手中纸，心中爱

此次小编节选的文章出自刘宇昆的短篇故事——《手中纸，心中爱》，故事讲述的是一个身世不幸而后又辗转嫁到大洋彼岸并获得幸福婚姻的女孩儿成为母亲后，由于一直融入不了当地的生活环境及文化背景，而导致了与儿子二十几年的艰难相处。而儿子在母亲去世后才发现了折纸上的字句，终于体会到母亲的艰辛与伟大。文章用字并不华丽，也未过度修饰，而正因这种平实的风格才使得这个短篇故事灵耀动人。俗话说得好，大爱无言、真水无香。或许用任何世故手段都无法达到的人生境界就只蕴藏在最简单、最平淡、最幼稚的场景里。

刘宇昆（Ken Liu，1976年—），男，美籍华裔科幻作家，职业为程序设计员与律师，业余则从事写作。2009年4月，《科幻世界》杂志刊载了其两篇小说《爱的算法》和《单比特错误》，因小说《爱的算法》深受读者喜爱，才使得他的更多科幻小说得以在国内发表，从而被国内的科幻迷所熟知。2012年的5月及9月，刘宇昆凭借《手中纸，心中爱》斩获星云奖及雨果奖的最佳短篇故事奖，而其另一部作品《终结历史的男人》也同样获得2012年星云奖与雨果奖的中篇小说奖提名，但最终未能获奖。雨果奖及星云奖素有“科幻界的诺贝尔与奥斯卡”之称，而刘宇昆也从此成为继姜峰楠之后又一位华裔世界科幻最高双奖的获得者。

“Howve you been， old 2）buddy？”

Laohu stopped playing. He got up， jumped with 3）feline grace into my lap， and 4）proceeded to unfold himself.

In my lap was a square of 5）creased wrapping paper， the plain side up. It was filled with dense Chinese characters. I had never learned to read Chinese， but I knew the characters for son， and they were at the top， where youd expect them in a letter addressed to you， written in Moms awkward， childish handwriting.

I went to the computer to check Internet. Today was Qingming.

I took the letter with me downtown， where I knew the Chinese tour buses stopped. I stopped every tourist， asking， “Nin hui du zhongwen ma？” Can you read Chinese？ I hadnt spoken Chinese in so long that I wasnt sure if they understood. A young woman agreed to help. We sat down on a bench together， and she read the letter to me aloud. The language that I had tried to forget for years came back， and I felt the words sinking into me， through my skin， through my bones， until they 6）squeezed tight around my heart.

“最近怎样啊？老伙计。”

小老虎停止扑腾，站直了身子，然后以猫科动物特有的优美姿势跳到我腿上。接着它的身体开始肢解、舒展。

在我腿上留下的是一张皱巴巴的包装纸，正面朝下，反面朝上。纸面上缀满密密麻麻的中国字。我没学过中国字，但“儿子”两个字还是认识的，它们在纸的最上方——只有写给某个人的信才会把对方的称谓放在这个位置上。母亲在信里的字迹笨拙，一笔一画都像个孩子写的。

我跑到电脑前，打开网页。今天正是清明。

我立马带上信跑到城里，因为那里可以遇到中国人的旅游巴士。瞅见个长得像中国人的游客，我就会跑上去问：“您会读中文吗？”因为很久没说过中文了，为确保他们能明白我的问题，我又会用英语再问一遍，“您会读中文吗？”最后，一位年轻的女士同意帮我。我们找到一条长凳坐下。她一字一句地大声把信念给我听。多年来，我一直逃避驱赶的声音终于又飘回到我的耳际，但这次它没有被迅速遗忘，而是沉入心底，穿透皮肤，浸入骨髓；此后，我的内心翻江倒海，灵魂夜不能寐。

Son，

We havent talked in a long time. You are so angry when I try to touch you that Im afraid. And I think maybe this pain I feel all the time now is something serious. So I decided to write to you. Im going to write in the paper animals I made for you that you used to like so much.

The animals will stop moving when I stop breathing. But if I write to you with all my heart， Ill leave a little of myself behind on this paper， in these words. Then， if you think of me on Qingming， when the spirits of the departed are allowed to visit their families， youll make the parts of myself I leave behind come alive too. The creatures I made for you will again leap and run and 7）pounce， and maybe youll get to see these words then. Because I have to write with all my heart， I need to write to you in Chinese.

All this time I havent told you the story of my life. When you were little， I always thought Id tell you the story when you were older， so you could understand. But somehow that chance never 8）came up.

