mac/test/tsv/test-anno.018_zh.018_en.tsv

6．平安里	Peace Lane
上海这城市最少也有一百条平安里。 一说起平安里，眼前就会出现那种曲折深长、藏污纳垢的弄堂。 它们有时是可走穿，来到另一条马路上；还有时它们会和邻弄相通，连成一片。 真是有些像网的，外地人一旦走进这种弄堂，必定迷失方向，不知会把你带到哪里。	SHANGHAI MUST HAVE at least a hundred Peace Lanes, some occupying a large area connecting two major streets, others connected to other longtang, forming a vast network of twisted, dirty lanes where one can easily get lost.
这样的平安里，别人看，是一片迷乱，而它们自己却是清醒的，各自守着各自的心，过着有些挣扎的日月。	As confusing as they may be to outsiders, each has developed a distinct identity simply through having survived for so many years.
当夜幕降临，有时连月亮也升起的时候，平安里呈现出清洁宁静的面目，是工笔画一类的，将那粗疏的生计描画得细腻了。 那平安里其实是有点内秀的，只是看不出来。 在那开始朽烂的砖木格子里，也会盛着一些谈不上如锦如绣，却还是月影花影的回忆和向往。	Under moonlight, these blocks of crumbling wood and brick look positively serene, like something out of a painting executed with minute brushstrokes; they too hold memories and aspirations.
“小心火烛”的摇铃声声，是平安里的一点小心呵护，有些温爱的。	The ringing bells make their evening rounds, reminding residents to watch their cooking fires, evincing a trace of warmth and goodwill from those who live there.
平安里的一日生计，是在喧嚣之中拉开帷幕；粪车的轱辘声，涮马桶声，几十个煤球炉子在弄堂里升烟，隔夜洗的衣衫也晾出来了，竹竿交错，好像在烟幕中升旗。	Mornings, however, begin with night-soil carts, clattering in to collect waste for fertilizer, and the raspy noises of brushes scrubbing out commodes. Amid the smoke of coal burners, laundry soaked overnight is taken out to be hung, banner-like, on bamboo poles.
这些声色难免有些夸张，带着点负气和炫耀，气势很大的，将东升的日头都遮暗了。	Every action, every gesture comes across to the onlooker as a boastful swagger or perhaps an exaggerated fit of pique; why, the collective provocation would be enough to darken the rising sun.
这里有一些老住户，与平安里同龄，他们是平安里的见证人一样，用富于历史感的眼睛，审视着那些后来的住户。	Each Peace Lane has a few residents who are as old as the neighborhood. Being history's witnesses, they observe newcomers with knowing eyes.
其中有一部分是你来我往，呈现出川流不息的景象。	Some are not averse to mingling with newcomers, and this creates an impression of continuity.
他们的行迹藏头露尾，有些神秘，在平安里的上空散布着疑云。	But on the whole they like to keep to themselves, adding an air of mystery to the neighborhood.
王琦瑶住进平安里三十九号三楼。	Wang Qiyao moved into the third floor of 39 Peace Lane.
前边几任房客都在晒台上留下各种花草，大多枯败，也有一两盆无名的，却还长出了新叶。	Different batches of tenants had left their plants on the balcony. Most had withered, but a few nameless ones had sprouted new leaves.
前几任的房客还在灶间里留下各自的瓶瓶罐罐，里面生了霉，积水里游着小虫，却又有半瓶新鲜的花生油。	Insects swam in the stagnant liquid of moldy jars in the kitchen, yet among them was a bottle of perfectly good peanut oil.
房门后的墙上留着一些手迹，有大人的，记着事：正月初十备寿礼。 也不知是谁的寿礼。 也有小孩的，是发泄私愤，写着“王根生吃屎”。	On the wall behind the door somebody had written, "Buy birthday present on January 10," and a child had scrawled "Wang Gensheng eats shit." One could only speculate about the birthday celebrant and the object of the child's resentment.
都是些零星的岁月，不成篇章，却这里那里的，俯拾皆是。 还是一层摞一层，糊鞋靠一样，扎扎实实，针锥都吃不进去。	Rubbish lay, piled up at haphazard—one could make nothing coherent out of all this.
