When the Songhua River froze, winter in Harbin truly began.
On the coldest days, the thick ice on the river stretched like a giant white stone slab, reaching as far as the eye could see. The wind blew across the ice, carrying tiny snowflakes that stung the face like needles.
As a child, Li Ming loved standing by the river to watch people chip ice. Before dawn, several men would walk onto the river with iron picks and wooden buckets. The picks landed with a dull "thump thump," echoing across the empty river. The ice split open, forming a round hole, and dark river water slowly seeped up.
Someone lowered a bucket with a long rope to fetch water. When it was first drawn up, steam rose from it, and soon a thin layer of ice formed along its rim. Li Ming often stood on the bank, watching for a long time. The river was silent; occasionally, a dog barked in the distance, or the wheels of a passing carriage rattled. The wind blew in gusts, making each breath tight and cold.
Her mother would always call to her from not far away:
"Mingming, come back."
The voice was soft, yet it carried far across the empty riverbank. At that time, her mother was still young, working as a sales clerk in the Harbin department store, standing behind the counter every day. Glass cabinets displayed towels, soap, and enamel washbasins. In winter, the store was filled with the mingled scent of coal stoves and damp cotton clothes.
Li Ming often sneaked to the department store to find her. Behind the long counter, her mother wore a thick wool coat, arm sleeves covering her arms, bending her head as she organized merchandise. Towels were stacked neatly; the enamel basins glimmered coldly under the lights. Occasionally she would look up and smile at a customer: "Need some help?"
Then she would bend down again—packing items, counting change, flipping through account books—each movement practiced and unhurried. Li Ming would carefully slip through the small door beside the counter. When her mother saw her, she first froze slightly, then smiled and picked her up, whispering in her ear:
"The ground outside is slippery. Be careful not to fall."
Li Ming liked standing behind the counter, watching her mother work. The cold wind outside, the snowy streets, and the hurried passersby seemed all blocked out by this small, warm space.
Late at night, her mother occasionally spoke of her childhood family stories.
Those tales were like shadows of an old era, flickering in Li Ming's memories.
At that time, she didn't fully understand many of them.
She only remembered that whenever her mother spoke of her grandmother, she used a somewhat special title—
Second Aunt.
Second Aunt had been a dancer in her youth.
She was half Russian, with light brown eyes and skin nearly translucent in its paleness. When she was young, she performed songs and dances at the Ma De'er on Central Street.
That was a very long time ago.
Later, Second Aunt was married by Li Ming's maternal grandfather, becoming his second wife.
Decades ago, Harbin was a complicated city.
Merchants, soldiers, foreigners, and exiles mingled together, and the streets often carried the sounds of different languages.
Li Ming's grandfather and eldest aunt ran a sizable textile business. Shops, warehouses, and workshops were spread across several streets, and the business had always been stable.
Her grandfather was a hands-off manager, rarely involved in day-to-day affairs. Almost all household matters were handled by her eldest aunt—accounts, supplies, social dealings—everything was neatly arranged.
Until the Japanese came to Northeast China.
At first, only a few Japanese businessmen visited. Dressed in sharp suits and accompanied by translators, they spoke politely, hoping to cooperate with her grandfather and expand the reach of his goods.
They sat in the living room for a long time that day.
Her grandfather leaned back in his chair, smoking his pipe, speaking little.
The real refusal came from her eldest aunt.
She closed the ledger, speaking calmly but firmly:
"We will not do this business."
The Japanese did not argue; they simply nodded and left.
But that was not the end of it.
Someone in the family was very dissatisfied—her mother's elder half-brother. Having studied in Japan when young, he considered himself worldly and felt the family business was too conservative and reliant on old-fashioned personal connections.
He secretly contacted the Japanese and even suggested putting pressure on the family.
Soon after, Japanese military police really came.
Boots clanged on the stone streets, heavy and grating. At first, it was routine inspection, but the family knew their real intention.
One winter afternoon, the situation suddenly spiraled out of control.
The military police demanded her grandfather and eldest aunt immediately sign a cooperation agreement.
Her eldest aunt refused.
The argument grew more intense. The courtyard filled with people—family employees and curious neighbors.
Suddenly, two Japanese soldiers rushed forward, seizing her eldest aunt's arms.
