愛要怎么說出口
If only we'd never gone there， thought Alan. They were scrambling up the mountainside in the late afternoon heat. Alice was so tanned that she looked as if she had lived on the Mediterranean for months， while he， being fair， had turned a blotchy， peeling.
He looked up at the mountainside， the path twisting upwards towards the cairn cross， the white heat bleaching the rock. Why on earth couldn't they talk about it？ Why couldn't he even accuse her？
He had thought it was going to be all right. But it was as if the heat had drained their love.
At home they had been so blissfully happy that he now realized it couldn't have lasted. She comes to his school from the Midlands because her family had split up. An only child， living with her father， trying to look after him， lonely， depressed， anxious， she had come to Alan to be healed. At least， that's what he liked to think. Had he healed her？ No. Tom had， even though Alan loved her with all the passion. Now his hatred for both of them was as strong as his love.
“Come on！” Alice had turned back to him， waving impatiently.
“Coming，” Alan looked at his watch. Five， The crickets would start singing soon. He walked on， the sweat pouring into his eyes. Knowing she had opened the bottle of mineral water. Would she let him catch up with her？ An even greater misery seized him. It reminded him of the night he made himself drunk on the rough local wine his parents bought in the village. His heart had ached then， too， and his sense of loss had increased as he relived each minute of a day when Tom and Alice had seemed to draw closer and closer together.
He walked faster. Here， a few miles away on the bare mountainside， there was arid space， and the olive groves， clustered in the stone-cluttered valleys below.
“Come on！”
“Coming.”
Alan strode doggedly on， looking down at his red， peeling legs， thinking of Tom's strong， straight， brown ones.
Suddenly he had turned the corner by the stone shelter. He could see her waiting for him. If Tom were here， they would be together， mocking him， looking at each other， leaving him alone. As he strode self-consciously on Alan focused his mind on her.
“Where're we going to camp？” She was sitting on an outcrop， her slim body supple and salt-caked. Her legs were swinging and he longed to run his hands over them. Instead he imagined Tom doing that and hot， angry tears filled his eyes.
“Santa Caterina.”
“What's that？”
“It's a deserted monastery， down in the valley. Amongst the fir trees. Over there ― look， you can see it.”
“Oh yes.” She turned her head. When he did look he was shocked to see how beautiful she was， like a goddess.
“Won't that be spooky？” she asked in the slightly broken voice that he had always found so sexy.
God， how he loved her. Why couldn't he just take her in his arms now？ That could solve everything. But there seemed to be an impenetrable barrier around her―as if she was sealed away by Tom.
“The valley's dangerous，” said Alan， hoping to frighten her， to provoke reaction. “If the clouds come down there's no way out. Sometimes for days.”
“Is there anywhere else to camp，” asked Alice.
“Not really.” Alan was certain she'd rather be with Tom. Yesterday he had seen them sitting on a wall together outside the villa. Their ankles had been entwined. He had wanted to grab Tom's legs and pull him off. He would hurt his brother ― and Alice would be sorry. It would be her fault.
“Let's go，” said Alan quickly.
“How far is it？” she asked. “I'm whacked.”
“Half an hour.”
“Can we eat them？” Her voice was a little plaintive. Alan noticed with satisfaction that she was becoming dependent on him again. But he knew that once they were off the mountain she would be with Tom. For a crazy moment he imagined Alice with himself living in the mountain valley together. Always. Trapped perhaps by some magical force that wouldn't let them leave.
The monastery was square-roofed， austere，with barrack windows. There were fish tanks at the back and a terrace on which the monks would have walked.
Their feet on the stones made the only sound. Santa Caterina was utterly still. A swift rose soundlessly over the slate roof and the heat shimmered on the roughcast walls. They lay down， their rucksack still on their backs， passing the water bottle， almost dozing.
Suddenly she sat up and looked him with surprising tenderness. Alan's black mood eased slightly.
“Have they all gone then？” asked Alice.
“Yes. I don't know when. A long time ago.”
She was lying back， her eyes closed. He could talk to her now. They could both talk the problem and solve it. They would reach each other. But he couldn't make the move.
“It would be terrible if it is pulled down，” Alice said idly， her eyes still closed.
“It won't be.”
“How do you know that？”
“They patch it up from time to time.”
“Why don't they live here？”
“Don't know. Maybe it's too remote.”
