位於數學館後方，佔據了老校園西南角的物理樓群，像是一個躺著的大寫英文字母F，頭衝東，腳朝西。從這張照片的取景角度來看，這群樓群又像是一把手槍，槍管兒是主樓，坐南朝北，槍把沿河，是東翼樓，扳機是天文台。
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| 物理樓及天文館， 網圖 |
我畢業留校後的辦公室在東翼樓的西側二樓213室。原本物理樓就地處比較偏僻，東翼樓更是清靜，幾乎沒有學生的影子，二樓樓道裡空空蕩蕩的，盡頭的幾間屋子基本上是空著的。過了走道中間的一道腰門，才到我們的辦公室。辦公室又是一個套間，外間空著，關上裡外三道門，辦公室內就跟與世隔絕了一樣。那正是我所喜歡的環境。
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| 辦公室草圖 |
辦公室窗子朝西，兩邊靠牆各有一張木質大實驗桌，上面放有兩台21寸大監視器，兩台錄像編輯機和一套SONY音響設備，另外還有兩個木製文件櫃。
編輯室還有一位比我早一年進電教所的小X，比我小一歲，算是我的師傅了。我們的工作就是製作教學錄像時，負責錄音以及錄像帶後期配音。但漸漸地發覺，我幾乎沒具體做過錄像帶的後期配音工作，每次小X自己就把活兒都幹了。久而久之，再沒心沒肺，我居然也感覺到了一直沒機會上手做技術活兒的隱約恐慌。但是，我生性隨和，沒野心、不與人爭，和小X相處得還不錯。他的女朋友，人稱「嗲妹妹」，有人緣兒，比我小兩歲，她的「嗲」是指漂亮、落落大方，而不是上海人觀念中帶有「作」成份的嗲。她也是在師大一村長大的，說著一口師大新村特有的腔調怪怪的普通話，我們都相處得很好。1982年，嗲妹妹還和我們所裡的年輕人一起去了杭州旅遊。
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| 在杭州 |
第一次戴上立體聲耳機，感覺非常奇妙，用手調節左右音量控制旋鈕時，那悅耳的聲音彷彿在頭頂上左右兩邊流來流去，好新奇。
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| 第一次聽立體聲耳機 1981年在辦公室 |
记忆尤深的是，我常常躲在西窗的窗帘儿后面，遥望对面二楼阶梯大教室里进进出出的学子，里面有个揪着我心的人，那个在河西食堂门口令我怦然心动的人，那个默默注视着我的人，那个儒雅、冷静、矜持的人，那个道貌岸然的陌生人。
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| 窺視草圖 |
除了在窗簾後遙望對面的學子，在這間與世隔絕的編輯室裡，我們還做過更「出格」的事——在那年月，看個海外錄像帶也得偷偷摸摸的。我們所是近水樓台，各個學校間錄像帶互相借用拷貝時，會私下傳遞一些外國的影視片子。我們就抽空悄默聲兒的看，那些帶子經過多次反复的拷貝，圖像大都噝噝啦啦，糊里糊塗的不清晰，但是能看到已經不錯了，一般人想看還看不到呢。
一天，我正在看小X弄來的世界小姐選美大賽錄像。他早已看過就躺在後邊大桌子上午睡。桌子靠牆一溜放著儀器設備，能躺下的地方寬度不到一尺。
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| 看錄像帶草圖 |
話說那天我正津津有味地看著那些頂級美女登台亮相，個個兒的漂亮、聰慧、大氣，影像也還算清晰。忽然，就聽到有敲門兒聲。因為偷看錄像時，音量也是調得很低的。所以能聽見外屋的動靜兒。趕緊按下錄放機的停止鍵，關掉監視器，抄起絨布罩子，給各台儀器套上。一系列動作麻利迅速，一切完畢便一個箭步衝出去開門。已經有點晚了，開門一看，是我們所裡的支書，他一臉的狐疑、不高興，跨進屋來，四眼兒快速一踅摸，見小X還臉朝裡躺著不動，我有些措手不及的慌張，便問：「你俩在屋裡幹什麼？」這話問得水平實在太差了點兒。我最擔心的是他去摸錄放機。那可是熱的，帶子還卡在裡面呢。他接著說：「大白天兒的，窗簾拉上幹啥？」果不其然，剛剛看錄像，把窗簾兒擋上了，否則沒法兒看。
我本來就拙嘴笨舌，又不會編瞎話，慌張時更答不上話，只能三緘其口。真不知道支書會在對面樓裡監視我們。想不到「隔窗窺視」者，還不只我一個人。他辦公室是看不到我們窗子的，那一定是特地走到對面樓，才能看到我們辦公室的窗子。今天見拉了窗簾兒，就趕過來查，興許能抓個什麼正著？他想什麼呢？！
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| 天文台草圖 |
