张爱玲EileenChang英文介绍ppt

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介绍张爱玲英文作文

介绍张爱玲英文作文英文：Zhang Ailing, also known as Eileen Chang, was a prominent Chinese-American writer who is widely recognized as one of the most important modern Chinese writers. Her works, which include novels, short stories, and essays, are known for their vivid descriptions of Chinese society and culture during the turbulent times of the 20th century.I first discovered Zhang Ailing's works when I was studying Chinese literature in college. Her writing style is unique and captivating, and her characters are often complex and multi-dimensional. One of my favorite works of hers is "Love in a Fallen City," which tells the story of a young woman named Bai Liusu who is caught between tradition and modernity in 1940s Hong Kong. The novel explores themes of love, identity, and societal expectations, and is a great example of Zhang Ailing's ability to create relatable and nuanced characters.Another aspect of Zhang Ailing's writing that I admireis her use of language. She has a talent for using metaphors and imagery to create a vivid and immersive reading experience. For example, in "The Golden Cangue,"she describes the oppressive atmosphere of a traditional Chinese household by comparing it to a golden cangue, atype of torture device worn around the neck.Overall, Zhang Ailing's works are a valuablecontribution to the world of Chinese literature, and her legacy continues to inspire readers and writers around the world.中文：张爱玲，也被称为Eileen Chang，是一位著名的华裔美国作家，被广泛认为是最重要的现代中国作家之一。

民国四大才女ppt(英文版)

• LuXiaoMan(1903－ 1965), she is a female painБайду номын сангаасer, and she was born in a family of scholar. She is good at English and French when she was 18. She was the second wife of XuZhiMo
Only the lonely people sit down before they can regain noisy; sadness had to do before they can re-see the smile; tasted the bitterness, will naturally sweet
Four Talented Women In Republic Of China
林徽因张爱玲 Eileen 陆小曼萧红
• Linhuiyin was born in1904, She was the first female architect in China, and She was hailed as China's first generation of talented woman by HuShi, at the same, she was a writer, poet, National Emblem of the People's Republic of China designer. She was died in 1955 at the age of 51
3答案很长，我准备用一生的时间来回答，你准备要听了吗？The answer is very long,
I am prepared to answer a lifetime, you are ready to be listened to it?

张爱玲英文介绍ppt

Extraordinary mother
Zhang’s mother is an extraordinary woman
Although she was born in rich and powerful family ,as her mother is a concubine(小妾） and parents died early , so her childhood is not happy.
In the autumn of 1955 ,by the ship named "Cleveland's President," toБайду номын сангаасthe United States
In August, 1956, at the age of 36 zhang ailing ,married her second husband 65 years old Laiya, an American people.
1920~1930
childhood
1932,she published her first novel Unfortunately she in her schoolbooks.
1930~1940
1933,her first essay 迟暮
In the summer of 1937，she graduated from St. Maria girls school
Chang had left occupied Hong Kong for her native Shanghai. She fed herself with what she was best at writing. It was during this period when some of her most acclaimed works, including Qing Cheng Zhi Lian (倾城之恋) and Jin Suo Ji (金锁记), were penned.

