12/30/2008

New Year's Resolutions

1. See at least three new places in China. I'm thinking the Tibetan villages of Deqin, and the Hakka Tulou fortress outside ex-colonial Xiamen in Fujian Province.
2. Start learning Arabic (I've already found an Egyptian conversation partner and I'm learning it as an L3, from Chinese)
3. Score a Level Nine or higher on the HSK (the Chinese Proficiency Exam). That's the level that signifies that not only can you speak Chinese, but you can do complicated tasks in the language (ie. graduate school, law, foreign affairs).
4. Research and then write up my project... vague topic.... "Autobiography and Anonymity Online in China."
5. Type up my diary from this last summer into a travel book.
- - - - - - - - - - - Return to Canada! - - - - - - - - - - -
6. Decide on what my diploma should say in 2010. Chinese Maj/Hons and Anthropology Maj/Min and... I'm also thinking of throwing a minor in Public Administration on top of that.
7. Start applying for internships/grants/jobs(?)/scholarships for 2010. Prefereably something that will take me either back to China, or improve my French/Swahili/Arabic in a native speaking environment.
- - - - - - - - - - - Ongoing projects - - - - - - - - - - - -
8. Maintain this blog. http://cnstudent.blogspot.com
9. Read the Southern Weekly 南方周末... well, weekly.
10. Last but not least, nurture the relationships that I already have and form new relationships with the people around me.

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12/17/2008

Discussion: "Autobiography on the Chinese Online World."

In my last post I laid out the basic research plan that I'm developing for my project. I thought in this post I should present the ideas that I'm researching right now. The topic that I've defined for myself is "Autobiography and Anonymity on the Chinese Online World."

First then, what is "autobiography"? Well, we all know it's a biography told by oneself rather than others. Or to break two definitions down into one, which I'll be using for the sake of this project: autobiography is the act of giving an account or narrative of one's own life story or stories. Autobiography is expressed in many different forms of media, the first that typically comes to mind being the autobiographical novel. As a novel, we typically call this genre of literature the memoir."Gandhi" by Mahatma Gandhi or "Dreams of My Father" by Barack Obama are two examples that I will return to.

The most similar but different medium that we can contrast the memoir with is the diary. The difference is at the heart of this discussion, because a diary is private and a memoir is public. This project is looking not just into "autobiographies" as "complete, or extended life-story projects" (ie. memoirs), but more generally as "autobiographical accounts", in two mediums: blogs and forum postings. Blogs have been popularly mislabeled by the mainstream media with the term "online diaries", which conflates private and private text-based RSS feeds. An RSS feed is an web feed format which modifies HTML based websites in order to allow users to cycle "postings" that takes away much of the ordinary leg-work of maintaining a website. In the West, the primary hosting sites for these "blogs" are livejournal, WordPress and Blogger, which I am using myself. I think by now, nearly all internet users should have either used or at least viewed a blog. Forums are less frequently traveled in the Western internet and in fact could be considered to be in decline, with the rise of social networking websites such as Myspace and Facebook. However, the concept isn't too difficult to understand. Forums are organized on subjects, and users can post topics for discussion.

Both mediums are particular for the public nature of them. They can not only be viewed by the public, but the public can also comment on the postings in both the blog and forum mediums. Both of the mediums are distinct from a novel in more than just the material on which they are written, but also the way in which they are written. Novels/memoirs are presented as complete stories consisting of plot elements; on the other hand, blogs and forums only present anecdotes, short life stories. Blogs present a stream of anecdotes, updating regularly. In fact, viewing a well maintained blog in it's entirety from it's earliest post is not much different from reading a memoir, albeit a poorly organized and unconcluded memoir. Forums present isolated anecdotes, as the reader of a forum is "reading a community" rather than reading an individual's blog. The lens through which I'm viewing blogs and forums is that they can be understood as autobiographical, public-interactive. In either case, anecdotes tell funny stories, what you had for dinner, and of interest to my research, the personal problems and societal ills that Chinese net-users encounter in their day to day lives and choose to publish online.

How does autobiography compare to other mediums? Autobiography is self-reporting in nature; the alternative being reporting on events outside your own experience. So autobiography is personal and thus heavily biased to our own experiences and ideologies. The perspective of an autobiography is first-person, limited in scope to what the author can observe. That's two important concepts to remember. First-person perspective and heavily biased: that's the nature of autobiographical narratives. But the beautiful thing about autobiography that drew me to this subject and I think draws at nearly every reader is that autobiography allows one to "put yourself in someone else's shoes".

