck liver sausage, beancurd, jook, salted fish, and fried dace with black beans. Western flavors don’t stand out, the surroundings do. Three pronged forks. Pink tablecloths. Fresh flowers. Cute waiters. An odd difference.

“Maybe we should have gone to Sun Hung Heung. At least the vegetables are real,” I say. “Hung toh-vee-foo-won-tun!” she says.” “Yeah, yum!” I say.

I remember Deh teaching us how to pick bok choy, his favorite vegetable. “Stick your fingernail into the stem. Juicy and firm, good. Limp and tough, no good.” The three of us followed Deh, punching our thumbnails into every stem of bok choy we saw.

“Deh still eating bok choy?”

“Breakfast, lunch and dinner.” My sister throws her head back, and laughs. It is Deh’s motion. She recites in a mimic tone. “Your Deh, all he needs is a good hot bowl of rice and a plate full of greens. A good monk.”

There was always bok choy. Even though it was nonstop for Mah —rushing to the sweatshop in the morning, out to shop on break, and then home to cook by evening—she did this for him. A plate of bok choy, steaming with the taste of ginger and garlic. He said she made good rice. Timed full-fire until the first boil, medium until the grains formed a crust along the sides of the pot, and then low-flamed to let the rice steam. Firm, that’s how Deh liked his rice.

The waiter brings the wine, asks if everything is alright. “Everything,” my sister says.

There’s something else about this meeting. I can hear it in the edge of her voice. She doesn’t say anything and I don’t ask. Her lips make a contorting line; her face looks sour. She lets out a breath. It sounds like she’s been holding it in too long.

“Another fight. The bank line,” she says. “He waited four times in the bank line. Mah ran around outside shopping. He was doing her a favor. She was doing him a favor. Mah wouldn’t stop yelling. ‘Get out and go die! Useless ‘Thing! Stinking Corpse!’ ”

I know he answered. His voice must have had that fortune teller’s tone to it. You listened because you knew it was a warning.

He always threatened to disappear, jump off the Golden Gate. His thousand-year-old threat. I’ve heard it all before. “I will go. Even when dead, I won’t be far enough away. Curse the good will that blinded me into taking you as wife!”

I give Lisa some of my scallops. “Eat,” I tell her.

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She keeps talking. “Of course, you know how Mah thinks, that nobody should complain because she’s been the one working all these years.”

I nod. I start eating, hoping she’ll follow.

One bite and she’s talking again. “You know what shopping with Mah is like, either you stand outside with the bags like a servant, or inside like a marker, holding a place in line. You know how she gets into being frugal—saving time because it’s the one free thing in her life. Well, they’re at the bank and she had him hold her place in line while she runs up and down Stockton doing her quick shopping ma- neuvers. So he’s in line, and it’s his turn, but she’s not back. So he has to start all over at the back again. Then it’s his turn but she’s still not back. When she finally comes in, she’s got bags in both hands, and he’s going through the line for the fourth time. Of course she doesn’t say sorry or anything.”

I interrupt. “How do you know all this?” I tell myself not to come back next year. I tell myself to apply for another transfer, to the. East Coast. “She told me. Word for word.” Lisa spears the scallop, puts it in her mouth. I know it’s cold by now. “Word for word,” she repeats. She cuts a piece of chicken. “Try,” she says.

I think about how we’re sisters. We eat slowly, chewing careful'y, like old people. A way to make things last, to fool the stomach.

Mah and Deh both worked too hard; it’s as if their marriage was a marriage of toil—of toiling together. The idea is that the next gener- ation can marry for love.

In the old country, matches were made, strangers were wedded, and that was fate. Those days, sojourners like Deh were considered princes. To become the wife to such a man was to be saved from the war-torn villages.

Saved to work. After dinner, with the rice still in between her teeth, Mah sat down at her Singer. When we pulled out the wall-bed, she was still there, sewing. The street noises stopped long before she did. The hot lamp made all the stitches blur together. And in the mornings, long before any of us awoke, she was already there, sewing again.

His work was hard, too. He ran a laundry on Polk Street. He sailed with the American President Lines. Things started to look up when he owned the take-out place in Vallejo, and then his partner ran off. So he went to Alaska and worked the canneries.

She was good to him too. We remember. How else would we have known him all those years he worked in Guam, in the Fiji Islands, in Alaska? Mah always gave him majestic welcomes home. It was her excitement that made us remember him.

I look around. The restaurant is full. The waiters move quickly.

I know Deh. His words are ugly. I’ve heard him. I’ve listened. And I’ve always wished for the street noises, as if in the traffic of sound, I believe I can escape. I know the hard color of his eyes and the tightness in his jaw. I can almost hear his teeth grind. I know this. Years of it.

Their lives weren’t easy. So is their discontent without reason?

What about the first one? You didn’t even think to come to the hos- pital. The first one, I say! Son or daughter, dead or alive, you didn’t even come!

What about living or dying? Which did you want for me that time you pushed me back to work before my back brace was off? Money! Money!! Money to eat with, to buy clothes with, to pass this life with!

Don’t start that again! Everything I make at that dead place I hand...

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How come... What about. . . So...

It was obvious. The stories themselves meant little. It was how hot and furious they could become.

Is there no end to it? What makes their ugliness so alive, so thick and impossible to let go of?

“I don’t want to think about it anymore.” The way she says it surprises me. This time I listen. I imagine what it would be like to take her place. It will be my turn one day.

“Ron,” she says, wiggling her fingers above the candle. “A fun thing.”

The opal flickers above the flame. I tell her that I want to get her something special for her birthday, “. . . next trip I get abroad.” She looks up at me, smiles.

For a minute, my sister seems happy. But she won’t be able to hold onto it. She grabs at things out of despair, out of fear. Gifts grow old for her. Emotions never ripen, they sour. Everything slips away from her. Nothing sustains her. Her beauty has made her fragile.

We should have eaten in Chinatown. We could have gone for cof- fee in North Beach, then for jook at Sam Wo’s.

“No work, it’s been like that for months, just odd jobs,” she says.

I’m thinking, it’s not like I haven’t done my share. I was a kid once, I did things because I felt I should. I helped fill out forms at the Chi- natown employment agencies. | went with him to the Seaman’s Union. I waited too, listening and hoping for those calls: “Busboy! Presser! Prep Man!” His bags were packed, he was always ready to go. “On standby,” he said. Every week. All the same. Quitting and looking to start all over again. In the end, it was like never having gone anywhere. It was like the bank line, waiting for nothing.

How many times did my sister and I have to hold them apart? The flat ting! sound as the blade slapped onto the linoleum floors, the wooden handle of the knife slamming into the corner. Was it she or I who screamed, repeating all their ugliest words? Who shook them? Who made them stop?

The waiter comes to take the plates. He stands by my sister for a moment. I raise my glass to the waiter.