Eileen Chang

張
Eileen Chang
愛玲
(9. 30, 1920 – 9. 8, 1995)
现当代文学课（一）
名字
张瑛:张爱玲的原名. 张瑛:张爱玲的原名. Eileen Chang :1928年张爱玲就读上海圣.玛 :1928年张爱玲就读上海圣. 丽女子学院时的英文名（the 丽女子学院时的英文名（the Saint Maria Girls‘ School） Girls‘ School） . 張愛玲:张爱玲根据英文名Eileen取的名字張愛玲:张爱玲根据英文名Eileen取的名字梁京: 梁京:这是一个大家不熟悉的张爱玲的另一个名字. 个名字.
张爱玲擅长画画，她常常为她的作品画封面或者是插图。
张爱玲的作品是很细腻的。她常常用很多形容词和方言来描写作品中细致而且复杂的情节以及人物。
和其他作家比起来，张爱玲的作品独特在人物的描写和故事细小情节的安排上，这使读者对她的人物有很深的很鲜明印象。
作品中，话显示了出的作家因为这些真实了。
她同样收到了英国伦敦大学（University 她同样收到了英国伦敦大学（University of London）的录取通知和奖学金, London）的录取通知和奖学金,但是由于太平洋战争（ Pacific War），她只好放弃这次机会. War），她只好放弃这次机会.
张爱玲后来离开香港回到她的故乡上海，她以最擅长的文学习作来赚钱养活自己。正是在这个时期，张爱玲创作了自己最受好评的作品：《倾城之恋》倾城之恋》（ Qing Cheng Zhi Lian ）《金锁记》金锁记》（ Jin Suo 20年 9月 30日, 张 30日爱玲生于上海，她的家庭在当时的地位很高。她的爸爸张佩伦是个有名的官员，她的外祖父李鸿章是清朝最有权利的官员。

中国传统文化-旗袍英文介绍PPT

ChinaP,othpeuclhaeroanggasainmnwoaws .n. ot practical and was
set aside. But in 1950s and 1960s, cheongsams began to show up again in the people's lives.
无领 collarless
旗 Cheongsam 袍中国
特色
Openings（开衩）: high openings, low openings, no opening
旗 Cheongsam 袍中国
特色
Representative figures
• 张爱玲 Eileen Chang (1920-1995) A well-known writer，be addicted to cheongsam.
widesleevesnarrowlongsleevesmiddlesleevesshortsleevescheongsamcheongsam中国特色12longsleevesshortsleevessleevelesscheongsamcheongsam中国特色roundjinstraightjinslantingjindoublejinpipajincheongsamcheongsam中国特色14如意襟ruyijin琵琶襟pipajin斜襟slantingjin双襟doublejincheongsamcheongsam中国特色highcollarlowcollarcheongsamcheongsam中国特色16高领highcollarlowcollarcheongsamcheongsam中国特色highopeningslowopeningscheongsamcheongsam中国特色18representativefigures张爱玲eileenchang19201995wellknownwriterbeaddictedcolorfulgowncoveredlice

Eileen Chang(张爱玲)and self-translation

• 她在妇女面前不知怎么总觉得自己是“从了良” 的，现在是太太身份，应当显得端凝富态。 • for some reason, the presence of other females made her feel like a "proper woman" again. She was a full-status wife.
• During her secondary education , Bawang Beiji（《霸王别姬》） • In 1939, the University of Hong Kong • From 1942 to 1952, returned to Shanghai to begin her literary career
• 这世界上有那么许多人，可是他们不能陪着你回家。到了夜深人静，还有无论何时，只要是生死关头，深的暗的所在，那时候只能有一个真心爱的妻，或者就是寂寞的。
• So many people in the world-but they won't be coming home with you. When night fell and silence took over-or when, as could happen at any time, you stood at the brink of death -there in the dark, you needed a wife you really loved, other-wise there would be nothing but loneliness.
• Eileen Chang was born in Shanghai on September 30, 1920. • When she was five, her birth mother left for Britain after her father took in a concubine （妾室）and grew addicted to opium（鸦片烟）.

