听顾彬回忆那些年学汉语的日子,听他吐槽那些相熟作家的轶事,听他掰着指头数那些看不下去的小说,看他如何一口气喝完一小瓶白酒……顾彬从深陷的单人沙发中一下子坐了起来,上身的西装背面布满褶子,看得出很久没熨烫了。“快撑不住了,我要喝点。”他径直走到酒柜旁边,掏出一个白酒瓶。“我刚从青岛回到北京就开了半天的会。明天还开。”深陷的眼窝,耷 Listen to Gu-bin memories of those days learning Chinese, listen to him Tucao those familiar anecdotes of the writer, listen to him breaking the fingers of those who can not afford to read the novel, to see how he drank a small bottle of white wine ... ... Gu Bin from Sitting deep in the single couch sat up, the back of the upper body suit covered with folds, saw a long time without ironing. “I can not hold fast, I want to drink.” He went straight to the wine cooler and pulled out a white wine bottle. “I just returned to Beijing from Qingdao on the half-day meeting will be opened tomorrow. ” Deep sockets, 耷