我的大学女生 Die Mädchen aus meiner Universitätszeit (cn | en)

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作者：小羊冰冰

高考终于结束了，我得到了第一志愿的大学录取通知书。怀着万丈豪情，我迫不及待地踏进兰州大学的门槛。那是一年的秋天，气温刚开始很高，气氛热烈，渐渐地秋风四起，天也就凉了下来。

这正是我内心的真实写照，我的憧憬和梦想在短短的三个月时间里渐渐冷却，现实与理想的巨大差距，让我失去了前冲的动力。我发现老师不像我想象的那样高瞻远瞩，妙语连珠，同学不像高中时代的那样淳朴自然，单纯善良，甚至我的学习能力在应付千头万绪的学业时也力不从心，漏洞百出。我感觉正置身于一个从未经历过的炼狱当中，一个三重的关于身体，智慧和灵魂的压力罐当中。难道这就是成长必经的阶段吗?

文工团

我带来爸爸的那把老二胡，在校园里找个角落，与琴对话，抒发内心的苦闷。偶尔听说学校文工团招收音乐特长生，赶紧临阵磨枪，开始练二胡曲。学校服务部的一位老师凑巧住在同一栋楼，他的二胡声吸引了我，我去拜访了两次，算是认识了。快面试了，我鼓足勇气，向老师开口借二胡。老师二话没说，就把琴借给我了。

我满心喜悦，用这把精致的二胡完成了面试。考官是一位学长姐姐，长长的黑发披在肩膀上，微笑着听完了我演奏二胡名曲『赛马』，赞许地点了点头。等了许久，却没有回音，这事终于还是不了了之。后来慢慢地明白，一件事没有明确的结果，其实也就是一个结果，我要学会取舍，向机而动。只是当时很难面对在朋友面前许下的愿。

新生汇演

系里组织大家排练新生汇演的节目，学长和学妹在舞台上对唱情歌，那含情脉脉的眼神，柔美的肢体动作，让人汗毛竖立，心旌摇曳，却也不得不承认他们的艺术美。竟然可以这样吗? 那一个个妩媚的眼神和温柔的动作，早已越过了我的边界，甚至重重地穿透了我的底线。

汇演开始了。节目一个个地进行着，台下是上千人的观众。忽然，一个女生拿着一把日本樱花伞出现在眼前，随着有些怪异的日本音乐，扭动身躯，不断地舞动着。我正在惊讶于那舞姿的优美，魂不守舍的时候，旁边有同伴说：”看吧，那就是我们班的。”

我再仔细观看，果然发现那舞者就是同班的女生。为什么她可以做到这样呢? 莫非这就是传说中的城乡差距吗? 我和她们天生就注定了有差距，农村的环境，匮乏的资源，单调的信息，造就了彻底落伍的我，一个因循守旧，孔夫子式的年轻人。我还有出路吗?

青丝女生

我的大学班因为很大，所以拥有全校最多的女生。这些女生来自天南海北，口音各异，性格和穿着打扮也大相径庭。女生们大都留一头长发，那长发就像美丽的冠冕，增添了许多女人的优雅气质。有时候上课的时候，几个女生坐在前排，我和同伴坐后排。我正在专心听讲，一转眼看见同伴的手正在揉搓前排女生的秀发。不知那女生是不知还是有意，揉搓的时间长到令人无法忍受。

我不满地对同伴说：”这不好吧，怎么可以呢。”

同伴说：”好玩，没事的。”

“人家女孩的青丝，很重要。怎么能随便摸呢。男女授受不亲哎。”

“。。。。。。”

这位青丝女生有个让人匪夷所思的爱好，就是在大课堂上经常为男生们抢占座位。她抱着一叠书和笔记本，早早赶到阶梯教室，将书和笔记本扔在前排的课桌上。我吃完早点，匆忙赶到教室，发现好座位都有人了，前排似乎有空位，赶过去却发现桌上有东西，那青丝女生谨慎地盯了我一眼，生怕我坐下来。

这样接二连三地发生，让我有些恼火，却忍住没发作，知趣地到后排坐下了。心里说，下次来早点好了。到了下次，特意提早了点，那女生却总是比我更早，一下又占去了八个座位。我又知趣地坐到后排最不起眼的地方，过了半晌，有几个男生进来，那女生就娇滴滴地远远地招呼：”哎，来吧，这儿呢。”

