Moxadple ggg
Stories (61)
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The bathhouse
Taking a bath should be a very happy thing. Why else would so many people like to sing at the top of their lungs in the bath? --Beginning with one person humming, and then another person singing out. And so one by one, eventually a chorus began. Later, the men's bathhouse next door also began to respond enthusiastically. A different atmosphere of joy in the crashing water drums and drums of trembling, trembling, trembling, the amplitude is getting bigger and bigger, the cycle is getting shorter and shorter ...... such joy does not know how to end. Even if it has ended, afterwards can not remember how it ended at that time.
By Moxadple ggg3 years ago in Fiction
The island at noon
The first time he saw the island, Marini was courteously leaning down toward the seat on his left, setting down the plastic table and putting up the lunch tray. As he walked back and forth with his magazine or his whiskey glass, the female passenger looked at him several times; Malini unhurriedly adjusted the table, bored, wondering if it was necessary to respond to the persistent gaze of the female passenger - an American woman, one of many American female passengers. Just then, the blue oval of the porthole window showed the coast of the island, with its beaches like golden ribbons and a small hill clustered around a central wilderness. Marini smiled at the female passenger as she righted her tilted beer glass. "A Greek island." He said. "Oh, yes, Greece." The American woman replied, feigning interest. The bell rang and the steward straightened up, a professional smile still lingering on his thin lips. He went to fetch tomato juice for a Syrian couple, but paused for a few seconds to look down when he reached the rear of the cabin: the island was small, isolated in the sea, with the azure Aegean encircling it, framing it with a dazzling frozen white edge that should have been the waves splashing between the reef and the bay. Marini watched the desolate beach stretching north and west, the rest of it a mountainous ridge that tapered into the sea. A rock-strewn deserted island, though the leaden gray speck near the northern beach could have been a home, perhaps a cluster of primitive houses. He opened his can of juice, and by the time he straightened up the island had disappeared through the porthole, leaving only the sea, a sprawling green horizon. He subconsciously glanced at his watch: it was just about noon.
By Moxadple ggg4 years ago in Fiction
One thousand pieces of sugar paper
During the summer vacation in the first grade, I went to my grandmother's house in Beijing as a guest. It was the age of "seven years old and eight years old to be disliked", and a girl named Shixiang from the next yard came to be my friend, and we played all kinds of games to make grandma's house restless. My cousin was recovering at my grandmother's house, and she couldn't sit still any longer. One day, she said to us, "Do you know what it means to be tired?" Shixiang and I looked at each other and laughed without a name. Yes, what does it mean to be tired? We never thought about it. Tiredness is so far away from us. Sometimes I hear grown-ups say, "Oh, I'm so tired." They are tired because they are adults. When we finally stopped laughing, my cousin said, "Doesn't Sehyang have some candy paper, why don't you spend some time saving it?" I remembered that Sehyang did let me visit some of the candy paper she had saved, which were dozens of beautiful pieces of cellophane, stuck inside a thin book. But I was neither interested in her sugar paper nor did I find it interesting. But Sehyang was interested, "Why do you want us to save the candy paper?" "If you save up a thousand pieces of candy paper, your cousin will give you an electric dog, the one that barks."
By Moxadple ggg4 years ago in Fiction
The 64 grand street
Recently, I went to No. 64 Wangfu Street. This is actually an old sign, but now it's no longer called that. It was the former site of the China Writers' Association and the All-China Federation of Literary Societies, known as the "Wenlian Building", and was also converted into the office of the Commercial Press many years ago. What I went to do, I do not remember. I only remember that I was driven by an inexplicable force, and I hunched up the steps of the first floor and a half, and gently pushed open the long-lost door. The moment the door opened, I almost felt dizzy. I peered fearfully, searching, hoping that it had better be different, that it was no longer some small auditorium. But it still seemed to be the same, the layout hadn't changed, the new owner hadn't even done the bare minimum of renovations, and a familiar old-fashioned aura came over me. The hall was empty, very empty, and I even felt very desolate. Suddenly, my ears rang with the sound of roars and growls, and then, something fell heavily on the floor with a loud thud. I quickly fled and jumped down the stairs, rushed out the door, straight to the busy street. The street was as calm as ever. The traffic and people were moving senselessly, like time without beginning or end. But this did not reduce my nervousness, my heart was still pounding.
By Moxadple ggg4 years ago in Fiction
The church ministers
There was a baptism in St. Peter's in the afternoon, so Obert Edouard was still wearing his priestly robes. He always put his new cassock on for funerals or weddings (those who are fashionable always choose St. Peter's for these ceremonies), so now he wears a slightly inferior one. He felt proud to wear this robe, because it was a sign of the dignity of his position. This son was not easy to come by. He always had to do the folding and ironing of the cassock himself. After sixteen years of service in this church, he has had many such robes, but he never throws away the old ones, all of which are neatly wrapped in vellum and stored in a drawer under his bedroom closet.
By Moxadple ggg4 years ago in Humans
The old principal
I never used to think that the universities in Hong Kong are so good. Look at those students, the graduation ceremony is always a person holding a stuffed bear, not to say also thought it was the end of kindergarten it. As for the teachers, it is not bad, except that most of the research is published in English, and mainly thesis, bookstores are difficult to see, unlike mainland scholars, many people who have published a lot, see their works lined up in bookstores, a great prestige. Not to mention the campus atmosphere, many big-name scholars come to give lectures, but only a few small cats to support the audience; academic salon? What is that? Never heard of it!
By Moxadple ggg4 years ago in Fiction
The peas
You can buy fried peas and fried peas at the stall selling smoked fried goods at the north market entrance, and at Wang Er's stall in my novel "Bizarre Bing". You can buy a small packet of them for twenty yuan, sprinkle a little salt on them, and eat them on the way to your home, and when you get there, you're done.
By Moxadple ggg4 years ago in Fiction
The white elephant montain
On the other side of the Ebro River valley, the white hills are rolling. On this side, there is a white field with no trees, and the station is in the middle of two railway lines under the sun. Immediately adjacent to the station was a house shrouded in stifling shadows, with a string of bamboo bead curtains hanging over the open doorway of the bar to keep the flies away. The American and the girl who was with him were sitting at a table in the shade outside the house. It was very hot and the express train from Barcelona would not arrive for another forty minutes. The train stopped at this transit station for two minutes and then continued on its way to Madrid.
By Moxadple ggg4 years ago in Families