How does the reading public interact with autobiographical narratives? First, here's five major types of reactions that I typically experience when reading an autobiographical narrative.

  1. Apathy. If so, then I usually just move on.
  2. Skepticism. Is it true? I read for facts and knowledge that will verify what the author is saying. Like many savvy net-users I typically spend a lot of time using Wikipedia and Google while reading news, blogs and other media, to cross-check and verify claims. I'll discuss bias below.
  3. Empathy. Pity. Anger. Enjoyment. Amusement.
  4. Sympathy. Common life experience?
  5. Call to action. People typically have a purpose when telling a story. Self-therapy, the amusement of others, the social mores of gossiping and... putting an idea in other peoples heads. Gandhi and Barack Obama's memoirs are excellent examples. Autobiography is a potent form of rhetoric. This is one issue I hope to develop further, on the topic of the blogs of Chinese activists.
These reactions that we have are silent if we are reading a book (unless we go through the considerable and almost always wasted trouble of writing a letter to the author), but on blogs and forums, the online medium is designed for a public conversation to be capable of emerging from everything that is written (unless authors choose to disable commenting on their posts, a practice, that actually draws considerable ire from net-users, who are used to being able to respond to posts). Net-users express their feelings about what they see online. They share common experiences and the online autobiography becomes a conversation. This is the heart of what I'm researching.

There is also a dark side to the Chinese internet. The "human flesh search" or "人肉搜索" pronounced "renrou sousuo" has taken the conversation back into the real world, sometimes for good, sometimes for bad and sometimes for less then noble aims. I'll discuss that tomorrow when I talk about anonymity online in China.

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12/16/2008

Research Plan

So, I talked for a long time about creating a research project to top off my Chinese Language and Literature degree, something that emphasizes my anthropology background. First I was thinking of something more related to medical anthropology, emergent sexualities in China, but living in Shanghai, I feel pretty disinterested with the venues and activities related to that topic, so that kind of research will have to be saved for another time and another place. Instead, I decided to wait until an idea came to me. And about a month ago, that idea did, and I've been developing it since then.

The research plan is the first stage of research process that I envisage in this manner. Stages One through Four will take place here in China. Stages Five through seven, back home in Canada.

Stage One: Formulate the research question and research plan
Stage Two: Begin initial research, data gathering, participant observation
Stage Three: Clarify the research question
Stage Four: Narrow research, begin to organize data, cultivate informants
Stage Five: Organize data
Stage Six: Formulate the thesis
Stage Seven: Write like there's no tomorrow.
My initial research topic I've latched on to comes out of how I've been practicing my Chinese reading ability and exploring Chinese culture.

For a long time, I've been keeping up with EastSouthWestNorth, a website run by Roland Soong, where he translates posts from across the Chinese internet. Finally feeling confidant enough about my Chinese ability, I decided to stop relying on translation from ESWN and the new translation website on the net, ChinaSMACK. I started reading the forums at Tianya and Mop, the two major Chinese news forums. Before my impression of the Chinese internet was very based on the news events of political interest that came to the attention of ESWN, but I found that I was fascinated by how people were using the internet to talk about the small conflicts in their life, their feelings about their friends, family and work. I'm still interested in the political importance of the internet in China, but I'm more fascinated with how people use the internet to report on their own lives.

The initial topic that I'm using to frame my research question is "Autobiography and Anonymity in the Chinese Online World." I'll follow up tomorrow with a discussion of my research question and the theoretical and social issues that I'm researching.

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12/15/2008

Chandni Chowk To China

It was destined to happen eventually. Well here it is. The first major studio collaboration between Hong Kong and Bollywood filmmakers. Are you as excited as I am? Check out the trailer. But sit down first.

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4/15/2008

Translation: Yu Hua's "A History of Two People"

Here is the translation I've written for my final Contemporary Chinese Paper, a previously untranslated short story by the author, Yu Hua, reprinted here for your reading pleasure. The original Chinese text follows.