Eileen Zhang-张爱玲与翻译

1995年9月8日，张爱玲的房东发现她逝世于加州洛杉矶西木区罗彻斯特大道的公寓，终年 75岁，直接死因为动脉硬化心血管病。同年9月19日，林式同遵照其遗愿，将她的遗体在洛杉机惠提尔玫瑰岗墓园火化，没有举行公开葬礼。同年张之忌辰日（9月30日），林式同与几位文友将其骨灰撒在太平洋。遗物则由友人宋淇、邝文美夫妇处理，其中大部分交由皇冠出版社收藏。
2香港, 在美国驻香港新闻处 ( United States Information Agency ) 从事翻译, 到 1967 年她在美国麻省剑桥的赖德克里夫大学 ( Radcliffe University) 的研究所从事“独立研究”(Fellowship Grant for Independent Study) , 便是她翻译生涯的实践期。这个时期内，她的翻译作品大体可分为三部分：汉译外国文学名家名作, 自己汉英创作互译, 和改编。
张爱玲翻译小探
1.生平：早年/上海女作家/美国时期
2.翻译成就：涵泳砥砺期/翻译实践期/ 精益求精期
3.译论 4.影响
1. 生平
张爱玲（1920年9月30日－1995年9月8日）
出生在上海公共租界西区的一幢建于清末的仿西式豪宅 •家世显赫，祖父张佩纶是清末名臣，祖母李菊耦是晚清洋务派领袖、朝廷重臣李鸿章的长女。 •父亲张志沂（1896-1953年）是典型的遗少，母亲黄素琼（1893- 1957年）则是长江水师提督黄翼升的孙女，较为欧化。张爱玲只有一个弟弟张子静（1921年12月11日1997年10月12日），圣约翰大学毕业后先任职于银行，后来担任上海郊区中学英文教师。
1939年，她获得伦敦大学的奖学金，准备前往留学，却因第二次世界大战爆发而改入香港大学文学院。在香港大学求学期间，张爱玲结识终生朋友，斯里兰卡女子炎樱（Fatima Mohideen）。

张爱玲-PPT课件-1

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8、真正的爱，应该超越生命的长度、心灵的宽度、灵魂的深度。
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9、永远不要逃避问题，因为时间不会给弱者任何回报。
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10、评价一个人对你的好坏，有钱的看他愿不愿对你花时间，没钱的愿不愿意为你花钱。
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11、明天是世上增值最快的一块土地，因它充满了希望。
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12、得意时应善待他人，因为你失意时会需要他们。
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萨支山：《封锁》解读(节选）
《封锁》是一个男人和一个女人在遭遇到封锁时发生的短暂的爱情故事。封锁结束后，爱情也结束了，一切又都复原了。
我们可以把电车看作一个封闭的空间，它隔离了正常的生活空间，人和人之间许多不利于爱情发展的关系被排除了，只剩下比较单纯的乘客关系，并且具有了向爱情关系发展的可能性。当然，还有时间因素，市内交通毕竟不同于长途旅行，所以张爱玲必须把时间封锁起来，人为地让时间停滞或延长。
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25、世上最累人的事，莫过於虚伪的过日子。
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26、事不三思终有悔，人能百忍自无忧。
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27、智者，一切求自己；愚者，一切求他人。
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28、有时候，生活不免走向低谷，才能迎接你的下一个高点。
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29、乐观本身就是一种成功。乌云后面依然是灿烂的晴天。
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30、经验是由痛苦中粹取出来的。
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31、绳锯木断，水滴石穿。
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63、彩虹风雨后，成功细节中。
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64、有些事你是绕不过去的，你现在逃避，你以后就会话十倍的精力去面对。
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65、只要有信心，就能在信念中行走。
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66、每天告诉自己一次，我真的很不错。
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67、心中有理想再累也快乐
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68、发光并非太阳的专利，你也可以发光。

