STUDY IN CHINA GLOBAL (SCG)作品原文
舒婷 《你给我下海去》
和丈夫阴谋许久，终于有了一间书房，却是以牺牲儿子的卧室为代价的。
现在儿子的小床和我们成对角，家事国事，事事参议，且领衔主演意识甚浓。书房里设五座书橱。由于不谙请行情又不愿求人，上街摸到就是。时间稍长，贴面脱落、隔板变形，白蚁如春风野草扑之不灭，我的各色奖证，精美相簿及赠送的好友书画均惨遭荼毒夜间，忽听“砰”的一声，想是有扇橱门弹开了，过会儿又“砰”的一声主动合上。仿佛有个落第鬼魂，正趁虚而入苦读。可惜并不助我写稿。
书橱渐渐老去，儿子渐渐长大，烦恼随之滋生，但尚可将就。
原来两只旧藤椅，虽频频以铁丝加固，掩护两块垫子，终于宣告彻底退休再不肯返聘。丈夫以恋旧为名，大街小巷搜罗藤椅，不知是资源紧张，或是时尚如此，而今藤椅一概用塑料片仿编。我拒不接纳，提议买一对高背皮转椅，用来安抚我那日益不支的腰背。
于是，就一双五十元的“伪藤椅”还是两只皮转椅，我和丈夫各施雄辩，相持不下。有位日本友人来访，耳闻此事，愿赠一对皮椅，我面红耳赤亢声谢绝。丈夫受此刺激，大长志气，即日过海厦门，扛回两只皮椅。这次学乖，居然会讨价还价，每只皮椅平均杀价二元五角。有皮椅撑腰，自觉又豪华又响亮。再接再厉，便看到报载四通公司在厦门假日酒店“品展览”，勾起丈夫电脑情绪。
同仁们大多已购置电脑。我平日使用汉字节约，诗是短诗，文也是短文。最高纪录不过六千余字，平生才两篇。不堪写、抄之苦，若有三千字以上者问津，必掐头去足，既断章也断义，只图手指儿轻松，不管它者呼痛。所以，电脑非我紧急战备也。但丈夫职业是教书，教案、论文多多；业余专理论，抄卡片集资料辛苦，且文必上万字，书必三十万字左右。思电脑之切，较当年追求老婆热烈数倍。两只写作动物，只需合购一台电脑，我的数学虽不及格，也能算出其中便宜处。
遂跃跃欲试。
进假日酒店，二十来部电脑沿墙摆开，围观试机者，都是西装革履、油光可鉴，满口软件密码新词汇。我俩简衣素服，无头苍蝇一般，丈夫连收款机也不识，刚凑近就被人挥开。正彷徨，有仙女来救。
原来是四通驻福建办事处郭倩小姐，中文科班出身，竟认出我来，十分热情逐一介绍产品，又帮我敲定型号，并带我见厦门经销处经理。
郭小姐是无锡人，素昧平生，不但认出我而且拔脚相助，那经理同乡，却对“务必以最低价优惠舒婷老师一台”之说面无表情。
其实最低价也是万把块哩！
数日内，电脑成了饭桌上、熄灯前的热门话题。和丈夫紧锣密鼓，无非如何精简开支一年。十一岁的儿子最具时代精神，拍手：“好哇，我要自己编程序。”
“当然。”丈夫抓紧革命传统教育。“你的游戏卡已有十盒，再不要买了，旅游鞋也不必非名牌不穿，上发廊……”
儿子顿时做怒目金刚状，以足擂床，响声之巨，令隔壁书橱门乒乓又震开几扇：“你给我下海去！”
任何事物都需代价。当初算计了儿子的卧室，而今任何未出笼的家政大计，必受其一票表决权制约。想想，真要台电脑，不是牺牲儿子的游乐权，丈夫的购书癖（他已烟茶酒不沾，每月除了小店理发一次再无其他花销），就得牺牲我的“文字”情，下海去。未及深想，已有一足踩空的眩晕。
罢了，电脑！
作品译文
“Off With You for a Dip in the Sea!”
After plotting with my husband for some time, I finally got a study at the price of our son’s own bedroom.
Now our son’s little bed lies diagonal to ours. Here we all share in the discussion of family and state affairs, and our son has shown a marked instinct for leadership.
