Over the years,I’ve been feeling the cruel fleeting of time on my father.All his organs,including teeth and bones,are rapidly turning fragile and loose.Whenever I meet an old man on the road,I can’t help looking a few extra seconds—I sometimes even run up to them to see whether they are my father.

My father,now losing his angular face and strong figure,is aging like all the other old men—skinny,dull,and unsmiling.When he was young,he was quite noticeable because of his shining bald head.I would know when he was coming from a mile away.As a kid,I was nicknamed Ge Weijiao.“Wei” is my family name,while my given name “jiao”denotes trouble-making.My naughtiness was well-established in our neighborhood.As long as there was a fight around,I was the instigator,who would usually end up being disciplined by my father.This repeated punishment made me doubt whether he was my biological father.One day,I helped my father press red taros in the field,which pleased him so much.My teacher passed by and casually lodged a complaint against me.My father grabbed the pole and swung it at me.I was quick in eye and hand,but my long legs could not keep up,and the iron hook caught me,branding me with a trickle of blood.

I held my leg and skipped because of the pain,quite like an ant on a hot pot.He clutched me,laid me down on the ground,picked up a handful of sprouts,chewed them up,and pressed them to my wound.I could not help noticing that his steady hand was shaking more terribly than my leg.

It turned out that when I was hurt,my father was also in pain.My pain had been sensed by my father.

My father had a bad temper,partly because of my mother,and partly because of his illness.At the outset of each spring,my father suffered from bad ringworm.Once he heard that ringworm can be eradicated with a heated copper coin.In front of a twitching lamp,he rolled up his sleeves and asked me to burn the ringworm with a copper coin.I was scared and refused.So he did it himself.The copper coin was pressed on the arm,with his gnashed teeth and raised eyebrows.A smell of charred flesh squeaked and creaked,and it made the lights bend and gnaw at my heart like a knife.

But my father patted my head,beaming,and said it didn’t hurt at all.In tears,I was in agony.

这些年，感觉时间在不停提速，尤其是对父亲。在他身上，岁月的沙漠化一年深过一年，从牙齿到骨骼，他所有坚硬的部分，都迅速钝化、脆弱。走在路上，每遇见老人，我总会忍不住多看几眼，有时，还会从他身后追到身前……我总觉得，他是我父亲。

老了的父亲，失去标识度和分辨率，老成所有老人的样子——干瘦，呆滞，不苟言笑。但年轻时，他棱角分明，一顶光头佛光普照，哪怕十里外咳嗽一声，我也辨得出来者何人。

小时，我诨号葛维搅。维是辈分，搅是捣蛋，我的“皮”有口皆碑。基本上，只要有摩擦，罪就在我，以被父亲摁在地上摩擦结束。这俗套的剧情，常让我怀疑父亲是假的。那天，我跟着父亲压红芋，甚得他欢心。老师路过地头，随口参我一本。父亲顺手抄起扁担抽向我。我眼疾手快，但大长腿没能跟上，被铁钩抽到，烙出一道血印。

我抱着腿，疼得像热锅上的蚂蚁，蹦蹦跳跳。父亲捉住我，把我摁到地上，揽一把萋萋芽，嚼碎，敷在伤口上。我不经意看见，他稳健的手，比我的腿颤抖得更厉害。

原来，当我疼时，父亲也在痛。我的一半疼痛，一直由父亲默默领受着。

父亲脾气暴躁，一半是母亲点燃的，一半是癣疾煎熬的。年复一年，一开春，癣就援着他身体开枝散叶。不知听谁说的，用烧红的铜钱烫，就能把癣斩草除根。一盏抽搐的灯火前，他捋起袖子，让我烧铜钱烫癣。我做不到！他就自己来。牙一咬，眉一竖，火红的铜钱往手臂上一摁。一股焦肉味吱吱乱窜，撕咬得灯火弓起腰，啃噬得我心如刀绞。