紫色简约张爱玲知名作家生平介绍PPT模板

张爱玲（1920年9月30日—1995年9月1日左右），原名张煐，笔名梁京，祖籍河北丰润，生于上海，中国现代女作家。
7岁开始写小说，12岁开始在校刊和杂志上发表作品。 1943至1944年，创作和发表了《沉香屑·第一炉香》《沉香屑·第二炉香》《茉莉香片》《倾城之恋》《红玫瑰与白玫瑰》等小说。 1955年，张爱玲赴美国定居，创作英文小说多部，但仅出版一部。 1969年以后主要从事古典小说的研究，著有红学论集《红楼梦魇》。 1995年9月在美国洛杉矶去世，终年75岁。有《张爱玲全集》行世。
上海《天地》月刊第2期
19441945年
《连环套》1944.01-06
《万象》7-10期（收入《张看》）
《年青的时候》1944.02
《杂志》第12卷5期（收入《传奇》）
《花凋》1944.03
《杂志》第12卷6期（收入《传奇》）
《红玫瑰与白玫瑰》1944.05-07
《杂志》第13卷2-4期（收入《传奇》）
02. 人物生平 CHARACTER LIFE
旅居美国
1955年秋，张爱玲以中国专才难民资格去美国，落地即时拿到绿卡”。 1956年2月，搬到纽英伦州，遇见了美国剧作家赖雅； 8月与赖雅相识半年后结婚，两人共同生活到1967年赖雅逝世。 1958年，获加州韩廷敦哈特福基金会资助半年，在加州专门从事写作，发表小说《五四遗事》，为香港电懋电影公司编写《情场如战场》《桃花运》《人财两得》等剧本。 1960年，张爱玲正式入籍成为美国公民。 1961年，应香港电懋影业公司的邀请，张爱玲去台湾收集资料后赴香港创作电影剧本《红楼梦》《南北和》及其续集《南北家亲》《小儿女》《曲难忘》，回美国后还创作了《南北喜相逢》。 1962年，在英文《记者)杂志发表访台记事《重回前方》。 1966年，把中篇旧作《金锁记》改写为长篇小说《怨女》在香港《星岛晚报》连载。 1967年，任纽约雷德克里美女子学院驻校作家，并开始英译《海上花列传》。 1969年，将旧作《十八春》略做改动后，易名为《半生缘》在台湾出版。同年，得陈世骧教授之识，任职加州大学伯克利分校中国研究中心，继续《红楼梦未完》之研究，两年后离职

【人物介绍】张爱玲PPT课件

1943年，张爱玲认识了当时月刊《紫罗兰》的主编，作家周瘦鹃。同年5月，张爱玲在该刊物上发表小说《沉香屑第一炉香》该篇文章使张爱玲在上海文坛一炮打响，崭露头角。6 月，张爱玲发表续作《沉香屑·第二炉香》。7月，张爱玲认识了评论家柯灵。此后张爱玲在《杂志》、《万象》、《古今》等刊物发表《茉莉香片》、《到底是上海人》、《心经》、《倾城之恋》等一系列小说，散文。
“中国从古以来最伟大的中篇小说”。——凤凰网
张爱玲当然是不世出的天才，她的文字风格很有趣，像是绕过了
五四时期的文学，直接从《红楼梦》、《金瓶梅》那一脉下来的,张
爱玲的小说语言更纯粹，是正宗的中文，她的中国传统文化造诣其实
很深。——当代著名作家白先勇
唯有小说才是张爱玲的意义。所以，认识的结果就是，将张爱玲
1953年，张爱玲认识了宋淇、邝文美夫妇。之后，张爱玲用英文撰写了两部长篇小说：《秧歌》和《赤地之恋》。这一年，父亲在上海病逝。第二年《秧歌》和《赤地之恋》英文版出版，不久后中文版也问世。张爱玲还寄了《秧歌》的中文版给胡适，两人开始通信并结下了友谊。
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14
出国、再婚
1955年秋天乘“克利夫兰总统号”离港赴美。
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13
离异后，张爱玲以梁京为笔名在《亦报》上连载长篇小说《十八春》。 7月，张爱玲应夏衍的邀请参加上海市的第一届文代会。11月，《十八春》出版。1951年5月，张爱玲仍以梁京为笔名在《亦报》上连载中篇小说《小艾》。
次年，张爱玲向香港大学申请复学获得批准。7月张爱玲持港大证明出国，经广州抵达香港，住于女青年会，并未再入港大复学。张爱玲开始翻译《老人与海》、《爱默生选集》、《美国七大小说家》等书。在此期间，张爱玲一直在香港深入简出，很少与人交往。

