The Professor

                   by   James Xi

So long as I could write up a good thesis and pass the defense, I could eventually get my long-yearned-for Master Degree. Whenever I thought of this I would feel very happy; but whenever I thought of the difficult thesis, I would feel terribly bothered.
       Our professor's home was at the northwest corner of the campus; we post-graduate students had our dorms at the northeast corner, a small river running in between, a small delicate white stone bridge on the river. That day, having nothing to squeeze out of my head, I threw on my over-coat and headed for the professor's home.
       The professor was not in so it was his wife who opened the door for me. She recognizing me as her husband's student and greeted me and showed me to her husband's study-room. Saying something like that her husband had just gone out and would be back soon, she made me a cup of tea and gave me a newspaper for me to get occupied, and she hurried off to a room opposite. I flipped through the newspaper and seeing it was an old paper put it aside and began to look around the study-room. Everything was in good order: books, magazines, documents, papers, all well kept, though some found no room on the book shelves and had to be placed on floor. Really, our Professor was a well-organized man as we could see in the class-room. As I was thinking of all this, the door out opened. Professor came back.
       Professor took off his coat in the hall and came in. I somehow discovered that Professor was not in his right mood, some anger shimmering in the eyes behind his thick near-sighted glasses. Professor sat down and started to listen to my questions. I told him that I could not decide on the subject matter of the thesis. He listened. Then, without a word he stood up and took out a book from the bookshelf. He thumbed through it, closed it and put it on the desk. Then, he took off another book, read it for quite a while and sat down. He took up a pen and began to write on a piece of paper. When he finished, he gave it to me. It was a book list. He bid me to read the books on it.
       It was like a doctor writing out a prescription. I got the prescription filled and read the books. Soon after that, all my problems were cleared up and I was on my way writing up the thesis.
       But, what happened to his wife that day? If it had been a girl student, some wives of some professors could have been that way to her; but I was a guy.
       Though the thesis was on the way, there were still many problems. That afternoon, when I was at the end of my wit, I went to Professor's home again.
       Crossing the small stone bridge, I got to his house. Sitting in his study-room, we talked over coffee he made for me and himself. He listened to my questions and at the end he gave me answers point by point. My Professor was wonderful! He could not only understand all those theories so deeply, so thoroughly but he could also remember all those people's names, years, numbers and he could even say out the original words from many of the books. As I was marveling, I saw his wife came out of the room opposite carrying a heavy carton. She dumped the carton on the floor, put on her coat, took up the carton again and went out. By the moment his wife was about to close the door, Professor stood up from his arm-chair and yelled, "Would you really mail it?" The wife went off. Professor stood frozen for a moment and then sat down to my paper. I asked timidly, "What's up?" He didn't answer. Suddenly, he released a heavy sigh and said, "Let her fool with it!"
       Back to my dorm, I went on with my paper, but at the same time I wondered what was going on between Professor and his wife.
       When I had got the first draft done, I went to see Professor with it.
       Professor looked through it. This time, I didn't ask him any questions but he asked me quite some. I felt uncomfortable, knowing that I had to re-write a large part of it. He seemed to have peered through me. Pressing me down in the sofa, he said, "Go ahead and re-write. It's worth it."  I was about to say something when the door opened and appeared there his wife who stood saying not a word. Professor stood silent too. But soon, he let out a heavy sigh, took out his wallet, picked out some money and gave the money to his wife. His wife accepted the money and went out.