王琦瑶安置下自己的几件东西，别的都乱摊着，先把几幅窗帘装上，拉起，开亮了电灯。	Having put her things down among other people's debris, Wang Qiyao decided to make the place her own by hanging up her curtains.
那房间就变了面目，虽是接在人家的茬上，到底也是换新的。	The room did seem different with the curtains.
那电灯没有章子，光便满房间的，不是明亮，而是样样东西都扒了皮，裸着了。	However, with no shade over the light bulb, the objects in the room simply looked naked rather than illuminated.
窗外是五月的天，风是和暖的，夹了油烟和泔水的气味，这其实才是上海芯子里的气味，嗅久了便浑然不觉，身心都浸透了。	Outside it was a typical evening in May. The warm breeze carried with it whiffs of grease and swill, which was the basic odor of Shanghai, although the typical Shanghainese was so steeped in it he scarcely noticed.
再晚些，桂花糖粥的香味也飘上来了，都是旧相识。 窗帘也是旧窗帘，遮着熟知的夜晚。 这熟知里却是有点隔，要悉心去连上，续上，有些拼接的痕迹。	Later in the night would come the scent of rice gruel flavored with osmanthus blossoms. The smells were familiar, the curtains were familiar, and the evening outside was familiar, but Wang Qiyao felt strange. She needed to reattach herself to life here; fortunately for her, the lines where attachments could be made were clearly marked on the fabric.
王琦瑶很感激窗帘上的大花朵，易时易地都是盛开，忠心陪伴的样子。 它还有留影留照的意思，是好时光的遗痕，再是流逝，依然绚烂。	Wang Qiyao was grateful to the large flowers on the curtains, which, no matter where they were placed, remained in full bloom, faithfully retaining the glory of bygone days.
地板和木窗框散发出木头的霉烂的暖意，有老鼠小心翼翼的脚步，从心上踩过似的，也是关照。	The floor and the window frames emitted the odiferous warmth of decaying wood. Scurrying mice conveyed their greetings.
然后，“小心火烛”的铃声便响起了。	Soon, bells reminding people to watch their cooking fires began ringing.
王琦瑶到护士教习所学了三个月，得了一张注射执照，便在平安里弄口挂了牌子。	Wang Qiyao underwent three months of training as a nurse in order to be certified to give injections. She hung out a sign advertising injections outside the entrance to her apartment on Peace Lane.
这种牌子，几乎每三个弄口就有一块，是形形色色的王琦瑶的营生。	Similar signs could be seen along the entrances of other longtang—following those signs inside, one could find Wang Qiyaos of all different shapes and sizes eking out a living.
她们早晨起来收拾干净房间，穿一身干净衣服，然后便点起酒精灯，煮一盒注射针头。	They all woke up early, put on clean clothes, and straightened up their rooms. Then they ignited the alcohol burner to disinfect a box of needles.
阳光从前边人家的屋顶上照进窗口，在地板上划下一方一方的。	The sun, reflected from the rooftops across the alley, left rectangles of light on the wooden floor.
她们熄了酒精灯，打开一本闲书，等着有人上门来打针。	After switching off the burner, they reached for a book to read while they waited for patients.
来人一般是上午一拨，下午一拨，也有晚上的一个两个。	The patients tended to come in batches, morning and afternoon, but there might be one or two in the evening.
还有来请上门去打针的，那样的话，她们便提一个草包，装着针盒、药棉，白布帽和口罩，俨然一个护士的样子，去了。	Once in a while, when someone requested a house call, they hurried off in white cap and surgical mask. Lugging a straw bag containing the needles and medicinal cotton, they looked very much like professional nurses as they scurried down the street.
王琦瑶总是穿一件素色的旗袍，在五十年代的上海街头，这样的旗袍正日渐少去，所剩无多的几件，难免带有缅怀的表情，是上个时代的遗迹，陈旧和摩登集一身的。	Wang Qiyao always wore a simple cheongsam. In the 1950s these were becoming rare on the streets of Shanghai, a symbol of nostalgia as well as style, at once old-fashioned and modern.
