电梯里的四十分钟
Stuck in the lift with the neighbour
Name: ________________ Date: ________
我在这栋楼里住了两年，还不知道邻居们叫什么。大家在电梯里见面，都低着头看手机，谁也不说话。
那天晚上十点，我下班回来。电梯里只有一位白头发的老先生，他住在我楼上。我只知道，他每天早上六点出门散步。电梯到了十二楼，突然“咚”的一声，停住了。灯也暗了一半。
我按了紧急按钮，里面传来一个声音：“别着急，维修师傅四十分钟以后到。”四十分钟！我和老先生互相看了一眼，都笑了一下，有点儿尴尬。
过了一会儿，他先开口了：“你是1502的吧？”我点点头。他又问：“晚上弹钢琴的，是你？”
我的脸一下子红了。上个星期，我们这栋楼的微信群里有人留言：“1502的朋友，都晚上11点了还在弹琴，能不能早一点儿？”原来是他。
我连忙说对不起。我是工作以后才开始学钢琴的，白天没时间，只能晚上练。
他摆了摆手：“声音不是问题。问题是，你那首曲子，第二段每次都在同一个地方弹错。我在楼上听着，着急啊，睡不着觉。”
原来，他姓郑，退休以前是音乐老师，教了四十年钢琴。
剩下的半个小时，我们一直在聊天。他把电梯的墙当成钢琴，用手指“弹”那一段给我看，嘴里还唱着：“这里要慢，这里要轻……”我跟着他唱，越唱越想笑。
电梯门终于开了。维修师傅看见我们两个人站在里面，一边唱一边打拍子，愣了半天。
现在，每个星期六下午，郑老师都会下楼来我家，听我弹琴。上个星期，微信群里又有人留言了：“1502的琴声，最近好听多了。”我问郑老师，是不是他写的。他笑着说：“不是我。我还没那么满意呢。”
Key words
| Word | Pinyin | Meaning |
|---|---|---|
| 邻居 | línjū | neighbor |
| 电梯 | diàntī | elevator; lift |
| 见面 | jiànmiàn | to meet; to see each other |
| 只有 | zhíyǒu | only; only if; unless |
| 突然 | tūrán | suddenly; abruptly; sudden; unexpected |
| 灯 | dēng | lamp; light |
| 声音 | shēngyīn | sound; voice |
| 以后 | yǐhòu | later; afterwards; in the future |
| 先 | xiān | first; in advance |
| 脸 | liǎn | face |
| 只能 | zhǐnéng | can only; have no choice but to |
| 练 | liàn | to practice; to train; to drill |
English (for the teacher)
I'd lived in this building for two years and still didn't know my neighbours' names. When we met in the lift, everyone kept their heads down over their phones, and nobody said a word.
That night I got home from work at ten. The only other person in the lift was a white-haired old man who lived upstairs from me. All I knew about him was that he went out for a walk at six every morning. When the lift reached the twelfth floor, there was a sudden thud, and it stopped dead. Half the lights went out too.
I pressed the emergency button, and a voice came through: “Don't worry, the repairman will be there in forty minutes.” Forty minutes! The old man and I glanced at each other and both gave a little smile; it was a bit awkward.
After a while he spoke first: “You're in 1502, aren't you?” I nodded. Then he asked: “The one who plays the piano at night, is that you?”
My face went red at once. Last week someone had left a message in our building's WeChat group: “Friend in 1502, it's eleven at night and you're still playing the piano. Could you stop a bit earlier?” So it was him.
I apologised straight away. I'd only started learning piano after I began working; I had no time during the day, so I could only practise at night.
He waved his hand: “The noise isn't the problem. The problem is that piece of yours: in the second part you get the same spot wrong every single time. I lie upstairs listening, and it drives me mad. I can't sleep.”
It turned out his name was Zheng, and before he retired he'd been a music teacher; he'd taught piano for forty years.
We spent the remaining half hour talking. He used the lift wall as a piano and “played” the passage with his fingers to show me, singing as he went: “Slow here, soft here…” I sang along with him, and the more we sang, the more I wanted to laugh.
At last the lift doors opened. The repairman saw the two of us standing inside, singing and beating time, and just stared for ages.
Now, every Saturday afternoon, Mr Zheng comes downstairs to my flat to listen to me play. Last week someone left a message in the WeChat group again: “The piano in 1502 has been sounding much better lately.” I asked Mr Zheng if he'd written it. He smiled and said: “Not me. I'm not that pleased yet.”