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你第一次留意到那个书贩,是在一个下雨的早晨。那天,你匆忙离开家,刚刚走到小区门口,就见不远处的巷口停着一辆锈迹斑驳的三轮车,车上架着一块木板,木板上摆着几本书。三轮车旁的中年男人十分卖力地撑着伞,为车上的书遮挡风雨,而他自己则淋成了落汤鸡。在之后的几天里,那个书贩每天都出现在巷口,坐在由两块板砖垒成的“板凳”上,默默地守着三轮车上的书,他从不主动招揽生意,就算偶尔有人询问,也是一副爱答不理的神情。
The first time you notice the book dealer, it is in a rainy morning. That day, you left the house in a hurry, just walked to the door of the district, not far away to see a rusty mottled parked tricycle, the car shelves a piece of wood, a few books on the board. The middle-aged man next to the tricycle lifted the umbrella very hard, sheltering the book on the car, and he himself was drowned. In the ensuing days, the bookseller appeared in the alley every day, sitting on the “bench” stamped by two slabs and silently guarding the book on the tricycle. He never took the initiative to solicit business, Even occasionally someone asked, but also a look of love and ignore it.