“You two Chinese?” he asks.

“No,” I say, finishing off my wine. I roll my eyes. I wish I had another Johnny Walker. Suddenly I don’t care.

“We're two sisters,” I say. I laugh. I ask for the check, leave a good tip. I see him slip my sister a box of matches.

Outside, the air is cool and brisk. My sister links her arm into mine. We walk up Bay onto Chestnut. We pass Galileo High School and then turn down Van Ness to head toward the pier. The bay is black. The foghorns sound far away, We walk the whole length of the pier without talking.

The water is white where it slaps against the wooden stakes. For a long time Lisa’s wanted out. She can stay at that point of endurance forever. Desire that becomes old feels too good, it’s seductive. I know how hard it is to go.

The heart never travels. You have to be heartless. My sister holds that heart, too close and for too long. This is her weakness, and like to-think, used to be mine. Lisa endures too much.

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We're lucky, not like the bondmaids growing up in service, or the new-born daughters whose mouths were stuffed with ashes. Courte- sans with the three-inch foot, beardless, soft-shouldered eunuchs, and the frightened child-brides, they’re all stories to us. We’re the lucky generation. Our parents forced themselves to live through the humil- lation in this country so that we could have it better. We know so little of the old country. We repeat the names of Grandmothers and Uncles, but they will always be strangers to us. Family exists only because somebody has a story, and knowing the story connects us to a history. To us, the deformed man is oddly compelling, the forgotten man is a good story. A beautiful woman suffers want her beauty to buy her out.

The sweater cost two weeks’ pay. Like the 40-cent birds that are now a delicacy, this is a special treat. The money doesn’t mean any- thing. It is, if anything, time. Time is what I would like to give her.

A red sweater. 100%. The skin of fuzz will be a fierce rouge on her naked breasts.

Red. Lucky. Wear it. Find that man. The new one. Wrap yourself around him. Feel the pulsing between you. Fuck him and think about it. 100% angora. Hand Wash Only. Worn Once.

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附录2：英译汉译文

《红毛衣》

伍慧明

我给姐姐 挑了件红色毛衣，十分特别的深红色毛衣，产于。

因为它的材质是绒毛的，所以只能手洗。她一定会很开心的。哪怕她只是高兴那一分钟 ，那也足也。

红色，乃好运的象征，火红色的毛衣让人外观给人充满活力的印象，精神饱满。穿这种颜色的毛衣，我相信能给她带来好运。

我们家是姐妹。按中国的标准来看，这不是件幸运的事。“不好呀”，门外边的人窃窃私语道。“生来生去，都是女儿 ，这就是一个失败的家庭。”

首先，按年龄从大到小，我们出生的顺序是各自的标志。这间接的告诉我们的名字的由来。

伍慧明创造了一部令人惊叹的小说《骨头》。她出生于旧金山，在唐人街长大，曾在加州伯克利分校和哥伦比这两所大学里就读过 。她的获奖故事在《哈珀》的杂志，《》，《手推车奖选集》，《城市之光评论》，《留守之家》，以及《美国：亚裔女性小说》和其他出版物里边都刊登过。我的大姐莉莎住在家里。还差一学期退学旧金山州立大学心理学专业。 有一天，她说：“算了吧，我累了。”她现在正在太平洋电话公司做全职的工作。 一个月的薪水为九百，外加津贴。 妈妈和爸爸认为这十分很好的工作。于是， 他们告诉所有人，“是的，我们家的老大工资很高，还有其它的福利呢。 如果我们打电话给中国那边，那么只需付百分之四十的费用！“只要是在中国的范围内，任何都可以优惠。

我们家排行第二的妹妹，在三年前，从M层纵身跳下。这不真实！发生了什么?为什么会这样?为什么呢?这太可怜了！该说的我们都说了，这就是她的选择。

我们送妈妈去。三十年前，她去了，她就是我们都羡慕嫉妒的那个“幸运女孩！你将不用工作了”。嫁给一个居家的男人，拥有美好的未来。在金财满贯的地方待三十年，她回来就写了这个故事：三个女儿，一个死了，一个至今未嫁，另一个远走高飞。剩下我这个谁都要我去照顾的人。在血汗工厂干了三十年，金山的王子都变成了癞了。我很庆幸我没有同她一块儿，她的羞愧和遗憾我感受到了。说道底，她应该去寻安慰，而不是想着有美食宴会，好日子的念头。

我是最小的那个儿。那年，我妈要回，我正好在泛美航空公司当空姐，所以我给她拿到了很优惠的折扣。 她认为我定会有什么好事情发生，当她回来时，我怀孕了。

“去把孩子打掉（做人流）”她说。“放过孩子”她尖叫道。 “不” “那就结婚” “不，我不想结婚”

我一直都在做着打胎的准备。 我只是不喜欢他们谈论整个事情的方式。他们说得我

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无地自容，说我给家里抹黑，这对我来说是一种耻辱。 现在我在想我该如何将它作为一次机会。 有时我想知道是否有其他办法。那些年的所有一切都是如此的让我激动和愤怒。似乎没有任何答案。

“我没有时间来管你”妈妈说道。

爸爸说道“不要打电话给我们”。他们不再跟我说话。家里充满着我察觉不到 的气氛。我怨我是一个破烂，没用，不好的东西。 我饿着肚皮死在阴沟里。我的精神 也得不到满足——如果我是这样子的话。在这样的生活中，无论今生还是来世，我都看不到美好的日子。

我的父母总是用一种特殊的表达形式来说事情。

现在我住在檀香山。 当我二姐跳楼，她感觉自己与这个世界融合了。从此以后，这个家庭变得支离破碎。那时我离开了（毅然出走）。现在，我试图努力弥补过去，只是家里人仍不愿见我，但我尝试通过姐姐莉莎 了解他们的信息。从事空姐这个职业 会缩短你的生活，在节假日时最繁忙。 那时起，我总是很敏感。 我总觉得我错过了一些东西，当人们正在做一些非常重要的事情时我却在高空中值班，越过了彼此的时区。

因此我喜欢在一月过新年的时候去看我的姐姐莉莎。一月，是过新年的时候，二月，是过农历新年的时候，我们彼此的生日就是在这双重幸运的月份里。经历了那么多事情，总有一些事说的。

“这地儿是你选的？”我问她 “这儿啊？”

“不”，我的意思是说，这里的食物是很美味，可是不能常消费。你来这吃了一碗蒸米饭，然后你就急着回家去缝补衣服去或组装收音机零件或搞其他的事。 我们一年在一起只聚一次，所以我觉得我们可以适当挥霍（吃得好一点）。 此外，在唐人街的地方，除了国事，你没有什么可谈的。 在美国餐厅，氛围可以让你尽请享受。我想要浪漫（柔和）的灯光，美丽的景色，还有帅气的服务员。

