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汪曾祺丨《大淖记事》

推荐理由

《大淖记事》是一篇以高邮乡镇生活为背景的故乡纪事。小说从“大淖”着笔，写此地之形成与其风貌，再写地方上不同的一些人，有锡匠、挑工和保安队。而其主要的内容，是小锡匠十一子与挑夫的女儿巧云之间的爱情故事。正如小说题名“大淖记事”，小说与其说是写几个人，倒不如说是记二三事，表几分情与意。小说并不刻意追求人物之丰满、情节之多变，而在于关系的和谐。所以，诸多于传统文化中不屑、不齿之事，在大淖这个地方，却并不算得稀奇古怪。这里面自然是有作者更多的欣赏与谅解。

《大淖记事》一篇有着浓厚的生活气息，有着丰富而鲜明的地域文化色彩，也洋溢着自然淳朴的风土人情。在散文化的笔端中，表面上写的是风水风情与风流，深层里表现的却是情感情爱与情义。在其中，风光之美、人情之美、人性之美随处可感。而这正是《大淖记事》的魅力所在吧。

Reviews

Set in Wang Zengqi’s hometown of Gaoyou, An Event Happening in Danao starts by describing the area and its spirit before moving onto the lives of the people there – the tinsmiths, the porters, the constables. But its true focus is on the love story that unfolds between tinsmith Shiyizi and Huang Qiaoyun, the daughter of a skilled porter. And just as the title suggests, the novella is not just about the goings-on of a few people, but rather the affections shared from one moment to the next. Instead of piling on character and plot details, Wang instead sprinkles on enough to build a harmonious network of relations. In addition, themes thought to be contemptible or unmentionable in other authors’ stories show up here in all their detail, which demonstrates Wang’s ability to appreciate and understand.

 As a whole, An Event Happening in Danao brims with life, pulling distinct images of rural life together with the natural simplicity of local customs. And despite the work’s prominent traditions and lifestyles, look a little deeper and you’ll find prose that echoes with love and brotherhood. Its beauty of scenery, relations, and humanity are felt everywhere, giving this story a soul that audiences will ponder for decades.

作家简介

Author Profile

汪曾祺（1920-1997），江苏高邮人。出生于一个士大夫世家，深受传统文化濡染；1939年考入西南联大中文系，建国后先后担任《北京文艺》《民间文艺》编辑，致力于创作并取得很高的成就。

汪曾祺的文学成就主要在于短篇小说和散文创作上。1949年，即发表第一部小说集《邂逅集》；建国后，发表了第二个作品集《羊舍的夜晚》；八十年代，汪曾祺进入创作高峰，先后写出《受戒》《异秉》《大淖记事》等名篇，有小说集《汪曾祺短篇小说集》。此外，也有散文集《蒲桥集》。现已有《汪曾祺文集》出版。

汪曾祺于西南联大学习时，师从沈从文，写作风格也受其影响，是京派作家的代表人物，也是中国当代著名作家。他是一个“晚而翠”的作家，尽管生活经历多变，但个性却仍趋于通脱，被称为是“抒情的人道主义者，中国最后一个纯粹的文人，中国最后一个士大夫”。

Wang Zengqi (1920-1997) is an author from Gaoyou, Jiangsu Province, originally born to a squire family where he was deeply instilled with traditional Chinese culture. In 1939, he enrolled in the National Southwestern Associated University’s College of Literature, and later became editor for Beijing Literatureand Art and Folk Literature and Arts following the establishment of People’s Republic of China.   

Wang’s main literary achievements have been in the way of short stories and prose compositions. In 1949, he published his first set of novellas, the Encounter. This was later followed by the collection entitled The Night at Sheep Cot. By the 1980s, Wang had reached his literary zenith, writing the famed The Love Story of a Young Monk (Ordained), Special Gift, and An Event Happening in Danao, as well as the Collected Short Stories of Wang Zengqi; his Cattail Bridge Collectionof prose was also popular. Nowadays, many of his works have been compiled into the Collected Works of Wang Zengqi.

