Net and land and fish

Author: Li Keyi
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-07-01
Features: A sharp cold wind slipped through the window gap, making me shiver involuntarily. My right hand had grown numb, and the pen often slipped from my grasp. The coal stove on the ground had long gone out, leaving only a layer of white ash. The wind kept blowing through the window gap. I dropped the pen and looked for a cigarette. I pulled open the drawer and dug through a pile of ragged manuscript paper, finding a tiny cigarette end that was barely long enough to take a puff. I lit it, pulled up the collar of my tattered coat, and tightened my scarf. I couldn’t write anymore. I left the cold window and lay down on the wooden bed, thinking that this winter was incredibly cold, with thick frost covering the windows. As the sky darkened, my room grew dim. Shadows flickered faintly on the window, one shadow following another, moving hurriedly across my glass. I couldn’t see anyone, but I knew they were workers returning from their shifts. They passed by here every morning and returned every evening. Almost the moment I heard their familiar footsteps, images of their pale, anemic faces and the layer of dirty black grease on their gray cloth clothes would flash in my mind. This reminded me of two lovely neighbors and another woman I had lived with last year. It was also a harsh winter, a season when both the sky and the ground were frozen. Out of hunger, I wandered from place to place. Last winter, I ended up in a bustling and luxurious metropolis. With no money, I found a small, dilapidated room on a high-rise in a remote, filthy street.