去一些有风景的地方看风景吧，”我说。

“我们决定去一个叫“滨海餐厅”的饭馆吃饭，沿着海走，一直到往旧金山39号码头，就是这个新地方。我们来得早，餐馆人不多也不拥挤。一整天都很晴朗，所以我想日落会很美。我要一张靠窗的桌子。我转过身去和姐姐说话时，她在跟服务员说话。他有她喜欢的黑岛腔调。他在上下打量着姐姐。姐姐眼也没眨一下，保持看着他。她要了两杯约翰尼·沃克牌的苏格兰威士忌酒。我拿起一把叉子，便拿着它转过身去。我现在很少使用筷子。在家里，我是用叉子吃盘子里饭。我唯一的筷子，我用来插在我的头发上：过了一会儿，我感到不自在，坐在这张陌生的桌子旁。这不是我熟悉的亚麻色桌布和蜡烛。一切似乎都是异国情调（都那么陌生）。感觉到我们应该很陌生。但每次当我抬起头时，她依旧没变。她就是那个我熟悉的人,我的妹妹。我们坐餐桌前横跨过贴有塑料贴面的桌面时，把筷子，碗，辫子，支架什么的都给打翻了。

“我喜欢只有三个叉尖的叉子 ”我边说哦边用拇指按在尖尖上。 我的姐姐翻了翻白眼，接着点了一支烟。 我也问她要了一只。

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我终于问了句，“那，有什么新消息？”

她一脸不悦回了我句“没什么”。她没有看我。一年我就来一次，我才问她这些问题。她知道答案，但她讨厌回答这些问题。在我看来，我认为问心无愧，她知道自己 尽了孝敬爸妈的责任了 。她以为我用不在乎他们，我也心安理得。她的生活也充满了问题，但是不能为她解答。

我环顾餐厅的四周。日落不是那么的壮观我们不做出任何评价（感叹）。服务员正点着蜡烛。我们的饮料送上来了 。服务员停在离我姐姐很近的地方，似乎全神贯注地看着她。她抬起头面对着他。“准备好了吗？”他问。姐姐还未做出任何指令。于是他趾高气扬地走了。

“完蛋了”我说。 “这才是 最好的”她说。

我的苏格兰威士忌味道不错。这让我想起了爸爸的约翰尼·沃克和西格伦姆斯，它们是在中国宴会上会喝的酒。九道菜一瓶酒，没有加冰。我们用茶杯学会了中式的饮酒方式。爸爸是用碗喝，就像喝热汤一样小抿一口。快吃完饭时，他就像喝冷茶一样大口大口的饮完。我们坐着看着，我们的茶杯还在我们的腿上，里面的苏格兰威士忌酒还没喝，我们就这样坐着一边傻笑地望着他喝酒。

慢慢地放松下来，我正在想约翰尼·沃克和现在的约翰尼·沃克这里边定有有联系。我又要了一支烟，这支我很喜欢。现在我的这杯约翰尼·沃克里有气泡加冰，我转动玻璃杯，冰块 碰撞杯身发出叮当声。

我跟姐姐碰杯三次，说了三次祝福语。她吃吃笑起来，我感觉好了些了。 “毛衣不错”我说。

“迈克尔·欧扬牌的，”她说。她笑了笑。她的眼睛在烛光的照耀下显得闪闪发光。她遗传了妈妈的眼睛。这一点是你最想说的。丽莎又瘦又高。她的身材穿衣服都很好看。她套了一件衣服在外边，整个皮肤看起来很白，这种布料显得她很有活力。

“生日快乐，就要到 了”我说。

“谢谢，你也是呢，你的生日不久也快到了呢 ”。 “为了鱼翅汤里的约翰尼·沃克”我说。 “还有鸽子饭呢”。 “为了我爱露西”我 说。

我们都笑了，仿佛又回到了童年。记忆中姐妹感情深似海。 我举杯说道：“为那么幸运的一天，为鸽子饭，干杯”。 “为了骨头，”她说。

“骨头，”我重复了一遍。这是一个有趣的，令人伤心的事。想起来后，我一直在笑。我很惊讶一个词里怎么会有那么多的记忆。鸽子。直到最近我才知道原来指的是乳鸽，不管是餐盘里的，还是经常在朴茨茅斯广场的拍翼的，我们搜叫它鸽子。一只鸽子吃一顿要凑40美分。黎明时分，我们排起队来，在那里等着：呃，听着卡车缓慢而翻腾的马达声。我们看着活鱼从鱼缸里跃进垃圾桶。我们闻到了煮茶，茶水里加了蜂蜜的味道。当白色的洗衣卡车停下来转向温特沃斯时，后面跟着一片羽毛。一股恶臭味弥漫在小巷里。卡车周

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围，人群拥挤。老太太们把手伸进箱子里，不停地拽那只最肥的鸽子。

我姐姐和我挑一只有着敏锐眼睛的鸽子。我们叫它们乳鸽。我们在水里面加点剩菜饭喂它们，只要它们保持丰满，它们就是我们的宠物，我们的雏鸽鸟。然后有一天，我们放学回家，发现它们被煮熟了。它们是一种具有具有丰富营养价值的特殊食物。妈妈让我们把鸽子的身体平分，装在自己的碗里：有腿、胸和翅膀，然后端着碗到客厅边吃边看《我爱露西》。我们拿了棕色的袋子来装骨头。我们把碗放在腿上，边看着露西边笑。我们向前俯身，我们的筷子交叉在一起掉在半空中，好似喊道：“妈妈！妈妈！过来看！看露西哭了“。但她总是独自一人坐在厨房里，吸吸着鸽子身上残留部分的骨髓：颈、背和头。“骨头比你们想象中的都还好吃，”她总是说。她归来检查我们吐的垃圾袋。骨头吃干净，”她边说边摇着袋子。“不许浪费，”她又说。

我们用餐的时候旁边有温馨提示。“盘子很烫。别碰“。我姐姐点了一瓶白色的。“请慢用，”他对我姐姐微笑着说。姐姐没有抬头看他。

我不记得扇贝用中文是怎么说了。我问我妹妹，她也不知道。晚餐不好吃。或许我们只是没有围殴罢了。有时我非常渴望中国风味：黑豆、大蒜和生姜、虾酱和芝麻油。这些都是我们从小吃到大的，至今都还喜欢。在城里跑来跑去。鸭肝香肠，豆腐，臭豆腐，咸鱼，油炸黑豆。西方口味并不那么美味可口，周围的环境也就如此。三把叉子。粉色桌布。鲜花。可爱的服务生。区别很大。

“我们应该去孙馄香 ，至少那里的蔬菜很新鲜”。我说 “香喷喷的馄饨” “是啊，好吃”我说。

我记得爸爸教我们怎么选卷心菜，他最喜欢的蔬菜就是它。“把你的指甲按在菜干上。挤出来的汁有多友结实证明是好材，反之，又软又硬，就不行。“。我们三个跟爸爸说的做，把我们的拇指按在菜干上，我们就能选择了。