王琦瑶穿着旗袍，走过一两条马路，去给病家打针。 她会有旧境重现的心情，不过人都是换了角色的。	When she crossed the streets on house calls, she was often struck by a sense of déjà vu—the places were familiar, only the roles were changed.
有一日，她去集雅公寓，走进暗沉沉的客厅，打蜡地板映着她的鞋袜。 她被这家的佣人引进卧房，床上一个年轻女人，盖一条绿绸薄被，她觉得这女人就是自己的化身。	One day she called on a patient in a dark apartment where the waxed floor reflected her shoes and stockings, and was led into the bedroom. There, under a green silk blanket, a young woman lay. Wang Qiyao had the curious sensation that the woman was herself.
打完针，装好东西，走出那公寓，心却好像留在了那里。	Having administered the shot, she put her things away and left, but her heart seemed to tarry in that apartment.
她几乎能听见那女人对佣人发嗔的声音，是怪她买来的虾又小又不新鲜，明知道先生要来家吃晚饭的。	She could almost hear the woman complaining to the maid that the shrimps from the market were too small and not fresh enough—didn't she know the master would be home for dinner that night?
她有时望着酒精灯蓝色的火苗，会望见斑斓的景象，里面有一个小世界，小世界里的歌舞永恒不止，是天上的歌舞。	At times she stared into the blue flames of the alcohol burner and saw a resplendent world in which people sang and danced for all eternity.
她偶尔去看一场电影，晚上八点的那一场。 马路上静静的，路面有灯的反光，电影院前厅那静里的沸腾，有着时光倒流的意思。	Once in a while she caught a late movie, one of the ones that started at eight, when street lamps were reflected on the face of the silent streets. Only the theater lobby would be bustling, as though time had stood still.
她看的多是老电影，周璇的《马路天使》，白杨的《十字街头》，这也是旧相识，最不相关的故事也是肺腑之言。	She only went to old movies: Zhou Xuan in Street Angel, Bai Yang in Crossroads, and others. Although they had no connection to her present situation, they were familiar and they spoke to her.
她订了一份晚报，黄昏时间是看报度过的，报上的每一个字她都读到，懂一半，不懂一半，半懂不懂之间，晚饭的时间便到了，炉子上的水也开了。	She subscribed to an evening newspaper to fill the hours of dusk. She read every word in the newspaper, making sense perhaps of half the reports. By the time she finished it, the water would be boiling and it would be dinner time.
晚上来打针的，总有点不速之客的味道，听见楼梯响，她便猜：是谁来了。	There was an exciting element of unpredictability to her work. Hearing footsteps on the staircase at night, she would speculate, Who could it be?
她有些活跃，话也多几句。 倘若打针的是孩子，她便格外地要哄他高兴。 她重新点上酒精灯消毒针头，问东问西，打完针，病家要走时，她就有些不舍。	She was unusually vivacious on these occasions and often talked a bit too much, asking this or that as she reignited the alcohol burner to sterilize the needle. If the patient was a child, she would put out all her charm. She would feel sad after the patient left.
那一阵骚动与声响还会留下余音，她忘了收拾，锅里的水干了底才醒来。	Pondering over the recent commotion, she would forget to put things away, and then discover that the pot had boiled dry.
这种夜晚，打破了千篇一律的生活，虽然是个没结果，可毕竟制造了一点起伏不定，使人生出期待。	Such interruptions in her tranquil routine gave rise to a vague feeling of anticipation.
那期待是茫茫然的，方向都不明，有什么未知在酝酿和发展，终于会有果实似的。	Something was fomenting, she felt, from which something might just develop.
她有一次夜半被叫醒。 人们早已入睡，那叫声便显得格外惊动，带着些危急和恐怖。 王琦瑶的心擂鼓似的怦怦响着，她睡衣外面披上件夹袄便下楼去开门，见是两个乡下人，抬了一个担架，躺着垂危的病人，说是请王医师救命。	Once, awakened in the middle of the night by urgent and frightened calls for help at the door, she threw a jacket over her nightgown and rushed downstairs, her heart pounding, to find two men from the provinces carrying someone on a stretcher. The person was critically ill.
王琦瑶知道他们弄错了，将护士当作医师了。	They had mistaken her for a doctor.