原來物理樓後側，天文台那片地方很落鄉、破敗、小徑荒陌。天文台有五層，大部分屋子都堆了些雜物，鎖著門兒。三層四層後來為高教局搞藝術的大X做了臨時畫室。我曾經給他當了三、四次模特兒，每次一兩個小時。穿的棉襖罩衫是白底紅色小碎花棉布，自己做的。
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| 畫室內草圖 |
我坐在四樓南窗前，畫家大X距我有六七步遠，一個人在那兒被畫，有點不好意思，但能成為畫中人，確實很具吸引力。那幾天我老叫上一位小我6歲、當時才16歲的男同事小L陪著，解決了與畫家獨處一室的尷尬。小L跟畫家也很熟，他父親是校方的領導，他也住在師大一村，师大「新村」里的孩子普遍单纯善良。有了這大孩子在，氣氛就活了。後來也許是畫家太忙，也許是有了底稿，就不用我再去了。我沒看到過完成的畫。三十年後聽說畫家大X已英年早逝，扼腕。
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| 天文台 2016年畫 |
多少年了一直以為那天文台不存在了呢，想起來便有絲絲的無名悵惋。2016年托老同學小Z拍了一組照片，才知道那個天文台一直還在。只是那雜草相夾的溫馨小徑變成了大路，週邊停了許多車，失去了往日的荒涼、落鄉、落寂之美。
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| 麗娃河畔的電教樓 2016年畫 |
1982年夏麗娃河東岸的電教樓完工後，我們就從物理樓搬了過去。大樓主要部分是五層的，信號塔下面有六層。主樓東翼的一到四層是屬於外語系的。我們音響編輯室在五樓朝南的一間大屋子裡，乾淨的木地板，整面南牆都是大玻璃窗，配著深紫紅色的絨布大窗簾兒。我與小X的辦公桌東西方向對拼，像孤島一樣靠近窗子但不挨著，大窗簾兒就能自然無阻地垂下。
樓裡有了大小演播室，各領域專家教授的教學錄像帶的攝影，就在這裡進行。據說是搶救將會隨時間消失的珍貴無形資產，趕在那些知名教授老去之前，將他們的寶貴教學經驗拍成錄像保留下來。
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| 電教樓 2016年畫 |
電教樓的第六層建築沒有鋪開，總共只有幾間屋子，歸藝術系。藝術系總部應該在其它地方。樓梯口攔了一道鐵柵欄門，平時只開有一人寬的縫兒，門上有塊「閒人莫入」的牌子，好神秘。似乎没有幾個學生上下，偶爾見到一位清瘦帥氣有南洋華僑氣質的中年男教授。此外還看到有神祕女子上去。
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| 鐵柵欄門草圖 |
每天在樓裡上上下下，常見到兩個比較開朗的藝術系男生，熟悉後他們帶我上樓看了看。是兩間道具凌亂、簾幕低垂的大畫室。說那些個神秘女子是裸體模特兒。個子瘦小的男生是福建人，他誇張地說：「哇～剛開始畫裸體模特兒時，心真是砰砰地狂跳，眼睛發直，口乾舌燥，手不聽使喚的，後來經常畫，就無所謂了。」據他們說有很多人要想當模特兒呢。在那個年月還是很難想像，一個美貌的模特兒要有如何的膽量與勇氣，才能在眾目睽睽中裸著。
記得一次他們的朋友也是搞畫畫的從福建過來玩兒。其中一個高個子男生要請我在校園的小賣部喝咖啡，我禮貌地拒絕了。好奇的是，他說咖啡時，發音是「加非」。那時喝咖啡還挺新潮，說實在的我還真沒喝過呢。一個女生畫了兩隻大猩猩的油畫，写实画法，畫技相當不錯。命名卻與「伊甸園」有關，她還覺得自己很有創意，可以看出無神論對她的影響。再後來聽說兩位男生中的另一位大個子男生，組織黑燈舞會，正巧遇到83年的嚴打，被抓判了好幾年刑。
1984年的某一天，一個分到外校工作的中專班老同學、以前課間休息時聊過天兒的男生，突然打電話叫我去，說有難得一見的東西要給我看。
我趁午休時間騎車去了那所院校。他的辦公室不大，靠窗一張辦公桌，牆邊兒立著幾個木質的大文件櫃。關上門後，他從包裡掏出厚厚的一疊五六寸大小的照片往辦公桌兒上一放，一堆清晰的色情照片橫七豎八的瞬間展現在眼前。我心裡一咯噔，努力控制發燙的臉，佯裝鎮靜，他自己也顯得很尷尬。按理說，他不該給我看這些的，我們過去只是在課間休息時，比一般的同學多說過幾句話而已，我與班上80～90%的男生幾乎都沒說過一句話。但我也不會做出讓他下不來台的事。我站著「神態自若」地草草看了一下，便告辭，回了學校。
去之前跟當時相處的男友小W說了一聲我去哪兒，大家曾經都是同班同學互相都認識。回來後立刻找到他，擔心時間久了，會惹出不必要的麻煩。來回騎車半個來小時，在那兒待了不到五分鐘，時間在那兒擺著呢，男友不可能有什麼猜測。我還跟他說了看了些什麼。不久我和他分手時，他說，只要將我看過色情照片的事兒告發，我就會去坐牢。當時我的心裡就覺得挺難過的，我希望願意與我交往的人，多少得講點兒義氣。