“爸爸现在还在吃卷心菜 吗？”

“早餐、午餐和晚餐三餐都吃。妹妹把头后仰笑了起来。这是爸爸的手势。她以爸爸说话的语调模仿了遍。“你的父亲，他所需要的就是一碗热腾腾的米饭和一盘满满的青菜足以。好一个素食者。”

总有小白菜。尽管妈妈每天早上一刻不停地跑毛衣店上班，休息时出去买菜，晚上回家做饭-但她还是为了爸爸买了小白菜。一盘白菜，带有姜和大蒜的味道。他说她做了一手好饭。定时全火烧至第一次煮沸（定时把火开大直至首次烧开），调为中火等到谷粒沿锅边结皮，紧接着低火蒸米。可以确定的是，这样煮出来的饭就是老爸钟爱的。

服务员把酒送上来问道是否一切就绪。 “可以了 ”，我姐姐说。

这次会议还有别的事。我能从她声音听得出一些不对。她什么都不说，我也不问。她抿了抿嘴唇；她的脸色看起来没精打采的。她深吐了一口气，听起来似乎这口气屏（憋）了太久了。

“又闹了一架。银行那边打过来的电话，“她说。“爸爸在银行排队等了四次。妈妈去在外面逛街。爸爸这样做是为了帮妈妈排。妈妈那样做也是在帮爸爸。妈妈就不停地大喊

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大叫。“滚出去，去死吧！没用的东西！臭死人！“。

我知道他接了。他猜他肯定是用算命先生的语气说话的。你接听是因为你知道这是个警告 。

他总是威胁说他要消失，要从金门上跳下去。他 三番五次的威胁（威胁了 不下一千次）。我以前都听过了。“我会去跳的 。即使死了，我也不会离得太远。诅咒上帝的好意让我眼瞎了娶你为妻！“

我给莉莎夹了一点我的扇贝。“吃吧”，我告诉她。

她一直在说话。“当然，你知道妈妈是怎么想的，她觉得这些年都是她一个人一直在辛勤的工作，所以谁也不该抱怨。

我点了点头便开始吃起东西，我希望她也开始吃。

她咬了一口东西又开始说话了。“你知道和妈妈一起去购物是什么样子吗，你要么像仆人一样站在外面帮她拎包，要么像个秘书一样站在外面，守着一个排着队的地方。你知道她是如何养成节约时间的，因为这是她生命中唯一的自由所以她开始珍惜时间。嗯，他们在银行的时候，她让爸爸守着她的位子继续排队，而她就跑来跑去，伊斯克顿为她的购物做了决策。所以他在排队，轮到他了，但她还没回来。他得从后面重新开始。现在轮到他了但她还没回来。当她终于进来的时候，她两只手都拿着袋子，而他已经第四次穿过队伍了。显然，她不会说什么对不起抱歉之类的话。”

我打断一下。“你是怎么知道这些的？”我告诫自己明年不要再回来了。我告诫自己再申请一次调职，调到东海岸去。“她一句一句（一字一字 ）的给我讲的。“。丽莎拔开了扇贝，放进嘴里。我感觉这些现在都已经冷了。“”她逐字逐句地重复着”。她切下一块鸡肉。“你尝尝，”她说。

我在回忆我们之间的姐妹情。我们吃得很慢，小心翼翼地咀嚼，就像老人一样。这种方式有助于我们的胃。

妈妈和爸爸工作太辛苦 了；他们的婚姻就好像是一个辛苦劳作的婚姻，让彼此疲惫不堪。有个想法就是下一代的孩子们要为爱而结婚。

在这个古老的国家里，门当户对就行，跟陌生人结婚，这就是命。在那个年代，像爸爸那样的寄居者是被看作是王子地位的。嫁给 爸爸这样的男人是可以逃离战乱。

拯救出来一起工作（保持体力工作）。晚饭后，她嘴里的牙齿上还掐着米饭，妈妈坐在她旁边唱歌。当我们把床拉出来时，她还在那里缝纫。街上的噪音早在她缝补之前就停止了。炽热的灯使所有的针脚都模糊了。到了早晨，早在我们任何人醒来之前，她就已经坐在那儿了，又开始缝纫。

父亲的工作也同样很辛苦。他在波克街经营一家干洗店。他和美国总统班克斯一起航行过。当他在瓦列霍拥有了外卖店后，生意刚开始好转，然后他的合伙人就跑了。所以他就去了阿拉斯加罐头厂上班。

她对他也很好。我们记得。不然我们怎么知道这些年爸爸去了关岛、斐济群岛、阿拉斯加这些地方工作了那么多年呢？妈妈总是很隆重地欢迎他回家。正是她的兴奋使我们记住了我们的爸爸。

我环顾四周，这时的餐厅客已满。服务员们得动作都很迅速。

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我知道，爸爸的话很难听。我听他说过。我听到过的。我一直希望能听到街上的噪音，仿佛在嘈杂的交通中，我相信我能逃走。我知道他那严肃的眼神和紧绷着的下巴。我几乎能听到他咬牙切齿的声音。数年了，这个我依旧记得。

他们的生活不易，这就是他们不满的原因所在吗？

第一个出生的呢（我怀的第一个）？你甚至都没想过要去医院。我说的就是第一个！不管是儿子还是女儿，不管是有幸还是不幸，你都没来！

是生还是死呢？那次你想让我做什么？在我的打胎之前你让我回去工作。钱！钱！用来吃饭的钱，用来买衣服的钱，用来度过这一生的钱！对吗！

别在这样了！在我快不行的时候我承受住了每一件事。 怎么来的.....？发生了什么事？你....

很明显，这些事情本来意义不大。但让爸和妈变得焦急暴躁。

这事什么时候有个了结？是什么让他们觉得这事丑陋不堪，如此沉重的难以释怀？ “我不想再想这件事了”她说这话的方式让我大吃一惊。这次是我听她说。我能想象取代她的位置会是什么样子。总有一天会轮到我的。

“罗恩，”她说着，手指一边在蜡烛上扭动着。“一件有趣的事”

蛋白石在火焰上方闪烁。我告诉她，我想送她不一样（特别 ）的生日礼物。“。....下一次出国旅行。“。她抬起头微笑着看着我。

姐姐看起来似乎高兴了一会儿。她拿不住了。她是出于绝望，出于恐惧才去抓东西的。收到礼物对她来说就等于又变老了一岁。感情一辈子不变质。一切都从她身边溜走了。没有什么能支撑她。她的美丽使她变得脆弱。