 During his college years, Wang studied under Shen Congwen the famous writer, adopting many of his stylistic flares. Later Wang became a key figure in the Beijing-style of writers as well as a major contemporary Chinese author. He is considered a writer who grew more vigorous as he grew older, refining himself despite past misfortunes and becoming known as “the lyrical humanitarian”, “China’s last pure scholar”, and “China’s last literary intelligentsia”.

中文概要

Synopsis

大淖东头有一户人家。这一家只有两口人，父亲和女儿。父亲名叫黄海蛟，是黄海龙的堂弟（挑夫里姓黄的多）。原来是挑夫里的一把好手。他专能上高跳。这地方大粮行的“窝积”（长条芦席围成的粮囤），高到三四丈，只支一只单跳，很陡。上高跳要提着气一口气窜上去，中途不能停留。遇到上了一点岁数的或者“女将”，抬头看看高跳，有点含糊，他就走过去接过一百五十斤的担子，一支箭似的上到跳顶，两手一提，把两箩稻子倒在“窝积”里，随即三五步就下到平地。因为为人忠诚老实，二十五岁了，还没有成亲。那年在车逻挑粮食，遇到一个姑娘向他问路。这姑娘留着长长的刘海，梳了一个“苏州俏”的发髻，还抹了一点胭脂，眼色张皇，神情焦急，她问路，可是连一个准地名都说不清，一看就知道是大户人家逃出来的使女。黄海蛟和她攀谈了一会，这姑娘就表示愿意跟着他过。她叫莲子。——这地方丫头、使女多叫莲子。莲子和黄海蛟过了一年，给他生了个女儿。七月生的，生下的时候满天都是五色云彩，就取名叫做巧云。

莲子的手很巧、也勤快，只是爱穿件华丝葛的裤子，爱吃点瓜子零食，还爱唱“打牙牌”之类的小调：“凉月子一出照楼梢，打个呵欠伸懒腰，瞌睡子又上来了。哎哟，哎哟，瞌睡子又上来了······”这和大淖的乡风不大一样。

巧云三岁那年，她的妈莲子，终于和一个过路戏班子的一个唱小生的跑了。那天，黄海蛟正在马棚湾。莲子把黄海蛟的衣裳都浆洗了一遍，巧云的小衣裳也收拾在一起，闷了一锅饭，还给老黄打了半斤酒，把孩子托给邻居，说是她出门有点事，锁了门，从此就不知去向了。

巧云的妈跑了，黄海蛟倒没有怎么伤心难过。这种事情在大淖这个地方也值不得大惊小怪。养熟的鸟还有飞走的时候呢，何况是一个人！只是她留下的这块肉，黄海蛟实在是疼得不行。他不愿巧云在后娘的眼皮底下委委屈屈地生活，因此发心不再续娶。他就又当爹又当妈，和女儿巧云在一起过了十几年。他不愿巧云去挑扁担，巧云从十四岁就学会结渔网和打芦席。

巧云十五岁，长成了一朵花。身材、脸盘都像妈。瓜子脸，一边有个很深的酒窝。眉毛黑如鸦翅。长入鬓角。眼角有点吊，是一双凤眼。睫毛很长，因此显得眼睛经常是眯睎着；忽然回头，睁得大大的，带点吃惊而专注的神情，好像听到远处有人叫她似的。她在门外的两棵树杈之间结网，在淖边平地上织席，就有一些少年人装着有事的样子来来去去。她上街买东西，甭管是买肉、买菜，打油、打酒，撕布、量头绳，买梳头油、雪花膏，买石碱、浆块，同样的钱，她买回来，分量都比别人多，东西都比别人的好。这个奥秘早被大娘、大婶们发现，她们都托她买东西。只要巧云一上街，都挎了好几个竹篮，回来时压得两个胳臂酸疼酸疼。泰山庙唱戏，人家都自己扛了板凳去。巧云散着手就去了。一去了，总有人给她找一个得看的好座。台上的戏唱得正热闹，但是没有多少人叫好。因为好些人不是在看戏，是看她。

巧云十六了，该张罗着自己的事了。谁家会把这朵花迎走呢？炕房的老大？浆坊的老二？鲜货行的老三？他们都有这意思。这点意思黄海蛟知道了，巧云也知道。不然他们老到淖东头来回晃摇是干什么呢？但是巧云没怎么往心里去。