I was born in 1957， in Sigulu Village， Hebei Province. Sigulu is famous for its zhezhi 9）papercraft， and my mother taught me how to make paper animals and give them life. This was practical magic in the life of the village. We made paper birds to chase 10）grasshoppers away from the fields， and paper tigers to keep away the mice. For Chinese New Year my friends and I made red paper dragons. Ill never forget the sight of all those little dragons 11）zooming across the sky overhead， holding up strings of exploding 12）firecrackers to scare away all the bad memories of the past year. You would have loved it.

There I was， a tenyear-old 13）orphan. The only relative I had in the world was my uncle in Hong Kong. I snuck away one night and climbed onto a 14）freight train going south. Down in Guangdong Province a few days later， some men caught me stealing food from a field. When they heard that I was trying to get to Hong Kong， they laughed. “Its your lucky day. Our trade is to bring girls to Hong Kong.” They hid me in the bottom of a truck along with other girls， and 15）smuggled us across the 16）border.

We were taken to a basement and told to stand up and look healthy and intelligent for the buyers. Families paid the warehouse a fee and came by to look us over and select one of us to “adopt.” The Chin family picked me to take care of their two boys. I got up every morning at four to prepare breakfast. I fed and bathed the boys. I shopped for food. I did the laundry and swept the floors. I followed the boys around and did their 17）bidding. At night I was locked into a cupboard in the kitchen to sleep. If I was slow or did anything wrong I was beaten. If the boys did anything wrong I was beaten. If I was caught trying to learn English I was beaten.“Why do you want to learn English？” Mr. Chin asked. “You want to go to the police？ Well tell the police that you are a 18）mainlander illegally in Hong Kong. Theyd love to have you in their prison.”

Six years I lived like this. One day， an old woman who sold fish to me in the morning market pulled me aside. “I know girls like you. How old are you now， sixteen？ One day， the man who owns you will get drunk， and hell look at you and pull you to him and you cant stop him. The wife will find out， and then you will think you really have gone to hell. You have to get out of this life. I know someone who can help.”

She told me about American men who wanted Asian wives. If I can cook， clean， and take care of my American husband， hell give me a good life. It was the only hope I had. And that was how I got into the catalog with all those lies and met your father. It is not a very romantic story， but it is my story.

In the suburbs of Connecticut， I was lonely. Your father was kind and gentle with me， and I was very grateful to him. But no one understood me， and I understood nothing. But then you were born！ I was so happy when I looked into your face and saw 19）shades of my mother， my father， and myself. I had lost my entire family， all of Sigulu， everything I ever knew and loved. But there you were， and your face was proof that they were real. I hadnt made them up. Now I had someone to talk to. I would teach you my language， and we could together remake a small piece of everything that I loved and lost. When you said your first words to me， in Chinese that had the same accent as my mother and me， I cried for hours. When I made the first zhezhi animals for you， and you laughed， I felt there were no worries in the world. You grew up a little， and now you could even help your father and me talk to each other. I was really at home now. I finally found a good life. I wished my parents could be here， so that I could cook for them， and give them a good life too. But my parents were no longer around. You know what the Chinese think is the saddest feeling in the world？ Its for a child to finally grow the desire to take care of his parents， only to realize that they were long gone.

Son， I know that you do not like your Chinese eyes， which are my eyes. I know that you do not like your Chinese hair， which is my hair. But can you understand how much joy your very existence brought to me？ And can you understand how it felt when you stopped talking to me and wont let me talk to you in Chinese？ I felt I was losing everything all over again.

Why wont you talk to me， son？ The pain makes it hard to write.

The young woman handed the paper back to me. I could not bear to look into her face. Without looking up， I asked for her help in tracing out the character for ai on the paper below Moms letter. I wrote the character again and again on the paper， 20）intertwining my pen strokes with her words. The young woman reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. Then she got up and left， leaving me alone with my mother.

Following the creases， I refolded the paper back into Laohu. I 21）cradled him in the crook of my arm， and as he 22）purred， we began to walk home.

儿子：

我们好久没有说话了。每当我试着接近你，你总那么生气，我不知道该怎么办。而我觉得这一心结好像变得越来越紧了。所以，我决定给你写信。把信写好后，我会把它们做成你一直都很喜欢的纸动物。

如果我去世了，那些小动物也将失去活力。但是，如果我用真心给你写这封信，我便可以通过这张纸，透过这些话，在自己走后给你留下一点儿关于我的东西。这样一来，每到清明节，每到死去的亲人回来看望家人的日子，我便可以在你想我的那一刻来到你身边。我给你做的那些小动物到那时会乱蹦乱跳，也许你能看到这些字。因为我希望用我全部的爱来写这些话，所以我只好用中文写下来。

