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旗袍妖娆,舞池热闹,霓虹灯闪耀……几处撩拨,几处诱惑,一切都还是旧上海的味道。白家的破阳台上依稀传出胡琴的声响,咿咿呀呀的,在灯火通明的夜晚,格格不入得很。与这般浮华同样不相称的,还有张爱玲,她喜好闭门不出,冷眼看烟花,素手绘凡俗。她笔下的故事,虽鲜有缠绵的苦情,惨烈的纷争,却总有一抹挥不去的悲哀弥漫开来。她善于直击人性的丑陋,命运的无常,敏锐地洞察出隐匿在浮华都市中的些许华丽的悲凉。
Qipao enchanting, lively dance floor, neon lights shining ... ... Several tease dial, a few temptations, everything is still the taste of old Shanghai. White house vaguely heard the sound of the piano on the broken balcony, Baba Yeah, in the bright night, out of tune. Is not commensurate with such a flashy, and Zhang Ailing, she likes not to shut the door, sit on the fireworks, plain hand-painted custom. Her story, though rarely lingering bitterness, tragic disputes, but there is always a touch of sadness filled with diffuse. She is adept at watching the ugliness of human nature and the impermanence of her fate. She is keenly aware of the gorgeous desolation lurked in the flashy metropolis.