巧云十七岁，命运发生了一个急转直下的变化。她的父亲黄海蛟在一次挑重担上高跳时，一脚踏空，从三丈高的跳板上摔下来，摔断了腰。起初以为不要紧，养养就好了。不想喝了好多药酒，贴了好多膏药，还不见效。她爹半瘫了，他的腰再也直不起来了。他有时下床，扶着一个剃头担子上用的高板凳，格登格登地走一截，平常就只好半躺下靠在一摞被窝上。他不能用自己的肩膀为女儿挣几件新衣裳，买两枝花，却只能由女儿用一双手养活自己了。还不到五十岁的男子汉，只能做一点老太婆做的事：绩了一捆又一捆的供女儿结网用的麻线。事情很清楚：巧云不会撇下她这个老实可怜的残废爹。谁要愿意，只能上这家来当一个倒插门的养老女婿。谁愿意呢？这家的全部家产只有三间草屋（巧云和爹各住一间，当中是一个小小的堂屋）。老大、老二、老三时不时走来走去，拿眼睛瞟着隔着一层鱼网或者坐在雪白的芦席上的一个苗条的身子。他们的眼睛依然不缺乏爱慕，但是减少了几分急切。

老锡匠告诫十一子不要老往淖东头跑，但是小锡匠还短不了要来。大娘、大婶、姑娘、媳妇有旧壶翻新，总喜欢叫小锡匠来；从大淖过深巷上大街也要经过这里，巧云家门前的柳荫是一个等待雇主的好地方。巧云织席，十一子化锡，正好做伴。有时巧云停下活计，帮小锡匠拉风箱。有时巧云要回家看看她的残废爹，问他想不想吃烟喝水，小锡匠就压住炉里的火，帮她织一气席。巧云的手指划破了（织席很容易划破手，压扁的芦苇薄片，刀一样的锋快），十一子就帮她吮吸指头肚子上的血。巧云从十一子口里知道他家里的事：他是个独子，没有兄弟姐妹。他有一个老娘，守寡多年了。他娘在家给人家做针线，眼睛越来越不好，他很担心她有一天会瞎······

好心的大人路过时会想：这倒真是两只鸳鸯，可是配不成对。一家要招一个养老女婿，一家要接一个当家媳妇，弄不到一起。他们俩呢，只是很愿意在一处谈谈坐坐。都到岁数了，心里不是没有。只是像一片薄薄的云，飘过来，飘过去，下不成雨。

有一天晚上，好月亮，巧云到淖边一只空船上去洗衣裳（这里的船泊定后，把桨拖到岸上，寄放在熟人家，船就拴在那里，无人看管，谁都可以上去）。她正在船头把身子往前倾着，用力涮着一件大衣裳，一个不知轻重的顽皮野孩子轻轻走到她身后，伸出两手咯吱她的腰。她冷不防，一头栽进了水里。她本会一点水，但是一下了懵了。这几天水又大，流很急。她挣扎了两下，喊救人，接连喝了几口水。她被水冲走了！正赶上十一子在炕房门外土坪上打拳，看见一个人冲了过来，头发在水上漂着。他褪下鞋子，一猛子扎到水底，从水里把她托了起来。

十一子把她肚子里的水控了出来，巧云还是昏迷不醒。十一子只好把她横抱着，像抱一个婴儿似的，把她送回去。她浑身是湿的，软绵绵，热乎乎的。十一子觉得巧云紧紧挨着他，越挨越紧。十一子的心怦怦地跳。

到了家，巧云醒来了。（她早就醒来了！）十一子把她放在床上。巧云换了湿衣裳（月光照出她的美丽的少女的身体）。十一子抓一把草，给她熬了半铞子姜糖水，让她喝下去，就走了。

巧云起来关了门，躺下。她好像看见自己躺在床上的样子。月亮真好。

巧云在心里说：“你是个呆子！”