她指点他们去最近处的医院，再回楼上，却怎么也睡不着了。	After giving them directions to the nearest hospital, she went back upstairs but could not sleep a wink.
这城市的夜晚总有着出其不意，每一点动静都不寻常。	All kinds of odd things happened in the night in this city.
弄口路灯下，写着注射护士王琦瑶的牌子，带着点翘首以待。	Under the lamp at the entrance to the longtang, the shingle advertising "Injection Nurse Wang Qiyao" looked as if it was waiting patiently to be noticed.
静夜里有汽车驶过，风扫落叶的声音，夜晚便流动起来，有了一股暗中的活跃。	The passing cars and the windswept fallen leaves hinted at concealed activities in the dark night.
上门打针的人川流不息，今天去了明天来，常有新人出现。	People came to Wang Qiyao in an unending parade. Those who stopped coming were quickly replaced by others.
这时，王琦瑶便暗自打量，猜那人的家庭和职业，再用些闲话去套，套出的几句实情，竟也能八九不离十。	She would speculate about her patients' professions and backgrounds and was pleased to find most of her guesses correct as, with a few casual remarks, she pried the facts out of them.
要逢到那些做奶妈的带孩子来，不问也要告诉你东家的底细。 哪个奶妈不是碎嘴？ 又不是对东家有仇有恨，要把一肚子苦水倒给你的样子？	Her best sources were nannies accompanying little charges—these eagerly volunteered all kinds of unflattering information about their employers.
还有一些是固定出现的病人，这些其实都算不上病人，打的是胎盘液之类的营养针，一周一次或一周两次。	A number of patients had nothing wrong with them, but came for routine health-enhancing shots, such as placenta fluid.
日子长了，有几个不打针时也来，坐坐，说说闲话，张家长李家短。	They became so comfortable with her that they would drop by to gossip.
这样，王琦瑶虽然不出门，也知天下事了。	Thus, without going out of her house, Wang Qiyao learned a great deal about the neighborhood.
这些杂碎虽说是人家的，可也把王琦瑶的日子填个半满。	This hodgepodge of activity was enough to fill up half her day.
一早一晚，有时甚至会是忙碌的，眼和耳都有些不够用。	Sometimes she was so busy she could hardly keep up with all the goings-on.
平安里的闹，是会传染的，而且无缝不钻，渐渐地，就有些将王琦瑶的清静给打破了。 楼梯上的脚步纷沓起来，门开门关频繁起来，时常有人在后弄仰头叫王琦瑶的名字，一声声的。 尤其是在那种悠闲的下午，这叫声便传远，有一股殷切的味道。	The hustle-bustle on Peace Lane was both invasive and highly contagious. Wang Qiyao's tranquility gradually gave way to frequent footfalls on the stairs, doors opening and shutting; her name was regularly hollered by people on the ground with upturned heads, their fervent voices carrying far and wide on quiet afternoons.
夹竹桃也开了。 平安里也是有几棵夹竹桃的，栽在晒台上碎砖围起来的一掬泥土中，开出绚烂的花朵。	Before long, the oleanders, planted haphazardly in makeshift planters formed from broken bricks on balconies, put forth their dazzling flowers.
白昼里虽不会有奇遇，可却是悉心积累起许多细枝末节，最后也要酿成个什么。	Nothing marvelous had happened to Wang Qiyao, but through careful cultivation her life had also sprouted countless little sprigs that held the promise of developing into something.
王琦瑶和人相熟起来。	
人们知道她是个年轻的寡妇，自然就有热心说媒的人上门。 王琦瑶见过其中的一个，是个做教师的，说是三十岁，却已谢顶。	People at Peace Lane knew Wang Qiyao as a young widow. Several attempts were made to match her up with men, including a teacher who, though only thirty, was already bald.
两人在电影院里见面，看一场农民翻身的电影，是王琦瑶最不要看的那种，硬撑到底的。	Arrangements were made for them to meet at a theater to watch a movie about victorious peasants—the kind of thing she detested—but she forced herself to sit through it.
