uncut

Jia Ming:

You left for more than three years before I returned to your house on Joffre Road.

The landlady downstairs was still there, and it took me a long time before she dared to recognize me, and then she gave me a big hug.I frowned and immediately avoided it. It’s not my fault, as you know, the damp musty smell of the old house mixed with the smell of fermented flour on her body is really bad, and now it’s even heavier. Her My scrawny husband didn't know how to bear it.

She rubbed her hands hard on the floral velvet apron, then wiped her eyes, patted my shoulder, and said, come on, I'll take you up there, I haven't rented that house to anyone else, it's just the same .If you have seen the flowered apron she is wearing, you must know it too.But if you were here, the scene would not be so harmonious.

You must be too keen to point out --- yes, no one wants to rent a house where someone has died.

The landlady took out a large bunch of keys from the cupboard, and there was a tinkling sound. She looked closely for 5 minutes before she blushed with embarrassment and smiled: "Oh, I don't remember which one it is. Alright, let's try it out."

I followed her up the stairs. The house is really dilapidated. I had never noticed that the stairs were so narrow. The landlady's too plump buttocks twisted and twisted in it. It was really scary that she would got stuck.

She sighed as she walked, and said that after you left, the teacher next door moved out soon, and a beautiful lady who didn't know what to do moved in. She came back every day at the end of the month. The car married her away.Oops, the landlady came back, covered her mouth with one hand and whispered, "I heard that every time she brings back different men." I shrugged my shoulders, noncommittal, isn't that the same relationship between me and you?

Later, the counter lady who sold clothes in Taiping Commercial Building lived here one after another, the newlywed couple lived here, the old man who was over sixty years old and his grandson who was still in school, who else came, oh, that street corner Wang Damen, who sells stewed meat, also rented a house here, but he immediately met the daughter of the shopkeeper of Tongxintang across the street, and happily married.When she said this, we have already walked to the door of your room, she just said so, I don't need to intervene, that's good, to save embarrassment.Let me look at her again, how old is this woman?His hair was still stubbornly dyed black, and some white hairs grew out on the top of his head, like a ridiculous reed chicken.Now her eyes are red, and she said that these tenants have ruined many of the books in Jiaming's room over the years, and they have taken many of them away.

I said, oh, he's dead anyway.

But this seems a little unreasonable, so I added another sentence, which is also somewhat useful.

The landlady smiled in relief. The next key happened to be called the keyhole. When she twisted the lock, the lock moved, and the circles of her eyes became redder. It's a pity, I used to open the door for him.

I said yes, and just as I was about to open the door, her round-bellied grandson called her from downstairs: "Grandma, are you ready for the wontons?"

"Hey! Here we come!" The redness in her eyes disappeared immediately, and she stuffed the keys into my hand, "You can see for yourself first."

Jiaming, you see, most of human misses are hypocrisy.As she spoke, she twisted and walked down again. The wooden stairs resonated because of her footsteps, reverberating in this big old house, as if there was a ghost.

Then I opened the door to your room.It's so strange, Jiaming, I can still clearly smell the smell of books in such a musty smell.I have come back to your room again. The floor is covered with thick carpets, the dark green curtains are drawn, and there is no sunlight.Other than that, there is nothing but books.The large bookcases from all sides to the top are not enough, so they are all piled up on the ground. When you are around, you can always arrange them in a chaotic order, and then you can precisely pick out a book you want from anywhere.You seem to be sitting on the red suede sofa in the middle, reading a book or writing something at your desk, tall, decadent and beautiful.Forgive me for using beauty to describe you. The word beauty cannot weaken your heroism, but instead describes your charming elegance.The things that the years have carved on you can only make you more charming.

The fireplace was crackling, but without raising your eyes, you said to me, "Here you are?"

It is clearly a question sentence, but the wording is flat.Can't tell if it's welcome or not.

This time I pushed the door, but no one greeted me so nonchalantly.It seems that your books are indeed missing a lot now, and the landlady is right.But I don't care, these books are still damn much better in my opinion, I don't like them in the first place.I know that there are always large stacks of manuscripts sandwiched between the books you piled, so they are always shaky, and they fall down if you don't pay attention, and they are scattered all over the floor.I have advised you many times that there is something good to hide in the manuscripts you wrote, but you refused to listen, saying that this is not called hiding, but placement.Well, now no one cares about scattered all over the ground, which is the end of what you call resettlement.I went in and found that there were cobwebs between the pages, which was really a huge disaster.

It was not like this when I first entered the room.That day you took me away at the door of the studio and drove me home. This city is really big, and it took me more than an hour to drive to your house.While ringing the bell and waiting for the landlady to open the door, I asked you—what do you do?

I still remember you saying, "Oh, writing."

"Write what?"

"Write everything."

"What does all contain?"

"Novel, script..." You frowned and said, I thought to myself, no, you're going to be impatient.

