他再也不能呐喊,静静躺在大陆新村9号寓所的卧室里,失去了投掷的膂力,匕首般锐利的笔闪不出寒光。他和许多勇士一样,没被敌人的流弹击倒,却无法敌过体内细微的病菌的侵袭。几个月前,美国肺病专家上门替他诊断,露出一脸惊诧:面前这位病入膏肓的中国人竟然还在写作!若是一个欧洲人五年前已入土安息了。专家赞叹着他生命的顽强,但赞辞背后掩藏着死亡,无疑是在宣布他的生命已经危在旦夕无法挽救。 临终前,他感到渴,发出低沉的“要茶”声,话音刚落,他的头朝枕一歪,再也无力摆正。 He could not cry anymore, and lay quietly in the bedroom of the apartment in the No. 9 apartment in the Chinese mainland, losing the thrown force and daring the dagger-sharp pen. He, like many warriors, was not knocked over by the enemy’s stray bullets, but could not attack the subtle germs in his body. A few months ago, a U.S. lung specialist came home to diagnose him and showed a look of surprise. The Chinese were still writing in front of him, and if a European had come to rest five years ago. Experts praise the tenaciousness of his life, but the death behind the praises is undoubtedly an irreparable announcement that his life is at stake. Before his death, he felt thirsty, sending a low voice of “want tea,” and his voice was lost. His head was crooked and could no longer be adjusted.