多年来，我一直都没有向你说起我的过去。当时你还小，我总想，等你长大了再说给你听，那时你肯定已经懂事了。但是这一天却未能到来。

我出生在1957年，河北省的四轱辘村。那里的折纸很出名。妈妈从小就教我如何用纸折小动物，并且赋予它们生命。这是我们老家村子里的一大法术。我们做纸鸟把蚱蜢赶出稻田，做纸老虎吓唬老鼠。每到春节，我和我的小伙伴们会一起折红色的纸龙，把它们拴在爆竹杆前头，至今我都能清晰记得轰隆隆的鞭炮声把小飞龙震得在我们头顶乱舞的样子，就这样，过去一年的烦恼全都被炸没了。如果你能在场，应该也会喜欢吧。

十岁那年，我成了孤儿。在这世上我仅有的亲人便是我在香港的叔叔了。一天夜里，我跑了出来，爬进了一辆驶向南方的货运列车。几天后，我到了广东，因为从地里偷东西吃被人抓到了。我对抓我的人说我想去香港，他们都笑了，说：“你真够幸运的，我们正好要送些女孩子去香港。”他们将我和其他女孩藏在货船底舱，偷偷地出了境。

我们被关进地下室，他们让我们站直了，并嘱咐我们在客人面前看起来健康点儿，机灵点儿。一些想要孩子的家庭向他们交笔介绍费后，就可以过来挑人。一旦被看中，我们就可以被“领养”。有户姓金的人家挑了我，让我照顾他们家的两个男孩子。我每天早上四点就得起来做早餐，做完早餐后还得给孩子喂饭、洗澡，还要买菜、洗衣、打扫房间。我每天围着这两个孩子忙得团团转，他们要我干什么我就得干什么。晚上，我被关进厨房的橱柜里睡觉。如果我做事稍稍慢了一点，或者做错了什么，就会挨打；如果他们家的孩子做错了事，我会挨打；如果我偷着学英语被他们逮到，我也会挨打。“你为什么想学英语？”金家先生问，“你想报警？你如果敢报警，我们就说你是在香港非法居留的大陆人。他们巴不得让你蹲监狱。”

就这样，过了六年。一天早上，一个卖鱼的老太把我拉到一边说：“像你这样的女孩子我见得多了。你多大了？十六了吧？说不定哪天买你的男人喝醉了就会对你动手动脚，你想反抗都不行。若被他老婆发现，你都不知道自己怎么死的。你得想想出路啦。我认识能帮得上你的人。”

她告诉我，有些美国男人喜欢娶亚洲女孩做老婆。如果我会做饭，会做家务，能好好伺候美国老公，他就会给我一个幸福的生活。这是我唯一的出路。就这样，我的照片连同虚假的资料出现在册子上，接着你爸爸认识了我。虽然故事情节一点儿也不浪漫，但这就是我的故事。

在美国康涅狄格州的郊区，我是孤独的。你爸爸对我很好，很体贴，我很感激他。但没有人能真正了解我，当然我也不了解周围的事物。接着你出生了。我看着你的小脸蛋长得那么像我的爸爸妈妈还有我，我高兴极了。我没了家人，没了四轱辘，没了我所爱的一切。但是我有你，你的脸蛋告诉我，我关于故乡的记忆是真实的，不是幻觉。现在，我有了可以说话的人。我可以教你我的语言，还能一起做一些我小时候喜欢的事。你第一次说中国话时，带着我和我母亲的乡音，为此我哭了一整天。第一次给你做折纸动物时，你被逗笑了，我顿时觉得世间没有了烦恼。你一天天地长大，现在还可以帮我和你爸爸交流，真让我有了家的感觉。我终于找到了属于我的幸福生活。我真希望我的爸爸妈妈也能在我身边，这样我就可以给他们洗衣烧饭，让他们享享清福，但是他们已经不在了。你知道对中国人来说，最痛苦的是什么吗？就是当孩子想要孝顺父母的时候，父母已经不在人世了。

儿子，我知道你不喜欢自己长着中国人的眼睛，但它们透着我对你的期望；我知道你不喜欢自己长着一头中国人的黑发，但它饱含着我对你的祈愿。你能想象你让我的生命变得多么美好吗？你能了解当你不再和我说话，也不让我和你说中文的时候，我的心有多疼吗？我觉得我正再次失去生命中一切美好的东西。

儿子，你为什么不和妈妈说话？妈妈的心真的好痛。

那位年轻女士将信递回给我，我羞愧得无法抬头看她的脸。我低着头，请她再帮我一个忙，让她在妈妈的信下方的纸上教我写中文的“爱”字。照着信下方的“爱”字，我笨拙地用笔模仿着，写了一遍又一遍。她伸出手拍了拍我的肩，起身离开了。这会儿，和我在一起的只有我的母亲。

我顺着折痕，把老虎折回了原来的样子。用手臂把它窝在怀里。随着它的一声咆哮，我带着它踏上了回家的路……