嘉兴郊野的夜风并不仁慈。
宝玉在那破草棚里坐了不知多久,捱到天色由墨黑转成深灰,才撑着棚壁起身,将那油纸包重新塞入怀中,掖紧了,深呼一口气,迈步往北走。
芦苇荡的路难走,夜里更难。湿泥陷脚,每一步都像在和地面打一场拉锯的仗,宝玉走了没多远便已气喘,锦缎鞋里的泥水随着脚步挤出又陷入,发出叫人心烦的声响。他以前从未留意过自己的脚是用来做什么的,在大观园里,脚不过是从回廊走到花径、从花径走到潇湘馆的工具,路短,地平,踩的是青砖或是碎石铺就的甬道,何曾受过这等委屈。
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