《1991歲末紀事：萬聖節面具、紅娘姻緣與上海「圓台面」》

東海大學國際會館 Tokai University International House

轉眼間1991年的萬聖節來到了，學校的國際會館按慣例要舉行外籍教師與家屬的化妝舞會。那晚我還帶了幾個女生一起去的，我的這件無袖衣裙還是一個台灣女生主動借給我穿的，她還拿了一對長長的翡翠耳墜給我戴，說是跟這件裙子很好的搭配，眼罩倒是自己做的。J沒刻意打扮，只是戴了一個長鬍子的京劇大花臉面具，他當年在上海戲劇用品商店買了兩個面具，另外一個也是京劇臉譜，給了我的朋友戴。

這照片的最右邊的那個大紅臉面具就是。她，小Z，是我1985年7月參加學校工會組織的黃山旅遊時認識的。她當時在華師大留學生食堂裡工作，後來學校組織留學生舞會時她叫上了我。這才認識了J，有了這段姻緣。一路走來機緣巧合，一環套一環，缺一不可。

小Z在1990年也來了日本。在我92年離開日本後，她也認識了一位住在我曾經住過的同一棟樓裡的東海大學加拿大籍的外教，之後便嫁給了他，相夫教子去了加拿大。她是通过我另一位朋友認識她丈夫的。那另外的朋友是我1987年在上海長風公園早鍛鍊打太極拳時候認識的小L，小L努力上進、好學好強，每天獨自來公園打一套太極劍，那套拳打得真是十分的漂亮。後來我把她介紹給了我在日本的鄰居W，W曾是西點軍校畢業的，也去過中國教書，後來也在東海大學任教。小L到日本時我已經離開了，我將人生地不熟的她介紹給了小Z，然後小Z才認識了她的丈夫。這一圈兒是不是把您給繞暈了？如果您有興趣，點擊這裡可以看到我與J認識過程中的神奇「推力」與「巧合」。《青春斷代史，1986：膳食科的暗道、哈桑的大格子手帕與專家樓403室的序幕》

回頭再說1991年那晚的鬼節舞會，到了會館的大廳裡，那真是五花八門，這大個子把自己打扮成富士山，他女友F扮成騎著馬在沙漠中行走的阿拉伯人，F也是中國族裔但是在加拿大出生長大的不會說中文，她也在東海大學教英語。那馬是她自己用紙板箱做的。

還有男扮女裝的、扮大相撲的、扮開刀醫生的、扮自由女神的、扮一隻大公雞的、扮日本武士的，還有幾個小孩兒扮成了小鬼。這對母女好像是俄羅斯人，小姑娘頭戴花環扮成個公主，跟她漂亮的臉蛋兒很相襯。歡聲笑語中度過了我的第二個萬聖節化妝舞會。跟第一次萬聖節舞會相比那種新鮮感找不到了，畢竟缺乏文化背景，沒有參與感。

1991年12月7日回上海探望母親和家人。這才一年多沒見面，我的倆侄兒跟我就顯得生疏了許多，倆小侄女兒還算比較貼心的。我給小女孩買了一些首飾，給小男孩兒一人一個小遊戲機，那時從國外可以免稅帶幾件家用電器進去。彩電、冰箱、洗衣機等稱為四大件，隨身聽、電子琴、微型計算器、和手錶稱四小件。我大哥的大女兒就托我給她帶了一個錄像電視一體機。

回上海也沒什麼事兒，除了輪流去幾個哥哥家吃飯，就是去華師大校園轉轉。畢竟在那兒呆了十年呢，舊地重遊和老朋友聊聊天兒還是蠻開心的。發覺我比較懷舊，看到校園裡多了一些拔地而起的新樓，覺得太突兀了，破壞了校園過去和諧、舒展的美。有時候想想我都快成「九斤老太」了，什麼都是過去的好。

