By Chen Weiping

Lunar New Year is a big, happy occasion for us Chinese people. My wife called me and joyfully told me that she was coming back home. She had already bought a train ticket, even though it was an unseated ticket.

“Standing tickets?” I asked.

“Yeah. It’s Spring Festival days. Tickets are in huge demand.” My wife sounded satisfied on the other side of the phone. I knew that it was extremely hard to get tickets at the end of the year. If my wife was willing to come back a few days later, she would be able to get a seated ticket. However, she was so eager to come back home as soon as she could that she was willing to stand on the train for more than ten back breaking hours.

On the day of her return, I couldn’t stop watching the clock on the wall all afternoon, wondering: “Well, she should be in a taxi by now and arriving at train station soon. I should call her, but I don’t know how long the wait is. It would be very inconvenient for her to answer my call with suitcases in her hands. Well, better call her when she gets on the train…”

For a whole night I was tossing and turning in bed with an anxious and expecting heart. I have taken this train back and forth myself many times, so I couldn’t help wondering, where is she now? Zhenjiang? Or somewhere else?

My wife finally arrived. As soon as she set down her luggage, she began to nag me: “Our house is as dirty as a pigsty. Why didn’t you clean up a bit? Look at all this thick ash on the table...” Now that the usual peace and quiet was all gone, I listened and listened to her nagging, getting more and more bored.

The Chinese New Year is all about eating, drinking, getting together, and playing. Time flies and several days passed without us realizing it. The Lantern Festival was here and my wife started to pack up her suitcase to leave.

I suddenly felt an inexplicable emotion rising from inside. Am I missing my wife already? The word “missing” is usually for young people to say—and she’s still here by my side.

I came back from work, and immediately smelled something good from the kitchen. My wife pointed at a large bowl of meatballs and told me, “I fried meatballs all afternoon. I’ll put them in the refrigerator. If you don’t like to cook for yourself, take some out and steam them, then they’ll be ready to eat.” I nodded: “Alright.” Previously she always made several bags of dumplings and froze them for me to eat in the future. This time it’s fried meatballs.

Soon it was departure time. Considering the train leaves in the middle of the night, it’s tiring to stay up and my wife would have a lot of work to do after she got back, I said, “You go to bed and sleep a while. I’ll wake you up in time.” Without further words, she went into room and fell asleep before long.

At 10 o’clock, she woke up, got dressed and washed up. I carried the suitcase and walked her to the roadside, where we waited for a while before a taxi stopped. I put the luggage in the trunk and saw her off until the red taillights of the taxi disappeared into the distance.

Nights are still chilly at this point in the season. A gust of wind came and I huddled deeper into my coat. In the past few years my wife and I have been living in different places without many reunions. I don’t know yet how many times we’ll get to see each other this coming year. A burst of loneliness rushed up into my heart. When we were young, we seemed to care for nothing; but at this age we are more soft and sentimental. I felt tears coming up and turned around to leave. We came as a pair yet now I was going back on my own. Nobody was with me other than my own shadow.

At home, I paced back and forth in the empty house. The f loor was as clean as a mirror; the table was bright and clear. My wife had cleaned up the whole house before leaving. Sadly, in a few days they would get dusty again.

I sat there for quite a long time, and finally decided not to get stuck in my sentimental emotions. After all, I had to get up early to work in the morning. The quilt on the bed was nice and neat, with an extra blanket on top. My wife must have added it on top because she knew I would be sleeping alone now. I went to bed and found it very warm. That blanket was like my wife’s body warmth.

I felt warm and blessed, as cozy as the coming spring. I called my wife and told her the bed was still warm. She smiled and said: “This way you won’t feel cold when you sleep.”

I held the cellphone and for a long time didn’t know what to say.

(From Lady, July 2014. Translation: Lu Qiongyao)

离聚匆匆情暖心

文/陈卫平

对中国人来说，过年是十分开心的事情。妻子打电话喜滋滋地告诉我，她要回家，已经买到火车票，虽然是一张站票。

“站票啊。”我说。“春运呢，票很紧张的。”妻子显得很满足。我知道，年三十之前的车票肯定紧张，如果愿意晚几天回来的话，应该可以订到坐票。但是，妻子归心似箭。在火车上站十几个小时，这个苦，妻子心甘情愿地吃。

到了妻子回家的日子，整个下午，我都在看客厅里的挂钟：嗯，这个时刻，应该在出租车上，很快就到火车站。我想给妻子打个电话，但是，迟疑不决：也不知道候车的队伍有多长，妻子提着箱子，接电话会很不方便。要不，等她上了火车再打吧。

那个期待的夜晚，是多么难熬。这趟火车，我来来回回也坐了若干次，心里揣度，这会儿她是到了镇江，还是在哪儿？

妻子终于到家，放下行李的第一件事就是唠叨：“咱家怎么像个牛栏，怎么这么脏啊？你在家也不干活，你看看茶几上的灰有多厚……”平日里的清静全没了，听着听着，我终于厌烦了。

过年就是吃吃喝喝、玩玩聚聚，几天时间转眼就过去，不知不觉就到了元宵节，妻子开始收拾起出门的行囊。

我心里突然涌起一股莫名的情愫，难道是思念吗？这应该是年轻人喜欢用的词汇吧，何况这人儿还在自己身边呢。

我下了班回来，厨房里飘着浓浓的香气，妻子指着一大盆肉丸子，说：“我炸了一下午，正准备放入冰箱。以后，不愿做菜了，你就放在锅里蒸了吃。”我点头：“好。”以前妻子总是包几袋饺子，放到冰箱冷冻，这次改炸丸子了。

离别时刻到了，考虑到是半夜的火车，很难熬，再说妻子到了那边还有忙不完的事，于是我说：“你先上床睡会儿，到钟点了，我叫醒你。”妻子二话没说，进屋躺下，没多久就睡着了。

夜里10点钟，她自己醒了，梳洗化妆。然后，我提着旅行箱，一直把她送到路边。等了一会儿，拦了一辆的士，我把行李放在后备厢内，目送出租车闪着红色的尾灯绝尘而去。

春寒料峭，一阵风吹来，我竖了竖衣领。这几年聚少离多，也不知道今年能相见几次。一阵落寞涌上心头。年轻的时候风风火火，如今，心头的坚冰反而更易融化，眼眶不禁有些潮润。转身踽踽独行，来时的一双人儿，如今形单影只。

在空旷的家中来回踱了几圈，地面光洁如镜，茶几也是锃亮明净，妻子临行前已经把家里拾掇得很整洁。只是，几天之后又会蒙上淡淡的灰尘。

就那么静坐了好久，终是不想徒增感伤，何况明天还要早早地上班。床上的被子盖得好好的，上面还铺了一层毯子。一定是因为我一个人睡，妻子才特意加的吧。上床之后，发现床上竟然一片温暖，那是妻子的体温。

心里终于温馨如春天，我拨通妻子的手机，告诉她，床上还是暖烘烘的。她笑道：“这样你上床就不冷了。”

就那么捏着电话，久久，我没有说出话来。