There are five bookcases in my body. As I knew little about prices and didn’t want to bother others, I just purchased the first bookcases I happened upon. Soon the paint came off and the boards became warped. White ants stationed inside were indestructible, like spring breeze and wild grass. My various certificates of merit, exquisite albums, and gifts of books and pictures were all raided by them.
Gradually, the bookcases wore out and our son grew up. Problems arose but I managed somehow or other.
Our two old rattan chairs had been mended again and again with wires and were covered with two cushions. They finally announced their full retirement. My husband, ostensibly driven by his love of antiques, searched high and low for rattan chairs. Either due to lack of materials or perhaps overcome by prevailing fashions, rattan chairs have been replaced by plastic ones. I refused to have them and suggested we buy a pair of leather chairs with tall backs to support our failing backs.
Then my husband and I argued over whether we should spend 50 yuan for a pair of “mock rattan chairs” or get two revolving leather chairs. Neither was ready to yield. When a visiting Japanese friend heard about it he offered to give us a pair of leather chairs. Very red in the face, I loudly declined. This provoked my husband’s sense of dignity. The next day he crossed the sea to Xiamen and carried back two leather chairs. This time he was smarter; he had learned to bargain and saved 2.5 yuan on each of the chairs!
Installed in our leather chairs, we felt luxurious and presentable. We decided to continue exerting ourselves. When we saw the announcement of a “sale” of Stone Corporation products at Holiday Inn, my husband’s appetite for computers was awakened.
Most of our colleagues have bought computers. I am usually economical with Chinese characters. I write short poems and short essays. So far, my longest piece of writing was just a little over six thousand characters. Usually, whenever a piece exceeded three thousand words, I would slash my texts, and I didn’t care about its cries of pain. So for me the computer was not an urgent need. But my husband’s profession is teaching. He has to write course plans and many, many papers. He does research in theory. It’s such hard work for him, copying out index cards and collecting material. Any essay he writes reaches ten thousand words for sure, and the books he produces always have at least three hundred thousand words. His desire for computer was several times greater than that for a wife, before we were married. So between us two writing animals, we decided to get one computer. Even with my bad math, I could make out the savings.
We were ready to give it a try.
Inside Holiday Inn, about twenty computers were set up around the walls. People trying the machines were all in western suits and leather shoes looking slick and shiny, spewing computer jargon. The two of us, in our shabby clothes, were like flies buzzing around aimlessly. My husband did not even recognize a cashier register when he saw one. We were pushed away as soon as we got close to a computer. Just as we were totally confused, a “fairy godmother” came to our rescue.
It was Miss Guo Qian who worked in the Fujian Office of Stone Corporation. She was a college graduate of the Chinese language department and recognized me. With great enthusiasm, she introduced the products to us one by one. After helping us select a model, she took us to see the manager of the Xiamen Sales Department. Miss Guo was from Wuxi. We hardly knew each other, yet she had not only recognized me but went out of her way to help us. Not so that manager. From the same hometown as I, nevertheless he remained expressionless when told “We must give the lowest preferential price to Shu Ting.”
And the lowest price amounted to ten thousand yuan!
In the following days computers became the hot topic of conversation over dinner and before bedtime. Our intense discussion and plotting were concentrated on how we could reduce our expenses for a year in order to get a computer. Our eleven-yuan-old son was best equipped with the zeitgeist. Clapping his hands, he said, “That’s wonderful! I’m going to design programs myself!”
“Certainly you are,” my husband responded seizing the opportunity to impact a sense of thrift. “You already have ten boxes of game card. You don’t need to buy any more. And it’s really not necessary to always wear name brand sneakers. As to going to hair salons…”
Our son glared at us like a Buddhist warrior attendant, stamping on the bed and raising such a racket that several bookcases in the next room burst open.
“Off with you for a dip in the sea!’ he ordered.
Everything has its price. Some time ago we took away our son’s bedroom with the result that now, every future decision regarding the family is checked by his vote. Come to think of it, if we were really going to buy a computer, we would have to sacrifice our son’s right to recreation and my husband’s addiction to buying books—he has already cut out cigarettes and wine; his only remaining personal expense is a monthly visit to the barber. Well, without even thinking any further about that “dip in the sea” of commerce, I already feel dazed.
Forget it—the computer!
