一郑颜开不喜欢那个半新半旧的挂钟,每到整点就响,有气无力地如同将死之人的呻吟,吵得很。他搬了个板凳爬上掉漆的绿色木柜子伸手去够钟摆,拽了几下没拽掉。窗台上面徐胜兰正面如死灰地坐着。她的侧脸倒映在夜晚的玻璃窗上,消瘦又惨白,像个活生生的梦魇。到十二点了没有?她问郑颜开,郑颜开从板凳上滑下来看了看钟说没有。他的声音干得像缺水的毛笔,连不成一根完整的线。他感到手掌心和背脊上的汗慢慢渗出来,这汗仿佛是从嘴里榨出去似的让他感到饥渴难耐。他咽了口唾沫又补充了一句,还有八 A YAN Yen-kai does not like the half-new and old wall clock, and when it is full, it sounds like a moan of the dead man. He moved a bench and climbed up the paint-covered green wood cabinet to reach for the pendulum, pulling a few times before dragging it off. Xu Shenglan windowsill above the front as dead as sitting. Her face reflected in the glass at night, thin and pale, like a living nightmare. Is it 12 o’clock? She asked Zheng Yan open, Zheng Yan Kai slid down from the bench looked at the clock said no. His voice worked like a dry brush, not even a complete line. He felt the sweat on his palms and on his back slowly bleeding out, sweating as though he had been squeezed out of his mouth to make him feel thirsty and impatient. He swallowed and added, and eight