我還特意路過曹楊二中看看，從這個角度看母校的大門和教學樓的外貌基本沒變。遺憾的是沒進去，估計門房也不會讓陌生人進去的。

老Y1991年12月於華師大

我還請老Y和她兒子去上海一家高級賓館吃了生魚片，幾年後她才告訴我，那次生魚片吃得她娘兒倆鬧肚子。還是腸胃不習慣，我吃了就沒事兒，當年70年代我在杭州灣五四農場漁業隊工作時，就站在河邊兒吃過直接從河裡撈上來的活蝦生吃。出國前我，老C和老Y關係比較鐵，那時候我們還算年輕，卻特別喜歡「裝老」，於是乎便相互稱老。記得當年我說我們現在是「老皮咔哧眼兒啦」，其實那時我們都三十不到呢。老C聽了哈哈大笑，說：「老皮咔嚓！」她學不了老北京的土話。後來老C去了德國，我也去了日本，輾轉來了美國，只有老Y還留在師大。

這張照片是那次（1991年12月）回上海時在師大新圖書館前拍的，我明顯胖了許多。那時沒有健身減肥意識，記得有一天在日本的一家大商場裡，突然感覺我的大腿根被內褲褲腿口勒的不舒服，不得不到商場的盥洗室裡將兩個褲腿口給各扯開一個口子。後來才知道是發胖了，是出國後吃的營養比過去豐盛太多造成的。

記得，那位曾在留學生食堂工作的小Z和另外一個上海過來的老朋友在1991年4月27日第一次來我日本的家做客，見面時就開玩笑地說：「啊呀呀～看看叫，儂搿啥都要快變成圓台面了。」不至於吧？！好朋友之間好開玩笑，怎麼誇張怎麼說。上海人關係比較鐵的朋友之間開玩笑喜歡把肥胖的臀部說成「圓台面」。這是我們那天吃飯的餐桌，在座的還有一位小男孩，是J在法國時認識的一位朋友的孩子正好來日本玩兒幾天。

以前每次跟J去吃意大利餐時我總喜歡點 Shrimp Fettuccine Alfredo (蝦仁奶油寬麵)，那濃郁滑順可口的奶酪奶油拌寬意大利麵條，味道好極了。後來聽J說那道菜好吃但很肥，吃了容易發胖，之後我就不敢再吃了。

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Chronicles of Late 1991: Halloween Masks, Matchmaking Fates, and a Shanghai 'Round Tabletop'

In the blink of an eye, Halloween 1991 arrived. As was the custom, the university’s International House hosted a costume party for foreign faculty and their families. I went that evening accompanied by a few female friends. A girl from Taiwan kindly lent me the sleeveless dress I wore, and she also gave me a pair of long jade earrings to wear, noting they would go well with the outfit. I made the eye mask myself. J didn’t go for an elaborate costume; he simply wore a Peking Opera painted-face mask with a long beard. He had bought two such masks at a theatrical supply shop in Shanghai years earlier, and my friend wore the other one—also a Peking Opera mask. That is the big red-faced mask on the far right in this photo. That friend was Xiao Z, whom I had met in July 1985 during a trip to Mount Huangshan organized by our school's labor union. Back then, she worked in the international student cafeteria at East China Normal University. Later, when the school organized a dance for international students, she invited me along—and that was how I met J, leading to our marriage. Looking back, it was a chain of remarkable coincidences, one link interlocking with another, not a single one dispensable.

Xiao Z also arrived in Japan in 1990. After I left in 1992, she met a Canadian instructor from Tokai University who happened to live in my old apartment building. They eventually married and moved to Canada to start a family. She met her husband through another friend of mine, Xiao L, whom I first met in 1987 during morning Tai Chi sessions at Changfeng Park in Shanghai. Xiao L was ambitious, eager to learn, and driven; she came to the park every day to practice a Tai Chi sword routine that was truly graceful. Later, I introduced Xiao L to my neighbor in Japan, W, a West Point graduate who had previously taught in China before joining Tokai University. By the time Xiao L arrived in Japan, I had already left, so I introduced her—a newcomer in a strange land—to Xiao Z. It was through this chain of introductions that Xiao Z eventually met her husband. Does this web of connections make your head spin? If you are curious, click here to read about the remarkable "nudges" and "coincidences" that brought J and me together.

Returning to that Halloween party in 1991: the scene inside the hall was a wild, eclectic mix. One tall guy had dressed himself up as Mount Fuji, while his girlfriend, F—who was of Chinese descent, born and raised in Canada, and didn’t speak any Chinese—came as an Arab riding a horse across the desert. She also taught English at Tokai University, and she had even fashioned the horse herself out of cardboard boxes. There were men in drag, people dressed as sumo wrestlers, surgeons, the Statue of Liberty, a giant rooster, and a Japanese samurai; a few children were even dressed as little ghosts. A mother and daughter, who appeared to be Russian, were also there. The little girl wore a floral wreath and looked just like a princess, a perfect match for her lovely face. Amidst the laughter and cheer, I spent my second Halloween costume party. Compared to the first one, however, the sense of novelty was gone—after all, I lacked the cultural background to truly feel a part of it.

