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一多年以后,我见到了魏晋。我向他点头微笑,和他打招呼,伸出保养很好的手,那上面没有一点油彩。我甚至还想给他一个拥抱,或用拳头擂他肩膀,说,嗨,瞧你这家伙。但我们的手只是短暂碰了下,就很快分开了。他有些慌乱,好像我伸过去的不是一只手,而是一块烙铁。有那么几分钟,他的手好像完全不知如何处置一样,就那样摆在身体的两侧,摆在上午十点钟的空气里。魏晋的手又粗又硬,像是打铁人的手。
A year later, I met Wei Jin. I nod and smile at him and say hello to him, holding out a well-maintained hand, with no oil on it. I even wanted to give him a hug or hit him with a fist on the shoulder and say, Hi, look at you guys. But our hand just touched briefly, it quickly separated. He was a bit confused, as though I had not stretched a hand, but a soldering iron. For a few minutes, his hands seemed completely disillusioned to be placed on the sides of the body in the air at ten o’clock in the morning. Wei Jin’s hand thick and hard, like a blacksmith’s hand.