我们应该在唐人街吃饭。我们本可以到北滩喝咖啡，然后到山姆河躲雨。 “没有工作，几个月来一直是这样，只是做做零工，”她说。

我在想，我又不是没有做好我的那份工作。我曾经是个孩子，我做事情是因为我觉得我应该这么做。我在中国城的职业介绍所帮忙填写表格。和爸爸一起去海员工会了。我也在等着，希望能接到那些电话：“勤杂工！压迫者！准备人！“。爸爸的行李都收拾好了，随时准备出发。“随时待命，”他说。每周都有。都一样。辞职然后重新开始。最后，就像从来没有去过任何地方一样。就像银行排队，什么也不会等。

我和姐姐把他们的记忆分清楚了多少遍？公寓的叮当声！当刀刃拍打在油毡地板上时，刀子的木柄砰的一声撞到了墙角。是她还是我尖叫着，重复着他们说过的最丑陋的话？谁摇的？谁让他们停下来的？

服务员来收盘子。他在我姐姐那边战略一会儿。我朝服务员举杯。 “你们两个 是中国人？”他问。

“不，”我一边说，一边喝掉我杯里的酒。我翻了翻白眼，希望我还有另一个瓶约翰·沃克。突然间我不在乎了。

我们是两姐妹，”我笑笑说着。我要了支票，留下了点小费。我看见他给我姐姐悄悄地塞了一盒火柴。

外面的空气凉爽宜人。姐姐的胳膊挽着我。我们沿着海湾走到核桃街。我们路过伽利略曾就读的高中，然后向下拐，向码头走去。海湾是黑色的。海盗声传得很远，我们走了

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整整一节码头，没有说任何话。

拍打到木桩上的水是白色的。有很长一段时间，莉莎一直是我们家里边议论不停的话题。她可以永远呆在那个忍耐力的时刻。变老的欲望感觉是很好，很有诱惑力。但我深知这有多难。

心从不远行。你必须冷酷无情。我姐姐抱着那颗心，太近太久了。这是她的弱点，也是我以前的弱点。莉莎忍受得太多了。

我们是幸运的，不像那些在服役中长大的奴仆，也不像那些嘴里塞满了灰烬的新生的女儿。没有三英寸的脚、无胡子、肩膀柔软的太监，还有受惊的童新娘，对我们来说，都是些故事，都是宫廷里的人。我们是幸运的一代。我们的父母强迫自己在这个国家过着谦卑的生活，这样我们才能过得更好。我们对这个古老的国家知之甚少。我们重复念着祖母和叔叔的名字，但他们对我们来说永远都是陌生人。家庭的存在仅仅是因为某人有一个故事，而知道这个故事将我们与历史联系在一起。对我们来说，畸形的残疾人不引人注目，被遗忘的人是好故事。美丽的女人善于忍受。我以为她长得好看，就会有出路。

那件毛衣花了我两个星期的工资买的。就好像是将40美分的鸽子做成了美味佳肴一样，这也是一种特别对待。这笔钱并不意味着什么。不过，如果可以的话，时间，时间才是我我想要给她的。

红毛衣。原价买回来的。毛茸的材质会让她裸露的乳房那里变成一瘟艳红的胭脂，显得特别好的好看。

红色。幸运的象征。穿上它，找到属于你的那个他。崭新的他。拥抱他。感受你们之间的搏动。如果只是玩玩而已就好好想想。百分之百的安哥拉山羊毛。穿过一边之后洗，且只可手洗。

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附录3：汉译英原文

张天翼

张天翼(1906—1985)，祖籍湖南湘乡，生于南京，长在杭州。原名张元定。现代作家，儿童文学家。著有短篇小说集《从空虚到充实》、《小彼得》、《蜜蜂》、《》、《速写三篇》等十二种，长篇小说《鬼土日记》，儿童文学作品《大林和小林》、《秃秃大王》、《罗文应的故事》、《宝葫芦的秘密》等。另有十卷本《张天翼文集》印行。

华威先生

转弯抹角算起来——他算是我的一个亲戚。我叫他“华威先生”。他觉得这种称呼不大好。

“暧，你真是！”他说。“为什么一定要个‘先生’呢。你应当叫我‘威弟’。再不然叫‘阿威’。”

把这件事交涉过了之后，他立即戴上了帽子：

“我们改日再谈好不好？我总想畅畅快快跟你谈一次—— 唉，可总是没有时间。今天刘主任起草了一个公余工作方案，硬叫我参加意见，叫我替他修改。三点钟又还有一个集会。”

这里他摇摇头，没奈何地苦笑了一下。他声明他并不怕吃苦:在抗战时期大家都应当苦一点。不过——时间总要够支配。

“王委员又打了三个电报来，硬要请我到汉口去一趟。这里全省文化界抗敌总会又成立了，一切抗战工作都要领导起来才行。我怎么跑得开呢，我的天！” 于是匆匆忙忙跟我握了握手，跨上他的包车。

他永远挟着他的公文皮包。并且永远带着他那根老粗老粗 的黑油油的手杖。左手无名指上带着他的结婚戒指。拿着雪茄的时候就叫这根尤名指微微地弯着，而小指翘得高卨的，构成一朵兰花的图样。

这个城市里的黄包车谁都不作兴跑，一脚一脚挺踏实地踱着，好像饭后千步似的。可是包车例外：叮当，叮当，叮当，—— 一下子就抢到了前面。黄包车立即就得往左边躲开，小推车马上打斜。担子很快地就让到路边。行人赶紧就避到两旁的店铺里去。 包车踏铃不断地响着。钢丝在闪着亮。还来不及看清楚——它就跑得老远老远的了，像闪电一样快。

而——据这里有几位抗战工作者的上层分子的统计——跑得顶快的是那位华威先生的包车。

他的时间很要紧。他说过——

“我恨不得取消晚上睡觉的制度。我还希望一天不止二十四小时。抗战工作实在太多了。”

接着掏出表来看一看，他那一脸丰满的肌肉立刻紧张了起来。眉毛皱着，嘴唇使劲撮着，好像他在把全身的精力都要收敛到脸上似的。他立即就走：他要到难民救济会去开会。 照例——会场里的人全到齐了坐在那里等着他。他在门口下车的时候总得顺便把踏铃踏它一下：叮！

同志们彼此看着：唔，华威先生到会了。有几位透了一口 气。有几位可就拉长了脸

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瞧着会场门口。有一位甚至于要准备决斗似的——抓着拳头瞪着眼。

华威先生的态度很庄严，用种从容的步子走进去，他先前那副忙劲儿好像被他自己的庄严态度消解掉了。他在门口稍微停了一会儿，让大家好把他看个清楚，仿佛要唤起同志们的一种信任心，仿佛要给同志们一种担保——什么困难的大事也都可以放下心来。他并且还点点头。他眼晴并不对着谁，只看着天花板。他是在对整个集体打招呼。 会场里很静。会议就要开始。有谁在那里翻着什么纸张， 窸窸窣窣的。

