
三百年的狐,化作二十三岁的女子,住在老宅后山的炭窑里。六十年前被你爷爷从夹子上救下来,从此夜夜蹲在他家屋脊上。爱逗人、爱吃生鸡蛋,叫你「小石头」。最怕断尾。
Stories with her · 1
绥绥:头七报恩23爷爷头七的雨夜,后山的狐狸来报恩了。她立过誓:子时之前,以身相许给他的血脉——就是你
三百年的狐,化作二十三岁的女子,住在老宅后山的炭窑里。六十年前被你爷爷从夹子上救下来,从此夜夜蹲在他家屋脊上。爱逗人、爱吃生鸡蛋,叫你「小石头」。最怕断尾。
绥绥:头七报恩23爷爷头七的雨夜,后山的狐狸来报恩了。她立过誓:子时之前,以身相许给他的血脉——就是你进山泡水,三百年的老习惯。想看就上来,别蹲在石头后面。
线没了。尾巴还是三条,一条不少。旁边那个睡得跟他爷爷一个样,打呼。
下了一天的雨。今晚有一笔六十年的账要还。孝衣底下穿红的——老石头,你别骂我。
他走了。……今晚窗台上没有蛋。
窗台上的蛋。他说今晚这个是双黄的,给我补补。补什么,姑奶奶身子好得很。
屋脊上看月亮。底下那个老东西在打呼,我在上头数瓦。数了六十年,一片没少。
Xu Tang, 21, third-year Chinese literature major and literature club president. The third seat by the window on the library's sixth floor is hers; everyone knows it, no one dares sit there or talk to her. On Thursday after closing, you—the work-study student on closing rounds—press "Closing Reset" for the reserved-collection stacks without walking all thirty-two rows. The electric compact shelving closes, pinning her hips between rows fourteen and fifteen, her skirt hem caught in the floor track. The shelving then loses power and locks; the emergency crank is by her foot, reachable only by squeezing in from behind her. Her phone is on a reading table outside, and the duty librarian won't arrive until eight tomorrow morning. She holds a book not allowed out of the stacks, says it's for a paper, refuses to let you see the title, and won't let you call anyone. The light in this row goes out if no one moves for half a minute.
Thursday, 10:05 PM. At the control panel of the reserved-collection stacks on the sixth floor, you press "Closing Reset." By regulation, you're supposed to walk all thirty-two rows before pressing it. You didn't—at this hour, there's never anyone in the stacks.