By Wu Wenning

Michel de Montaigne,the famous French writer,once said that bad days should be spent quickly while good days should be savored.

However,there’re no fixed criteria to identify good or bad days;the judgment only comes from one’s own experience.

After graduation,I was assigned to work in a remote mountain area.My girlfriend’s family thought I was good-for-nothing and forced her to break up with me.One night,at just past twelve,one of my childhood friends,Erwa turned up at my door at the school where I worked.He seemed to have walked a long mountain road,hair tangled and face dirty.He was wearing an old military coat,hands deep in his trouser pockets.

I froze for a moment and then came back to my senses.I teased him,“You came all this way to see me empty-handed?”

He produced a bottle of wine from his coat pocket,slammed it on my table.“Well,we’re the same now,” he said.“So,let’s have a drink.”

It seemed he must have lost his girlfriend as well.At that moment,we were in the same boat:sad and lonely.

We were going to drink,but where could we find some appetizers?

There was nothing in my dormitory to go with the wine.Nothing! You couldn’t even see a mouse,let alone food.In the end,I found a pair of chopsticks and a jar of chili paste.

We sat down on the floor,chili paste between us,one chopstick each.Every time we had a sip of wine,we’d dip the chopstick into the chili paste.

法国作家蒙田说过，坏日子，要飞快地“度”；好日子，要停下来细细地品。

其实，好日子与坏日子没有固定的标准。我的体会缘于我的经历。

我大学刚毕业时，被分配到一个偏僻的山区，女朋友家嫌我没出息，断了我和她的联系。

有一天晚上，大约十二点以后，我的发小二娃居然找到了我所在学校的单身宿舍，敲响了我的门。当时的他，仿佛走了很长的山路，蓬头垢面，着一件半旧不旧的军大衣，两手吊儿郎当地插在裤兜里。

我先是一愣，继而缓过神来，打趣他：“大老远的空手来看我？”

他从大衣口袋里掏出一瓶口子窖，“砰”，顿在我的桌子上：“好了，我现在和你一样了，起来喝酒吧。”

不用多说，他一定也失恋了。此时此刻我俩是真正的难兄难弟，形影相吊了。

那就喝吧，可是哪有菜呢？

Soon,the wine was gone.We dug out a half bottle and continued to drink while pouring our hearts out.

That night,the whole world shrank into a cup and we slipped into a drunken stupor on the floor.When the dawn chorus started,we were sound asleep and didn’t know the day had come.In the days that followed,I often drank alcohol at social occasions,where the food was always good.However,something seemed to be missing and I’d be drunk after less than half a pint.The feeling I experienced that night never came back again.

Then I got married.

We didn’t even have money to have a proper wedding and,when my wife and I moved in together,we were so poor that,apart from the full cabinet of my books and her flowers—which covered half a wall—there was hardly anything decent in the house.A student desk served as our cooking bench and the bed was a hand-me-down sofa.

But surprisingly,those hard days didn’t seem to bother us that much.

When the moon was up,and the breeze blew gently,we talked to each other affectionately.We looked to the future.The only annoying thing was that there were mice under our “bed“ and,in the dead of night,I often heard them carrying on like they owned the place.At first,we turned on the light,got up,and chased them.But,eventually,we simply forgave them—we were all the same;why couldn’t we be more tolerant?

When our son was around six or seven,I went to a neighboring city for my postgraduate studies.For convenience,I sent him to a private school in the city and my wife became a teacher there.

I was already in my thirties and our family was still poor.We were living a plain life,but we were happy.

I remember one day,when I was back home,I’d been thinking of taking my son to the city to have a look around.He asked me softly,“Daddy,would you take me to McDonald’s?” I felt in my pocket;there was seventy or more yuan in there—but there wouldn’t be much left over for bus fares if we went there.

I lowered my head and whispered in his ear,“McDonald’s is so expensive.Both of us are studying and we don’t have money for that.”

“How about we just go in and have a look? No one knows we don’t have money anyway,” he said.“Maybe if you can afford something,you could squeeze my hand and let me know?”

Seeing his clear and innocent eyes,I agreed and gave him five.Sure enough,almost everything was out of our price range.But fortunately,my son’s little hands stayed in my pockets,warm and sweaty.

The young girl at the counter kept recommending set meals and my son kept shaking his head.Then we found out that we could get French fries by themselves for only a dozen yuan.My heart almost missed a beat,and my son felt my excitement and looked up at me.I squeezed his little hand without saying anything.

That day,we got an order of fries and some ketchup,for fourteen yuan.My son was only seven years old then.

Gradually our life was becoming better and,sometimes,the three of us would go to upscale restaurants.However,French fries have always been my son’s favorite,and nothing else can compete.French fries are pretty ordinary,but to my son and me,they are part of our precious memories;they are cherished.

So really,it’s hard to simply distinguish good days from bad days.If your life is full of passion,warmth,and affection for your family,then why are you unhappy?The reason I tell you these stories isn’t to win sympathy,but to recall and savor the good life.

(FromXin’an Evening News.Translation:Liu Lili)

单身宿舍，没有什么佐酒的东西，连老鼠都没有，能有什么？关键时刻，找到了一双筷子，半瓶辣椒糊。

我们席地而坐，辣椒糊放在中间，筷子一人一支，然后是喝一口酒，蘸一点辣椒糊。

一瓶口子窖喝完了，又扒出大半瓶柳浪春，继续喝，相互倾诉。

那一夜，世界浓缩到杯盏之中，不知不觉，两人就在席上睡着了。当鸟儿在窗前啁啾的时候，我们相互枕藉而眠，不知东方之既白。

后来的日子，我应酬时也常喝酒，酒菜也算丰富，但总觉得应酬的酒少了点什么，大多喝不到半斤就醉，再也找不到那晚的感觉了。

后来，我终于结婚了。

我和妻子搬到一起的时候，还没有条件举行婚礼，依然是家徒四壁。……