A History of Two People by Yu Hua

In August of 1930, the boy named Tan Bo and the girl named Lanhua together sat on the steps where the bright sun was unable to reach. Behind their figures loomed a vermilion red doorway, upon whose copper knobs was inscribed the shape of a lion. Tan Bo was the young master of the house and Lanhua was the daughter of the maidservant, but they would often sit together in this manner. The tiresome, honking noises of Mrs. Tan would always rise up behind them. All the while, her maidservant would repeat the same noises as she busied herself around the house. There they were, two children sitting together as they whispered to each other about their dreams.

Tan Bo often found himself needing to go pee in the midst of his dreams. He would look all throughout the setting of the dream for a chamber pot. As he would start towards the south-facing side room, he would feel a wave of trepidation pass over him. In reality, there was always a chamber pot in front of his bed, but in his dream the chamber pot had vanished. The endless search made Tan Bo’s dreams painful to endure. Afterwards, he would come out onto a street with beggars passing by all around him, having arrived there by rickshaw. At last, it was so intolerable for Tan Bo that he finally peed all over the street. From hereafter, the dream faded away. As the sky began to glow with the light of daybreak, a gray and gloomy secret rested on his window. The street in the middle of his dreams played the part of his wooden bed. Tan Bo would wake to feel his soft mattress radiating moist warmth. After all this had taken place, the setting was quickly completely transformed. When the boy opened both eyes with bewilderment, he reflected painfully on what happened in his dream, finally allowing his consciousness to enter into a state of perfect clarity. At that moment, he was full of shame for having really peed his bed. As the window paper turned bright white with the dawn’s early light, there began a time where he closed both his eyes again and immediately fell into a deep, deep sleep.

“And what about you?” inquired the boy, brimming with nervous energy. Obviously, he hoped for the girl to share some common experience with his dream. However, the girl declined to face his inquiry, instead expressing her embarrassment by covering her eyes with both hands as was normally her way.

“Haven’t you experienced anything of the same sort?” the boy continued to insist on an answer. In front of their sitting place was a secluded alleyway in which blackened brick walls had been laid on either side. In the future days of their lives, the bricks would become overgrown with shy, echoing grasses, quietly swaying in the wind. “Speak.” The boy began to grow overbearing. The girl’s face blushed red with shame. Her head hung down as she related the circumstances of her own dream. In her own dreams, she was also tormented by needing to pee and searching everywhere for a chamber pot.

“Do you also end up peeing in the street?”

The boy was full of excitement. However, the girl shook her head, telling him that she would always finally find a chamber pot.

This discrepancy made the boy feel a wave of shame pass over him. He hopefully lifted up his head to gaze above the high walls and to the sky beyond. There he could see the clouds floating by and he perceived that as the sunshine fell upon the height of the wall it caused a glittering of light. He thought: why would she find the chamber pot while he was eternally damned to be unable to do so.

This single thought made his heart burn with envy.

Afterwards he asked: “when you woke up did you find your mattress wet?”

The girl nodded her head. The conclusion was still the same.

* * * * * *

In November of 1939, the Tan Bo of seventeen years old no longer sat on the old stone steps with the Lanhua of sixteen years. Tan Bo now wore a student’s black suit. In his hand he held a Lu Xun novel and a collection of Hu Shi’s poetry. As he busied himself going to and from school and he was always trembling with excitement and anticipation. Lanhua had followed in her mother’s occupation. Wearing a tattered flower patterned coat, she busied herself around the chatter made by Mrs. Tan. Every so often, the Lanhua and Tan Bo would make small talk with each other.

Tan Bo of seventeen years old was full of pubescent passion and sometimes he would suddenly bar Lanhua’s way and with his eyebrows dancing in his forehead, begin talking about social progress. Lanhua would just bow her head without speaking. After all, their relationship couldn’t be as simple as when they were two innocent children. Or perhaps, Lanhua had begun to think of Tan Bo as the young master. However deeply rooted Tan Bo’s feelings of love and equality, it was difficult to see the distance that had gradually driven them apart.

On that last day of November, as she would often do, Lanhua took a cleaning rag and scrubbed the vermilion red furniture. Tan Bo sat in front of the window, reading a line of poetry about flying birds by Tagore . As Lanhua scrubbed the furniture she tried her best not to make any noise. Every so often, she glanced towards Tan Bo with eyes trembling. In her heart, she wished that this tranquillity would never be disturbed. However, reading poetry eventually became tiresome and when Tan Bo closed the book he was reading, he inevitably wanted to talk.