其中有静默的间隙，便听见那教书的局促的呼吸声，带了一股胸腔里的啸音，是哮喘的症状。	Whenever there was a lull in the show, she heard a faint whistling sound coming from the man as he breathed.
王琦瑶从此便对说媒的人婉言谢绝，她知道再介绍谁也跳不出教书先生这个窠臼。	Seeing this was the best she could do, she declined all further matchmaking efforts on her behalf.
她不怪别人，只怪自己命运不济。	
她望着平安里油烟弥漫的上空，心里想，还会有什么好事情来临呢？	As she watched the smoky sky above Peace Lane, she often wondered if anything exciting would ever happen to her again.
人们有说她骄傲，也有说她守节，什么闲话她都作耳边风，什么开导的话她也作耳边风。 虽是相熟，却还是隔的，这也是正常。 平安里的相熟中不知有多少隔，浑水里不知有多少大鱼。	To charges of arrogance as well as to praise for being loyal to her late husband, she turned a deaf ear. She ignored all gossip and advice, remaining at once genial and distant. This was normal on Peace Lane, where friendships were circumscribed, there being untold numbers of large fish swimming around in the murky waters.
平安里的相熟都是不求甚解，浮皮潦草，表面上闹，底下还是寂寞，这寂寞是人不知，己也不知。 日子就糊里糊涂地过下去。	Underneath all that conviviality, people were lonely, though often they did not know it themselves, merely muddling through from one day to the next.
王琦瑶是糊涂一半，清楚一半，糊涂的那半供过，清楚的一半是供想。	Wang Qiyao was rather muddleheaded about some things, while she couldn't have been more clear-sighted about others; the former concerned issues of daily living, while the latter were reserved for her private thoughts.
白天忙着应付各样的人和事，到了夜晚，关了灯，月光一下子跳到窗帘上，把那大朵大朵的花推近眼前，不想也要想。	She was occupied with people and things during the day. At night, after she turned off the lights and the moonlight lit up the big flowers on the curtains, she could not help but slip into deep thought.
平安里的夜晚其实也是有许多想头的，只不过没有王琦瑶窗帘上的大花朵，映显不出来罢了。 许多想头都是沉在心底，沉渣一般。 全是叫生计熬炼的，挤干汁，沥干水，凝结成块，怎么样的激荡也泛不起来。	There was a great deal of thinking going on around Peace Lane, but much of it, like sediment, had sunk to the bottom of people's hearts, all the juice squeezed out of them, so that they had solidified and could no longer be stirred up.
王琦瑶还没到这一步，她的想头还有些枝叶花朵，在平安里黯淡的夜里，闪出些光亮来。	Wang Qiyao had not reached this stage. Her thoughts still had stems, leaves, and flowers, which glimmered in the dark night of Peace Lane.
7．熟客	A Frequent Guest
常来的人中间，有一个人称严家师母的，更是常来一些。	Among Wang Qiyao's frequent visitors was one Madame Yan, who came quite regularly.
她也是住平安里，弄底的，独门独户的一幢。	She lived in a townhouse with a private entrance at the end of Peace Lane.
她三十六七岁的年纪，最大的儿子倒有十九岁了，在同济读建筑。	She must have been thirty-six or thirty-seven years old, as her eldest son, an architecture student at Tongji University, was already nineteen.
她家先生一九四九年前是一爿灯泡厂的厂主，公私合营后做了副厂长，照严家师母的话， 就是摆摆样子的。	Her husband had owned a light bulb factory that, since 1949, was jointly operated with the state. He was now the deputy manager—a mere figurehead, according to Madame Yan.
严家师母在平常的日子，也描眉毛，抹口红，穿翠绿色的短夹袄，下面是舍味呢的西装裤。	Madame Yan painted her eyebrows and wore lipstick even on days when she didn't leave the house. She favored a short green Chinese jacket over a pair of Western-style pants made of cheviot wool.
她在弄堂里走过，人们便都停了说话，将目光转向她。 她则昂然不理会，进出如入无人之境。	When they saw her coming, people stopped talking and turned to stare, but she acted as if they did not exist.
她家的儿女也不与邻人家的孩子嬉戏玩耍，严先生更是汽车进，汽车出，多年来，连他的面目都没看真切过。	Her children did not play with the other kids, and, since her husband was driven everywhere by a chauffeur, few people really knew what he looked like.