The handcuffs clicked shut.
Heavy shackles locked her feet.
She did not struggle.
She simply turned slowly, glancing at the people in the courtyard. Her gaze swept from her grandfather to the children.
For a moment, the courtyard was so quiet it seemed one could hear the snow falling.
The soldiers took her away.
She never returned.
Later, her elder brother fled.
His wife could not bear the pressure and hanged herself at home.
Every time her mother spoke of this, she fell silent for a long time.
Many years later, Li Ming gradually understood—
This was not only a tragedy for her mother's family but also a reflection of an era.
Her father and mother met during a social event between the military and local units. He worked in a clerical position in the military, tall and eloquent. But in the countryside, he already had a wife three years older than him and a son.
Later, he fell in love with her mother and divorced his first wife.
Those years were not peaceful. His first wife repeatedly caused disturbances at the military unit. Only after he transferred to a local government position did the turmoil gradually settle.
After marriage, her parents had Li Ming and her younger sister, Li Wen.
Years later, her mother insisted on having another son. She tried various remedies and herbal treatments.
When Xiao Ming was born, the family thought their wish had finally come true.
But medical tests revealed—
Xiao Ming had Down syndrome, accompanied by a congenital heart defect.
The news hit the family like a heavy stone.
Xiao Ming didn't learn to walk until he was five, and his speech developed slowly. The outside world was never gentle to the weak.
He was often bullied.
His clothes were torn, his face smeared with paint and mud, and someone even stuffed a live rooster into his clothing.
Li Ming remembered that day vividly.
Xiao Ming cowered trembling in the corner.
She and Li Wen stood by, too angry to speak.
The next day, Li Wen confronted the kids who bullied her brother and beat them severely.
Yet such incidents continued.
If Xiao Ming was the one most in need of protection at home, Li Wen was the most troublesome.
She never liked studying, barely graduated from elementary school, dropped out in middle school, and often wandered the streets.
Their parents became increasingly strict, hitting and scolding more frequently.
Li Ming often stood between them, shielding her sister.
She gradually realized that the family was like a rope on the verge of snapping, and she had to do her best to hold it together.
Later, Li Wen seldom returned home.
Harbin nights were cold and long.
Whenever her sister was missing, Li Ming would search along the streets. Neon lights reflected on the snow, casting a cold glow.
She would walk, calling her sister's name.
Many times, she brought Li Wen back home in the early hours of the morning.
Li Wen always stubbornly said:
"Sis, don't worry about me."
But in the end, she would follow her back.
Winter of 1998.
Li Ming dragged her suitcase out of the Washington metro station.
Streetlights flickered on, casting an orange glow over the wet cobblestones. The air carried a hint of frost.
She instinctively reached into her pocket, clutching her passport tightly.
It was her first winter in the United States.
The aroma of roasting coffee beans wafted from a distant café. A few pedestrians hurried past, their footsteps echoing along the quiet streets.
She paused.
Looking down at her shadow on the ground.
Slender, lonely, stretched long under the streetlights.
In that moment, she remembered the nights in Harbin many years ago, walking alone, searching for her sister who always came home late.
Washington seemed peaceful, safe—subways, cafés, tidy streets, everything in order.
But Li Ming knew the thing she could never escape wasn't the city—it was memory. The past from Harbin never left her.
She buried herself in work during the day, trying to forget past grievances, but her heart remained uneasy.
Xiao Ming's medical bills, medications, follow-ups… all required money. Li Wen worked in Shenzhen, occasionally sending some back, and Li Ming sent almost all her remaining income to China.
At night, she opened her computer and calculated expenses, line by line—hospital, medicine… numbers forming an invisible web, tightening around her life.
Snow sometimes fell quietly outside. On nights like that, Li Ming often recalled her mother's family stories—war, exile, loss, and perseverance. She understood that her life was merely a continuation of her family's long fate. Her family, thousands of miles away, still needed her, and she could only keep moving forward.
The snow fell silently outside.
Silently.
Years later, Li Ming established her own architectural design firm in DC. In the early days, one evening, she stepped out of the office. Streetlights flickered on, the sky not yet fully dark, and the air carried the damp chill of spring.
The phone rang—it was a friend from Harbin. They first asked a few questions about DC real estate, exchanged pleasantries. Just before hanging up, his tone changed, and he paused.