Fortunately, at this time the landlady came and interrupted your reluctant list of alms. She was barely a beauty at that time, with blue-dyed nails. I had never seen such a beautiful color.She smiled and called you kindly——Jia Ming is back?Then he saw me and asked again, what is this?

Of course you didn't answer, you hugged her familiarly and led me upstairs.It's really not necessary, because I don't know what's going on with me, so I came here with you. Why did you invite me?Is it simply for the few catties and taels of meat hanging on his body?Or do you simply want to do the same to every lover of yours, have a good time, give some sweets, and then send them away like a dog?

You open the door and look for the key in your pocket, but you can’t find it after searching for a long time. Finally, you ask the landlady to open the door. She is used to it after seeing it, and she doesn’t ask much.

As soon as the door opened, I suddenly understood why I was obsessed with coming with you.Your clothes are sloppy, but they are really expensive. When I step on the carpet, the whole room is filled with sweet fragrance, which really makes people feel like they are in a dream.Later I found out that it was the smell of ink and ink. It was strange that I saw so many books piled up together for the first time, and they actually gave me a kind of fragrance, but I am really not a book lover. For example, now, I There is no awe in sight of this dilapidated house.

At that time, I was amazed at everything, such as emerald cufflinks thrown on the table, African rhino horns, and the Wycliffe Bible with a thick leather cover.I couldn't help but ask another stupid question: "Is it profitable to write?"

This directly made you laugh, I had to look up at you, only to see a few wrinkles in your eyes for a moment, how beautiful they are, even though the smile is more or less cramped.You looked at me with great interest, and made me feel that my cheap clothes and fake sneakers bought at the dirty street stall today are really out of date.

"No money," you look cheerful, "but I'm not short of money."

"Who writes if there is no shortage of money? I'm not one of those poor writers you think."

Well, I feel even more stupid.

You changed your clothes, and you did it in front of me without any shyness. You are as beautiful as the house, fascinating, with a sense of decadence and an elegance that money can't buy.Then you walked up to me, patted my stupid head, and said, "Take it off, little model." I immediately smelled the fragrance of your clothes.

You sit at your desk with a pen resting on your chin and watch me take off my clothes.I have never taken off my clothes so solemnly. I am not afraid of your jokes. I am a nude model. I took off my clothes before and exposed my body. This time it is myself.From then on, I made up my mind to rely on you, any way will do.

As it turns out, you're not someone to trust.

When you're happy you call my body beautiful, you kiss every inch of my body, we make love all over the room, you're so tender, you say I'm your muse.You said that you were writing a story based on ancient Greek mythology, and you said that my body gave you infinite inspiration.But in a blink of an eye, you became angry without saying a word, tore up the manuscript you were writing, and told me to get out of your room.

I really don't expect you to love me, I understand all your sorrows and joys caused by creation.Although I don't believe that happiness and sorrow are necessary for creation, you must have them, you are you.As long as I can walk into this room one time at a time, I feel satisfied.Just like now, you see, you are gone, I can still walk in here with a high-sounding appearance, but unfortunately I am only accompanied by those silently spinning spiders and termites that eat everything.

When I started reading your books, most of the novels were taken away, and all that was left were some profound tomes and collections of poetry.No wonder, everyone loves to read novels.I am afraid that all the books I have read in my life are in your house. After that, I am not willing to be called an uneducated vulgar person.But I don't have the patience to read those novels with complicated plots. Your poetry collections are the most suitable for me. Every sentence is ridiculous and irrelevant.Baudelaire, Eliot, Neruda... I have touched every one of them.

There are some quiet moments when you are writing your stuff, the so-called story that happened in ancient Greece, and I am sitting on the rug at your feet, near the fireplace, reading poetry.When I read poetry, I really waste the spirit of the great predecessors, just like a three-year-old child reading a picture book, unable to figure out what to do, just flipping through the pages one by one.

I dare to discuss it with you——Have you ever written poetry, Jiaming?

I call you that when you are in a good mood.

You ignored me, and I asked myself: What is the difference between a poet and a novelist?

After you finished writing a sentence, you answered me lazily. You said, oh, poets never pretend to be poets.

I don't know why, at that time I thought I had read a lot of poetry. "Poets benefit more from inspiration," I said wisely.

"Xu Man," you put down your pen and looked at me, "Inspiration will visit everyone without distinction."

When you say that, there is a kind of compassion in your eyes.Let me just say that it can be understood as compassion.Now, I ask you this question again, how do you answer it?But I have a new answer. I think that poets are something that everyone can do, and things that everyone can do are often greater.

The top book shook and fell.You see, you still go out of your way to laugh at me.

If you want me to say, you are like a tree in winter, when the leaves fall, the bird's nest is obvious.

Jiaming, look, I can also compose poetry.

Then you went and got married, and your wife was a first-class beauty, and I don't blame you for that, because I know the truth is that you can't love anyone.

I said, let me tell you a secret, I can hear the fish talking, just under the passageway downstairs of my house.