我不由地更加恼火，凭什么一个人占八个座位? 凭什么后来的总是坐好座位? 转念一想，为什么自己不是那八个男生中的一个呢。

我出身农村，在村里上小学和初中，在县城上高中。平时不怕学习的难，倒是怕和人交往。我是典型的A型血，性格比较外向，热情，感性强。和人交往，看不惯的事坚决不做，眼里岂能揉砂子。更没有上过人际交往的教导和训练，一切从自我出发，跟着感觉走，碰了钉子，认定是别人的错。其实内心还是很羡慕那些人缘好的同学，他们仿佛天生就会拿捏人际关系，说话做事，恰到好处，滴水不漏，相得益彰。同样的场景，同样的台词，换了自己，绝不能说出口的。原来我就是我，早已无法改变，无药可救。

打靶

新生的军训开始了。男男女女顶着大太阳，站在操场上，听着教官的口令，做着简单而枯燥的动作。我平时在农田里干惯了，现在倒也觉得没什么，这种操练比起干农活是轻省了不少，流点汗，喝几口水就好了。突然，一位女生直挺挺地倒下去，晕倒在地上。大家赶紧把她抬到阴凉地，校车紧接着赶到，送她去了医院。我的心里一阵地纠结，她会怎么样，怎么这么弱不禁风呢?
军训的最后一天是实弹打靶。男生们跃跃欲试，争先恐后地去打靶，有的居然会打到9环。我没摸过枪，这实弹练习实在是心里没谱，却又不得不打，硬着头皮站在那里等教官的指令。我们轮番上阵打枪，一轮是五个人。下一轮就是我了，一排女生正俯伏在地上，端着步枪，瞄准百米开外的枪靶，开起枪来。平时柔声细气的女生，居然不输男生，打得有模有样。

我上场了，缓缓地走到我的位置，那是左边的第一个位置，我忽然意识到，刚刚就是那位女生趴在这里打枪的，对，就是那位我心仪的，但却无法接近和向她表达的女生。我匍匐在地上，全身忽地僵硬起来，步枪也端不稳，手指颤抖，几乎无法扣动扳机。我垂下头，叹口气，再一次调整姿势，瞄准目标，扣动了扳机。枪声震耳欲聋，步枪猛烈地撞击在我的左肩上，我的身体一阵痉挛，仿佛那一枪打在自己身上一样。

射雕

大二的时候，大学的电教中心开始播放83版射雕英雄传，学生宿舍里流行着武林风，大家一时间都在看武侠小说。我也不例外，除了传看室友们的武侠书，就是去电教中心看射雕。那时票价是2角钱，可以连看三集。我是多愁善感的人，往往比别人更快地进入剧情当中。大学新生们情窦初开，个个都痴迷于金庸杜撰的感情世界里，不能自已。正当我为郭靖冷落华筝而叹息不止的时候，一扭头发现我班的一个女生也在场，她戴着眼镜，扎着一对小辫，坐在教室最后靠墙的课桌上，眯缝着眼睛，依偎在一个男生的肩膀上，两只小腿在桌边不停地晃动。

我赶紧挪过了目光，生怕她发现我在场，心里却不由地一阵惆怅。

邂逅

我终于勇敢了一回，给2号楼的女生写了一封情书。这女生和我一样，也是农村出身。那时候，女生楼是有人看守的，女生们是被保护起来了。男生找女生，必须和看楼的大妈说明缘由，大妈才会传叫女生出来，而男生是不准进入女生楼道的。

一天的中午，我去给2号楼的女生还雨伞，还没到楼门口，一位女生叫住我说：

“哎，是去找她吗？”

我诧异地抬起头，居然碰到了一位同班的女生。她一头乌黑的头发，两缕细细的头发自然地挽在脑后，眼睛明亮而迷人，高挑的个子，透出高贵自信的气质。

我心想：“她怎么知道？” 嘴里木讷地嗯了一声，微微地向她笑了一下。

“我帮你吧。”

这女生扬起眉，向我眨了一下眼，飞快地跑进2号楼里去了。

湖畔

转眼间就要毕业了，同学们互诉衷肠，留言，送照片，也有一起约出去喝酒的，大多都喝的酩酊大醉，吐得一片狼藉。一段青春时光就这样流逝了，面临我们的是未知的职场工作。幸运的是，我们可以挑选工作单位，因为要毕业生的单位比毕业生要多许多。我却有些拿不定主意，到底要去哪家单位呢。

我拿上系里发的表格，犹犹豫豫地走出了宿舍楼。穿过路旁的小树林，我来到无名湖畔。这个湖很小，圆形的，一些人坐在湖畔，或聊天，或凝望，或深思。我沿着湖畔转过来，准备踏上通往系里的路。

“嗨，你打算去哪个单位？”一个声音传入耳际，把我从思考当中拉回来。我转头一看，眼前是一位同班的女生，一头清汤挂面的秀发，清秀的脸庞，一对会说话的眼睛亲切地看着我。