       The paper was essentially finished, which left me busy transcribing, printing, binding, etc. I did not go to Professor's home much, but more did I feel concerned with his "home business." I seemed to realize that the atmosphere in his home had long been not right and the couple was in bad trouble.
       The weather was getting warm. The ice in the small river was melting.
       But when Professor came to teach in the classroom, he was still wearing that winter coat. I did not feel it right. My fiancé was careless but she knew enough to care about my well being. That afternoon, I found some time and went to Professor's home.
       When I went in, the first thing I noticed was that there had been some changes in the house. Was it the furniture or the atmosphere I could not tell exactly. But something had changed for sure.  
      "Sir."
       A faint smile appeared on Professor's face.
       "Your wife is not in?"
       "She's gone."
       "Gone?"
       I perceived something serious. "You are alone. Can you manage it?"
       "I can!"
       Was he sure?! One day Professor did not come to teach. I hurried to his home in the afternoon. He was ill in bed, painfully, pitifully.
       I boiled some hot water, threw the cold water out of the cup at the head of his bed and re-filled it with warm water and looked on as he drank it. Then, I cooked some food with what I could find in the kitchen.
      He was lying there, eyes closed, running a fever. He did not want to move and did not want to speak. I took a chair to his bedside and sat down. It seemed to me that for the first time I was looking at Professor's face so closely, so carefully. It was a dry and bony face, his wisdom and character written in the wrinkles. "What is it that is going on between he and his wife?"  I wanted to ask but I knew that he surely did not want to tell me. Soon I turned confident: for such a well-learned wise man, there could be no problems that he could not handle!
       Summer came and dragonflies were flying over the small river.
       The defense seminar was held eventually. At the meeting, I read the synopsis of my thesis and got ready for questions from the board. Questions came one by one and I answered them one by one. Though a little perspiration came upon my forehead, I could see from the professor's eyes that they admitted that my theorization was thorough and insightful and by this time I came to realize how my Professor had helped to enrich my knowledge and upgrade me with all those that he had given me.
       The seminar was over. The chairman declared that the defender had passed the defense. I knew that the Master Degree was actually there for me.
      In the evening, I went to Professor's home to say thanks. I thanked him for all his care and guidance. Truly, I was thankful to him. Then, I asked him,
       "Has your wife come back?"
       "She will not come back any more.  ---We got divorced," said Professor who was sitting in front of his desk, looking afar into the darkness outside the window.
       My heart sank. I did not know what to say. I looked around Professor's study-room. There were so many books, crystal of knowledge. I could make bold to say though they were placed on the shelves they were actually stored up in Professor's mind.   Armed with all those knowledge and wisdom, what problems in this world could he NOT solve?  However, there were really problems that he could not solve. "What is it that is between he and his wife?"   I kept thinking.
       I left his home, leaving behind that man of knowledge, alone sitting there.
       One and half a years later, I gave up what I had been researching on, and, together with friends from the Sociology Department and Philosophy Department, we established a service company:   "Problem Bothered Families Rescue."