"I went on a business trip to Shenzhen recently… I think I saw your sister."
Li Ming froze.
"Where?"
A few seconds of silence on the other end.
"That kind of place."
He didn't explain further; the call ended quickly.
Li Ming didn't ask more. She remembered standing on the roadside, stunned, as car headlights passed one by one…
Memories resurfaced—Harbin, the city where she was born and grew up.
After graduating from university, she was assigned to a state-owned architectural firm. She and her ex-husband were colleagues first, then married. Later, they resigned together and started a small design company.
In the first few years, projects were few; the office had only two or three people.
Gradually, things improved. Her ex-husband's father had connections in state enterprises, bringing in several projects, and the business slowly grew.
Around the same years, Harbin suddenly saw an influx of women from Russia. After the Soviet Union collapsed, they came to this northern city to make a living at night. Karaoke, bars, nightclubs, blonde hair, heavy makeup—everywhere.
Her ex-husband often said many projects were negotiated at dinner tables or karaoke halls, sometimes late into the night, and he wouldn't even come home.
At first, Li Ming didn't ask much. The company was on the rise, and she didn't want distractions that might disrupt the business.
Until that day, when Li Wen stormed into her office.
"Sis, do you know what brother-in-law has been doing?"
That night, they rushed to the rental apartment.
As soon as they opened the door, a cloud of smoke and strong perfume hit them. A blonde, blue-eyed woman sat smoking by the bed; her ex-husband leaned against the headboard.
Li Wen immediately lunged forward, taking off her high heels and striking the man's head violently.
The room instantly fell into chaos. Tables toppled, bottles rolled across the floor.
Li Ming hadn't reacted yet when the two began grappling.
Li Wen's anger was not only about this scene. Many things had long been buried in her heart.
It was even earlier than this.
The company had just earned some money, and she and her ex-husband bought a new apartment. By then, Li Wen's relationship with their parents was extremely strained. Li Ming had her sister move out and stay in her old apartment.
One night, while Li Wen was asleep, someone sneaked in—a client of her brother-in-law, responsible for new housing projects. The company relied on him for several contracts.
Later, Li Wen told her sister the first thing she noticed was the mingled smell of smoke and sweat, making it hard to breathe.
When she opened her eyes, she saw a short, emaciated, repulsive man lying beside her. In the dim light, his face was covered in freckles. When he spoke, a row of yellowed, uneven teeth appeared.
Li Wen felt nauseated.
She struggled desperately.
The room soon became a mess—chairs overturned, cups smashed. The two wrestled and tore at each other in the small room.
What happened afterward, she could barely recall. Only that the man was covered in blood, his clothes torn, cursing as he stumbled to the door and fled. Footsteps echoed briefly in the hallway and then disappeared.
The room was left with her alone, lights still on. Humiliation, shock, anger—mixed together, Li Wen was dazed. The next day, she called her sister.
Li Ming, trembling with anger, insisted on going to the police, but her ex-husband stopped her.
"It's been some time," he said, "many things are hard to explain."
After a pause, he added, "Besides, what about the projects being negotiated?"
In that moment, Li Ming felt the room suddenly turn cold.
That incident was like a thorn, piercing her heart.
The arguments grew. One night, during a fierce quarrel, when he struck her, she rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a knife.
The moment the blade grazed his arm, she froze.
Blood gushed out immediately.
Afterward came the police station, mediation, and divorce.
Li Wen stayed in Harbin for a while, then went to Shenzhen, saying Harbin was too cold and there were too many things she didn't want to recall.
Later, her phone became unreachable; she nearly cut off contact with the family.
Li Ming occasionally heard fragmentary news from her mother—her sister had changed cities and jobs. Eventually, even that ceased.
Days passed. One clear morning, Li Ming received a text from her elder brother:
"This is Li Wen's current number. Do you want to contact her?"
Li Ming stared at the unfamiliar number for a long time before pressing dial.
The phone rang endlessly. Just as she thought no one would answer, a woman's voice came through.
"Hello?"
Li Ming was silent.
The voice sounded somewhat unfamiliar, yet vaguely known.
After a moment, she whispered:
"…Li Wen?"
Silence on the other end.
The woman seemed startled.
