朱翻译
我写的双语小说《好运的代价》The Cost of Fortune陈伟杵在门口的阴影里徘徊，晕头转向，格格不入，活像个深海潜水员误闯进了纽约证交所那金碧辉煌、人声鼎沸的交易大厅。他那身七号灰色西装——不过是在成衣店里随手挑的一件，谨小慎微的折中之选——此刻看来简直是个刺眼的败笔。它太亮了，也太扎眼，就像在这座走私贩横行的城市里，来了个揣着护照观光游览的游客。在这儿，灰西装根本排不上号；你得穿那种猛虎般锋利、充满捕食意味的黑色，或是像蛇一样看似随性、实则满腹诡诈的米色。Chen Wei lingered in the shadows by the entrance, adrift and out of place, like a deep-sea diver who had blundered into the roaring, gilded trading floor of the New York Stock Exchange. His slate-gray Number Seven suit—a cautious, off-the-rack compromise—stood out as a glaring misstep. It was too bright, too blunt, like a tourist flashing a passport in a city run by smugglers. In this world, gray was not an option; you wore the razor-edged, predatory black of a tiger or the deceptively casual beige of a snake.
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