學校也在大階梯教室裡播放一些外國的錄像片了，但是遇到接吻的鏡頭，我們就要負責暫時關掉連接外面的監視器，這時外面教室裡看錄像的學生們就會拍桌子表示不滿。
一次週末，我跟我六哥說好了，只帶一兩個人來看片子，可到時候，呼拉的就來了一大幫，他老婆家差不多歲數的親戚朋友多，聽說有錄像看，就都跟來了。弄得我和放他們進去看錄像的那個小L同事，都很尷尬，提心吊膽的，給領導知道了就壞事兒了。
那年月，正值改革開放初期，校園裡都在談論托夫勒的《第三次浪潮》。在一片知識爆炸，信息爆炸的聲浪中，境外信息不分良莠，瞬間湧入大陸。其實那時的我也有些後知後覺，我已經是留校工作的教職工，每天關在封閉的辦公室裡，早就沒有了學生的消息靈通，更不知道哪裡在開辯論會、哪裡在聽報告。只是遠遠看著大階梯教室裡進進出出的學生，聽著周圍鋪天蓋地的新名詞，我當時也覺得心很慌，似乎覺得兩腳急刷都跟不上時代的變化。
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When the Wave Surged In: The Seclusion and Openness on Campus in the Early 1980s
Part 1: The Setting
The physics building complex, located behind the Mathematics Building, occupied the southwestern corner of the old campus. It resembled a sprawling capital letter "F"—its top facing east and its base pointing west. From the perspective of this particular photograph, the buildings also looked like a pistol: the main building running south to north formed the barrel, the eastern wing along the river was the grip, and the observatory served as the trigger.
After graduating and staying at the university to work, my office was located in Room 213 on the second floor of the East Wing's west side. The physics complex was already quite secluded, but the East Wing was even quieter. Students were rarely seen here; the second-floor corridor was perpetually empty, and the last few rooms at the end were basically vacant. Only after passing through a waist-high swinging door midway down the hallway did you reach our office. The office itself was a suite. The outer room was left empty. Once you shut all three doors—inner and outer—the office felt entirely cut off from the rest of the world. That was exactly the kind of environment I loved.
The office windows faced west. Against the walls on either side stood two large wooden laboratory desks. Atop them sat two massive 21-inch monitors, two video editing machines, and a set of SONY audio equipment. In addition, there were two wooden filing cabinets.