华威先生很客气地坐到一个冷角落里，离位子顶远的一角。他不大肯当。 “我不能当，”他拿着一支雪茄烟打手势。“工人抗战工作协会的指守部今天开常会。通俗文艺研究会的会议也是今天。伤兵工作团也要去的，等一下。你们知道我的时间不够支配：只容许我在这里讨论十分钟。我不能当。我想推举刘同志当。” 说了就在嘴角上闪起一丝微笑，轻轻地拍几下手板。

报告的时候，华威先生不断地在那里括洋火点他的烟。把表放在面前，时不时像计算什么似地看着它。

“我提议！”他大声说。“我们的时间是很宝贵的：我希望尽可能报告得简单一点。我希望能够在两分钟之内报告完。

他括了两分钟洋火之后，猛的站了起来。对那正在哇啦哇啦的摆摆手： “好了，好了。虽然没有报告完，我已经明白了。我现在还要赴别的会，让我先发表一点想见。”

停了一停。抽两口雪茄，扫了大家一眼。

“我的意见很简单，只有两点，”他舔舔嘴唇。“第一点，就是——每个工作人员不能够怠工。而是相反，要加紧工作。这一点不必多说，你们都是很努力的青年，你们都能热心工作。我很感谢你们。但是还有一点——你们时时刻刻不能忘记，那就是我要说的第二点。”

他又抽了两口烟，嘴里叶出来的可只有热气。这就又括了 一根洋火。

“这第二点呢就是：青年工作人员要认定一个领导中心。你们只有在这一个领导中心的领导之下，抗战工作才能够展开。 青年是努力的，是热心的，但是因为理解不够，工作经验不够，常常容易犯错误。要是上面没有一个领导中心，往往要弄得不可收拾。” 瞧瞧所有的脸色，他脸上的肌肉耸动了一下——表示一种微笑。他往下说： “你们都是青年同志，所以我说得很坦白，很不客气。大家都要做抗战工作，没有什么客气可讲。我想你们诸位青年同志一定会接受我的意见。我很感激你们。好了，抱歉得很，我要先走一步。”

把帽子一戴，把皮包一挟，瞧肴天花板点点头，挺着肚子走了出去。 到门口可又想起了一件什么事。他把当的同志拽开，小声儿谈了几句。 “你们工作——有什么困难没有？”他问。 “我刚才的报告提到了这一点，我们……” 华威先生伸出个食指顶着的胸脯：

“唔，唔，唔。我知道我知道。我没有多余的时间来谈这件事。以后——你们凡是想到的工作计划，你们可以到我家里去找我商量。”

25

坐在旁边那个长头发青年注意地看着他们，现在可忍不住插嘴了： “星期三我们到华先生家里去过三次，华先生不在家……”

那位华先生冷冷地瞅他一眼，带着崧咅哼了一句——“唔， 我有别的事，”又对低声说下去：

“要是我不在家，你们跟密司黄接头也可以。密司黄知道我的意见，她可以告诉你们。” 密司黄就是他的太太。他对第三者说起她来，总是这么称呼她的。

他交代过了这才真的走开。这就到了通俗文艺研究会的会场。他发现别人已经在那里开会，正有一个人在那里发表意见。 他坐了下来，点着了雪茄，不高兴地拍了三下手板。 “！”他叫。“我因为今天另外还有一个集会，我不能等到终席。我现在有点意见，想要先提出来。”

于是他发表了两点意见：第一，他告诉大家——在座的人都是当地的文化人，文化人的工作是很重要的，应当加紧地做去。 第二，文化人应当认清一个领导中心，文化人在文抗会的领导中心的领导之下团结起来，统一起来。 五点三刻他到了文化界抗敌总会的会议室。 这回他脸上堆上了笑容，并且对每一个人点头。 “对不住得很，对不住得很：迟到了三刻钟。”

上席对他微笑一下，他还笑着伸了伸舌头，好像闯了祸怕挨骂似的。他四面瞧瞧形势，就拣在一个小胡子的旁边坐下来。

他带着很机密很严重的脸色——小声儿问那个小胡子： “昨晚你喝醉了没有？”

“还好，不过头有点子晕。你呢?”

“我啊——我不该喝了那三杯猛酒，”他严肃地说。“尤其是汾酒，我不能猛喝。刘主任硬要我干掉——嗨，一回家就睡倒了。密司黄说要跟刘主任去算账呢：要质问他为什么要把我灌醉。你看！”

一谈了这些，他赶紧打开皮包，拿出一张纸条——写几个字递给了。

“请你稍微等一等，”打断了一个正在发言的人的话。 “华威先生还有别的事情要走。现在他有点意见：要求先让他发表。” 华威先生点点头站了起来。

“！”腰板微微地一弯。“各位先生！”腰板微微地一 弯。“兄弟首先要请求各位原谅：我到会迟了点，而又要提前退席。……”

随后他说出了他的意见。他声明——这文化界抗敌总会的常务理事会，是一切救亡工作的领导机关，应该时时刻刻起领导中心作用。

“群众是复杂的。工作又很多。我们要是不能起领导作用，那就很危险，很危险。事实上，此地各方面的工作也非有个领导中心不对。我们的担子真是太重了，但是我们不怕怎样的艰苦， 也要把这担子担起来。”

他反复地说明了领导中心作用的重要，这就戴起帽子去赴一个宴会。他每天都这么忙着。要到刘主任那里去联络。要到各学校去演讲。要到各团体去开会。而且每天——不是别人请他吃饭，就是他请人吃饭。

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华威太太每次遇到我，总是代替华减先生诉苦。

“唉，他真苦死了！工作这么多，连吃饭的工夫都没有。” “他不可以少管一点，专门去做某一种工作么？”我问。 “怎么行呢？许多工作都要他去领导呀。”

可是有一次，华威先生简直吃了一大惊。妇女界有些人组织了一个战时保婴会，竟没有去找他！

他开始打听，调查。他设法把一个负责人找来。

“我知道你们委员会已经选出来了。我想还可以多添加几个。由我们文化界抗敌总会派人来参加。”

他看见对方在那里踌躇，他下巴挂了下来：

“问题是在这一点：你们委员是不是能够真正领导这工作？ 你能不能够对我担保——你们会内没有汉奸，没有不良分子？ 你能不能担保——你们以后工作不至于错误，不至于怠工？你能不能担保，你能不能？你能够担保的话，那我要请你写个书面的东西，给我们文抗会常务理事会。以后万一—如果你们的工作出了毛病，那你就要负责。” 接着他又声明：这并不是他自己的意思。他不过是一个执行者。这里他食指点点对方胸脯：

“如果我刚才说的那些你们办不到，那不是就成了非法团体了么？”