“我。。。还拿不定主意。”
“那你就去这家单位吧，适合你，前途不错。”女生热情地说。

四年的大学生活，我几乎从来没有和这位女生说过话。不想临毕业了，她居然可以给我中肯的建议。我的心里感到温暖，一下子踏实了许多。我抬起眼帘，看了看她的眼睛，点点头，就向系里走去。

（2024年8月14日 中国兰州）

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英文翻译版：

The Girls at My University
By Binfried Weidemann

The college entrance exam was finally over, and I received the acceptance letter from my top-choice university. Filled with excitement and ambition, I couldn’t wait to step through the gates of Lanzhou University. It was autumn, the temperature still high, the atmosphere buzzing with energy, but soon the autumn winds began to rise, and the air cooled.

This mirrored my inner world exactly. My dreams and expectations slowly cooled off in just three months, as the gap between reality and my ideals became overwhelmingly clear. The teachers weren’t as insightful or inspiring as I had imagined, and my classmates lacked the innocence and sincerity of high school friends. Even my learning abilities seemed inadequate, as I struggled to keep up with my studies. I felt like I was trapped in a purgatory I had never experienced before—a pressure cooker pressing on my body, mind, and soul. Is this what growing up is supposed to be?

The Cultural Troupe

I brought along my dad’s old erhu and found a quiet corner on campus to express my frustrations through music. I heard that the school’s cultural troupe was recruiting students with musical talents, so I quickly began practicing Horse Racing on the erhu. A teacher from the school’s service department lived in the same building, and his erhu playing caught my attention. I visited him twice, and we got acquainted. As the audition approached, I mustered the courage to ask if I could borrow his erhu. Without a word, he lent it to me.

I was thrilled and completed the audition with his beautiful erhu. After waiting for a long time with no response, I realized that sometimes no result is a result. I had to learn to accept things and move forward. It was hard to face the promises I had made to my friends, but I had to adapt.

The Freshmen Performance

Our department organized a performance for the freshmen. Senior students and first-years took the stage to sing love songs to each other. Their affectionate gazes and graceful movements made my heart race and my skin tingle, yet I couldn’t deny the artistic beauty of it all. Can they really act like this? The flirtatious looks and tender gestures pushed past my boundaries and pierced through my limits.

The performance began. One act followed another, and there were thousands of people in the audience. Suddenly, a girl appeared with a Japanese sakura umbrella, dancing to some rather strange Japanese music. I was captivated by the beauty of her dance when someone beside me whispered, “Look, that’s from our class.”

I looked closer and sure enough, the dancer was a girl from my class. How was she able to pull this off? Could this be the so-called gap between urban and rural students? Was I, raised in the countryside with limited resources and monotonous information, destined to lag behind? Was I just an old-fashioned, Confucian-style young person? Is there any hope for me?

The Long-Haired Girls

Our class was large, with more girls than any other department in the school. They came from all corners of the country, with different accents, personalities, and styles. Most of them had long hair, flowing like crowns of beauty, adding elegance to their appearance. Sometimes, during class, a few girls would sit in the front row while my friend and I sat in the back. One day, I noticed my friend playing with a girl’s hair. I wasn’t sure if she didn’t notice or just didn’t care, but the hair-twirling went on for an awkwardly long time.

Displeased, I whispered to my friend, “This isn’t right. How can you do that?”

He replied, “It’s fun, no big deal.”

“But a girl’s hair is important. You can’t just touch it like that. You know, boys and girls shouldn’t casually touch each other.”

“…”

This girl had an odd habit—she liked to save seats for the boys during large lectures. She’d come early, carrying a stack of books and notebooks, and throw them across the front-row desks. I’d rush to class after breakfast, only to find all the good seats taken. There were seemingly empty spots in the front, but when I approached, I saw her things. She shot me a cautious glance, worried I might sit down.

This happened again and again, and I grew more frustrated, but I held back and found a seat in the back. I told myself I’d arrive earlier next time. But every time, she always beat me to it, occupying eight seats at once. I ended up in the very back again, fuming quietly. A little while later, a group of boys walked in, and she sweetly called out, “Hey, over here!”

I couldn’t help but feel even more annoyed. How could one person hog eight seats? Why were the latecomers always getting the best spots? And why wasn’t I one of those boys?

I grew up in a rural area, attending elementary and middle school in my village, and high school in the county town. I wasn’t afraid of hard work, but I struggled with social interactions. I’m a classic Type A personality—outgoing, warm-hearted, and emotional. I always followed my instincts in social situations and refused to do things I found disagreeable. I never received any formal education or training in how to navigate relationships. I assumed I was always right, and when things went wrong, I blamed others. Deep down, though, I envied the socially adept classmates, those who seemed born to master relationships. They handled situations with precision and grace, leaving no room for mistakes. The same words, the same actions, would be impossible for me. In the end, I was just myself, unable to change. A hopeless case.