严家的娘姨是不让随便出来的，又换得勤，所以就连她家娘姨，也像是骄傲的，与人们并不相识。	There was a high turnover among their servants; in any case, they were not permitted to loiter when they went out for errands, so they, too, appeared aloof.
严家师母每逢星期一和四，到王琦瑶这里打一种进口的防止感冒的营养针。	Every Monday and Thursday Madame Yan would come for a shot of imported vitamins to help her ward off colds.
她第一眼见王琦瑶，心中便暗暗惊讶，她想，这女人定是有些来历。	The first time she saw Wang Qiyao, she was taken aback.
王琦瑶一举一动，一衣一食，都在告诉她隐情，这隐情是繁华场上的。	Her clothes, the way she ate, her every move and gesture, hinted of a splendid past.
她只这一眼就把王琦瑶视作了可亲可近。	Madame Yan decided they could be friends.
严家师母在平安里始终感到委屈，住在这里全为了房价便宜，因严先生是克勤克俭的人。	She had always felt Peace Lane was beneath her. Her husband, a frugal person, had bought the property at a good price.
为此她没少发牢骚，严先生枕头上也立下千般愿，万般誓，不料公私合营，产业都归了国家，能保住一处私房就是天恩地恩，花园洋房终成泡影。	In response to her complaints, he had, in bed, promised many times to move them to a house with a garden. Now that their assets were controlled by the government, they felt lucky simply to be allowed to keep their house.
严家师母在平安里总是鹤立鸡群，看别人都是下人一般，没一个可与她平起平坐。	Still, as long as she lived in Peace Lane, Madame Yan felt like a crane among chickens. No one there was her equal and, in her eyes, even the neighbors were no better than her servants.
现在，三十九号住进一个王琦瑶，不由她又惊又喜，还使她有同病相怜之感。	She was therefore delighted to see another woman similarly out of place moving into no. 39.
也不管王琦瑶同意不同意，便做起她的座上客。	Without seeking Wang Qiyao's permission, she made herself a regular visitor.
严家师母总是在下午两点钟以后来王琦瑶处，手里拿一把檀香扇，再加身上的脂粉，人未见香先到。	Madame Yan usually showed up in the afternoon sometime after two o'clock, heralded by the fragrance of scented powder and her sandalwood fan.
下午来打针多是在三四点钟，这一小时总空着，只她们俩，面对面地坐。 夏天午间的困盹还没完全过去，禁不住哈欠连哈欠的。 她们强打精神，自己都不知说的什么。 弄口梧桐树上的蝉一迭声叫，传进来是嗡嗡的，也是不清楚。	Most of Wang Qiyao's patients came between three and four o'clock, so they had an hour to kill. Sitting across from each other in the lazy summer afternoon, they would stifle their yawns and chatter on without fully realizing what they were talking about, as cicadas droned in the parasol tree at the entrance to the longtang.
王琦瑶舀来自己做的乌梅汤给客人喝，一杯喝下去也不知喝的什么。	Wang Qiyao would ladle out some of her chilled plum soup, which they sipped absentmindedly while exchanging gossip.
等那哈欠过去，人渐渐醒了，胸中那股潮热劲平息下去，便有了些好的心情。	Then, having thrown off their afternoon sluggishness and cooled off, they would perk up.
一般总是严家师母说，王琦瑶听，说的和听的都入神。	Madame Yan did most of the talking while Wang Qiyao listened, but both were equally absorbed in the conversation.
严家师母对了王琦瑶像有几百年的心里话，竹筒倒豆子似的，从娘家说到婆家，其实都是说给自己听的。	Madame Yan would go on and on, passing from stories about her parents to gossip about her in-laws; actually, all she wanted was to hear herself talk.
王琦瑶呢？ 耳朵里听进的严家的事，落到心里便成了自己的事，是听自己的心声。	As for Wang Qiyao, she listened with her heart and eventually made all business concerning the Yan family her own.