她说出声来了。

不大一会，她也就睡死了。

就在这一天夜里，另外一个人，拨开了巧云家的门。

To the east of Lake Danao sits the home of porter Huang Haijiao and his daughter Huang Qiaoyun. Porters in this region usually had the last name Huang, and Haijiao was a younger cousin to Hailong. And boy, was he a great porter back in the day, being the best and bravest around. The round granary huts they worked were called “nest stores” by the locals, and their matted walls of long reeds stood ten or so meters high. Haijiao’s job was to load grain up into them via a precariously steep and narrow flexing board; and the slightest hesitation or rest on his way to the top would likely end in injury. Whenever he saw other porters hesitate in front of the flexing board, he would go up and shoulder their load of 75 kilograms and then do the job for them. He would skip up like an arrow with the heavy burden, dump out the baskets with one powerful throw, and be back on the ground in a mere a step or two.

 A bit too honest, Haijiao had still not married despite being twenty-five years old. But that year, as he helped load the granaries over at Cheluo Town, a young girl asked him for directions. She had long bangs that swept into a Suzhou bun, and had an anxious, almost flustered look behind her bit of rouge. And she did not even know a name of any place around – Haijiao could tell right away that she was a wealthy family’s escaped house maid. Her name was Lianzi, and after talking for a bit, she agreed to be with him. Really though, all the maids and servant girls in these parts had her name, which meant ‘lotus seed’.

 Lianzi and Haijiao were together for a year before having a daughter. And they decided to name her Qiaoyun (literally “beautiful clouds”), as she was born in July under a sky filled with colorful clouds.

 Lianzi had nimble, hard-working hands, and she would often sit about in her jacquard pants eating sunflower seeds or other snacks. She loved to sing as well, especially folk tunes like Ivory Plaques which didn’t fit in with the local style. “A frigid moon on the eaves, stretching and yawns with ease, and then the sleepies set in. Oh no, oh no, the sleepies set in…”

 But by the time Qiaoyun was three, Lianzi met a Beijing opera performer from a passing theatre troupe and thought it was about time to run off again. Huang Haijiao was over in Stable Bay at the time, so Lianzi took her time to properly starch and fold his and Qiaoyun’s clothes, simmer up a stew, and buy him a pint of liquor. Then she asked their neighbor to look after her daughter, mumbling some excuse about having to fetch something, and with a turn of the key she was gone.

 Her sudden disappearance didn’t bother him any, though – this sort of thing happened all around Lake Danao! And let’s be honest, if a grown bird needs to spread its wings and fly, what’s holding a person back from doing the same? The child she left behind was really what he loved the most. He couldn’t stand the thought of Qiaoyun living under the despising stare of a stepmother, so he swore right then and there to never remarry – he’d be Qiaoyun’s mother and father, and that’s exactly how things went for the next ten more years. He also forbade her from being a porter like himself, so she started learning how to make nets and reed mats when she was fourteen.

 By the time she was fifteen, Qiaoyun had blossomed into a spitting image of her mother – beautiful, with a delicate oval face and a prominent dimple on one side. Her eyebrows were like crow’s wings, darting black and sharp to her temples, and her eyes like those of a phoenix, angling down at the corners. Her eyelashes were long, giving her the look of always having her eyes narrowed, but they would open bright and focused with sudden the turn of a head, as if someone were calling for her from afar.

 She would make her nets and mats beside the lake, sitting under the forks of the two trees, and young men would come and go under the pretenses of work. And when she’d go shopping on the main road, vendors would always treat her best; whether she needed foodstuffs, hair products, face cream, or even soda ash, she would always receive more and better-quality goods than others. It also wasn’t long before all the aunts and nannies had her go shopping for them because of this open secret – she’d have bamboo baskets brimming with goods up and down her arms, which would be bruised by the time she came back. But she never had to lift a finger when she’d go see performances over at Taishan Temple – though everybody else had to take a stool to sit on, there’d always be a chair in a great spot waiting for her. And nobody would ever cheer, even during the exciting parts, because they were all watching her, not the play, of course.

At age sixteen, she had to start thinking about her own marriage. Who was going to take this beautiful flower home with them? Would it be the owner of the kiln, or the plaster worker, or the fresh foods vendor? They all had their eyes set on her – Huang Haijiao and Qiaoyun couldn’t be clearer about that. Why else would they make such a big loop over to East Danao? In any case, Qiaoyun didn’t find them the least bit interesting.

