上海弄堂（二）
The Shanghai lane (part 2)
Name: ________________ Date: ________
他走进第一条弄堂口的一家小店，问卖早饭的叔叔：“请问，这里有没有一家裁缝店？”
叔叔先用上海话说了一句什么，看他不懂，又用普通话说：“裁缝店？早就没了！现在谁还做衣服啊，都在网上买。”
小远又走进第二条，第三条。他看见了一家咖啡店，一家卖花的店，还有很多拿着手机拍照的年轻人。有一条弄堂的房子已经没有人住了，门都关着。一个下午过去了，他走了九条弄堂，脚冷得像不是自己的，裁缝店一家也没有找到。
四点多，太阳下去了，大家开始把衣服收回去。小远站在第十条弄堂口，准备回宾馆。
就在这时候，他听见了一个声音。很轻，很清楚，一声，又一声。是剪刀的声音。
声音是从弄堂最里面来的。那里有一个很小的店，门比别的门还小，门上的字已经看不出来了，只看得出最后两个：裁缝。窗户里是黄色的灯光。
小远推开门。
店里很小，大桌子一放，就差不多满了。墙上挂着很多衣服，有的做好了，有的只做了一半。桌子旁边站着一个很老的老人，个子不高，头发全白了，戴着很厚的眼镜。一个年轻的女人站在他面前，穿着一件还没做完的红旗袍。
“陶师傅，能不能快一点啊？”年轻女人说，“我下个月就结婚了，您已经量了三次了。”
老人没有回答。他拿起尺子，又给她量了一次，然后低头，拿笔在纸上写了一个数字。写得很慢，很认真。
“坐。”他没有看小远，只说了一个字，“等一下。”
小远就坐在门边的小椅子上等。这一等，就是一个小时。店里比外面暖和多了，小远的手慢慢地有了感觉。那个年轻女人走的时候，还在说“快一点啊”，陶师傅还是不回答，只点了点头。
门关上了。陶师傅这才把眼镜往上推了推，看着小远：“做衣服？”
“不是。”小远拿出蓝色的本子，打开第十一页，“我想问一下……您以前见过这个地方吗？”
陶师傅接过本子，拿到眼前。他看了看那条弄堂，看了看头上的衣服，最后，他的眼睛停在了那个小女孩身上。
他看了很久很久，久得小远以为他睡着了。
“这个小姑娘，”陶师傅终于说，声音有点不一样了，“穿的是我做的衣服。”
小远一下子站了起来。他走过去，第一次认真地看那个小女孩。她穿着一件小小的长衣服，衣服上，有一个很小很小的东西，他一直以为是一个点。
陶师傅指着那个点。
“你看这个扣子，”他说，“像不像一列小火车？”
Key words
| Word | Pinyin | Meaning |
|---|---|---|
| 叔叔 | shūshu | (polite) uncle; mister (used by children) |
| 先 | xiān | first; in advance |
| 句 | jù | classifier for phrases and lines of speech or verse |
| 拍照 | pāizhào | to take a photo |
| 房子 | fángzi | house; building |
| 关 | guān | to close; to shut |
| 脚 | jiǎo | foot |
| 像 | xiàng | like; as |
| 宾馆 | bīnguǎn | hotel; guesthouse |
| 声音 | shēngyīn | sound; voice |
| 普通话 | pǔtōnghuà | Mandarin; standard Chinese (Putonghua) |
| 窗户 | chuānghu | window |
English (for the teacher)
He walked into a little shop at the mouth of the first lane and asked the man selling breakfast, “Excuse me, is there a tailor’s shop around here?”
The man said something in Shanghainese first, saw that he didn’t understand, and switched to Mandarin: “A tailor’s? Gone long ago! Who has clothes made these days? Everyone buys them online.”
Yuan tried the second lane, then the third. He saw a coffee shop, a flower shop, and lots of young people taking photos on their phones. In one lane nobody lived in the houses any more, and all the doors were shut. The whole afternoon went by; he walked down nine lanes, his feet so cold they didn’t feel like his own, and he didn’t find a single tailor’s shop.
A little after four, the sun went down and everyone began taking their washing in. Yuan stood at the mouth of the tenth lane, ready to go back to his hotel.
Just then, he heard a sound. Very soft, very clear: once, and then again. It was the sound of scissors.
The sound came from the far end of the lane. There was a tiny shop there, its door even smaller than the others; the characters over the door had worn away, and only the last two could still be read: Tailor. Yellow lamplight shone in the window.
Yuan pushed the door open.
The shop was tiny; with a big table in it, it was nearly full. Lots of clothes hung on the walls, some finished, some only half made. Beside the table stood a very old man, not tall, his hair completely white, wearing very thick glasses. A young woman stood in front of him in a red qipao that wasn’t finished yet.
“Master Tao, can’t you go a bit faster?” the young woman said. “I’m getting married next month, and you’ve already measured me three times.”
The old man didn’t answer. He picked up his ruler and measured her once more, then bent his head and wrote a number on a piece of paper. He wrote very slowly and very carefully.
“Sit.” He didn’t look at Yuan; he said just that one word, then: “Wait a moment.”
So Yuan sat on the little chair by the door and waited. He waited a whole hour. The shop was much warmer than outside, and feeling slowly came back into Yuan’s hands. When the young woman left, she was still saying “a bit faster”; Master Tao still didn’t answer, he only nodded.
The door closed. Only then did Master Tao push his glasses up and look at Yuan: “Clothes made?”
“No.” Yuan took out the blue notebook and opened it at page eleven. “I’d like to ask… have you ever seen this place?”
Master Tao took the notebook and held it up to his eyes. He looked at the lane, looked at the washing overhead, and in the end his eyes stopped on the little girl.
He looked for a long, long time, so long that Yuan thought he had fallen asleep.
“This little girl,” Master Tao said at last, his voice a little different, “is wearing clothes I made.”
Yuan jumped to his feet. He went over and, for the first time, looked closely at the little girl. She wore a small, long dress, and on it was something very, very small that he had always taken for a dot.
Master Tao pointed at the dot.
“Look at this button,” he said. “Doesn’t it look like a little train?”