Photo by 易南 (Interviewee not pictured)
Note from Kuang:
上次跟第18篇北京光芒的主人公马长友聊过之后，我又一次回到北京站，试图多了解和他一样在火车站过夜的群体。和这个群体大多数人不一样的是，张利在这里逗留只是为了打发时间。他说想找人说说话，而一个人来人往的火车站成了他能想到的最佳地点。我们聊天结束时，北京站前的大钟时针指向11点，他转身淹没在人群，等待下一个愿意跟他闲聊的人。
After talking to Ma Changyou, our previous article’s protagonist, I returned to Beijing Station, in the hope to learn more about those like Ma who stay overnight at the station. Unlike the others, Zhang Li chose to stay late just to kill some time. He told me that he wanted to find people to chat with, and a busy train station is the best place to look.
Soon after we finished our conversation, the clock in front of Beijing Station struck 11. Zhang soon merged back into the busy crowd, expecting to meet his next conversation partner.
Zhang Li, Male, 38 years old, from Heilongjiang, canteen worker
I have lived in Beijing for seven years, and the place I go to most often is KFC. Sometimes I stay there until one or two in the morning.
I set up a sleeping mat at our company’s office. It’s not home, just a simple place to sleep. But I’d rather be outside, wandering around like this. Inside there, there’s nothing but my little mat. I’m all alone. I like to be in places with other people, places where I can feel alive. I like to see people coming and going. I feel safe when I’m surrounded by a crowd.
I work at a company canteen from 7 am to 3 pm, then I sell packaged fruit inside another office building nearby. After work, I’ll roam around a bit, visiting train stations, night markets—wherever there are crowds. I usually start conversations with whoever looks friendly. Sometimes, if I get lucky, I meet someone else from Heilongjiang. Anytime I get to speak a few sentences in my home dialect, I’m pretty happy.
I grew up in a small village, where my childhood days were golden. I knew so little about life and the world, and didn’t think much about it either. All I did was hang out with my friends. We’d run and play all over the village, and sometimes spend a whole day skating on the frozen river. In the northeast, the rivers freeze early and melt late, giving us a full season of winter fun. My dad was a blacksmith and he forged me a pair of ice-skating blades. With them, I was the best skater in the group. I could hear the wind whipping by my ears.
My dad’s job made me proud. He started as an apprentice at 15. He could make everything—hammers, hoes, knives, axes, ornaments. For a while he worked in a production brigade, then after the brigades were disbanded, he biked through the neighboring villages to provide his services. Back then craftsmanship earned you a lot of respect. He made his name “Blacksmith Zhang” well known in the neighborhood.
By hitting the iron tirelessly, he managed to support the whole family. Many local villagers didn’t have enough food to eat, most could only afford to eat wowotou (steamed corn buns). Only my family could afford wheat bread. We even had spare money to buy vegetables.
As the youngest child, I was my dad’s favorite. He doted on me and didn’t allow me to learn steelmaking as he did. He said it was too hard on the body. They burned coals to heat the iron, which created a lot of smoke. After a long time working in the smoke, my dad’s health collapsed. He became seriously ill in his mid-forties.
I remember well the day he passed away. Our whole family sat around his bed. I held his hand and watched him exhale his last breath. I had just turned 15 that year.
After my father’s death, my mom sold our house and took my elder brother, my elder sister, and me to join her brother in Changhai county in Dalian. Changhai is a small island city. You could only get there by boat. My mom is illiterate and she’s never been away from home by herself. She never remarried and has lived with my brother on the island ever since.
I stopped attending school and followed my uncle at the fishery. I have worked many different jobs since then—selling seafood, driving cargo, mending houses. I’ve tried everything.
When I was 19, I got into a relationship with a girl who was two years older. I quite liked her. She wasn’t fake and knew how to work hard. But like most women from northeast China, she had a quick temper.
One weekend, she was off work and asked me to come over to her place. I got very busy with a construction job that day and didn’t show up until late at night. She flew into a rage. She asked me to give her 500 kuai, then tore up the money into small pieces right in front of me. Back in the ’90s, a half kilogram of pork only cost a few kuai. It was 500 kuai that she ruined. I’m not kidding when I say she has a quick temper.
After that, she broke up with me. We had been together for two years. I didn’t want to let her go. That really broke my heart. I was shedding tears almost every night. But nothing could convince her to take me back.
Ever since then, I haven’t felt ready for another relationship. I’m afraid that if things don’t work out, I couldn’t bear to have my heart broken a second time.
Time never waits for anyone. Next thing you know I’m already approaching 40. It’s more difficult to date someone at this age. I can’t help feeling envy when I see couples who have each other as company.
I don’t smoke or drink alcohol. I save up most of the money I make, in the hope that I can take my future wife back home and start a small business. We can open up a shop selling seafood. I always picture us enjoying our life together in peace and stability. That’s all I want. If I can spend the rest of my life like that, I’d call it a good life.