也有时候，严家师母要问起王琦瑶的事，王琦瑶只照一般回答的话说，明知道她未必信，也只能叫她自己去猜，猜对了也别出口。 严家师母虽是能猜出几分，却偏要开口问，像是检验王琦瑶的诚心似的。	When, once in a while, Madame Yan inquired about Wang Qiyao's family, she always answered in the vaguest terms. She suspected Madame Yan didn't believe most of what she said, but that was fine—she was free to speculate. Wang Qiyao would much rather that Madame Yan guessed the truth but left things discreetly unsaid; but Madame Yan, who had to some extent figured out the situation, insisted on asking questions pointblank. It was her way of testing Wang Qiyao's sincerity.
王琦瑶不是不诚心，只是不能说。	Wang Qiyao, for her part, wanted to be sincere, but there were some things that simply could not be spoken aloud.
两人有些兜圈子，你追我躲，心里就种下了芥蒂。	So they went around in circles, one chasing and the other evading, and before they knew it, a grudge had grown up between them.
好在女人和女人是不怕种下芥蒂的，女人间的友谊其实是用芥蒂结成的，越是有芥蒂，友情越是深。	Fortunately, grudges are no impediment to friendships between women. The friendships of women are made of grudges: the deeper the grudge, the deeper the friendship.
她们两人有时是不欢而散，可下一日又聚在了一处，比上一日更知心。	Sometimes they parted acrimoniously, but would resume their friendship the very next day with a deeper understanding of each other.
这一日，严家师母要与王琦瑶做媒，王琦瑶笑着说不要。	One day Madame Yan announced that she wanted to set Wang Qiyao up with someone, but Wang Qiyao declined with a good-humored laugh.
严家师母问这又是为什么。 王琦瑶并不说理由，只把那一日同教书先生看电影的情景描绘给她。	When Madame Yan inquired into the reason, Wang Qiyao simply recounted the scene at the movie theater with the schoolteacher.
她听了便是笑，笑过后则正色道：我要介绍给你的，一不教书，二不败顶，三不哮喘，说到此处，两人就又忍不住地笑，笑断肠子了。 笑完后，严家师母就不提做媒的事，王琦瑶自然更不提，是心照不宣，也是顺水推舟。	Madame Yan laughed out loud but then continued with a straight face, "I'll promise you three things about the guy I want to introduce you to. One, I'll make sure he's not a teacher; two, that he's still got a head of hair; and three, that he doesn't have asthma." They both collapsed in laughter, but that was the last time Madame Yan brought up the topic of matchmaking. They came to a tacit understanding that the subject would not be broached and they would simply let nature take its course.
两人都是聪敏人，又还年轻，没叫时间磨钝了心，一点就通的。	Both being still young and bright, their sensitivity had not yet been ground down by time, and they quickly understood how each other felt.
虽然相差有近十岁的年纪，可一个浅了几岁，另一个深了几岁，正好走在了一起。	Although there was a ten-year difference between them, Madame Yan acted a bit young for her age and Wang Qiyao was more mature, so they were well-suited.
像她们这样半路上的朋友，各有各的隐衷，别看严家师母竹筒倒豆子，内中也有自己未必知道的保留，彼此并不知根知底，能有一些同情便可以了。	People like them, who become friends at mid-life, tend to keep part of themselves hidden away. Even Madame Yan, who usually wore her heart on her sleeve, retained certain secrets that she herself might not have understood. It was not necessary for them to know everything there was to know about each other—a little sympathy went a long way.
所以尽管严家师母有些不满足的地方，可也担待下来，做了真心相待的朋友。	And even though Madame Yan was not satisfied, she could bear it and still treat Wang Qiyao as a true friend.
严家师母就是时间多，虽有严先生，却是早出晚归；有三个孩子，大的大了，小的丢给奶妈；再有些工商界的太太们的交际，毕竟不能天天去。	What Madame Yan had was time on her hands. Her husband left early every morning and did not get home until late at night. Two of her children were grown, while the third was cared for by a nanny. She socialized with the wives of other industrialists and businessmen, but this hardly took up all her time.
