小許是舅舅女兒瑛的兒子，今年快30歲了。 小時候去鄉下玩，從娘姨家玩到舅舅家，兩邊的表哥表姐對我和弟弟都很好。後來瑛表姐出嫁了，成家後搬去了與公婆住一起。公公是當年的村支記，家裏有新造的樓房。表姐夫高而帥，說起來可以算是一門好親事，嫁了一個好人家。 婚後，表姐生下一男一女，日子過的挺紅火。表姐夫自己辦廠做生意，後來進城買了房子。然而，好景不長，表姐夫的生意做虧了，廠倒閉了，討債的人都上了門。 再後來，愛喝酒的表姐夫還癱瘓在床，表姐一個人支撐起這個家，伺候丈夫吃喝拉撒多年，直至幾年前表姐夫離世。

 

從母親的嘴裏得知，瑛家的兩個孩子很爭氣，都考上了大學，也很有出息。舅舅家的親戚太多，我也不可能一一了解過來。前些年回去，常常一聚好幾桌人，忙著招呼長輩，同輩，並沒有太在意下一輩。 2016年春節回家，在母親回請舅舅家的宴席上，小許坐在我身邊，這才有了第一次麵對麵的交談。 小許一米八以上的個子，長的更像他爸爸。他長相靦腆，不拘言笑，隱約中有一絲絲憂鬱。那一年他還在醫學院讀研。 我和他就他的專業、前景聊了聊。 小許話少，加上我們彼此也不熟悉，所以談話也隻能蜻蜓點水般的泛而又泛。

 

今年二月春節春節我再次回家過年。閑聊中，母親跟我聊起小許，還把小許寫的詩，五律、七絕等等，從微信中找出來給我看。看完後，我非常驚訝。在這個大家都熱衷於抖音、微博的時代，快節奏的生活讓傳統文學越來越小眾化，越來越少的人會靜下心來讀書、寫作，讀詩、寫詩的人更是鳳毛麟角。記得那一日，我主動地從母親那兒加了他的微信。

 

大年初二那天晚上，舅舅家又聚集一堂，整整四桌人。 等我到餐廳，見小許坐在那裏，知道他第二天就動身離家回杭， 我便上前招呼他，問他要不要一起坐到另一桌。他禮貌地回答道，都一樣。我招呼了表侄女珺，其他同輩的，年輕一輩的，坐在了與他同一張飯桌上。宴席吃到一半，珺從包裏掏出一張照片放在了桌上，是一位姑娘的照片。照片上的女子清秀、高挑、漂亮。原來珺那晚有任務，受人之托，來說媒來了。我心中暗喜。結果發現，這女孩還是我一個很要好高中同學的女兒，也在杭工作，是位中醫師， 貌似挺般配的一對。珺的老公幾杯酒下肚後，開始滔滔不絕地介紹，撮合之意溢於言表。大家互相傳遞著看著照片，善意地起著哄，唯小許不動聲色。 喝了不少酒的他此時一張關公一樣的紅臉，卻十分清醒鎮定，禮節性地看了看照片，沒有吭聲。 珺覺得沒法交差，因為對方父親(我高中同學)希望趁春節回家雙方見一麵。迫於壓力，小立最後說了一句，回杭再說吧。

 

宴席後，我偷偷告訴表姐這件事，和小許的反應。表姐歎了口氣，說，單位裏一直有人給他介紹，有幾個條件很好，在杭有房子，小許都不動心。表姐說，小許工作很忙，覺得自己現在沒房子，錢又少，可能條件不成熟。 臨走之前，我與小許告別。我也不問原因，隻說了一句，人生不是單軌道，人生應該是雙軌向前，談戀愛和工作事業不矛盾的。

 

那晚回到家中，我和母親聊起了他，母親說起表姐心疼兒子一個人在外，沒人照顧，經常熬夜，生活沒有規律，常常一碗泡麵填肚子，工作又非常辛苦。做母親的心情可想而知。

 