With so many people coming and going, I believe I will be able to meet her one day. Since I often walk around in crowded places, I think it’s more likely that I will meet her sooner.
Whenever I feel tired, I go to the closest KFC to take a nap. Sometimes, half asleep and half awake, I suddenly think of the skating blades my dad made for me. More often, I think of my ex-girlfriend of two years. I can’t help thinking that things might be different if I had come to her earlier that day instead of caring so much about earning a few extra dollars. I heard that she got married a long time ago to a Shandong man who is taller than me. I heard that they have a good life together, that they really do love each other.
Edited by Dan Xin Huang and David Huntington
张利，男，38岁，黑龙江人，食堂员工
我来北京七年，最常去的地方就是肯德基，有时候在那里坐到凌晨一两点。
我平时睡公司的办公室，搭一个床铺，有个容身的地方。我宁愿在外头这么闲逛也不想回去，回去推开门除了一张床，什么都没有，只有我一个人，冷冷清清的。我爱往人堆里凑，人群来来往往的，热闹。我喜欢这份人气儿，有人气儿我就有安全感，觉得舒服。
我在食堂上班，早上七点忙活到下午三点，接着去附近一栋公司大楼卖水果。下了班，我就上附近溜达，火车站，夜市，哪里人多去哪里，见有人面善就上前搭个话，唠唠嗑。有时候运气好碰到老乡，能说上几句家乡话，我心里头就挺高兴。
我是在黑龙江的农村长大的，小时候的日子是真好，什么都不想，什么都不知道，天天跟一群小伙伴疯玩，在村里的河面上滑冰。东北结冰结得早，化得慢，够我们玩一整个冬天。我爸是铁匠，专门替我打了一副冰刀，滑起来风在耳边呼呼的，一群人属我最快。
说起我爸是铁匠这事我挺自豪，他15岁当学徒开始打铁，锅铲，菜刀，铁锄，首饰，什么都会打。年轻的时候跟着生产大队干，大队取消之后，他踩着三轮，各个村子跑，上门给人打铁。那时候有门手艺挺受人敬重，方圆百八十里，没有不知道“张铁匠”的。
他靠打铁，养活了我们一大家子人。那时候村里很多人吃不饱饭，一般人家也只吃得上窝窝头，只有我家，顿顿白面馒头，还有闲钱买菜吃。
我是家里老小，我爸惯着我，不让我学打铁，说太辛苦。打铁要烧煤，烟味儿大，他天天在煤烟里熏，才四十几岁身体就垮了，得了重病。
他去世的情形我记得很清楚，我们一家人围在他的床前，我握着他的手，亲眼看着他咽气。那年我十五岁。
我爸一走，我妈便把村里的房子卖了，带着我哥我姐我们仨，随我大舅去了大连的长海县。长海是一座小岛，进出都得坐船。我妈她不识字，一辈子没自己出过远门，打那之后没再嫁，一直跟着我哥住在岛上。
我也没再上学，跟着大舅养水产，卖了几年海鲜，后来又运货，搞装修，七七八八什么工作都做过。
十九岁的时候，我处了一个对象，比我大两岁。我挺喜欢她的，她不矫情，干活也利索，就是东北娘儿们，脾气有点大。
有一次周末她休息，约我过去陪她，我那天接了一茬装修的活，忙到很晚才去。她火冒三丈，让我给她500块钱，然后当着我的面把钱撕得稀碎。九几年，几块钱能买一斤猪肉，500块钱她就这么撕了，你说蛮不蛮。
她把钱撕完就跟我分手了。我们当时已经处了两年，我不想分，一大老爷们儿为这事儿天天暗地里抹眼泪，但是她吃了秤砣铁了心，怎么挽回都没用。
从那以后，我就不敢再找对象了。我害怕跟第一次一样，在一起之后又分手，我再受不起这个伤了。
时间不等人，一晃到这个年纪，想找也不好找了。有时候看着别人两口子成双成对的，心里别提多羡慕。
我不抽烟不喝酒，赚的钱大半都存起来了，就是想着找到媳妇之后，回县城开个水产店，俩人一起好好过日子，不图其他的，就图个安稳。后半辈子能这样过，我就心满意足了。
人来人往这么多人，我相信总有一天我会碰到她的。我想我这么经常在人多的地方走动，碰到她的概率应该也大一些。
来回溜达累了，我就趴在肯德基睡一觉。有时候半睡半醒的，我会忽然想起我爸替我打的那副冰刀。更多的时候，是想起我那个分了手的女朋友。我想我那天要是不光顾着赚钱，早点去找她就好了。听说她早就结婚了，老公个头比我高，是山东人。听说他俩日子过得还不错，夫妻两个挺恩爱的。
Kuang is the founder of Beijing Lights. She would love to hear your thoughts about the column and is open to new collaborations. She can be reached at kuang@spittooncollective.com.