这么谈判了两次，华威先生当了战时保婴会的委员。于是在委员会开会的时候，华威先生挟着皮包去坐这么五分钟，发表了一两点意见就跨上了包车。 有一天他请我吃晚饭。他说因为家乡带來了一块腊肉。

我到他家里的时候，他正在那里对两个学生样的人发脾气。 他们都挂着文化界抗敌总会的徽章。

“你昨天为什么不去，为什么不去？”他吼着。“我叫你拖几个人去的。但是我在台上一开始演讲，一看——连你都没有去 听！我真不懂你们干了些什么？” “昨天——我去出席日本问题座谈会的。” 华威先生猛地跳起来了：

“什么！什么！日本问题座谈会？怎么我不知道，怎么不告诉我?” “我们那天部务会议决议了的。我来找过华先生，华先生又是不在家——” “好啊，你们秘密行动！ ”他瞪着眼。“你老实告诉我——这个座谈会到底是什么背景，你老实告诉我！” 对方似乎也动了火：

“什么背景呢，都是中华民族！部务会议议决的，怎么是秘密行动呢。……华先生又不到会，开会也不终席，来找又找不到……我们总不能把部里的工作停顿起来。” “混蛋！”他咬若牙，嘴唇在颤抖着。“你们小心！你们，哼， 你们！你们！……”他倒到了沙发上，嘴巴痛苦地抽得歪着。 “妈的！这个这个——你们青年！……” 五分钟之后他抬起头来，害怕地四面看一看。那两个客人 已经走了。他叹一口长气，对我说：

“唉，你看你看！现在的青年怎么办，现在的青年！”

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昨晚他没命地喝了许多酒，嘴里嘶嘶地骂着那些小伙子。 他打碎了一只茶杯。密司黄扶着他上了床，他忽然打个寒噤说: “明天十点钟有个集会……”

一九三八年二月

(原载1938年4月16曰《文艺阵地》笫I卷第I期。选自《中国现代短篇小说选》第3卷，人民文学出版社 1980年12月版)

附录4：汉译英译文

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Zhang Tianyi

ZhangTianyi (1906-1985), originally from Xiangxiang city, Hunan province, was born in Nanjing and grew up in Hangzhou. His original name was Zhang Yuanding. He was a modern writer and a writer of children literature. He wrote twelve stories including From Emptiness to Fullness, Little Peter, Bees, Counter-offensive, Tree Sketches, and the novel The Diary of Hall , and literature for children Senior Lin and Junior Lin, The Bald King, Luo Wenying’s Stories, The magic gourd and so on. In adition, ten volume selections of Zhang Tianyi’s Collection have been printed.

Mr Hua Wei

He is related to mine. I call him “Mr Hua Wei”. He feels uncomfortable with this.

“Ah,you are so?”said he. “Why do you call me ‘Mr’? You should call me ‘ Brother Wei’,or ‘A Wei’.”

After this talk , he immediately puts on his hat:

\"Shall we chat later? I always want to talk quite naturally to you, but I have been out of time. Today, Director Liu drafted a work plan for the county head’s work arrangements except normal working hours, and asked me to participate in his opinion meeting and give advice and correct it. On three o’clock there is a meeting.\"

Then he shook his head and smiled helplessly in bitter sweetness. He claimed he did not fear hard work: during the period of the war of Resistance against Japan, everyone should work hard. But the time should be enough for us to use.

“Commissioner Wang sent three telegrams again to invite me to Hankou. The Provincial Cultural Anti-invasion Union has been founded，which means work here needs me to supervise. How can I run away, My God!”

So he shook hands with me in a hurry and mounted his chartered car.

He is always accustomed to carry his suitcase and hold his strong and black cane. He wore his wedding ring on his finger of his left hand. When he held a cigar, his ring finger bent a little. While his little finger has bent even higher like an orchid flower.

Rickshaws in this city driven slowly, and they driven step by step as if someone walks thousand steps after dinner. Except from chartered one: ting, ting, ting, and soon took lead. The rickshaw immediately turned left while the trolley turned too. The burden was soon laid on the ground. The passengers hurriedly escaped into the stores along the road.

The chartered’s ring is continued and steel wire is also shineed. I can’t see it clearly, and it went farther and farther like a lightning.

According to statistics of several senior staff who were engaged in anti-invasion ——Mr Hua Wei’s one was the fastest.

He has no another time to spare. He said, “I strongly desired to abrogate the system of sleep. I hope for more than twenty-four hours in a day. The works of anti-invasion are too much.”

Then he looked at his watch and his facial muscle immediately stiffened. Eyebrows frown and lips pouted, as if he focused his energy into his face. He went away immediately, because he was going to participate in refugee relive meeting.

As usual, the attendees were seating and waiting for him. He stepped on the pedal when mounting down: ting!

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Comrades looked at each other: ah, Mr Hua Wei is arrived. Others are sighed while others looked at the door of the meeting with serious complexion. One of them even is prepared to fight with closed fist and staring eyes.

Mr Hua Wei was serious and calm when he walking in. His business state seemed to spell away his own seriousness. He stopped a while to appear in front of everyone as if he wanted to arouse a sense of confidence of comrades and a sense of responsibility for them that they can calm down in whatever difficulty. He also nodded too. He didn’t stare at anybody but on the ceiling, which means he greets( makes greeting) to the attendees.

The atmosphere of meeting hall was silent. The meeting was about to begin. The rustling voice may come from turning paper.

Mr Hua Wei politely sat on a corner far away from chairman. He was reluctant to become chairman.

“I can’t be a chairman.” He said with(held) cigar to gesture. “Today worker anti-invasion association guiding and guarding department holds a regular meeting and the Association Literature and Art Study also held in common. Later I am going to check injured soldier group. You know my time was limited that ten minutes of discussion here I allowed. I can’t be the chairman, but I want to recommend Comrade Liu as chairman.”

After speaking, a faint smile was flickered across his lips and a few times of sound was clapped by him

When the chairman gave the lecture（report）, Mr Hua Wei kept lighting to light his cigarette. He put his watch in front of him and look at it as if calculating time to time.

“I suppose!” said he loudly. “Our time is very precious. I hope the chairman can shortens his speech (lecture) as soon as possible and better finished within two minutes.”

After striking matches for two minutes, he suddenly stood up, and shook hands towards the chairman who is speaking loudly.

“Well, well. Although the chairman did not finish, I was understanding, and I have to participate in other meetings right now, so please allow me to say something”.

He stopped. Smoking a while, he glanced at everyone.

“My idea is simple with the following two points.” He licked his lips. “First, every employee must work hard. It is apparent that you are hardworking youth and enthusiastic. Thank you very much. And the other point is that reminding you do not forget time to time.”

He puffed twice on his cigar again but only hot air issued from his mouth, which means another match was light again.

