沪上秋

［ 马来西亚 ］? 游家乐? 复旦大学

下午五时，刚结束了临床见习。我站在医院门口愣神片刻，双眼无神地凝视着天空，试图寻找藏匿于阴天的毛毛细雨。我本想直接疾步走到地铁站，但最终还是为了避免生病而急忙地从包里翻找出伞具。医院门口看病的人们熙来攘往，我常调侃大城市节奏的紧张，但对于自己的快节奏却不自知。凑巧之后再无要紧事，便决定慢悠悠地走回宿舍。

正值初秋，寻思着身上单薄的外套应该足以抵御秋天的冷风，但这场小雨似乎为冷风增加了几分刺骨，让人直打哆嗦。来到上海后，最让我为之迷恋的，正是徐汇区和静安区的梧桐树道路。漫步在绿荫簇拥的石板路上使我格外惬意安心，而沿途气派的老式建筑无时无刻不衬托着百年梧桐的坚挺。

商店街上，湿滑的地面，缕缕的炊烟犹如湖面上的孤烟。空气中，雨水的气味夹杂着淡淡的泥土腥味，分量恰到好处，沁人心脾。店屋檐下，稚嫩的麻雀，兴许是渴望回巢，在雨水的束缚下只能不断展翅，却始终没能飞去。二楼的住家晾晒的衣物，乌黑的电线相互缠绕，街边的共享单车和电瓶车在铁护栏内相互紧挨着，点缀了本是朴实无华的街道。

魁梧的梧桐，树梢相互交织而成的绿色隧道内，些许阴暗中透着汽车尾灯的眩光，轮胎碾过湿滑路面的声音不断地从我耳边悄然远去。幽静的弄堂，老式木制玻璃窗整齐地排列在深浅不一的灰石砖墙面上，高低错落的复古灯具和电线水管为单调的透视感增添了特有的元素，别具一番韵味。路上的喧嚣，却始终没有打破这条巷弄应有的端庄和静谧。

红砖围墙，黑铁栅栏，绿色街牌，是梧桐街道上不可或缺的图腾。马路对面的西餐厅，黑框落地窗宛如将店内橙黄色氛围毫无保留地展示起来的相框，与店外深褐色的外墙和黑色露台相呼应，透露出浓郁的英伦风格。路肩上矗立的蓝色基调路牌，字里行间相互搭配，颇为和谐。泛黄的落叶嵌在地面上，为这片静谧之地刻上了无数的印花。

朱家角 ／ 游家乐提供

复旦大学康泉图书馆 ／ 游家乐提供

遥望着形似卢浮宫的老洋房，虽经历了岁月的婆娑，但仍旧坚挺气派，依旧雪白庄严。思绪不由自主地飘入洋房内，遐想着每日从二楼探出头，幸福地享受着这街景的氛围。而后，我瞥见路上某房地产中介的公示，房龄大的小公寓的价格就已狠狠地给我的憧憬当头一棒，成功地把我劝退。

复旦大学老校门 ／ 游家乐提供

路口半开放的咖啡店，店内温暖的色调，昏暗的红砖外墙，罗列整齐的面包，窗边吧台的电脑。我再次放慢了脚步，看向店内，本能地寻觅着咖啡的气息。天渐冷渐暗，咖啡店的诱惑力越发强烈。我驻足良久，最终还是决定买一杯咖啡暖暖身子。点了一杯加糖的热摩卡，或许是寒冷麻痹了我的知觉，我似乎没有尝到盼望的甘甜，反而感觉比平日更苦了些。倚坐在吧台，注视着窗外的景色，人来人往，车辆往来驶过。我试图忘却咖啡的苦涩，但手中的温暖却时刻唤醒着口中的苦。

不知何时，我已离开梧桐路的庇护。不知何月，绿荫带来的安全感稍纵即逝。望见眼前的繁华盛世，忧愁莫名涌上心头。蓦然回首，我再次眺望着梧桐街道的路口。或许我本该属于那淳朴寂静之地，但无奈世事浮沉叫人无法复返。步履前行，我期盼着下一次再回到那片绿意盎然。