回美後，我在微信裏欣賞了他的舊作新詞，看他一個人北上西行，留下遊走北京西安的詩句和攝影。又在微信裏看到他好幾架天文望遠鏡(見圖)和他拍的璀璨星空， 看他繞有興趣地解剖豬頭雞翅，在顯微鏡下分析動物的血管經絡。偶爾看他通宵達旦還沒有休息，會提醒他注意身體。我把他的作品和某人分享，說起他的情況，某人總是惋惜地說，韶華易逝，青春不應該徒留空白。而我始終沒有跟小許再提找對象的話題。 在我，一是沒有合適的機會，二是，他的世界我知之甚少，不曾靠近，更談不上走進，雖然我欣賞他的才華，欣賞他的執著，欣賞他為人的淡泊和淡定的， 但是突兀地去指點他的人生和選擇，有時會事與願違，不妥也。然，美好的願望一直在心底。

 

貼上幾首他的詩和照片吧。

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Xu is the son of my uncle’s daughter. Graduated from a medical school, he is a doctor in the capital city. I know of him, but rarely talked to him until the spring of 2016. He is tall and has a figure of over 1.8 m in height. His eyes are small, and hidden after a pair of big glasses, they flickered with an air of melancholy.  Sitting by my side in the dinner table that night, he was very reticent. But the exchanges between us were amicable enough, and I remember him as a young kind kid.
His melancholy, contrary to his sister, who is more gaily, reminded me of the family’s past. Xu’s mom, my cousin Ying, was married off to the son of the cadre, the best family in the village at the time more than 30 years ago.  Their marriage was coveted and complimented by the villagers, as the family was well-respected and wealthy in the village. The bridegroom was tall and handsome, an image Xu looks much after.  They had some good time together.  Ying later gave birth to two children, Xu and his elder sister Yue.  Then the dad started his own small business.  But it did not last long before it went out of business, and fell under heavy debt to the creditors.  Misfortune did not come singly. The dad had a stroke from chronic heavy drinking, and was paralyzed and bed-ridden when Xu was about ten years old.  

Mom told me that in early years, Xu and his sister were sent to his aunt’s home in the city for better education.

I don’t know how much impact his childhood experience had on his personality, or if his dad’s decadeslong paralysis steered him into the medical course.  

The second time I saw him was also at a restaurant, on the second day of Chinese New Year in 2019.  Out of the four tables in a large lounge, we were sitting on the same table for dinner.  He was quiet across the table, drinking and eating, and by the middle of the dinner, his face was as red as a boiled lobster from the alcohol.  Then a niece approached us, putting a picture on the table. It was a picture of a pretty young girl. Everybody was craning for a peek, joking and complimenting. She turned out to be the daughter of my high school classmate, who also works in the capital city in Chinese medicine field.  Amid the comments and laughter, Xu remained placid. His red face was nonchalant. He took a mere look out of politeness and said nothing afterwards.  When pushed for a reply, he said dryly that he would consider it after he was back to work in the city. 

Upon leaving the restaurant, I told his mom his reaction to an attempted matchmaking. The mom, well aware of his attitude, sighed in dismay, telling me that he already turned down quite a few girls who are in possession of houses in the city.

Was he being choosy?  Promising or enviable his career may look, he is not paid well in the first few years, unable to afford the hefty house in the city. His life is hectic too, bombarded with heavy clinic and research activities. 

I added him to my Wechat. In his Moments, I found copious traditional Chinese poems, so well-versed and rhythmed that I was left in awe. He is also an amateur photographer, traveling around with his backpack and a camera.  He trekked out alone to the mountain top to watch the midnight sky. Pictures of operated chickens or pigs were taken, blood veins analyzed under the microscope. In a world where most young people go with the fad and trend, he clings to his own belief or liking. He might sound like a loner, a young man of few words, but his inner world is as bountiful as the starry sky he likes to gaze upon.