Part 2: Colleagues and Technology
Working with me in the editing room was Little X, who had joined the Audio-Visual Education Institute a year before me. Being a year younger than me, he was technically my mentor. Our job during the production of instructional videos was to handle audio recording and post-production dubbing for the videotapes. Gradually, however, I realized that I barely ever did any actual post-production dubbing; Little X always finished all the work himself. Over time, no matter how carefree I tried to be, I began to feel a faint sense of panic at never getting the chance to practice the technical skills. Nevertheless, I was easygoing by nature, lacked ambition, and did not care to compete with others, so Little X and I got along quite well. His girlfriend, whom everyone called "Dia Meimei" (the sweet and charming girl), was incredibly popular and two years younger than me. Her "Dia" meant she was beautiful, graceful, and generous—completely free of the whiny or high-maintenance connotations the term usually carries in the Shanghainese mindset. She had also grown up in the First Shida Village, speaking Mandarin with that unique, slightly quirky accent peculiar to the Shida New Villages. We all got along wonderfully. In 1982, Dia Meimei even joined the youth from our institute on a trip to Hangzhou.
The first time I put on a pair of stereo headphones, the sensation was truly magical. As I adjusted the left and right volume control knobs by hand, the melodious sound seemed to drift back and forth across the top of my head, from left to right. It felt incredibly novel.
Part 3: The Window and Hidden Feelings
What remains deeply etched in my memory is how I often hid behind the curtains of the west window, gazing out at the students walking in and out of the tiered lecture hall on the second floor opposite us. Among them was someone who held a tight grip on my heart—the very person who had made my heart skip a beat at the entrance of the Hexi Dining Hall. The one who watched me in silence. The one who was elegant, calm, and reserved. That high-minded, sanctimonious stranger.
Part 4: The Forbidden Tapes
Aside from gazing out at the students from behind the curtains, we also did things that were far more 'rebellious' within that secluded editing suite—in those days, even watching overseas videotapes had to be done on the sly. Our institute enjoyed the advantage of being close to the source. When different schools borrowed and copied videotapes from one another, some foreign films and television shows would be passed around on the side. We would steal moments to watch them in hush-hush silence. Having been copied over and over again, the images on most of those tapes were fuzzy, blurry, and accompanied by a constant hissing static. Yet, it was already a privilege just to watch them; ordinary people could not have laid eyes on them even if they wanted to.
One day, I was engrossed in a videotape of the Miss World beauty pageant that Little X had managed to get his hands on. Having already watched it, he was taking a midday nap on the large table behind me. Equipment and instruments were lined up along the wall on that table, leaving a space less than a foot wide to lie down.
I was watching those top-tier beauties take the stage with great relish—each one gorgeous, intelligent, and elegant—and the image quality happened to be reasonably clear. Suddenly, I heard a knock at the door. Because we kept the volume turned very low while covertly watching tapes, I could easily hear any movement in the outer room. I swiftly pressed the stop button on the video player, turned off the monitor, grabbed the flannel covers, and threw them over each piece of equipment. The entire sequence of movements was nimble and rapid. Once everything was done, I leaped forward to open the door. It was already a bit late. When I opened it, there stood our institute's Party Secretary. His face was a picture of suspicion and displeasure. Stepping into the room, his eyes quickly darted around. Seeing Little X still lying there motionless with his face turned toward the wall, I felt a wave of caught-off-guard panic and asked, "What are you two doing in here?" The caliber of that question was truly poor. What worried me most was that he might go over and touch the video player—it was still hot, and the tape was still trapped inside. He followed up by asking, "Why are the curtains drawn in broad daylight?" Unsurprisingly, I had drawn the curtains just moments ago to block out the light; otherwise, it would have been impossible to watch the video.
I was naturally clumsy with words and terrible at making up lies on the spot. In my state of panic, I was even more at a loss for words, so I could only keep my lips sealed. I truly had no idea that the Party Secretary would be spying on us from the building opposite. It turned out I wasn't the only one "peering through a window." His own office didn't offer a view of our windows, which meant he must have deliberately walked over to the opposite building just to look at our office. Seeing the curtains drawn today, he had rushed over to investigate, hoping he might catch us red-handed doing heaven-knows-what. What on earth was he thinking?!