After a few seconds, a voice said:
"Sis?"
A title she hadn't heard for a long time.
Li Ming didn't know what to say.
After a pause, she slowly spoke:
"I heard you're in Shenzhen."
No reply.
"I don't know if what I heard is true," she continued.
"But I still wanted to call you."
Still silence.
She paused.
"There are many choices in life."
"You're still young. You can change jobs, start over."
"Even slowly, it's okay."
"Don't keep going down this path."
"You deserve a better life."
The silence lasted so long that Li Ming thought the call had ended.
Then she heard Li Wen laugh softly.
"Sis," she said.
"You don't need to worry about me."
She paused.
Her voice became calm.
"I actually earn quite a lot now."
"And I can send some back."
"Xiao Ming is going to have heart surgery, right?"
"I can help cover some of it."
She paused.
"Sis,"
"Just consider that this sister…"
She hesitated.
"…has long been gone."
…
Li Ming gripped the phone, her fingers turning white, an indescribable ache surging in her heart. The wind blew from the street corner, carrying snowflakes onto her shoulder, her shadow stretched long and lonely under the streetlights.
She knew this call ended an era, and the connection she once had with her sister.
People on the street were bundled in thick coats, hurrying along. She tightened her scarf and looked up, familiar loneliness rising in her chest.
Staring at her phone, Harbin streets, snow, lights, and her sister's indifferent words flashed in her mind. She typed gently:
"I must remember, and I must learn to let go."
The night was quiet, the wind blowing softly. The past shaped her, but would not dictate her future. She had to breathe in a new way, live anew, and see the world again.
松花江结冰的时候,哈尔滨的冬天才真正开始.
最冷的日子里,江面厚厚的冰像一块巨大的白色石板,一直铺向视线的尽头,风从江面吹来,卷着细小的雪粒,打在脸上,像针一般刺痛.
李溟小时候最喜欢站在江边,看人凿冰.清晨天还未亮,几个男人已带着铁镐和木桶走到江面上.铁镐"砰砰"落下,沉闷的声音在空旷江面上回荡.冰裂开一个圆洞,黑色江水缓缓涌了上来.
有人用长绳把木桶放下去打水.水刚提上来时还冒着白气,很快便在桶沿结出薄薄一层冰.李溟常常站在岸边,看得很久.江面寂静,偶尔远处传来狗吠声或马车辗过的声音,风一阵阵吹来,冻得呼吸都发紧.
母亲总在不远处喊她:
"溟溟,回来."
声音不大,却在空旷江岸上传得很远.那时母亲还年轻,在哈尔滨百货公司做售货员,每天站在柜台后.玻璃柜里摆放着毛巾,肥皂和搪瓷脸盆.冬天,商场里总弥漫着煤炉和湿棉衣混合的味道.
李溟常偷偷跑到百货公司找她.长长的柜台后,母亲穿着厚厚的毛呢外套,袖套包着手臂,低头整理着商品.毛巾叠得整整齐齐,搪瓷盆在灯光下泛着冷白色的光.她偶尔抬头,对顾客微笑:"需要帮忙吗?"
然后又低下头,包商品,找零钱,翻账簿,每一个动作熟练而从容.李溟小心翼翼地从柜台旁的小门钻进去.母亲看到她时,先微微一愣,然后笑着抱起她,在耳边轻声说:
"外面地滑,小心别摔着."
她喜欢站在柜台后,看着母亲忙碌的身影.外面的寒风,街道上的雪,匆匆走过的人群,仿佛都被挡在这片温暖的小小空间之外.
夜深的时候,母亲偶尔会讲起自己年幼时的家族往事.
那些故事像旧时代的影子,在李溟的童年记忆里时隐时现.
很多事情,她那时并不完全听得懂.
她只记得母亲说起外祖母时,总用一个有些特别的称呼——
二娘.
二娘年轻时是舞女.
她有一半俄罗斯血统,浅褐色的眼睛,皮肤白得近乎透明.年轻的时候,她在中央大街的马迭尔表演歌舞.
那已经是很久很久以前的事了.
后来,二娘被姥爷娶回家,成了他的二房.
⸻
几十年前的哈尔滨,是一座复杂的城市.
商人,军人,外国人和流亡者混杂在一起,街道上时常能听见不同国家的语言.