As a seventeen year old, he would quite often dream of sitting aboard a ship rocked by stormy waves. There was a kind of lusty desire to leave home that even during his clear headed times would still be intensely strong. He began to relate to her the dreams that had made him so anxious of late. “I am thinking of going to Yan’an,” he told her.

She was confused by him. It was clear to see that Yan’an’s two characters left a blank in her mind. He had not really wanted to make her understand his plans, only to know what the circumstances of her dreams were of late. This was the habit they had developed since that August of 1930. She recalled the embarrassment of 1930. Afterwards, she told him of any of her recent dreams analogous to his own. But unlike him, she did not dream of herself in a boat. Instead, she dreamed of being held up by four people in a sedan chair. In her role, she wore beautiful cloth shoes. The sedan chair was carried through every street inside the city. As he finished listening, he chuckled a little, saying:

“Your dreams and mine are not the same.”

At that time, the Japanese had already occupied the city in which they resided. He continued to speak, “you are only thinking of getting married.”

* * * * * *

In April of 1950, Tan Bo returned to the home he had left ten years before. Now he was a regimental commander of a cultural work regiment of the triumphant People’s Liberation Army, waist adorned with a leather belt and his legs wrapped in the cloth wrappings of a soldier. At this moment, the whole country was liberated and Tan Bo asked to be transferred so that he could return home to pay a visit.

Lanhua was still as before he left home, only she was no longer his mother’s servant and now she was beginning to enjoy living her own life. Tan Bo’s house had been divided up so that now part of the home belonged to Lanhua. Tan Bo walked into the setting of the house looking handsome, brave and prosperous and it left Lanhua with a profound impression. However, by that time, Lanhua already had amassed sons and daughters and lost her slender figure of before. Her now thick waist decried her previous beauty.

Beforehand, Lanhua had dreamed of this scene of Tan Bo’s return. To her surprise, reality and her dream were one and the same. That is why that noon, while Lanhua’s husband was away, she told Tan Bo of her dream.

“It was just this way that you returned,” Lanhua said.

Lanhua was no longer bashful when she answered questions. After all, she was the mother of her children. As she narrated the story of her dream, she spoke with neither the slightest bit of feeling or emotion. As she spoke, it was as casually as the simple act of describing a bowl on the kitchen floor. Her tone of voice was completely ordinary.

As he listened, Tan Bo remembered that he had a dream on the road home. In his dream, Lanhua appeared before him, except she was still in the image of the time when she was still a maiden.

“I also dreamed of you,” Tan Bo said. But he had just seen how Lanhua had become so much thicker and he didn’t want to waste his words describing her past beauty. As far as his dream was concerned with her, he would forever conceal the memory.

* * * * * *

December 1972. Tan Bo’s dishearteningly bowed head made his “counter-revolutionary” status known. His mother had just died, he had come to settle her affairs.

At this point, Lanhua’s children, for all intents and purposes, had become adults. Lanhua as before, remained without any particular kind of occupation. As Tan Bo walked into the house, Lanhua was washing plastics sheets to make some extra money to support the family. Tan Bo wore a tattered black cotton padded jacket. As he walked by Lanhua, pausing for a time, his heart was quivering as he nervously smiled at her.

Lanhua watched him make softly make an “oh” sound.

Thereupon he carefully oriented himself towards the inside of his mother’s room, walking inside. After a little while, Lanhua knocked on the room of the door, and asked him:

“What do you need me for?” Tan Bo looked around the room and saw that it was kept quite neat and tidy. He didn’t know what he should say.

It had been Lanhua who tried to inform him of the news of his mother’s death.

At that time, the two people lacked dreams to chat about.

* * * * * *

October 1985. The long since retired Tan Bo would sit all day in the courtyard basking in the light of the sun. As autumn set it, all he feared was the cold.

Lanhua has already become a white haired old woman, but she was still as healthy as ever. Now she was surrounded with grandchildren. Surrounded by them, she found that as the years went by she didn’t feel the least bit tired. At the same time, she continued to go to and from the room busying herself with household chores.

Later on, she took a basket of clothing over to a cement slab and began to scrub at the clothes.

Tan Bo squinted at her, his eyes almost sewn shut. He watched how her arms, still full of strength, swayed as she worked. While he listened to the sound of the “swish-swish” of her scrubbing, his worried heart sadly asked Lanhua.

