10
你问她玩过麻雀吗？或是见过小孩子玩麻雀吗？用根绳子拴住脚，一端牵在手里，翅膀一个劲直扑打，飞不了的那麻雀，拨弄来拨弄去，临了变闭上眼，一动不动吊死在绳子上。你说你小时候捉过螳螂，那碧绿的身子细长的腿，两把举起像大刀一样的钳子，挺神气，到小孩子手上，拴根细绳，两折腾三折腾，几下变肢解了。你问她是不是也有类似的经验？
"可人不是麻雀！"她抗议道。
"当然也不是螳螂，"你说，"也不是英雄，抗拒不了权利和暴力，只有逃命。"
You ask if she has ever played with sparrows, or watched children at it. A string is tied to one of the sparrow's legs while the child holds the other end of the string. The sparrow flaps its wings desperately but can't fly, and is tormented until it just closes its eyes and stops moving, strangled by the string. You say that, as a child, you used to catch praying mantises. That jade-green body with its long, thin legs and two pincers raised like meat cleavers looks ferocious, but when children tie a fine thread to one of its legs, it tosses and turns a few times, and then falls to pieces. You ask if she's had such experiences.
"People aren't sparrows!" she protests.
"And, of course, they're not praying mantises either," you say. "Nor are they heroes, and if they can't stand up to might and power, they can only flee."
13
当时他突然说，要知道桌上的这瓶墨水并非蓝色。融说，更确切，是墨蓝。可说他，大家看到这颜色通常都说是蓝的，或墨蓝，也就约定俗成，给个共同的名称，其实各人看到的颜色未必一样。融说不，不管你我怎么看，那颜色总不变。他说颜色固然不变，可各人眼里看到的颜色是不是同样的，谁也无法知道。融说那总得有个说法。他说沟通的不过是蓝色或墨蓝这个词，其实同一个词背后要传达的视觉并不一样。融问那这瓶里的墨水究竟什么颜色？他说谁知道？融沉默了一会，说这让他有点害怕。
下午的阳光黄橙橙射到房里的地板上，常年拖洗得木制纹理分明。他突然也感染上融的惶恐，连阳光照射的这实实在在的地板也变得有些古怪是不是就这样真实，不免也怀疑起来。人不可能了解这个世界，而这个世界的存在全凭个人的感觉，人一死就世界也就浑浑然，或者也就不存在了，那么，活着还有什么确定的意义？
他上大学之后，融在农村修小水电站，当了个技术员，还相互通信，这种讨论继续了好一段时间。这种认知竟动摇了他们在学校得到的教育，同为人民服务建设一个新世界那确定无疑的理想全然不同。他于是惧怕生命消失，所谓使命感或人生的抱负都仿佛失去着落。现如今，却连活下去都成为沉重的负担。
Suddenly, he said he wanted Rong to know the ink in the bottle on the table was not blue. Rong said, to be more accurate, it was ink-blue. But, he argued with Rong, when people saw this color and said it was blue or ink-blue, it established an agreement or a convention that gave it a common name, but, in fact, the color seen in the eyes of each person was not necessarily the same. Rong disagreed, saying that however either one of them saw it, the color didn't change. The color, of course, did not change, but whether or not the color seen in the eyes of each person was the same, no one could know. Rong said there had to be an explanation. What was communicated was simply the term "blue", or "ink-blue", and, in fact, the visual perception conveyed by the same word was different. Rong asked what was the color of the in k in the bottle? He said who knows? Rong was silent for a while and then said he found it all a bit scary.
The yellow-orange rays of the afternoon sun were shining on the floorboards of the room. Years of washing and scrubbing had made the grain of the wood stand out. Suddenly, he was infected by Rong's terror. With the sun shinning on them, even those very real floorboards became odd, and he began to wonder if they were actually so real after all. People could not comprehend the world, and the existence of the world depended on an individual's perception of it. If, when a person died, the world, too, became murky, or perhaps no longer existed, then what definite meaning did being alive have?
Afterwards, he went to university while Rong stayed on in the village and worked as a technician in a small hydroelectric plant. They corresponded and continued such discussions for quite some time. This sort of awareness threw into question their entire school education; it was completely at odds with the unwavering certainty of the ideals of serving the people and the construction of a new society. He came to fear that his life was disappearing, it was as if there was no place for his sense of mission or responsibility to life. Now, however, even just being able to stay alive had become a serious problem.
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