我忘了我的小说第一次被印成铅字时的那份喜悦。我日夜祈祷的是这回事儿。真是的,我想我该喜悦,却没什么喜悦。避开人我躲在某个地方哭了,那一刻我最想我的母亲……我的家搬到光仁街,已经是1963年了。那地方,一条条小胡同仿佛烟鬼的黑牙缝,一片片低矮的破房子仿佛是一片片疥疮 I forgot the joy when my novel was printed for the first time. What I prayed for day and night was this. Really, I think I should be happy, but there is no joy. Avoiding people, I hid somewhere and cried. At that moment, I most wanted my mother... My family moved to Guangren Street. It was already 1963. In that place, a small alley resembles the black fangs of a smoker, and a low, broken house seems to be a piece of acne.