The desire to punish her had gone. But he daren't touch her. He daren't break the enchantment.
“The heat in the day. The cool evenings. It would be good to live like that.”
“Live here？”
“Could we ever get permission？”
“I don't know.”
“Just to see what it was like. I mean―”She half sat up. “Can we get inside？” She ran a finger gently down his peeling cheek.
Alan was taken aback but then he became aware that the crickets had started. How long had they been singing？ He wondered. “Let go and see.”
They tramped round but as Alan already knew， there was no way in. In the end they came back and he lit a fire at the side of a small stone building. Other campers had obviously used the space and there were black marks on the walls.
He cooked supper， using half a precious bottle of water to make it. The intimacy was still there but the talking was at an end. Alan could hardly contain his rising excitement. They had night together. Anything could happen.
Alan suddenly realized what he had to do. After supper， in the glow of the scented mountain twilight， he made coffee and they sat in silence. Darkness came slowly； the volume of the crickets seemed to increase. Still he had made no move.
She was lying in front of the fire， her body almost glowing. Alan reached out a hand and temporarily she took it. Then Alice yawned and stretched. “I'm turning in now，” she said.
“More coffee？” asked Alan miserably.
She kissed him on the forehead. “No， thanks.”
Had he ever loved his brother Tom？ He must have done sometime. Certainly he had always been jealous of him as a child. He the introvert；Tom the extrovert. Alan thought about his introverted personality. He could see quite clearly how he had failed so dismally with Alice and how Tom had taken over so easily. Tom was what she wanted. She didn't want what he had.
Gloomily， Alan climbed into the sleeping bag and drifted off to sleep. Beside him Alice slept， her breathing seeming to keep in time with the insistent beat of crickets. Alan dreamt. The crickets had stopped. There was a slight breeze and the luminous hand of his watch registered just after two. Her sleeping bag was empty； Alice had gone. For a while he just couldn't believe it. He sat up and felt the dark walls of Santa Caterina close in on him.
Then he was on the mountainside， stumbling blindly up the mountain path， hearing their laughter. Softly he crept up on them until he could see their bodies entwined. Alan's anger rose to fever pitch and he rushed towards them. They fell apart. He sobbed as he had never sobbed since he was a child.
She woke him anxiously shaking at his sunburnt shoulders.
“What's the matter？” she kept asking over and over again “Alan， what's wrong？”
He stared up at her， blinking in the glow of the dying camp fire.
“Nothing，” he said automatically. “Nothing really.”
“But ―”
“Just a bad dream， that's all.”
“You were crying.” Her voice was soft， tender， just like she used to be. Alan turned over in his sleeping bag. “I'm fine.” he said. “Let's get some sleep.”
Alan woke with the early-morning sun gently warming his face. He sat up， his head muzzy with the dream， his cheeks salty， tear-stained. “You were crying.” Her voice came back to him and he winced. Alice had felt sorry for him and he instantly smothered， patronized. He broke into a sweat of agony and apprehension. How could he ever open up a discussion with her now？
He looked cautiously round her sleeping bag. It was empty and Alan froze. Then， gradually， he relaxed. It was just after eight and she had probably gone to find a place to go to the loo. He waited， calmly， gloomily， and then anxiously as she did not appear. Hurriedly Alan struggled out of his sleeping bag and began to search the grounds of the monastery. But there was no sign of her at all.
Panic set in as Alan scoured the grounds again and drew a blank for the second time. It was becoming increasingly obvious that she had walked out on him and was probably climbing down to Tom. But rather than feeling anger， Alan simply felt desolate. She hadn't even left him a note. He went over and touched the inside of her sleeping bag. It felt cold.
Surely she wouldn't find her way back alone. Alan began to search again， this time through the tangled thickets of what might have been a herb garden. Something caught his eye. Lying on the ground was a small， shiny object. It was Alice's bracelet.
Suddenly real fear clutched at him. Someone had come and abducted her. Or had Tom come to find her？ But the bracelet？
“Please God，” Alan muttered. “Let her be safe.” “Why hadn't he looked after her？ Why hadn't he been able to reassure her？ Alan now realized how he had locked himself into his own shell of rejection and jealousy. Tom no longer seemed a threat. All Alan wanted was Alice， and if only he could find her they would talk and talk and talk.”