What they say, you frown and ask seriously, you believe it.

I said, and they all said, "I'm going to die."

"I'm going to die." You repeated, and then repeated, your expression turning sad.I should have found out the final outcome from it.

They're right, you say, and grab me again and kiss my earlobe, making me giggle.

You can go to pick up your marriage, then divorce, what does this have to do with me.Others are living their lives, only you are experiencing your life, you are experiencing your pain, the pain of others, the pain of sentient beings, how can you have feelings.You only ever care about yourself and your books.

Goodbye to you for more than a year, we met in a coffee shop on Joffre Road, you were very happy, said that you were divorced, and that you found a lot of new inspiration in this failed marriage.You invited me to sit at your house again, and I agreed.

You made me a cup of black tea and said that someone brought it from Ceylon, and you asked me many questions with great interest.

Do you have a boyfriend?

Yes, we broke up.I lied.

Are those fish still talking?With a pen in your hand, you tilted your head and asked me.

Said, still say the same thing every day.

You laughed, and leaned over to kiss my earlobe again, grabbed my hand with one hand, and reached out to the flesh under my clothes with the other.I don't even have room to resist, so I climbed into your bed willingly for some reason.You told me that the book was almost finished, and you told me at the climax that this book was written for me.I'm happy, but I don't believe it.Men can say all kinds of sweet words in bed, they have one characteristic in common - none of them are true.

I came to see you two or three times a week, and the landlady downstairs thought I was your best friend, until one morning the schoolteacher next door blushed and told me that you were too loud at night.The sound insulation of old houses is really not good, and it was only at this time that I realized how to restrain the noise.On the days we met, I read and you wrote, and you made me walk around the house naked, and then we went to bed and made love, like all couples do.When your writing is about to collapse, I will not be angry with you, dew lover, there is no need to be so humble.You are in a bad mood, I know, I advise you to see a psychiatrist, you said that you enjoy this feeling, I had a big fight with you that day, and I didn’t come to you for a whole month, and only the landlady will catch you when we see you again Crying on my arm, I never saw you again, only heard her narration——

Jiaming hanged himself in the middle of his books.

Maybe death is also part of all your experiences. I am not sad, but I was terrified. I ran away from this dark house and did not return for three years.

When I come back again, I want to see you, Jiaming. I am still not reconciled to your disappearance like this. I know where he went; second, I want to organize the manuscript for you. We agreed before that if you die, I will handle it.

You are really interesting. I have searched a lot, but I have not seen the story of the Greek teenager you have been writing.The only thing that is right in time is that in a small town, two teenagers fell in love, separated again, met again across thousands of mountains and rivers, and then fell in love again. The world is peaceful and the spring is good.This story is not purely written by you. I suddenly found that you are the kind of person who is tired of talent. You write this story to me——I believe your nonsense on the bed. When you look at me, do you never Have I seen the spring of sprouting branches and sprouts in my body? Those branches and leaves have been pulled out from my flesh and bones to form bright and colorful crabapple trees.If we meet in another place, we can probably have such a simple love.

But Jiaming, you just disappeared.In the past three years, I have been looking for you.Traveling thousands of miles across rivers and mountains, the mountains you see are you, and the water you see is you.I really found that feather, threw it up and let it fall to see which direction it went, but it just landed on me.So you see, I am you too.

If you ask me, I would rather not believe that there is a soul in the world, and a society with a soul. People are still social animals after death. I don't want you to still be troubled after you get there.I would rather believe that there is nothing left, you turn into ashes and become those molecules and atoms, isn't it the same as everything in the world.

Sometimes I feel that we are all fish in the fish tank of that underground passage. We swim desperately, but we still can only see this piece of sky, which is our boundary.You may be the one who has seen the ocean, and that is why you suffer more.But I would rather be smaller, preferably as small as dust.Dust is probably the most borderless thing, how good it is to be small, the smaller I am, the bigger the world will be.

I walked from home and passed those fish again.I stopped and heard them say to me, "I'm going to die."

I said I got it, everyone was going to die.But I'm not ready to die yet.Someone once told me that Americans can buy a one-way ticket to space for ashes.Of course, it can only be a one-way ticket.I want to live well and earn enough money to buy this ticket. When I fly up, we will probably all become a speck of dust in the universe. When we meet again, remember to say hello.

徐满

The author says:

I still want to say thank you for accompanying me from October last year to the present (oh my god, I wrote 11 words for four months), probably because of the epidemic in the first half of the year, and there were unexpectedly many classes in the second half of the year. It's in the middle of the night, so I still want to say sorry to everyone who followed the series.There are [-] ways to understand the relationship between these two stories. It can be who contains who, or it can be a series of dreams like a dream. It depends on your preference.But what is worth mentioning is that they are all talking about boundaries, Xiao Ji and Xu Man, they both feel small and decide to fall in love with another small person.In any case, I hope this story can bring you even a little bit of strength~ It’s good to go home after the performance and see you next time.