He had recently dreamed of himself walking across a bridge, when the bridge suddenly collapsed. As he was walking past the house, a tile fell, flying down towards his head.

Translators Post-Script

This previously not yet translated short story by Yu Hua presented insights and challenges to his body of work. Written after his major short story collections and before his major novels, “The History of Two People” charts a similar course to his best selling novel “To Live”. Tan Bo, the protagonist of the story, is not dissimilar to “To Live”’s Fugui.. I might even go far as to suggest that “A History of Two People” might be considered Yu Hua’s outline for “To Live” from which he greatly strayed, in the course of writing the novel. The story contains the most basic elements on which Yu Hua wrote “To Live”: the passage through modern Chinese history, the protagonist’s high-class upbringing, the role in the revolution (Fugui was conscripted by accident, contrasted to Tan Bo declaring his desire to go to Yan’an), the hardship endured (the Cultural Revolution).It is important to also appreciate also the references to Lu Xun, Hu Shi and Rabindranath Tagore. This story is an experiment of sorts, dipping between bouts of the poetic, the historical and Yu Hua’s simple prose.




两个人的历史

一九三○年八月,一个名叫谭博的男孩和一个名叫兰花的女孩,共同坐在阳光无法照耀的台阶上。他们的身后是一扇朱红的大门,门上的铜锁模拟了狮子的形状。作为少爷的谭博和作为女佣女儿的兰花,时常这样坐在一起。他们的身后总是飘扬着太太的嘟哝声,女佣在这重复的声响里来回走动。两个孩子坐在一起悄悄谈论着他们的梦.
谭博时常在梦中为尿所折磨。他在梦为他布置的场景里四处寻找便桶。他在自己朝南的厢房里焦急不安。现实里安放在床前的便桶在梦里不翼而飞。无休止的寻找使梦中的谭博痛若不堪。然后他来到了大街上,在人力车来回跑动的大街上,乞丐们在他身旁走过。终于无法忍受的谭博,将尿撒向了大街。此后的情景是梦的消失。即将进入黎明的天空在窗户上一片灰暗。梦中的大街事实上由木床扮演。谭博醒来时感受到了身下的被褥有一片散发着热气的潮湿。这一切终结之后场景迅速地完成了一次更换。那时候男孩睁着迷茫的双眼,十分艰难地重温了一次刚才梦中的情景,最后他的意识进入了清晰。于是尿床的事实使他羞愧不已。在窗户的白色开始明显起来时,他重又闭上了双眼,随即沉沉睡去。
“你呢?”男孩的询问充满热情,显然他希望女孩也拥有同样的梦中经历。然而女孩面对这样的询问却表现了极大的害臊,双手捂住眼睛是一般女孩惯用的技法。
你是不是也这样?”男孩继续问。他们的眼前是一条幽深的胡同,两旁的高墙由青砖砌成。并不久远的岁月已使砖缝里生长出羞羞答答的青草,风使它们悄然摆动。“你说。”男孩开始咄咄逼人。女孩满脸羞红,她垂头叙述了与他近似的梦中情景。她在梦中同样为尿所折磨,同样四处寻找便桶。