For the fourth time he began to search the grounds， the bracelet in his hands. Then ， in a crevice on the broken stones of the terrace， he saw something bright and beady. Alice's ring. And he knew how tight on her finger it was. Sweat ran down Alan's face.
“Alice，” he cried out. “Alice？！” No response. Alan began to run.
It was only when he was back at the front door of the monastery that he realized there was one place he had not been to. His heart thumping and his throat dry， he went down the steps.
Now he ran eagerly forward， pushing his way through the foliage. He gave a gasp of relief. She was there， lying on the pine needles.“Alice.”
She woke slowly， sleepily， stretching in the sun. “Sorry―I fell asleep.”
“Where the hell have you been？”
“I went for a walk.”
He held up the bracelet and the ring.“I found these.”He was angry， positive. She looked away.“Come on .Why did you do it？”I've been searching for you. I thought―I thought you'd been kidnapped or something. Been hurt？
“I'm sorry.”
“That's not enough.”
“I laid a trail.”
“You did what？” He was outraged.
“I wanted you to find me.”
“I was terrified ― I thought ―”
“I'm sorry.” She stood up. “I suppose I wanted to frighten you.”
“Why？” he barked at her.
She looked away again. “I didn't think you wanted me any more.”
“Wanted you？”
“You haven't spoken to me. You seemed so cold. Indifferent somehow.”
“But it's you who were indifferent.”
She looked genuinely amazed. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“I thought you wanted Tom. Didn't want to be with me.”His voice broke.
“I thought you found him―more fun.”
“Him？ Oh， he's a baby. I was lonely， I suppose. You seemed so fed up with me. I didn't realized it would ― oh ， Alan.” She got up and drew him to her ， kissing him so hard on the lips.“You are such a bloody fool.” I love you ― don't you know？
