论文部分内容阅读
一大年三十闯进个乡巴佬这是1984年的事。大年三十那天的下午五点钟,上海东风饭店三楼市工商管理局外事组的办公室大门被人推开了,走进一个三十开外的中年汉子。中年汉子脸膛削瘦,皮肤糙黑,身穿滑雪衫,足蹬运动鞋,北风呼啸的数九寒天,中年汉子的前额,却沁出细细的汗珠。“同志,”他朝一位手笼在袖里的办事员喊道。他的普通话中,带有很重的青浦口音,一开口就暴露了身份。原来这个目光机敏,身体结实
It was a 1984 thing to break into a country bumpy year after year. New Year’s Eve at five o’clock that day, the Shanghai Dongfeng Hotel City Hall on the third floor of the Foreign Affairs Office of the business team was opened, into a thirty-something middle-aged man. Middle-aged man face cut thin, dark skin, wearing a ski shirt, pedal sports shoes, the north wind whistling several cold days, middle-aged man’s forehead, but Qin out of thin sweat. “Comrade,” he cried to a clerk in his sleeve in his hand. In his Mandarin, with a heavy Qingpu accent, an opening to reveal the identity. The original look alert, strong body