“你也将尿撒在街上?”
男孩十分兴奋。然而女孩摇摇头,她告诉他她最后总会找到便桶。
这个不同之处使男孩羞愧不已。他抬起头望着高墙上的天空,他看到了飘浮的云彩,阳光在墙的最上方显得一片灿烂。他想:她为什么总能找到便桶,而他却永远也无法找到。
这个想法使他内心燃起了嫉妒之火。
后来他又问:“醒来时是不是被褥湿了?”
女孩点点头。结局还是一样。
一九三九年十一月,十七岁的谭博已经不再和十六岁的兰花坐在门前的石阶上。那时候谭博穿着黑色的学生装,手里拿着鲁迅的小说和胡适的诗。他在院里进出时,总是精神抖擞。而兰花则继承了母业,她穿着碎花褂子在太太的唠叨声里来回走动。偶尔的交谈还是应该有的。
谭博十七岁的身躯里青春激荡,他有时会突然拦住兰花,眉飞色舞地向她宣讲一些进步的道理。那时候兰花总是低头不语,毕竟已不是两小无猜的时候。或者兰花开始重视起谭博的少爷地位。然而沉浸在平等互爱精神里的谭博,很难意识到这种距离正在悄悄成立。
在这年十一月的最后一天里,兰花与往常一样用抹布擦洗着那些朱红色的家具。谭博坐在窗前阅读泰戈尔有关飞鸟的诗句。兰花擦着家具时尽力消灭声响,她偶尔朝谭博望去的眼神有些抖动。她希望现存的宁静不会遭受破坏。然而阅读总会带来疲倦。当谭博合上书,他必然要说话了。
在他十七岁的日子里,他几乎常常梦见自己坐上了一艘海轮,在浪涛里颠簸不止。一种渴望出门的欲望在他清醒的时候也异常强烈。现在他开始向她叙述自己近来时常在梦中出现的躁动不安。“我想去延安。”他告诉她。
她迷茫地望着他,显而易见,延安二字带给她的只能是一片空白。他并不打算让她更多地明白一些什么,他现在需要知道的是她近来梦中的情景。这个习惯是从一九三0年八月延伸过来的。她重现了一九三0年的害臊。然后她告诉他近来她也有类似的梦。不同的是她没有置身海轮中,而是坐在了由四人抬起的轿子里,她脚上穿着颜色漂亮的布鞋。轿子在城内各条街道上走过。他听完微微一笑,说:
“你的梦和我的梦不一样。”
他继续说:“你是想着要出嫁。”那时候日本人已经占领了他们居住的城市。
一九五0年四月,作为解放军某文工团团长的谭博,腰间系着皮带,腿上打着绑腿,回到了他的一别就是十年的家中。此刻全国已经解放,谭博在转业之前回家探视。
那时候兰花依然居住在他的家中,只是不再是他母亲的女佣,开始独立地享受起自己的生活。谭博家中的两间房屋已划给兰花所拥有。谭博英姿勃发走入家中的情景,给兰花留下了深刻的印象。此时兰花已经儿女成堆,她已经丧失了昔日的苗条,粗壮的腰扭动时抹杀了她曾经有过的美丽。
在此之前,兰花曾梦见谭博回家的情景,居然和现实中的谭博回来一模一样。因此在某一日中午,当兰花的丈夫出门之后,兰花告诉了谭博她梦中的情景。
“你就是这样回来的。”
兰花说。兰花不再如过去那样羞羞答答,毕竟已是儿女成堆的母亲了。她在叙说梦中的情景时,丝毫没有含情脉脉的意思,仿佛在叙说一只碗放在厨房的地上。语气十分平常。
谭博听后也回想起了他在回家路上的某个梦。梦中有兰花出现。但兰华依然是少女时期的形象。
“我也梦见过你。”谭博说。他看到此刻变得十分粗壮的兰花,不愿费舌去叙说她昔日的美丽。有关兰花的梦,在谭博那里将永远地销声匿迹。
一九七二年十二月。垂头丧气的谭博以反革命分子的身份回到家中。母亲已经去世,他是来料理后事。
此刻兰花的儿女基本上已经长大成人。兰花依然如过去那样没有职业。当谭博走入家中时,兰花正在洗塑料布,以此挣钱糊口。谭博身穿破烂的黑棉袄在兰花身旁经过时,略略站住了一会儿,向兰花胆战心惊地笑了笑。
兰花看到他后轻轻“哦”了一声。
于是他才放心地朝自己屋内走去。过了一会儿,兰花敲响了他的屋门,然后问他:
“有什么事需要我?”谭博看着屋内还算整齐的摆设,不知该说些什么。
母亲去世的消息是兰花设法通知他的。
这一次,两人无梦可谈。
一九八五年十月。已经离休回家的谭博,终日坐在院内晒着太阳。还是秋天的时候,他就怕冷了。
兰花已是白发苍苍的老人了,可她依然十分健壮。现在是一堆孙儿孙女围困她了。她在他们之间长久周旋,丝毫不觉疲倦。同时在屋里进进出出,干着家务活。
后来她将一盆衣服搬到水泥板上,开始洗刷衣服。
谭博眯缝着眼睛,看着她的手臂如何有力地摆动。在一片“唰唰”声里,他忧心忡忡地告诉兰花:
他近来时常梦见自己走在桥上时,桥突然塌了。走在房屋旁时,上面的瓦片奔他脑袋飞来。

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