“Why did you come here？” he asked.
“I was wandering about. I couldn't sleep. Look ―” She knelt down and stared at the Latin inscription on the two solitary graves. “Who are they？” she asked.
“I don't know. I've often wondered. Dom Carols Fuenta ― he's definitely a monk. But the odd thing is that he's buried alongside a woman.” He paused and then went on. “Maria Degardes. He was buried in 1892. She was in 1894.”
“Were they lovers？”
“I used to make up stories that they were.”
“I was just thinking. A silly thought. I expect you'll laugh.”
“Try me.”
“Suppose we lived here for the rest of our lives and when we died we were buried here. But in one grave. Together.”
Alan took Alice's face in his hands and kissed her on the lips.
阿蘭心里想道：要是我們從未到過那個地方該多好啊。在下午后半晌的炎熱中，他們向山坡上爬去。愛麗絲被曬得黑黝黝的，看上去就像在地中海上住過幾個月似的；而阿蘭原本細皮嫩肉，這時身上已經(jīng)變得紅一塊白一塊，蛻了一層皮。
他抬頭向山坡望去，只見小路盤旋而上通向那個圓錐形十字石碑，熾熱的陽光將巖石曬得發(fā)白。他們究竟為什么不能談那件事？他為什么連責罵她都不能呢？
他原以為一切都會好的，但好像酷熱已經(jīng)將他們的愛抽干。
在家時，他們曾是多么幸福。現(xiàn)在他意識到那不會再繼續(xù)下去了。由于家庭破裂，她從內(nèi)陸來到他的學(xué)校。作為獨生女，她和她的父親住在一起，盡力去照顧他。她孤獨無依、無精打采、愁眉苦臉，經(jīng)常到阿蘭那里去排除憂傷。至少他喜歡這樣認為。他為她解憂了嗎？沒有。是湯姆，即使阿蘭曾付出所有的激情愛著她。如今他對他們倆的愛就像他的恨一樣強烈。
“跟上！”愛麗絲轉(zhuǎn)身向他喊，不耐煩地揮著手。
“來了。”阿蘭看了看手表。已經(jīng)5點了。蛐蛐兒馬上就要開始鳴唱了。他繼續(xù)向上走，汗水源源不斷地流到了眼里。他知道她已經(jīng)打開那瓶礦泉水。她會讓他跟上她嗎？一種更大的痛苦折磨著他。這使他想起那天晚上他用父母親從村里買的粗制的當?shù)鼐茖⒆约汗嘧淼那榫埃菚r他的心也在發(fā)痛。每當他想起愛麗絲和湯姆越來越親近的時候，他的失落感就會與日俱增。
他走得越來越快。他為山頂上那些中世紀的城堡而歡呼雀躍。放眼望去，離那座山幾里遠的地方有一塊空地，在山谷的亂石叢中生長著一小片橄欖林。
“跟上！”
“來了。”
阿蘭仍頑強地大步前行，他低頭看了一眼自己被曬紅的、蛻了皮的兩腿，想起了湯姆強健挺拔的棕色的雙腿。
突然，他拐到石頭后面一塊隱蔽的地方。他看到她正在等他。如果湯姆也在這里的話，他們一定會站在一起嘲笑他，相互凝望著，把他丟在一邊。當他拘謹?shù)叵蚯白叩臅r候，他將注意力都集中在她的身上。
“我們到哪里去宿營？”她坐在一塊突出的巖石上。她苗條的身材柔軟且咸咸的。她的腿在那里晃來晃去。他真想將自己的手在那上面滑動。而他卻想象著湯姆那樣做的情景。頓時，憤怒的淚水充滿了他的眼睛。
“圣卡塔林納。”
“那是什么？”
“是一座破廟，在山谷下面，杉樹叢中。在那里――看，你可以看到的。”
“噢，是的。”她轉(zhuǎn)過頭。當他真正拿眼去看她的時候，她看上去是那樣美，像一尊女神。
“那不可怕吧？”她用略微沙啞的聲音說。他發(fā)現(xiàn)她的嗓音竟是那樣性感。