中英双语：张爱玲-爱

张爱玲：哦，你也在这里吗？Love 爱导读：《爱》是张爱玲创作的散文。

原刊1944年《杂志》月刊第13卷第1期。

该散文讲述了一个女子想等待自己的爱情，却又几次三番地被转卖的悲惨命运。

尽管只是一个很短的故事，却尽显凄凉之美。

一开头，张爱玲就写道：“这是真的。

”据胡兰成《今生今世》所言，故事的主人公为胡兰成发妻玉凤的庶母，她的经历与《爱》中的女孩几乎一样，张爱玲大概是有感而发而写下了这篇文章。

春天的夜晚，月白的衫子，熟悉而陌生的邻家男孩，人面桃花，擦肩而过，瞬间成为永恒，永恒的忧伤。

正是：“人面不知何处去，桃花依旧笑春风”。

据说以下英文版是张爱玲自己英译的。

作者简介：张爱玲，中国现代作家，原籍河北省唐山市，原名张煐。

1920年9月30日出生在上海公共租界西区一幢没落贵族府邸。

作品主要有小说、散文、电影剧本以及文学论著，她的书信也被人们作为著作的一部分加以研究。

1944年张爱玲结识胡兰成与之交往。

1973年，张爱玲定居洛杉矶，1995年9月8日，适逢中秋节，张爱玲的房东发现她逝世于加州韦斯特伍德市罗彻斯特大道的公寓，因动脉硬化心血管病而去世，终年75岁，被发现的时候她已经过世一个星期。

9月30日，生前好友为她举行了追悼会，追悼会后，骨灰被撒入太平洋。

This is real.这是真的。

There was once a daughter of a tolerably well-off family in the country who was very lovely and sought out by many matchmakers, although nothing had come of their efforts. That year, she was only fifteen or sixteen years old. One spring evening, she stood by the back door, hands resting on a peach tree. She remembered that she was wearing a moon-white tunic. She had seen the young man who lived across the way, but they had never spoken. He walked toward her, came to a halt close by, and said softly: "So you're here, too?" She did not say anything, and he did not say more. They stood for a moment and then went their separate ways.有个村庄的小康之家的女孩子，生得美，有许多人来做媒，但都没有说成。

张爱玲英文作品部分(MY GREAT EXPECTATIONS...)

