小许是舅舅女儿瑛的儿子，今年快30岁了。 小时候去乡下玩，从娘姨家玩到舅舅家，两边的表哥表姐对我和弟弟都很好。后来瑛表姐出嫁了，成家后搬去了与公婆住一起。公公是当年的村支记，家里有新造的楼房。表姐夫高而帅，说起来可以算是一门好亲事，嫁了一个好人家。 婚后，表姐生下一男一女，日子过的挺红火。表姐夫自己办厂做生意，后来进城买了房子。然而，好景不长，表姐夫的生意做亏了，厂倒闭了，讨债的人都上了门。 再后来，爱喝酒的表姐夫还瘫痪在床，表姐一个人支撑起这个家，伺候丈夫吃喝拉撒多年，直至几年前表姐夫离世。

 

从母亲的嘴里得知，瑛家的两个孩子很争气，都考上了大学，也很有出息。舅舅家的亲戚太多，我也不可能一一了解过来。前些年回去，常常一聚好几桌人，忙着招呼长辈，同辈，并没有太在意下一辈。 2016年春节回家，在母亲回请舅舅家的宴席上，小许坐在我身边，这才有了第一次面对面的交谈。 小许一米八以上的个子，长的更像他爸爸。他长相腼腆，不拘言笑，隐约中有一丝丝忧郁。那一年他还在医学院读研。 我和他就他的专业、前景聊了聊。 小许话少，加上我们彼此也不熟悉，所以谈话也只能蜻蜓点水般的泛而又泛。

 

今年二月春节春节我再次回家过年。闲聊中，母亲跟我聊起小许，还把小许写的诗，五律、七绝等等，从微信中找出来给我看。看完后，我非常惊讶。在这个大家都热衷于抖音、微博的时代，快节奏的生活让传统文学越来越小众化，越来越少的人会静下心来读书、写作，读诗、写诗的人更是凤毛麟角。记得那一日，我主动地从母亲那儿加了他的微信。

 

大年初二那天晚上，舅舅家又聚集一堂，整整四桌人。 等我到餐厅，见小许坐在那里，知道他第二天就动身离家回杭， 我便上前招呼他，问他要不要一起坐到另一桌。他礼貌地回答道，都一样。我招呼了表侄女珺，其他同辈的，年轻一辈的，坐在了与他同一张饭桌上。宴席吃到一半，珺从包里掏出一张照片放在了桌上，是一位姑娘的照片。照片上的女子清秀、高挑、漂亮。原来珺那晚有任务，受人之托，来说媒来了。我心中暗喜。结果发现，这女孩还是我一个很要好高中同学的女儿，也在杭工作，是位中医师， 貌似挺般配的一对。珺的老公几杯酒下肚后，开始滔滔不绝地介绍，撮合之意溢于言表。大家互相传递着看着照片，善意地起着哄，唯小许不动声色。 喝了不少酒的他此时一张关公一样的红脸，却十分清醒镇定，礼节性地看了看照片，没有吭声。 珺觉得没法交差，因为对方父亲(我高中同学)希望趁春节回家双方见一面。迫于压力，小立最后说了一句，回杭再说吧。

 

宴席后，我偷偷告诉表姐这件事，和小许的反应。表姐叹了口气，说，单位里一直有人给他介绍，有几个条件很好，在杭有房子，小许都不动心。表姐说，小许工作很忙，觉得自己现在没房子，钱又少，可能条件不成熟。 临走之前，我与小许告别。我也不问原因，只说了一句，人生不是单轨道，人生应该是双轨向前，谈恋爱和工作事业不矛盾的。

 

那晚回到家中，我和母亲聊起了他，母亲说起表姐心疼儿子一个人在外，没人照顾，经常熬夜，生活没有规律，常常一碗泡面填肚子，工作又非常辛苦。做母亲的心情可想而知。

 

回美后，我在微信里欣赏了他的旧作新词，看他一个人北上西行，留下游走北京西安的诗句和摄影。又在微信里看到他好几架天文望远镜(见图)和他拍的璀璨星空， 看他绕有兴趣地解剖猪头鸡翅，在显微镜下分析动物的血管经络。偶尔看他通宵达旦还没有休息，会提醒他注意身体。我把他的作品和某人分享，说起他的情况，某人总是惋惜地说，韶华易逝，青春不应该徒留空白。而我始终没有跟小许再提找对象的话题。 在我，一是没有合适的机会，二是，他的世界我知之甚少，不曾靠近，更谈不上走进，虽然我欣赏他的才华，欣赏他的执着，欣赏他为人的淡泊和淡定的， 但是突兀地去指点他的人生和选择，有时会事与愿违，不妥也。然，美好的愿望一直在心底。

 

贴上几首他的诗和照片吧。

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.