李溟的姥爷和大娘经营着一家规模不小的纺织生意.店铺,仓库和作坊分布在几条街上,生意一直稳稳当当.
姥爷是个甩手掌柜,很少过问具体事务.家里的大小事情几乎都由大娘操持——账目,货源,人情往来,她安排得井井有条.
直到日本人来到东北.
最初上门的只是几个日本商人.西装笔挺,带着翻译,说话十分客气.他们希望与姥爷合作,把货物销往更远的地方.
那天他们在客厅坐了很久.
姥爷靠在椅子上抽着烟斗,很少说话.
真正拒绝他们的,是大娘.
她合上账本,语气平静而坚定:
"这门生意,我们不做."
日本人没有争辩,只是点点头离开.
但事情并没有就此结束.
家里有人对此非常不满——母亲同父异母的大哥.他年轻时在日本留过学,自认为见过世面,总觉得家里的生意太保守,也太依赖旧式的人情关系.
他私下与日本人接触,甚至建议他们对家里施压.
没过多久,日本宪兵真的来了.
军靴踩在石板路上,声音沉重而刺耳.起初只是例行检查,但家里人都明白,他们真正的目的.
一个冬日的下午,局势突然失控.
宪兵要求姥爷和大娘立刻签署合作协议.
大娘拒绝了.
争执越来越激烈.院子里围满了人,有家里的伙计,也有远远张望的邻居.
突然,两名日本士兵冲上前,一把抓住大娘的手臂.
手铐"咔哒"一声扣上.
沉重的脚镣锁住了她的双脚.
大娘没有挣扎.
她只是慢慢回过头,看了一眼院子里的人.目光从姥爷到孩子们缓缓扫过.
那一刻,院子安静得仿佛能听见雪落的声音.
宪兵把她带走了.
她再也没有回来.
后来,大哥逃走了.
大嫂承受不住压力,在家中上吊自尽.
母亲每次讲到这里,总会沉默很久.
很多年以后,李溟才渐渐明白——
这不仅是母亲家族的悲剧,也是一个时代的缩影.
⸻
父亲和母亲是在一次部队与地方单位的联谊中相识的.那时他在部队从事文职工作,身材高大,文采斐然.但在乡下,他已有一位比他大三岁的妻子和一个儿子.
后来,他与母亲相恋,并与前妻离婚.
那段时间并不平静.前妻多次到部队吵闹.直到父亲转业到地方政府,风波才渐渐平息.
婚后,父母生下了李溟和妹妹李雯.
很多年后,母亲执意再生一个儿子.她尝试了各种偏方和草药.
晓明出生时,全家以为愿望终于实现了.
但医院体检后却发现——
晓明患有唐氏综合症,并伴随先天性心脏缺陷.
这个消息像一块沉重的石头落进家里.
晓明五岁才学会走路,说话也很慢.外面的世界对弱者从不温柔.
他常常被欺负.
衣服被撕破,脸上被涂满颜料和泥巴,甚至有人把活的公鸡塞进他的衣服里.
李溟记得那一天.
晓明吓得缩在墙角瑟瑟发抖.
她和李雯站在旁边,气得一句话也说不出来.
第二天,李雯拦住欺负弟弟的孩子,把对方狠狠揍了一顿.
但这样的事情仍然不断发生.
如果说晓明是家里最需要保护的人,那么李雯则是最让人头疼的一个.
她从小不爱读书,小学勉强毕业,初中便辍学,经常在街头游荡.
父母的管教越来越严厉,打骂也越来越频繁.
李溟常常站在他们之间,护着妹妹.
她渐渐意识到,这个家庭就像一根随时可能断裂的绳子,而她必须尽力把它维系住.
后来李雯很少回家.
哈尔滨的夜晚寒冷而漫长.
每当妹妹不见时,李溟都会沿着街道寻找.霓虹灯映在雪地上,反射出冰冷的光.
她一边走,一边喊着妹妹的名字.
很多次,她都是在凌晨把李雯带回家.
妹妹总是倔强地说:
"姐,你别管我."
但最后还是会跟着她回去.
⸻
1998年的冬天.
李溟拖着行李箱,从华盛顿的地铁站走出来.