导     师

                                                     习 军   

    只要论文做好，答辩通过，这硕士学位就算拿下来了。每一想到这里，心里就特别舒服；可一想到那愁人的论文，心里就特别烦。
    导师的家住在校园的西南角，研究生宿舍楼在校园的西北角。两处相隔一条小河，河上一条小巧的石桥。那天实在太一筹莫展了，我披上大衣，朝导师家奔去。
    导师没在家。出来开门的是师母。认出我是她丈夫的学生，师母把我让进导师的书房，一边告诉我导师刚刚出去了，并说一会儿就会回来，一边沏了一杯茶给我，拿了一张报纸让我看，便自己到对面的房间忙什么去了。我翻了翻报纸，看是旧的，便放在一边，开始端详这房间。一切都是那么井井有条。书、报、纸、资料，虽然有些只能放在地上，但仍放得规规矩矩。屋如其人。我们在教师里看到的导师正是这样的。正想着，中厅的门响了。导师回来了。
     导师在厅里脱掉大衣，走进书房。我看出导师的脸色不大好，从深度近视镜后面也能看出他脸上未退的愠怒。导师坐下来，听我提问题。我说论文的主题总也确定不好。教授听了不说话，沉了一会儿，他站起来，从书柜里抽出一本书，翻看了一下，合起来放在桌子上；又抽出一本，翻开看了好大一会儿，然后坐下来，拿出纸笔写了起来。一会儿，写好了。我一看，是个书单。他让我去看这几本书。
    简直就象医生开药方，我回去后照方吃药，照单看书，很快就搞清了头绪。文章写起来了。
    可那天他太太是怎么回事呢？如果我是个女同学，这种现象在某些老师家可以出现。可我是男生。
    文章真的写起来，细节问题竟也不少。没有办法，下午我又去找导师。
    过了小桥，我来到导师家。坐在他的书房里，他给自己和我每人沏了一杯咖啡，我们喝着咖啡，他听我提出我的问题。听完了，又象大夫看病一样，他给我一一指出问题的答案。真绝了，他不但对那些理论问题理解得那么深、那么透，很多人名、年代、数字，以及原著里的一些原话，他都能背出来。正暗暗佩服着，我看见太太从对面房间里出来，抱着一个大纸箱，听得“嗵”的一声，好象把箱子放在了中厅地上，然后穿上衣服搬着箱子出去了。就在师母要关上门时，坐在圈椅里的教授，抬起头来：“你非要寄吗！”师母走了。教授怔了怔，低了头看稿去了。我小心地问：“怎么了？”教授不说话。忽然，重重地叹了口气，“让她胡来吧。”
    回去后，我继续写论文。可心里老在琢磨导师家里是怎么回事。
    初稿完成了。我拿着初稿去见导师。
    导师拿过稿子翻看着。这次，我没有提问题，他倒是给我提了很多问题。我心里极不舒服，心想，稿子又得大手术。他看出了我的心思，一把把我按在沙发上，“改吧，值得改。”我接过稿子来。这时他太太推门进来，站在那里看着他，不说话。他也站着看着太太，只那么一会儿，跟着，出了一口粗气，从衣袋里拿出钱包，从中抽出些钱来交给太太。太太接过钱，出去了。
    文章脱稿了。抄写、打印，这期间去导师家就少了。可不知怎的，对他那里的”内政”问题我越发放心不下，因为每每想起来，总觉得教授家里的气氛不对头，夫妇俩人心情很少愉快。
     天暖和了。小河里的冰化了。
    教授到教室来上课还穿着那件大衣。我觉得不对劲。我的对象够粗心了，可还知道过问我的饥渴冷暖。那天下午，我借故到教授家看看去。
    一进门，家里的家具、布置好象有些变了，少了些什么，说不上来，好象家里冷了、淡了很多。“您这是 …… ？”
    导师淡淡一笑。
    “太太没在家？”
    “走了。”
    我感到了些问题。“您一个人在家---行吗？”
    “行！”
    什么行！有一天教授没来上课。下午，我赶紧到他家去，一看，病了。一个人躺在那里，很是可怜。
    我给他烧了一壶开水，放在他的床前，把他水杯里的水换成热的，让他喝了。又用厨房里现有的东西给他做了碗面汤。
    他躺在那里，发烧，不愿意动，不愿意说话。我搬了把椅子坐在他的床边，他闭着眼，我这时好象才第一次仔细看老师的面孔。干瘦。脸上的棱角里透着他的精邃和他的性格。“他和太太是怎么回事呀？”我想问问，可我知道，他肯定不愿意说。跟着，我很自信地放心了：凭教授的学识、聪明，他们之间有什么事他能处理不了呢。
    天热了。小河的河面上飞着蜻蜓了。
    论文答辩会终于举行了。会上，我宣读完论文概要，开始等待来自老师们的提问。问题一个一个地提，我一个一个地答，虽然我的额头上确也渗出了些许汗水，但提问者们的表情、眼神让我明白，他们认为我的阐述有水平、有见地，这时我深深地体会到了导师所给予我的那一切是怎样地丰富了我的知识、提高了我的水平。
    答辩会结束了。答辩主持人宣布，答辩人通过了答辩 …… 。我知道，硕士学位实际上到手了。
    晚上我来到导师家，向他表示感谢。感谢他对我的指导。真的，我很感激他。然后，我问他：
    “太太回来了吗？”
    “她不会回来了。我们离婚了。”他坐在书桌前，两眼望着窗外远处的黑暗。
    我的心里咕咚一下，不知道说什么好。我放眼扫视导师的书房，那么多的书，那都是知识的结晶，我敢说，它们虽摆在架上，但却可以说，它们已装入了导师的大脑。导师凭了他那聪慧、他那知识，这世上还有什么样的问题他能解决不了呢？然而，他竟真的有解决不了的问题。“他和太太之间到底是怎么了呢？”
    我走了，留下那个有知识的人，一个人坐在那里。
    一年半后，我放弃了研究课题，和社会学系、哲学系的朋友发起开办了“苦恼家庭救治中心”。