Part 5: The Observatory Recalled
The area behind the old physics building, around the observatory, used to be thoroughly rustic, dilapidated, and overgrown with wild, desolate paths. The observatory stood five stories high. Most of its rooms were locked and piled high with miscellaneous clutter. Later on, the third and fourth floors became a temporary art studio for Big X, an artist working for the Bureau of Higher Education. I worked as a model for him three or four times, for an hour or two each session. The padded jacket-blouse I wore was made of cotton fabric featuring a white background with tiny red flowers—something I had sewn myself. I would sit before the south window on the fourth floor, with the painter Big X positioned some six or seven paces away. Being the sole subject of a painting made me feel a bit self-conscious, yet there was an undeniable allure to becoming the person on the canvas. During those days, I always made sure to have Little L—a male colleague who was six years younger than me and just sixteen at the time—come along. His presence resolved the awkwardness of being left entirely alone with the painter. Little L was also quite well-acquainted with the artist. His father was an official within the school administration, and he too lived in the First Shida Village. The children from the Shida "New Villages" were generally simple-hearted and kind. With this big boy around, the atmosphere instantly livened up. Later on, perhaps because the painter grew too busy or had already finished his initial sketches, I was no longer asked to return. I never did get to see the finished painting. Thirty years later, I learned that the painter Big X had passed away in his prime—a loss that filled me with profound regret.
For many years, I had assumed that the observatory no longer existed, a thought that always brought a faint, unnameable pang of melancholy. It wasn't until 2016, when my old classmate Xiao Z took a set of photographs for me, that I discovered the observatory was still standing. However, the cozy, weed-lined paths had been replaced by a wide road lined with parked cars. It had completely lost the desolation, rusticity, and quiet, lonely beauty of yesteryear.
Part 6: The New Audio-Visual Building
In the summer of 1982, after the construction of the Audio-Visual Education Building on the east bank of the Liwa River was completed, we relocated there from the physics building. The main portion of the new building stood five stories tall, with a sixth floor situated directly beneath the signal tower. The first through fourth floors of the main building's east wing belonged to the Foreign Languages Department. Our audio editing suite was located in a large, south-facing room on the fifth floor. It boasted clean wooden floors and a south wall made entirely of large glass windows, fitted with heavy, deep crimson velvet curtains. My desk and Little X's were pushed together end-to-end, running east to west. They sat like an isolated island near the window but not quite touching it, allowing the massive curtains to cascade down naturally and without obstruction.
The new building featured both large and small broadcasting studios, where the filming of instructional videos by expert professors from various fields took place. It was described as a rescue mission for precious intangible assets that would otherwise vanish with time—an effort to capture and preserve the invaluable teaching experiences of these renowned professors before they grew too old.
The sixth floor of the building did not extend across the entire structure and comprised only a handful of rooms allocated to the Art Department, whose main headquarters must have been located elsewhere. A iron barricade gate blocked the entrance to the stairwell, usually left open just wide enough for a single person to squeeze through. It bore a sign that read "Authorized Personnel Only," lending the floor a mysterious aura. Very few students seemed to venture up or down. Occasionally, I would catch sight of a slender, handsome middle-aged male professor who possessed the distinct air of a South Asian Overseas Chinese. Beyond him, mysterious women were also seen heading upstairs.
Part 7: The Secrets of the Sixth Floor
Going up and down the building every day, I frequently encountered two rather outgoing male art students. Once we became acquainted, they took me upstairs to have a look around. The space consisted of two large art studios filled with cluttered props and hung with low curtains. They revealed to me that those mysterious women were actually nude models. One of the students, a petite young man from Fujian, recounted rather dramatically: "Wow~ when I first started sketching nude models, my heart was thumping wildly, my eyes went blank, my throat felt completely parched, and my hands simply refused to cooperate. But after doing it often enough, it became no big deal." According to them, plenty of people actually wanted to be models. In those days, however, it was still hard to comprehend just how much guts and courage it took for a beautiful model to stand entirely nude before a crowd of staring eyes.