街灯一盏盏亮起,橘黄色的灯光铺在潮湿的石板路上.空气里带着一点冰霜的味道.
她下意识把手伸进口袋,紧紧握住护照.
这是她来到美国后的第一个冬天.
远处咖啡馆飘来烘焙咖啡豆的香气.几个行人匆匆走过,脚步声在安静的街道上回响.
她停下脚步.
低头看着地上的影子.
细长,孤单,在路灯下被拉得很长.
那一刻,她想起在多年前哈尔滨的夜里,独自地走在街头,寻找那个总是晚归的妹妹.
华盛顿看似平静,安全,地铁,咖啡馆,整洁的街道,一切井然有序.
但李溟心里清楚真正无法逃避的,不是城市,而是记忆.那些来自哈尔滨的往事,从未离开过她.
她白天埋头工作,试图把过去的不快一点点遗忘,但内心始终不得安宁.
晓明的治疗费,药物,复查...都需要花钱.李雯在深圳打工,偶尔寄一些钱回家,李溟几乎把所有剩余的收入都寄回中国.
深夜,她打开电脑,一笔一笔计算费用——医院,药物...数字排成一行行,像一张无形的网,把生活紧紧收拢.
窗外偶尔飘着雪花,悄无声息.那样的夜晚,李溟常回想母亲讲的家族故事——战争,流亡,失去与坚持.她明白,自己的人生,只是漫长家族命运中的一段延续.远在千里之外的家人仍需要她,而她,也只能继续前行.
窗外的雪静静落下.
悄无声息.
多年后,李溟在DC开设了自己的建筑设计事务所.那是公司刚刚起步的时侯,一天傍晚,
她从办公室出来.路灯一盏盏亮起,天色还没有完全黑下来,空气里夹杂着春天湿冷的气息.
电话响起,是哈尔滨的一位朋友.对方先是咨询了几句DC的房产投资,寒暄了一阵.临挂电话时,他话锋一转,停顿了一下.
"我前阵子去深圳出差...好像看见你妹妹了."
李溟愣住.
"在哪儿?"
电话那头沉默了几秒.
"那种地方."
对方没有再解释,电话很快挂断.
李溟没有追问.她记得自己呆呆地在路边站了很久.车灯一盏一盏从身边滑过...
记忆再次浮起——哈尔滨,那座她出生,长大的城市.
大学毕业后,她被分配到一家国营建筑公司.她和前夫最早是单位的同事,后来结婚.再后来,两人一起辞职,开了一家小型建筑设计公司.
最初几年,项目很少,办公室里只有两三个人.
后来情况慢慢好转.前夫的父亲有不少国企的人脉关系,陆续介绍来一些工程项目,生意一点一点做了起来.
也是在那几年,哈尔滨忽然多了一些从俄罗斯过来的女子.苏联解体后,她们来到这座北方城市,在夜晚讨生活.卡拉OK,酒吧,夜总会,金发,浓妆随处可见...
前夫常说,很多项目都是在酒桌上,卡拉OK厅谈下来的.有时候谈到很晚,他就干脆不回家.
李溟起初并不多问.公司正处在上升阶段,她不想节外生枝,让其它事情打乱公司发展的节奏.
直到那天,妹妹李雯冲进她的办公室.
"姐,你知道姐夫都在外头干什么吗?"
那天晚上,她们直奔那间出租屋.
门一推开,一股烟味和浓烈的香水味扑面而来.床边坐着一个正在吸烟金发碧眼的女人,前夫斜靠在床头.
李雯几乎是瞬间冲了上去.她脱下高跟鞋,狠狠砸向男人的头.
屋子一下子乱成一团.桌子翻倒,酒瓶滚落一地.
李溟还没反应过来,两个人已经扭打在一起.
李雯的愤怒,并不只是因为眼前这一幕.很多事情,其实早已埋在心底.
那是更早以前的事.
公司刚赚到一些钱,她和前夫买了一处新的公寓.那时李雯和父母的关系已经是水火不相容的地步,李溟让妹妹从家里搬出来,住进了自己空出来的老房子.
有一天半夜,李雯已经熟睡.有人悄悄进了屋——姐夫的一个客户,负责单位新建公房的项目.那段时间,公司正靠这个人拿到不少工程.