上帝啊，他是多么愛她，現(xiàn)在他為什么不可以把她攬在懷里呢？這樣，一切問題都會迎刃而解的。但是，好像她周圍有一種難以逾越的障礙――就像被湯姆密封了起來。
“這個山谷很危險，”阿蘭說，希望嚇住她，引起她一種反應(yīng)。“如果烏云壓下來就會無路可走了。有時會持續(xù)好幾天。”
“還有其他地方可以宿營嗎？”愛麗絲問道。
“說不準，”阿蘭敢肯定她一定會寧愿和湯姆在一起。昨天他曾見他們一起坐在別墅外的一堵墻上，他們的腳踝曾纏繞在一起，他曾想拽著湯姆的腿把他拉下來。他會傷害自己的弟弟。愛麗斯會感到內(nèi)疚。那是她的過錯。
“我們走吧，”阿蘭飛快地說。
“還有多遠？”她問，“我一點勁兒也沒有了。”
“半小時。”
“我們能吃點東西嗎？”她的聲音有點兒傷感。阿蘭心滿意足，注意到她正在再次依靠他。但他知道一旦他們離開這座大山，她就會和湯姆泡在一起。一時間，他竟荒唐地想象著愛麗絲和自己一起居住在這個山谷，直到永遠。或許是被某種魔力困在這里，不讓他們離開。
那座廟是方頂、木窗，十分簡樸。廟后面有一些魚缸，還有一個平臺，和尚可以在上面隨意走動。
四周只有他們踏在石頭上所發(fā)出的聲響，圣卡塔林納萬籟俱寂。一朵怒放的玫瑰在石板屋頂無聲無息，亮光在粗糙的墻壁上閃爍。他們躺下來，遞過水瓶，旅行包仍背在背后。他們幾乎昏昏欲睡。
突然，她坐起來，用令人吃驚的溫柔目光凝視著他。阿蘭的難受情緒稍微得到了緩解。
“他們都已經(jīng)走了嗎？”愛麗絲問道。
“是的。我不知道是什么時候走的。好長時間了吧。”
她仰面躺著，雙目緊閉。他現(xiàn)在可以和她談了。他們倆談?wù)勀莻€問題，然后就迎刃而解了。他們彼此都能探到對方，但他不能動。
“如果廟被推倒，那將是多么可怕，”愛麗絲懶懶地說，眼睛仍然閉著。
“不會的。”
“你怎么知道？”
“他們總是不斷地修繕它。”
“他們?yōu)槭裁床蛔≡谶@里呢？”
“不知道，或許這里太偏遠了吧。”
漸漸地，想懲罰她的欲望消失了，但他不敢觸摸她，不敢輕易打破這令人著迷的時刻。
“白天熱，夜里涼。住在這種地方會很不錯的。”
“住在這里？”
“我們會被允許嗎？”
“我不知道。”
“先看看這里怎么樣，我是說――” 她半坐了起來。“我們能進去嗎？”她將一根手指輕輕地放在他脫皮的臉頰上。
他吃了一驚，隨后意識到蛐蛐兒的鳴叫聲已經(jīng)響起。他不知道它們已經(jīng)鳴唱了多長時間。“咱們?nèi)タ纯窗伞！?/p>
他們繞過去，但正如阿蘭早就知道的那樣，無路可進。最后，他們又原路返回，在一座小型石頭建筑旁生了一堆火。顯然，其他野營的人也曾使用過這個地方，墻壁上還留有黑色的痕跡。
他晚飯用去了半瓶珍貴的水，親密關(guān)系依舊存在，但他們已經(jīng)無話可說。阿蘭幾乎難以按捺那正在膨脹的沖動。他們一起擁有這個夜晚，任何事情都可能會發(fā)生。
阿蘭突然意識到他必須得做些什么了。晚飯后，在芳香彌漫的大山的幽光中，他煮了咖啡，他們默默地坐在一起。夜幕慢慢地降臨；蛐蛐兒的音量好像升高了。他仍沒有行動。
她躺在火堆前，身上閃閃發(fā)光。阿蘭伸出一只手，她暫時握住了他的手。接著，愛麗絲打哈欠，伸展身體。“我現(xiàn)在要睡覺了，”她說。
“再來點咖啡？”阿蘭痛苦地問道。
她在他的前額上吻了吻。“不，謝謝。”
他愛他的弟弟湯姆嗎？有時他肯定愛，當然他總是忌妒弟弟，像一個小孩子。對他們倆來說，他性格內(nèi)向，湯姆性格外向。阿蘭想著自己內(nèi)向的性格。他十分清楚自己如何在愛麗絲身上敗得這么慘，而湯姆又是如何輕而易舉便得到了她。湯姆正是她需要的那號人，她并不需要他這種人。
阿蘭悶悶不樂地鉆進自己的睡袋，漸漸地進入了夢鄉(xiāng)。躺在他身旁的愛麗絲也睡著了，她的呼吸聲似乎和蛐蛐兒的鳴叫聲保持同步。
阿蘭做了一個夢。蛐蛐聲都停止了。一陣微風拂過。他的手表上的夜光針剛過了兩點。愛麗絲的睡袋空了；她已經(jīng)走了。好一陣子，他都無法相信這個事實。他坐起來，感到圣卡塔林納的黑黢黢的墻壁將他團團圍住了。
隨后，他來到山邊，踉踉蹌蹌地沿著山路盲目前行。聽見他們的朗朗笑聲，他輕輕地爬過去，看到兩個身體緊緊地貼在一塊。他感到痛苦萬分，怒不可遏地沖向他們。他們猛地分開了。他低聲啜泣，盡管他從孩提時起就從來沒有哭過。
她焦急地搖著他被太陽曬黑的肩膀，喚醒了他。
“發(fā)生了什么事？”她一遍又一遍地問，“阿蘭，怎么了？”