Autumn in Shanghai

［Malaysia］ Yow Kah Lok， Fudan University

I just finished my clinical probation at 5p．m． I stood in a daze in front of the hospital for a moment， staring blankly at the sky， trying to find the drizzle hidden in the cloudy sky． I wanted to sprint straight to the subway station， but ended up hurriedly digging in my bag for my umbrella to avoid getting sick． At the gate of the hospital are bustling patients． I often make fun of the tensity of big cities without awareness of my own fast pace． It happened that nothing urgent was waiting for me， so I decided to walk back to the dormitory without haste．

It was early autumn． I was wondering that the thin coat on my body should be enough to resist the cold autumn wind， but this light rain seemed to increase the piercing coldness along with the chilling wind．People couldn’t help shivering． After coming to Shanghai， I was most fascinated by the roads of plane trees in Xuhui district and Jing ’an district． Wandering along the tree－lined flagstone road made me feel very comfortable and secure， while the grand old buildings along the way always set off the firmness of the century－old plane trees．

On the slippery floor of the high street， wisps of smoke were hanging as if they rose from the lake． In the air， the smell of rain mixed with a faint earthy flavor was refreshing with the right amount． Young sparrows， perhaps being eager to return to their nests， could only spread their wings under the constraints of rain and failed to fly away． The clothes hanging on on the second floor， the intertwined dark wires and shared bikes and battery trucks nestling next to each other inside iron railings， were adorning otherwise unadorned streets．

In the green tunnel of cross－cutting tops of the strapping plane trees， the dazzle of taillights is reflected where the darkness dominated． The sound of tires running over the wet road kept slipping away from my ears． The lane is deep and quite． The old－fashioned glass windows with wooden framework orderly arrange on the wall of stone blocks of different depth of gray． The vintage lamps， wiring and plumbing scattered high and low add peculiar elements and charm for the boring perspective． The hustle and bustle on the road， however， did not break the modesty and tranquility of the lane．

Red brick walls， black iron fences and green street signs are indispensable totems on the roads of plane trees． In a western restaurant across the street， the black－framed French windows， like a photo frame， expose the orange ambience in the store． In all， they echo the dark brown exterior wall and black terrace outside and reveal the high British style． The road signs of blue undertone on the kerbs are quite harmonious with matching words． Yellow leaves embedded in the ground have carved countless prints into this quiet place．

Looking at the old houses shaped like the Louvre， though they have gone through the years， they are still firm， dignified， snow－white and solemn． Beyond my control， my thoughts floated in the house with the daydream that every day I could stick my head out from the second floor and happily enjoy the atmosphere of the street． Then I caught sight of a real estate public sign standing on the road． The price of a small apartment with longer history had already dealt a blow to my hopes， successfully dissuading me from the imaginations．

The half－open coffee shop at the intersection was radiating the warm color． Inside the dark red brick exterior wall was the neatly lined bread and the computer at the window bar． I slowed my pace again and looked into the store， instinctively searching for the smell of coffee． As it gets colder and darker， the allure of the coffee shop grows stronger． I stopped for a good while and finally decided to buy a cup of coffee to warm myself up． I ordered a cup of hot Mocha with sugar． Maybe it was the coldness that paralyzed my consciousness． I didn’t seem to taste the sweetness I expected， but felt more bitterness than usual． Leaning on the bar， I was poring over the scenery out of the window． People were coming and going． Cars were passing by back and forth． I tried to ignore the bitterness of the coffee， but the warmth of my hands always woke it up in my mouth．

I was not aware when I had left the shelter of the plane trees road and when the sense of security had fleeted． Facing the prosperity in front of me， sorrow inexplicably welled up in my heart． I turned round and watched the road intersection and realized that I might belong to there， simple and still． However， it was hard for people to return to the past as the world is moving on． I stepped forward with the expectation of going back to the green next time．