李雯后来对姐姐说,她最先闻到的是烟味混着汗味,熏得人几乎喘不过气来.
睁开眼时,她看见一个矮小,干瘪,猥琐的男人躺在旁边.昏暗的光线下,那张脸布满了密密麻麻的雀斑.男人一开口,一排被烟熏得发黄,参差不齐的牙齿露了出来.
李雯只觉得一阵恶心.
她拼命挣扎.
屋子很快乱成一团:椅子掀翻,水杯摔碎.两个人在狭小的房间里扭打,撕扯.
之后的事情,她自己也说不清楚.只记得那个男人满脸是血,衣服被撕破,一边骂,一边踉踉跄跄退到门口,跌跌撞撞跑了出去.楼道里传来急促的脚步声,很快消失.
屋子里只剩下她一个人,灯还亮着.屈辱,震惊,愤怒...混杂在一起,李雯懵了.第二天她给姐姐打去电话.
李溟当时气得浑身发抖,坚持要去报警,却被前夫拦住.
"事情已经过去一些时间了,"他说,"很多话讲不清楚."
沉默了一会儿,他又说:
"再说,那些正在谈的项目怎么办?"
那一刻,李溟只觉得屋子忽然冷了下来.
那件事像一根刺,扎进了她的心里.
争吵越来越多.直到有一天晚上,两人吵得不可开交.男人一巴掌打过来时,她冲进厨房,抓起一把菜刀.
刀锋划过丈夫手臂的一瞬间,她自己也愣住了.
血一下子涌出来.
再后来,就是派出所,调解,离婚.
李雯在哈尔滨待了一段时间.不久,她去了深圳.她说哈尔滨太冷了,太多事情不愿再次想起.
后来,电话无法拨通,显示停机,她几乎和家里断了联系.
李溟偶尔从母亲那里听到一些零星的消息,说她换了城市,又换了工作.再后来,连消息也没有了.
日子一天天过去.一个晴朗的清晨,李溟收到大哥的一条短信.
"这是李雯现在的电话,你要不要联系她一下."
李溟还记得自己盯着那串陌生的号码看了很久,按下了拨号键.
电话响了很久.就在她以为不会有人接的时候,电话那头终于传来一个女人的声音.
"喂?"
李溟一时间没有说话.
那声音有些陌生,又隐约熟悉.
过了一会儿,她才轻声说:
"...李雯?"
电话那头安静了一会儿.
对方似乎愣了一下.
过了几秒,一个女人的声音传过来.
"姐?"
这个称呼很久没有听到了.
李溟一时不知道该说什么.
她沉默了一会儿,才慢慢开口:
"我听人说,你现在在深圳."
电话那头没有回答.
李溟轻声说:
"我也不知道那些话是不是真的."
"但我还是想给你打个电话."
电话那头依旧很安静.
她停顿了一下.
"人生其实有很多种选择."
"你还年轻,可以换一份工作,重新开始."
"哪怕慢一点,也没有关系."
"不要在这条路上走下去."
"你应该有更好的生活."
电话那头沉默了很久.久到李溟以为电话已经断了.
她忽然听见李雯轻轻笑了一声.
"姐."
她说.
"你不用管我."
她停了一下.
声音忽然变得很平静.
"我现在挣的钱其实挺多的."
"还能寄一点回去."
"晓明不是要做心脏手术吗?"
"我可以帮着凑一点."
她停了一下.
"姐."
"就当这个妹妹..."
她停顿了一下.
"早就没有了."
...
李溟握紧电话,手指发白,心里涌起无法言喻的酸楚.风从街角吹来,卷起雪花落在她肩头,她的影子被路灯拉得很长,孤单而沉重.
她知道,这通电话结束了一个时代,也结束了她与妹妹之间曾经的联系.
街上的行人裹着厚重羽绒服,脚步急促而匆忙.她拉紧围巾,抬眼望去,熟悉的孤独感涌上心头.
盯着手机屏幕,李溟脑海里浮现哈尔滨的街道,雪地,灯光,还有妹妹冷漠的话语.她轻轻敲下几个字:
"我必须记住,也必须学会放下."
夜色沉静,风轻轻吹过.过去塑造了她,但不会决定未来.她必须用新的方式呼吸,重新生活,也重新看待世界.