Colorful Edition Articles That Influence a Lifetime -- Soulful Soup

Author: Jia Pingwa, Lin Qingxuan
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-08-01
Features: Through the organic integration of various elements such as text, images, and design, the power of culture and the vibrancy of colors flow together. Thoughts and knowledge become light and approachable, accompanying you on a joyful, colorful reading journey.
I Pierre, my husband, you lie there, wrapped in bandages, as peaceful as someone resting after sleep. Your complexion is gentle and composed, still you, lost in an unending dream. Your lips, once I called greedy, are now completely pale, devoid of color. Your mustache is gray. Your hair is almost invisible, as the scars begin at the hairline; the right side of your forehead reveals broken bones. Alas! What immense suffering you endured! How much blood you lost! Your clothes are soaked through with blood. That poor head I often stroked—what terrible blows it has taken! I kiss your eyelids, remembering you always closed your eyes, with the familiar posture I knew, lifting your head for me to kiss them.
We laid you to rest on Saturday morning, carrying you into the coffin when I held your head. For the last time, we kissed your cold cheeks, then placed some garden pansies in the coffin, along with a photograph of mine—the one you called "the clever little student" and cherished so dearly. It must accompany you to the grave, for the woman in it brings you great happiness. Though you only met her a few times, you did not hesitate to ask her to live with you. You often told me that this was the only time in your life you acted without hesitation, completely confident you were doing the right thing. My Pierre, I also believe you did not do wrong. We were born to live together, we must unite.
Your coffin is now closed, and I can no longer see you. I refused to have that terrible black cloth draped over it. I covered it with flowers and sat beside it.
My Pierre, they call me your successor, to continue teaching your courses and guiding your laboratory. I have agreed. I do not know if this is good or bad. You often told me you wanted me to lecture at the Sorbonne, and I am at least willing to strive to continue your work. Sometimes I feel this makes it easier for me to live, and other times I feel as if taking on this job is sheer madness.
I work in the laboratory all day; it is all I can do. Because there, more than anywhere else, I feel better. I cannot think of anything else that would bring me joy, perhaps scientific work—but no, that cannot be, for if I succeed in it, and know you cannot know, I cannot bear it. (13-14)