I remember one occasion when a friend of theirs, another artist visiting from Fujian, came over to hang out. One of the taller boys offered to treat me to coffee at the campus kiosk, an invitation I politely declined. Curiously, when he spoke of coffee, he pronounced it as "jiafei." Drinking coffee was quite a trendy thing back then; to be perfectly honest, I had never tasted it at the time. Another female student had painted an oil canvas featuring two large gorillas using a realist technique, and her artistic skill was remarkably impressive. Yet, she had chosen a title related to the "Garden of Eden," genuinely believing she was being highly creative—a clear reflection of how deeply atheistic education had influenced her worldview. Later on, I heard that the other tall boy among the two male students had organized a "black-light dance party." As fate would have it, this coincided exactly with the 1983 "Strike Hard" anti-crime campaign, and he was arrested and sentenced to several years in prison.
Part 8: The Incident of 1984
One day in 1984, an old technical school classmate—a male student who had been assigned to work at another school, and with whom I had only ever chatted casually during class recesses—unexpectedly called me. He said he had something rarely seen and wanted to show it to me.
Taking advantage of my lunch break, I rode my bicycle over to his college. His office was not large, featuring a single desk by the window and several large wooden filing cabinets standing against the wall. Once the door was shut, he pulled a thick stack of five-to-six-inch photographs from his bag and tossed them onto the desk. In an instant, a jumble of crystal-clear pornographic photos was laid out right before my eyes. My heart skipped a beat. Mortified, I fought to control my burning face and feigned a calm composure, while he himself also appeared deeply embarrassed. By all accounts, he should never have shown me such things; in the past, we had merely spoken a few more words than with ordinary classmates during recess, whereas I had barely uttered a single word to eighty or ninety percent of the boys in our class. Even so, I was not about to do anything that would leave him utterly humiliated. Standing there, maintaining an "unfazed and natural" demeanor, I skimmed through them hastily, took my leave, and headed back to my university.
Before leaving, I had informed my boyfriend at the time, Little W, of where I was going, as we had all been classmates and knew one another. The moment I returned, I sought him out immediately, worried that any prolonged delay might stir up unnecessary trouble. The round-trip bike ride took over half an hour, and I had stayed there for less than five minutes; the timeline was clear as day, so it was impossible for my boyfriend to harbor any suspicions. I even told him exactly what I had seen. Yet, not long afterward, when he and I were breaking up, he told me that if he were to report me for having looked at pornographic photographs, I would be sent to prison. At that moment, a profound sadness washed over my heart. I simply wished that whoever chose to associate with me would possess at least a shred of loyalty and moral honor.
Part 9: The Information Gatekeepers
Meanwhile, the university began screening certain foreign films in the large tiered lecture halls. However, whenever a kissing scene came on, we were responsible for temporarily turning off the monitors connected to the outside. At those exact moments, the students watching the video in the lecture hall would slam the desks to express their roaring dissatisfaction.
One weekend, I agreed with my sixth older brother that he could bring just one or two people over to watch a film. But when the time came, a massive crowd suddenly swarmed in; his wife's family had numerous relatives and friends of similar age, and upon hearing there was a video to watch, they had all tagged along. This left both me and my colleague Little L—who had let them in—utterly embarrassed and completely on edge. If the leadership had found out, there would have been hell to pay.
Conclusion: Facing the Tidal Wave
Those years marked the vanguard of the reform and opening-up era, and the entire campus was buzzing with discussions about Alvin Toffler’s The Third Wave. Amidst the roaring clamor of a knowledge explosion and an information explosion, data from overseas—the good and the bad alike—flooded into mainland China in an instantaneous deluge. In truth, I was somewhat slow to catch on back then. Having already graduated and stayed on as a university employee, I spent my days cooped up in that enclosed office; I was no longer as well-informed as the students, nor did I really know where the debate matches were taking place or where the guest lectures were being held. I merely watched from afar as the students streamed in and out of the tiered lecture halls. Hearing the overwhelming flood of new buzzwords all around me, I felt a deep sense of panic in my heart, feeling as though my feet were pedaling furiously, yet still utterly failing to keep pace with the dizzying velocity of the changing times.
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.
第三百六十五篇