Target Practice

Freshman military training began. Under the scorching sun, boys and girls stood on the sports field, following the instructor’s commands, performing simple but monotonous drills. I was used to working in the fields, so this didn’t bother me much. Compared to farm work, these exercises were a breeze—just some sweat and a few sips of water. Suddenly, a girl collapsed, fainting on the ground. Everyone rushed to carry her to a shaded area, and the school bus quickly arrived to take her to the hospital. My heart felt tangled with worry. How could she be so fragile?

On the last day of training, we had live ammunition target practice. The boys were eager to try, competing to shoot, with some even hitting 9 points on the target. I had never handled a gun before, so I was nervous, unsure of what to expect, but I had no choice but to take my turn. I stood there, waiting for the instructor’s command, bracing myself. We took turns, five at a time. I was in the next group. In front of me, a line of girls lay prone, holding their rifles, aiming at the target 100 meters away. The usually soft-spoken girls shot with impressive skill, rivaling the boys.

It was my turn. I slowly walked to my position, the first spot on the left. Suddenly, I realized that the girl who had just been here shooting was the one I had a crush on—the one I admired but could never approach or express my feelings to. Lying on the ground, I felt my whole body tense up. I couldn’t hold the rifle steady, my fingers trembled, barely able to pull the trigger. I sighed, lowered my head, adjusted my posture again, aimed at the target, and squeezed the trigger. The gunshot was deafening, the rifle recoiled violently into my left shoulder, and my body spasmed as if the bullet had hit me instead.

The Legend of the Condor Heroes

During my second year, the university’s media center began screening the 1983 version of The Legend of the Condor Heroes. A martial arts craze swept through the dorms, and everyone was hooked on wuxia novels. I was no exception. When I wasn’t passing around martial arts books with my roommates, I was at the media center watching Condor Heroes. Tickets cost 20 cents, and you could watch three episodes in a row. Being a sentimental person, I often got absorbed in the story more quickly than others. The freshmen, on the brink of their first loves, were all deeply fascinated by the romantic world Jin Yong had created.

While I was sighing endlessly over how Guo Jing neglected Hua Zheng, I glanced over and noticed a girl from my class in the room. She wore glasses and had two small braids. She was sitting at the desk in the back of the room, leaning against a boy’s shoulder, her legs swinging back and forth under the table.

I quickly looked away, afraid she would notice me, but a wave of melancholy washed over me.

A Chance Encounter

I finally mustered the courage to write a love letter to a girl in Building 2. Like me, she came from a rural background. At that time, the girls’ dormitory was guarded, and the girls were well-protected. When a boy wanted to see a girl, he had to explain his purpose to the dorm keeper, who would then call the girl out. Boys were not allowed to enter the dorm hallways.

One afternoon, I went to return an umbrella to the girl in Building 2. Before I reached the door, a voice called out, “Hey, are you here to see her?”

I looked up in surprise and saw a girl from my class. She had shiny black hair, two delicate strands loosely tied at the back of her head, and bright, captivating eyes. Her tall, elegant figure exuded confidence and grace.

“How does she know?” I wondered. I mumbled a clumsy “Yes” and gave her a faint smile.

“I’ll help you,” she said, raising an eyebrow and winking at me before dashing into Building 2.

By the Lake

Graduation was fast approaching. Classmates shared their feelings, wrote in each other’s yearbooks, exchanged photos, and some even went out drinking, often getting so drunk that the night ended in a mess. Our youthful days were slipping away, and the unknown world of work awaited us. Luckily, there were more job offers than graduates, so we had the luxury of choice. Yet, I was unsure which job I should take.

With my department’s job application forms in hand, I hesitantly walked out of the dorm. After passing through the grove, I arrived at Nameless Lake. The lake was small and round, with people sitting by the shore, chatting, staring into the distance, or lost in thought. I circled around the lake and was about to head to the department.

“Hey, which job are you thinking of taking?” A voice broke into my thoughts. I turned and saw a girl from my class standing there. She had straight, silky hair, a delicate face, and a pair of kind, expressive eyes looking warmly at me.

“I… I haven’t decided yet,” I replied.

“You should take this one,” she said enthusiastically. “It suits you, and it has a bright future.”

Throughout four years of university, I had hardly ever spoken to this girl. I hadn’t expected, on the eve of graduation, for her to offer me such genuine advice. My heart felt warm, and a sense of relief washed over me. I looked up at her, nodded, and headed toward the department.

(August 14, 2024, Lanzhou, China)