MY GREAT EXPECTA TIONSBy Eileen ChangTime is like a sharp knife. When it is misused, it can carve hard lines on beautiful faces and wear out blooming youth month by month, year by year but, well used, it can mold a piece of simple stone into a magnificent statue. St. Mary's, in spite of its long history of fifty years, is still a simple piece of white stone briefly carved. As time marches on, it may be marred by dust, worn out by weather, or broken into separate fragments, and it may be carefully, slowly carved by the knife, inch by inch, into a wonderful statue which will be placed among the glorious works of Michelangelo. This knife is held not only by the principal, the teachers, and the students of tomorrow; but all of our schoolmates have the power of controlling it.If I have a chance to live to be a snowy-haired old lady, I shall, in my peaceful dreams beside the fireside, seek for the old paths leading through the green plum trees which I have been familiar with in my early days. Of course, at that time, the youthful plum trees must also have grown into their pleasant old age, stretching their powerful arms to shade the crossing paths. The weather-worn old bell tower, standing in the golden sunlight, shall give out that slow, solemn blooming that is so familiar to my ears, as the girls, short and tall, pale and rosy, plump and slim, all blooming with the freshness of youth, shall pour into the church like a stream. There they will kneel and pray, whispering to their spiritual Lord about the little things in their lives; their grief, their tears, their quarrels, their love, and their great ambitions. They shall ask him to help them in reaching their future goals, to be a writer, a musician, an educationalist, or an ideal wife. And I can hear the old church tower ringing with the echoes of their prayers, whispering in return, "Yes, St. Mary's Hall may not have the largest dormitories and the best-looking school gardens among all the schools in China, but she certainly possesses the finest and the most hard-working girls, who shall glorify her with their brilliant futures!"What I feel when I hear these words depends upon whether I have done anything or not in the years in between. If I have failed in playing my part on this stage, I shall feel ashamed and regretful that I have thrown away the privilege of glorifying my mother school. But if I have gained success in struggling along toward my goal, I will smile with pride and content, for I have taken a part, though a very small part, in carving out, with the knife of time, this wonderful model of school life. (466 words)五四遗事Stale MateBy Eileen ChangTwo men and two girls in a boat sat facing each other on wicker seats under the flat blue awning. Cups of tea stood on the low table between them. They were eating ling, water chestnuts about the size and shape of a Cupid's bow mouth. The shells were dark purplish red and the kernels white. "Missu Zhou is very stylish today," one of the men said. It was also stylish to address girls as "Miss".Miss Zhou glared at him through her new spectacles and threw a ling shell at him. Her glasses had round black rims and perfectly flat lenses, as she was not near-sighted. The year was 1924, when eyeglasses were fashionable. Society girls wore them. Even street-walkers affected glasses in order to look like girl students.Each of the men sat with his own girl because the little boat balanced better this way than if the two girls sat side by side. The pale green water looked thick and just a little scummy, and yet had a suggestion of lingering fragrance like a basin of water in which a famous courtesan had washed her painted face.The girls were around twenty - young for high school in those days when progressive women of all ages flocked to the primary schools. Miss Zhou was much admired for her vivacity and boldness as being typical of the New Woman, while Miss Fan's was the beauty of a still life. She sat smiling a little, her face a slim pointed oval, her long hair done in two round glossy black side knobs. She wore little make-up and no ornaments except a gold fountain pen tucked in her light mauve tunic. Her trumpet sleeves ended flaring just under the elbow.The young men were Luo and Wen. Luo was tall and thin. His pale turquoise long gown hung well on him in a more literal sense than when the phrase was applied to Westerners' clothes. He taught in the same school as Wen. They both owned land in their home village and taught school in Hangzhou merely as an excuse to live by the West Lake, where every scenic spot was associated with the memory of some poet or reigning beauty.The four had been meeting almost daily for more than a year. They would go out on the lake, have dinner at one of the restaurants along the shore, and go boating again if there was a moon. Somebody would read Shelley aloud and the girls held hands with each other when they felt moved. Always there were four of them, sometimes six but never two. The men were already married - a universal predicament. Practically everybody was married and had children before ever hearing of love. Wen and Luo had to be content with discussing the girls interminably between themselves, showing each other the girls' carefully worded letters, admiring their calligraphy, analysing their personalities from the handwriting. Love was such a new experience in China that a little of it went a long way.They sailed into a patch of yellowing lotus leaves, the large green plates crunching noisily against the boat. Then there was silence. The boatman and his little daughter were resting on their oars, letting the boat drift. Now and then the water made a small swallowing sound as if it had a piece of candy in its mouth."Going home this weekend?" Miss Fan asked."I suppose I can't get out of it this time," Luo answered smiling. "My mother has been complaining."She smiled. The mention of his mother did not alter the fact that he was going back to his wife. Lately Luo had been feeling increasingly guilty about going home, while Miss Fan had allowed her resentment to become more manifest before and after each visit."I have made a decision," he said in a low voice, looking at her. Then, when she did not ask him what it was, he said, "Missu Fan, will you wait for me? It might take years."She had turned away, her head bent. Her