一深秋。夜已经很深了。人们大多数都已入睡,四下里一片寂静,只有蟋蟀和些许小昆虫还在时断时续地演奏。位于村东头的何二川家中,却灯光犹亮。二川坐在写字台边,两腿岔开,成马步跨在桌下,后背弓着,上半身伏在桌子上,手执一支圆珠笔,在学习本上不停地写着,写着。笔下时而发出轻微的刷刷声。 A late autumn. The night is already deep. Most people have fallen asleep and silence has been seen, with only crickets and little insects still playing intermittently. He Erchuan home in the village head, but still bright lights. Sichuan sitting on the edge of the desk, his legs diverging, into a horse across the table, the back bow, the upper body volt on the table, hand holding a ball-point pen, kept in learning to write, written. Slight brushing sounds from time to time.