Title: The Letter That Never Did Arrive

Yìzhí Děnɡzhe de Nà Fēnɡ Xìn, Méiyǒu Lái

一直等着的那封信，没有来

 

Byline: Yi Qing

Translated by Ginger Huang

Text:

The greenness of the lawn in front of the White House looked so soothing. Tired, I looked for a place to rest under the sun, entertaining myself with the idea of whether that same sun was shining on the East. A throng of middle school students appeared out of nowhere, scattering loudly all over the place.

I noticed two girls looking over in my direction, seemingly and furtively conspiring something. After a while, one of them came up to me and brightly beamed “Hi there! Are you Chinese?” I smiled back, curious as to what they wanted. However, withdrawing in hesitancy, one of the girls giggled and ran off. I gestured to the other girl saying that she was right, I was from China. She introduced herself. Her name was Jenny, from out-of-town Pennsylvania. She and a group of classmates were on a summer assignment; everyone had to interview a foreign tourist. “I signed up first and wanted to interview a Chinese person,” Jenny told me enthusiastically.

“My friend wanted to interview you too, but I beat her to it.” She smiled proudly, her straight teeth white as snow. I responded with both interest and jest.  

“Why Chinese? You have to tell me why, before I accept your interview.” The answer made me laugh.

“Because the Chinese can do Kungfu.”

“That’s right. But how do you know this?”

“I’ve seen it in the movies: Kungfu and Chinese calligraphy. You can write as if painting pictures.” She then fumbled in her pockets, taking out a pen and asked me to write a Chinese character on her palm. I gladly obliged. In catering to her idea of the picturesque Chinese characters, I wrote the seal script of “bird.” Jenny was enormously pleased.

“It’s easy,” I explained. “You can show your friends later, or I can ‘draw’ on their palms if they want.” She brightened, looking at me as if I was an adept painter. I was amused.

“Why do you like Kungfu? Can you do it?” I asked. She looked a little hesitant.

“I can do a little, but nothing compared to what you can do.” But Jenny was not shy. She retreated to a distance, then sprang back in a succession of somersaults, ending with a nice conclusive gesture. Then, I understood what she meant by Kungfu. She then asked to see my Kungfu prowess, and I had to tell her that not every Chinese can do Kungfu. However, every Chinese can “draw,” and I offered to draw more characters on a notebook.

Unfortunately, Jenny did not have a notebook. “But I want to learn Chinese!” she said earnestly. “Would you give me your address so I can write to you?” Her childish sincerity touched me. My translator wrote my address on her arm, and I wrote it in Chinese on the other arm. She left running, to show her friends, and yelled back: “I will write you! Just wait!” We waved goodbye, as if in a fairytale.

After I returned to China, I waited for Jenny’s letter, but it never did arrive. Three years later, I revisited that lawn in front of the White House, and spoke to a Chinese expat about Jenny. He laughed. “You really don’t know American kids. She must have sweat a lot that day, and your address probably got smeared off her arm.” I felt much relieved after hearing this.

Looking back, six years later, I wonder how Jenny is, and whether she is still that little girl who loved Kungfu and Chinese characters. And I grew wistful.

 

附：中文原文

白宫前草坪，一片茵绿，十分养眼。

已经有些累了，总想找个地方休息，寻思着靠着树根儿眯一下眼也行，躺在草坪里晒晒太阳也挺好。还真不知西方的太阳与东方的太阳是不是一回事儿！

一队美国的中学向草坪中走来，在坪中央区，各自又分散了，三个一丛，五个一伙儿，说说笑笑，打打逗逗的。有两个女孩子望着我躺坐的方向，在小声地议论着什么，其中一个大胆儿的笑着向我打了个招呼：哈罗，请问中国朋友吗？

我觉得有些好玩。这两孩子打过招呼后，又有些害羞，两争论了一下什么，其中的一个就笑着跑开了。

我报以笑容，并招手让她过来，告诉他，你猜对了，本人来自中国，China！

这听这位中学生自我介绍，她叫珍妮，来自美国宾州一个偏远的小镇。她说学校放假了，他们一帮男女同学十多人组织了个假期活动组，要每个成员回校时交一份访问一个来美国的外国客人。珍妮说：“我头一个报名，要采访一位中国客人。刚才与我在一起的是好朋友，她也是要访问中国人的，但是，因为是我最先与您打招呼的，所以她就跑了。”

说完，就是快乐的笑，一口长得很整齐的牙齿，笑起来很好看。

我有几分逗乐地说：“你为什么第一个报名访问中国人呢？有什么特别需要向我说明的理由吗？”

珍妮不说也罢，一说，我更乐了。珍妮的理由是：“中国人会功夫。”

“chinese kungfu，是吗？你怎么知道中国人会武功（功夫）啊？你听谁说的呀？”我笑着问。

“我为什么要听谁说啊？”珍妮有几分自信地说：“我是自己了解的。我看过电影，都会打架，写出来的字，也跟画画儿似的，很好看。”

说完，他从自己的身上，掏出一支很短的笔来，让我一定要在她的手掌上写一个汉字。

这于我不难。便满足了珍妮的要求，并且特别地“满足”了她所想像的中国字就像“画画儿”一样的要求，写了个小篆的“鸟”字，写出来后，珍妮乐得疯了似的，向远方招着手，一定要找她的同伴来一起欣赏。

我笑着说：“你先不忙，一会儿找她们看也不迟，你的同伴们如果感兴趣，我也会在他们的手上写更多的‘画儿’。”

珍妮因惊喜而更显生动，眼睛里放着亮，好像我写一个字真跟画画儿一样的难。我看着这个中学生，觉得可爱极了，便问：“你为什么要喜欢中国功夫呢？你会点儿功夫吗？”

珍妮听后，有些不好意思地说：“会一点，但是在你们的面前，我可能很差。”

显然，珍妮所说的很差，想要表明的是只有一点点儿“功夫”。我的翻译笑着在旁边说：“那就把你的那一点点功夫也给我们表演表演吧。”

这孩子还真不怯场，猛地向远方跑了几步后，再转向我们，连连地翻起丁斗来，一连翻了四五个，一直翻到我的跟前，然后一个收束的动作，也像模像样的——这就是珍妮所理解的中国功夫。

珍妮很得意，一定让我也来一点功夫。我说，不是所有的中国人都会功夫的。但是，所有的中国人都是会画画儿（写汉字）的，我再为你多画几个字儿吧，画到你的本子上也行。

珍妮很遗憾，因为她一身短装，根本就没有地方可以藏放一个画画儿的本子。珍妮有些着急，说，这样吧，我今后学中国字，就找你帮忙，你把地址留给我吧，回去后，我一定写信跟你联系。

我的翻译觉到了孩子的真诚，便在珍妮的手臂上书写了我们的通信地址，我也用中文在她的手臂上留下了一长串汉字地址。珍妮看着左右手上的英文和中文地址，高兴得大呼小叫地向她的同伴们跑去，并回头大声地对我们说：“记着我，我会写信给你们。”

我们挥手向孩子告别，似乎告别着一个童话。

回国后，我们等待着，等待着珍妮的来信。但是，珍妮的信一直没有来。

三年后，当我们再一次来到白宫坪前说起这个故事，一位陪我们散步的华侨笑着说：“你们太不了解美国孩子了，准是她们太高兴，疯疯癫癫的，一身汗水，早把那地址洗丢了！”

听了这话，顿时释然。写此文时，六个年头又成了昨天，也不知珍妮现在有多大了，还在练“中国功夫”，还在欣赏汉字的美丽吗？！心里竟生出丝丝儿的牵挂来……

 

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