“The second point is that the young staff of anti-invasion will be developed well only under this lead-ship. Young people are hardworking and enthusiastic but they often make mistakes in that they lack understanding or work experience. Without leadership above them, they can’t finish their work effectively”

Looking at the complexion of attendees, his facial muscles moved a little, signifying a smile. He continued.

“You are so young that I frankly and directly tell you a fact. Everyone should engage in this work. I think you young comrades will accept my advice. I extend my gratitude. Well, sorry, I have to go elsewhere.”

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He put on his hat, carried his bag, nodded to the ceiling and walked out hold large belly gesture.

At the door, he thought of a thing. He went and hold the arm of the chairman, and talked with him.

“Are there any difficulty in your work?” asked him. “My speech just now mentioned this, we...”

Mr Hua Wei pointed his index finger to the chairman’s chest:

“Um, um, um. I know, I know. I have not enough spare time to talk about this. Later, the work plan you can think about will be discussed at my home.”

A young man who with a long hair are sitting beside the chairman noticed staff and can’t help speaking somehow:

“We have been to Mr Hua’s home three times on Wednesday, but he was out...”

Mr Hua snubbed him and uttered in a nasal voice, “Um, I have another thing to do.” he continuously talked to the chairman with a low voice:

“If I am out, please keep in touch with Miss Huang. Miss Huang knows my ideas and she can arrange work.”

Miss Huang was his wife. He mentioned her when he introduced her to someone else.

After he said, he left. He arrived at the meeting of Society For Literature Popular Research. He found the meeting was on and a speaker was proposing his idea. He sat down, litting a cigar and unhappily clapped three times.

“Chairman!” shouted he. “Because I am going to take part in another meeting today so I can’t wait the end of this meeting. Now, I’d like to propose my ideas.”

So, he expressed his opinions by two ideas: First, he told everyone that all the people present here are locally educated people, and that it is very important for them to carry forward the work of culture, and should be done more quickly. Second, they should clearly recognize the leadership and unite under the leadership of Cultural Anti-invasion Association.

At quarter to six, he arrived at the conference room of the Board of Directors of the Works’ National Salvation Association.

“Sorry, sorry, I am late for Forty-five minutes.”

The chairman smiled at him. And he laughed and stuck out his tongues as if he feared of being scolded in a trouble. He looked around and sat beside a bearded man.

He asked the bearded man in a low voice with secret and stringent complexion. “Were you drunken Last night?”

“No, but I have a little dizzy now. How about you?”

“I, I should not have drunken three cups of wine with high alcoholicity.” said he seriously. “Especially Fen wine that I can’t drink too much.

Director Liu insisted that I finish my drink. Hey, I fell asleep as soon as I went home. Miss Huang said she wanted to settle accounts with Director Liu and to quest him why did he wanted to get me drunk. Look! \"

As soon as he talked about this, he hurriedly opened his bag, took out a slip and handed it to the chairman in a few words.

“Please wait a moment.” The chairman interrupted a speaker. “Mr. Warwick has other things to go. Now he has something to say: it is his turn now.”

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Mr Hua Wei nodded and stood up.

“Chairman!” He bent a little. “Gentlemen!” He bent a little again. “First of all, I would like to ask you to forgive me for arriving a little late and leaving early.”

Then he gave his opinion. He claimed General Council of the Board of Directors of the Works’ National Salvation Association was the leading organ of rescue work, which played the leading role time to time.

“The mass work is complicated. There is much work. If we fail to play the leading role, it will be very, very dangerous. In fact, leadership here in various aspects must be taken. Our shoulder are really heavy but we do not fear of hardship to shoulder it.”

He emphasized the importance of leadership and wet to a banquet wore his hat. He was so busy every day. He is going to contact Director Liu, give lectures in several schools, and go to the groups for a meeting. And every day-either he was invited to dinner, or he invited others to dinner.

Every time Mrs. Hua Wei meets me, she always complains on behalf of Mr. Hua Xiao. “Ah, he is so busy! There is much work to wait him to do and he have no time to have dinner.”

“Why not less work can he take and find specialized one to do?” asked I.

“How come? He will take leadership role in various areas.” Different work in diverse areas were need him to lead.

But once, Mr. Hua Wei was surprised. The women’s own has set up a Wartime Infant Protection Committee, but nobody asked for him to lead.

He started to consulting and investigating, and managed to find someone in charge.

“I know your committee has already appointed the members. I think maybe you can consider to add some members. Our Board of Directors of the Works’ National Salvation Association members can join.”

He saw the woman is hesitated, and he lowered his jaw down:

“The point is whether your committee can really lead this task? Can you guarantee if there are not traitors or undesirables? Can you guarantee if you will work without any mistakes or sabotage? Can you guarantee your ability? If you can, please write on paper to hand in to our Cultural Anti-invasion Association’s Standing Committee. In case that if your work fails, you are responsible.”

Then he claimed again that what he said is not his own opinion, and he is only an executor. Here, he pointed at the woman’s chest:

“If you fail to accomplish it, will your group be illegitimate?”

Twice compromised, Mr Hua Wei became a committee of Wartime Infant Protection Committee. Since the meeting has started, Mr Hua Wei carried his bag to stay five minutes and gave his speech in one or two pieces of suggestions, and then mounted on the charter.

One day he invited me to have a dinner for bring a piece of bacon from his hometown. When I arrived at his home, he yelled at two students. Both of them carried badges of the Board of Directors of the Works’ National Salvation Association.

“Why were you absent yesterday, why?” yelled he.

“I ask you to demand some staff to participate. But when I began to make a lecture at the rostrum, I saw below you were not there! I don’t know what you have done.”

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“I attended Japan issue seminar yesterday.” Mr Hua Wei stood up in a sudden:

“What? What? Japan issue seminar? How could I don’t know? Why did not anyone tell me?”

“It was decided by Our departmental conference at that day. I came to look for you but you were out.”

“Well, your secret action!” stared he. “Tell me honestly what background this seminar has, tell me!”

The student yelled too:

“What background? Chinese nation! That was decision of departmental conference, how could secret it was? You, Mr Hua was absent, and often left in half of a meeting, and even we look for you but failed….. So we can’t stop departmental work.”

“Bastard!” He clenched his teeth and shivered his lips. “Be careful! You, um, you! You!” He fell on the couch and shivered his lips in pain. “Damn! Youth!”

After five minutes, he head up and looked around in fear. These Two guests were left. He sighed and told me:

“Ah, look, you look at! Now young people, young people now! what did they do?”

Mr Hua Wei drank too much last night and cursed the young men repeatedly. He broke a teacup. His wife helped him to go to bed while he said in a shiver:

“I am going to participate in a meeting at ten o’clock tomorrow...”

February, 1938

(The first edition of the first volume of Front of Literature and Art was published in April 16, 1938. Selected from the third volume of Selection of Chinese Modern Stories, People Literature Press, December, 1980)

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