于是，王琦瑶家便成了好去处，天天都要点个卯的，有时竟连饭也在这里陪王琦瑶吃。 王琦瑶要去炒两个菜，她则死命拦着不放，说是有啥吃啥。	Dropping by to see Wang Qiyao became part of her daily routine; she sometimes even stayed for dinner, insisting that they simply eat what was already on hand rather than doing anything fancy.
她们常常是吃泡饭，黄泥螺下饭。	Consequently, they often had leftover rice, heated up again with just a dish of mud snails to go with it.
王琦瑶这种简单的近于苦行的日子，有着淡泊和安宁，使人想起闺阁的生活，那已是多么遥远的了。	Wang Qiyao's near-ascetic lifestyle reminded Madame Yan of her own simple, quiet life before marriage, which seemed so long ago.
当她们正说着闲话，会有来打针的人，严家师母就帮着端椅子，收钱接药，递这递那。	If a patient came while they were talking, Madame Yan would help by bringing over a chair, getting the medicine out, and collecting the money.
来人竟把装扮艳丽的她看成是王琦瑶的妹妹，严家师母便兴奋得红了脸，好像孩子得到了大人的夸奖。	More than once the patient thought the well-dressed woman was Wang Qiyao's younger sister, which caused her to blush with pleasure, as if she were a child being patted on the head by an adult.
事后，她必得鼓动王琦瑶烫头发做衣服，怀着点自我牺牲的精神。	Afterward she would in a self-deprecating tone urge Wang Qiyao to get some new clothes and have her hair permed.
她说着做女人的道理，有关青春的短暂和美丽。	She spoke eloquently about how a woman must treasure her youth and beauty, which would disappear before she knew it.
想到青春，王琦瑶不由哀从中来。 她看见她二十五岁的年纪在苍白的晨曦和昏黄的暮色里流淌，她是挽也挽不住，抽刀断水水更流的。	This never failed to touch Wang Qiyao, who, at twenty-five, was indeed watching her youth slip by.
严家师母的装束是常换常新，紧跟时尚，也只能拉住青春的尾巴。	Madame Yan's outfits were always new and fashionable, but that was all she could do to hold on to the tail end of her youth.
她的有些装束使王琦瑶触目惊心，却有点感动。	At times her appearance startled and touched Wang Qiyao.
她的光艳照人里有一些天真，也有一些沧桑，杂糅在一起，是哀绝的美。	There was an innocence about her heavy makeup and also a certain world-weariness, blended together to create a desolate kind of beauty.
经不住严家师母言行并教的策动，王琦瑶真就去烫了头发。	Eventually, unable to withstand Madame Yan's blandishments, Wang Qiyao went out and got herself a perm.
走进理发店，那洗发水和头油的气味，夹着头发的焦糊味，扑鼻而来，真是熟得不能再熟。 一个女人正烘着头发，一手拿本连环画看，另一手伸给理发师修剪的样子，也是熟进心里去的。	The smell of shampoo, lotion, and burning hair was intimately familiar to Wang Qiyao, as was the image of a woman sitting under the hair dryer, one hand holding a magazine, the other extended to be pampered by a manicurist.
洗头，修剪，卷发，电烫，烘干，定型，一系列的程序是不思量，自难忘。	The routines of washing, cutting, rolling, perming, drying, and setting had long been imprinted on her mind.
王琦瑶觉得昨天还刚来过的，周围都是熟面孔。	She felt like she had been there just the day before, surrounded by faces she knew.
最后，一切就绪，镜子里的王琦瑶也是昨天的，中间那三年的岁月是一剪子剪下，不知弃往何处。	When the process was completed, the old Wang Qiyao emerged in the mirror—the intervening three years seemed to have been snipped off along with her split ends.
她在镜子里看见站在身后的严家师母瞠目结舌的表情，几乎是后悔怂恿她来烫发的。	Looking into the mirror, she noted Madame Yan's face, on which was a mixture of astonishment and envy.
理发师正整理她的鬓发，手指触在脸颊，是最悉心的呵护。 她微微侧过脸，躲着吹风机的热风，这略带娇憨的姿态也是昨天的。	As the stylist gave her hair a last-minute adjustment with a hand blower, the expression on Wang Qiyao's face, turning slightly to avoid the hot air with just a soupçon of the spoiled child, belonged to yesteryear.