他抬眼盯著她，在篝火的余光中眨著眼睛。
“沒什么，”他不由自主地說。“真的沒什么。”
“可是――”
“只是做了一個惡夢，僅此而已。”
“你剛才在哭，”她的聲音像過去那樣溫柔和氣。
阿蘭在睡袋里翻了一下身，背對著她說：“我很好，我們再睡一會兒吧！”
阿蘭醒來時，晨陽暖暖地照在他的臉上。他滿臉淚痕，咸咸的。他坐起來，腦海里還懵懵懂懂地縈繞著那個夢。“你剛才在哭，”她的聲音又傳了過來。他退縮了一下。愛麗絲已經(jīng)感到對不起他了。他立即感到很壓抑。由于巨大的悲痛和憂傷，猛地出了一身冷汗。現(xiàn)在他將怎樣和她展開一場討論呢？
他小心翼翼地看了看她的睡袋，睡袋已經(jīng)空了。阿蘭一下子僵住了。隨后，漸漸地，他又放松了。現(xiàn)在剛過8點，她也許是找地方方便去了。他平靜地、憂郁地等待著，爾后還是不見她回來，就心急火燎起來。阿蘭慌忙從睡袋里掙扎出來，開始在寺院里四處尋找。但蹤跡皆無。
當阿蘭再次驚慌失措四處尋找仍一無所獲的時候，顯然她已經(jīng)不辭而別，很可能是下山找湯姆去了。阿蘭感到的與其說是生氣，倒不如說孤獨。她甚至連一張紙也沒有給他留下。他走過去將手伸進她的睡袋，里面冷冰冰的。
她肯定無法獨自找到回路。阿蘭又開始找起來。這一次通過雜草叢生的灌木叢。某個東西引起了他的注意。躺在地上的是一個小小的、光亮的東西。那是愛麗絲的手鐲。
突然，一種真正的恐懼襲上他的心頭，一定是有人拐走了她，或者是湯姆來找她的？可是，手鐲又怎么講呢？
“求求你，上帝，”阿蘭喃喃道，“保佑她平安。”為什么他沒有照顧她？為什么他沒有安慰她？現(xiàn)在阿蘭才意識到他以前是如何將自己鎖進一個妒忌和沮喪的空殼里？湯姆看起來似乎不再是一種威脅。阿蘭所想的全都是愛麗絲，只要能找到她，他們就會傾心長談。
他開始第四次在地上尋找，千里拿著那只手鐲，隨后在一排房屋堆砌的石頭縫里，他看見一件東西在發(fā)光――是愛麗絲的戒指，而且他知道那是緊緊地戴在她的手上的呀。阿蘭的汗從臉上流了下來。
“愛麗絲，”他喊道，“愛麗絲！”沒有回音。阿蘭開始跑了起來。
正當他驚恐地返回到那座廟的前門時，他意識到還有一個地方他沒有去找。他的心砰砰直跳，嗓子發(fā)干。他走下臺階。
他急不可待地跑上前，推開樹葉，看到她在那里，躺在松葉上，心里松了一口氣。
“愛麗絲。”
她慢慢地醒來了，睡眼朦朦地在太陽下伸伸懶腰。“對不起――我睡著了。”
“你究竟到哪里去了？”
“我出去走了走。”
他舉起手鐲和戒指。“我找到了這些東西。”他很生氣，這一點是肯定的。她轉(zhuǎn)移了視線。“得了吧，你為什么這樣做？我一直在找你，我還以為――我還以為你被綁架或者別的什么了呢。受到了什么傷害了嗎？”
“對不起。”
“說'對不起'就夠了？”
“我留有痕跡。”
“你到底做了什么呀？”他怒氣沖沖的。
“我想讓你找我。”
“我當時很害怕――我還以為――”
“對不起，”她站起來。“我想我原來只想嚇唬嚇唬你。”
“為什么？”他大聲問道。
她又一次轉(zhuǎn)移了目光。“我還以為你不會再要我了呢。”
“要你？”
“你沒有對我說過，你似乎很冷淡，在某種程度上無動于衷。”
“可無動于衷的是你。”
她看上去真的很吃驚。“我真不知道你在說什么。”
“我還以為你想要湯姆，不想和我在一塊哩。”他的聲音沙啞。
“我還以為你找他――開心去了呢。”
“他？噢，他還是一個小毛孩子。我很孤獨，我想，你好像很煩我，我沒有意識到那么――噢，阿蘭。”她站起來，將他拉向自己，深深地吻起了他的嘴唇。“你真是個大傻瓜。我愛你――難道你不知道嗎？”
“你怎么來到這了？”他問道。
“我是隨便走走。我睡不著。瞧――”她跪下來，盯著前面的兩座孤墳的拉丁碑文問道：“他們是什么人？”
“我不知道。我也總是想知道。多姆??卡羅斯??福恩塔――他肯定是一個和尚，但奇怪的是，他和一個女人葬在一起。”他暫停了一下，然后接著說道：“瑪麗姬??德加斯。他葬于1892年，而她葬于1894年。”
“他們是情人嗎？”
“我過去經(jīng)常想給他們編編故事。”
“我剛才在想。是一個愚蠢的想法，我想你會笑我的。”
“說說看。”
“假如我們今后生活在這里，我們死后就埋在這里，但要在一塊。合葬。”
阿蘭雙手捧起愛麗絲的臉，在她的嘴唇上親吻起來。
散文本文地址：http://www.autochemexpert.com/writing/essay/44275.html