But when she turned seventeen, their lives – hers especially – took a turn for the worse. Haijiao missed a step out working one day, breaking his back after falling ten meters down.

They thought things would be alright if he rested for a while. But Haijiao wouldn’t get well after all those medicinal liquors and plasters. And with that, Qiaoyun’s dad was virtually paralyzed, being unable to stand up straight anymore. The most movement you’d see from him were the few steps he’d make after getting out of bed; he’d clasp desperately the barber’s tall stool and “walk” noisily with its help. Most of time, he had to half lie on a pile of blankets.

No longer could he earn any money to buy her new clothes, or even flowers. He lamented on how Qiaoyun would have to provide for the family, and how in his forties he’d been reduced to doing old hags’ work: twisting bundle after bundle of twine for her to make net with.

One thing was clear though: Qiaoyun would not abandon her poor, honest father. And at this point, she’d let anyone come marry her, as long as they’d settle down in their house instead of her going along to live with the groom’s parents. But who would do that, especially when all they owned was a house with two rooms and a small hall? The kiln owner, plaster worker, and food vendor would still come by, admiring her slender body obscured behind the newest net, or as she sat out on her snow-white mats. Their affections never wavered, but the haste in their eyes seemed to have disappeared.

Shiyizi apprenticed under the town’s tinsmith, but even though the old man would tell him not to go around seeing Qiaoyun, he would always pay her house a visit. First, all the East Danao ladies absolutely loved him, waiting with kettles in hand that needed refurnishing; second, the alleyway he took between the lake and the main road passed right by Qiaoyun’s house, and the shaded patch in front of it was always a great spot to find customers.

One would often see them working side by side, Qiaoyun weaving her mats while Shiyizi hammered his tin. And sometimes, she would set down her work and help him blow the bellows. Or when she’d come home to check up on her father, she’d offer Shiyizi some refreshment; he’d shut off his fire and help her with the mats. And when the sharp reed leaves would cut her fingers, Shiyizi would swiftly kiss them for her.

Shiyizi told her a bit about his family. He was an only child and his mother had been a widow for some time. His mother’s sight was also going with all the needlework she did, so he was worried she’d be blind soon.

Any well-meaning person could see that these two loved each other, yet they still weren’t a good match. One wanted a man to come take care of her family; the other wanted a housewife to take care of his. So, they were just happy to sit down and talk. They certainly had emotions for each other because of their age, but the feelings between them were like a thin, floating cloud that never came down.

One night when a full moon was out, Qiaoyun went down to the lake to wash her clothes out on the boat that was docked there. She was leaning there on the bow, using all her might to rinse a large dress when a mischievous boy snuck over and tried to tickle her, but Qiaoyun was so taken off-guard that she fell into the water face-first, dazed to the point where she forgot how to swim. Also, the stream flowing through the lake was very rough and fast these days, so after struggling for a minute or two, she accidentally inhaled some water and was swept off by the current!

Shiyizi was outside his furnace throwing a few punches when he saw a person being washed down the stream. Without the slightest hesitation, he tore off his shoes and dove into the water, pulling Qiaoyun up onto the bank. He tried resuscitating her, but she still wouldn’t come to, so he took her into his arms and ran off back to her house. Her body felt like a sopping-wet ragdoll, piping-hot to the touch. He could feel her grabbing for him, tighter and tighter; his heart was pounding like a drum.

Qiaoyun finally came to when he sat her down on the bed inside (though she’d really been awake much longer than that!). Afterwards, when she went to change her clothes while he made her a warm brew of ginger syrup, he just so happened to see her beautiful shape silhouetted against the moonlight. Too honest to let his mind wander, he left as soon as she took a few sips.

Qiaoyun closed the door and laid back down. She could almost imagine how she looked laying there, radiant under the full moon’s beauty. “Oh, you fool” she said to herself, a smile coming to her face as she thought of Shiyizi. And before long, she had drifted into dreamland.

But little did she know that the hands of another man would come to defile her dream…