Folding_Beijing中英版本.docVIP

Folding Beijing BY HAO JINGFANG, TRANSLATED BY KEN LIU 1. At ten of five（4点50） in the morning, Lao Dao crossed the busy pedestrian lane（熙熙攘攘的步行街） on his way to find Peng Li. 清晨4:50，老刀穿过熙熙攘攘的步行街，去找彭蠡。 After the end of his shift （下班）at the waste processing station（垃圾站）, Lao Dao had gone home, first to shower and then to change. He was wearing a white shirt and a pair of brown pants—the only decent clothes he owned. The shirt’s cuffs were frayed, so he rolled them up to his elbows. Lao Dao was forty–eight, single, and long past the age when he still took care of his appearance. As he had no one to pester him about the domestic details, he had simply kept this outfit for years. Every time he wore it, he’d come home afterward, take off the shirt and pants, and fold them up neatly to put away. Working at the waste processing station meant there were few occasions that called for the outfit, save a wedding now and then for a friend’s son or daughter. 从垃圾站下班之后，老刀回家洗了个澡，换了衣服。白色衬衫和褐色裤子，这是他唯一一套体面衣服，衬衫袖口磨了边，他把袖子卷到胳膊肘。老刀四十八岁，没结婚，已经过了注意外表的年龄，又没人照顾起居，这一套衣服留着穿了很多年，每次穿一天，回家就脱了叠上。他在垃圾站上班，没必要穿得体面，偶尔参加谁家小孩的婚礼，才拿出来穿在身上。 Today, however, he was apprehensive about meeting strangers without looking at least somewhat respectable. After five hours at the waste processing station, he also had misgivings about how he smelled. 这一次他不想脏兮兮地见陌生人。他在垃圾站连续工作了五小时，很担心身上会有味道。 People who had just gotten off work filled the road. Men and women crowded every street vendor, picking through local produce and bargaining loudly. Customers packed the plastic tables at the food hawker stalls, which were immersed in the aroma of frying oil. They ate heartily with their faces buried in bowls of hot and sour rice noodles, their heads hidden by clouds of white steam. Other stands featured mountains of jujubes and walnuts, and hunks of cured meat swung overhead. This was the busiest hour of the day—work was over, and everyone was hungry and loud. 步行街上挤满了刚刚下班的人。拥挤的男人女人围着小摊子挑土特产，大声讨价还价。食客围着塑料桌子，埋头在酸辣粉的热气腾腾中，饿虎扑食一般，白