On December 7, 1991, I returned to Shanghai to visit my mother and family. Although it had only been a little over a year since we last saw each other, my two nephews seemed noticeably more distant, while my two nieces were still quite affectionate. I bought some jewelry for the girls and a handheld game console for each of the boys. Back then, travelers were allowed to bring a few household appliances into the country duty-free. Color televisions, refrigerators, and washing machines were known as the "four major appliances," while portable cassette players, electronic keyboards, pocket calculators, and wristwatches were called the "four minor appliances." My eldest brother’s daughter asked me to bring her a TV-VCR combo unit.

There wasn’t much to do back in Shanghai; aside from taking turns having meals at my brothers’ homes, I spent my time wandering around the campus of East China Normal University. After all, I had spent ten years there, so it was truly a joy to revisit old haunts and chat with old friends. I realized I had become quite nostalgic—seeing new, towering buildings spring up felt jarring, disrupting the harmonious, open beauty the campus once possessed. Sometimes I think I’m turning into a bit of a "Madame Nine-Pounder" (a classic literary character known for always complaining that things were better in the past). I also made a point to pass by Caoyang No. 2 High School, my alma mater. From that vantage point, the school gate and the exterior of the academic buildings looked essentially unchanged. It’s a pity I couldn’t go inside, though in all likelihood, the gatekeeper wouldn’t have let a stranger in anyway.

I once treated Lao Y and her son to sashimi at a high-end hotel in Shanghai. Years later, she confessed that the meal had given them both an upset stomach—their digestive systems simply weren’t used to it. I, on the other hand, was completely fine. Back in the 1970s, when I worked on the fishing crew at Wusi Farm along Hangzhou Bay, I used to stand right by the water and eat live shrimp raw, straight out of the river. Before moving abroad, Lao C, Lao Y, and I were very close. We were still quite young then, yet we had a peculiar fondness for "acting old," so we took to calling each other "Lao" (Old). I remember joking once that we were all getting "old and crusty-eyed" (lao pi ka chi yan'er in Beijing slang)—even though we weren't even thirty yet! Lao C burst out laughing and tried to mimic me, mispronouncing it as "lao pi ka cha!" ("old and crackling!"), as she couldn't quite master the authentic Beijing accent. Later on, Lao C moved to Germany, and I went to Japan before eventually making my way to the United States; only Lao Y remained at East China Normal University.

This photograph was taken in front of the new library at East China Normal University during my trip back to Shanghai in December 1991. As you can see, I was noticeably heavier. Back then, I had no concept of working out or dieting. I recall one day, while browsing a large department store in Japan, suddenly feeling terribly uncomfortable because the leg openings of my underwear were cutting into my upper thighs. I had no choice but to duck into the restroom and tear a small slit into each leg opening. It wasn't until later that I realized I had actually gained weight—the inevitable result of a much richer, more nutritious diet after moving abroad.

I remember that on April 27, 1991, Little Z—who used to work in the cafeteria for international students—came to visit my home in Japan, accompanied by another old friend from Shanghai. The moment they saw me, she joked, "My goodness! Look at you—you’re practically turning into a 'round tabletop'!" Surely it wasn't that bad, was it?! Close friends love to tease each other, and the more exaggerated the remark, the better. Among particularly close Shanghainese friends, it’s common to jokingly refer to a plump backside as a "round tabletop." That was the very dining table we gathered around for our meal that day; also joining us was a young boy, the son of a friend J had met back in France, who happened to be visiting Japan for a few days.

In the past, whenever I went out for Italian food with J, I always loved ordering Shrimp Fettuccine Alfredo. Those wide pasta noodles tossed in a rich, smooth, delicious cheese and cream sauce tasted heavenly. Later on, when J told me that the dish was delicious but terribly fattening, I never dared to eat it again.

特別感謝 Gemini AI 提供充滿活力的翻譯和文本潤色。

Special thanks to Gemini AI for providing the spirited translation and text refinement.

第四百四十六篇