hands played with the lower left corner of her slitted blouse, furling and unfurling it.Actually she did not agree to his getting a divorce until days later. But that evening, when the four of them dined at a restaurant famous for its lake fish, Luo already felt pledged and dedicated. Allthe wine he drank tasted like the last cup before setting out on a long hard journey on a cold night. The restaurant was called the Tower Beyond Towers. It leaned over the lake on three sides. Despite the view and its poetic name it was a nonchalantly ugly place with greasy old furniture. The waiter shouted orders to the kitchen in a singsong chant. When the glass dome was lifted from the plate of live shrimp, some of the shrimp jumped across the table, in and out of the sauce dish, and landed on Miss Fan, trailing soya sauce down the front of her blouse. Miss Zhou squealed. In the dingy yellow electric light Miss Fan looked flushed and happy and did not seem to mind at all. Luo did not go home until the Saturday after that. The journey took two hours by train and wheelbarrow. His wife looked sheepish as her mother-in-law loudly and ostentatiously excused her from various duties because her husband was home. She was wearing a short blue overall with the red satin binding of a silk tunic showing underneath it. She had not been sure that he would be coming.He spoke to her that night about divorce. She cried all night. It was terrible, almost as if a judge were to sleep in the same bed with a condemned man. Say what he might, he knew he was consigning her to dishonourable widowhood for the rest of her life."Which of the Seven Out Rules have I violated?" she kept asking through angry sobs. Ancient scholars had named the seven conditions under which a wife might justifiably be evicted from her husband's house.His mother flew into a rage on being told. She would not hear of it. Luo went back to Hangzhou and stopped coming home altogether. His mother got his uncle to go up to Hangzhou and talk him out of his foolishness. He in turn managed to persuade a cousin to go and talk to his family. It took infernally long to negotiate through relatives who were, furthermore, unreliable transmitters of harsh words, being peacemakers at heart, especially where matrimony was concerned. To break up a marriage is a cardinal sin that automatically takes ten years off a man's given life span.Luo got a lawyer to write his wife an alarmingly worded request for divorce. His wife's family, the Zhangs, boiled over with rage. Did he think his wife was an orphan? Not all the Zhangs were dead. True, they could not revenge themselves on the faithless man unless his wife were to hang herself on his lintel. That would place his life and property entirely at their mercy. But it was not for them to recommend such a step to her.The head of the Luo clan was moved to speak. The old man threatened to invite the Family Law out of its niche and beat the young rascal in the ancestral temple. "Family Law" was a euphemism for the plank used for flogging.Miss Fan and Luo continued to see each other in the company of Wen and Miss Zhou. Their friends were delighted and exhilarated by the courage of this undertaking - though it did put Wen in a difficult position, even if Miss Zhou was never openly reproachful. It now appeared as though the wistfulness that was part of the beauty of their relationship was not one of those things that couldn't be helped.Luo was only home once in two years. They were difficult years for both the mother and daughter-in-law. They began to get on each other's nerves. There was an unwritten law that a wife could never be divorced once she had worn mourning white and the ramie scarf of mourning for a parent-in-law. So the old lady got the idea that her daughter-in-law wished for her death. It would certainly settle the divorce problem. But the old lady swore she would see the younger woman out of the house vertically before she made her own exit horizontally.Outwardly the divorce negotiations had not gained much ground in six years. Miss Fan's family never did approve. Now they kept reminding her that at twenty-six she was becoming an old maid. Soon she would not even qualify for tianfang - room filler, a wife to fill up a widower's empty room. It seemed to her family that Luo was only waiting to have her on his own terms. It was doubtful whether he was seriously trying to get a divorce. Possibly alimony was the stumbling-block. There were those who said he was actually quite poor. What little he had must have dwindled away through his long absence from home, with his estate left in the hands of an estranged wife. There had been some unpleasantness over the divorce question at the school where he was teaching. If he didn't depend on his job for a living, why didn't he resign?Miss Zhou told Wen confidentially that Miss Fan had been out to dinner with a pawnbroker, chaperoned by members of her family and a lady matchmaker. Wen was not to tell Luo.In his indignation Wen told Luo anyway, though of course he added, "It's all her family's doing." "They didn't tie her up with a rope and drag her to the restaurant, did they?" Luo said sardonically. He promised not to take up the matter with her immediately as that would betray the source of his information.But that evening Luo drank too much rice wine when they dined at the Tower Beyond Towers which had the lake on three sides. "Congratulations, Missu Fan!" he said. "I hear you are going to invite us to your wedding feast." He drained his cup and strode off angrily.Miss Fan refused to join them that next day. Luo's letters were returned unopened. A week later Miss Zhou reported that Miss Fan had again been dining with the pawnbroker. Everything was settled; the man had given her a big diamond engagement ring.Luo's divorce action had reached the point where it began to move through its own momentum. There were signs that his wife's side was now more ready to listen to reason. He would be a laughing-stock for the rest of his life if he were to return to his wife at this stage. So he went ahead with the divorce, giving his wife a generous settlement as he had promised. As soon as the decree was final he got a professional matchmaker to approach the Wangs of the dyeworks on his behalf. The eldest Wang girl was reported to be the prettiest girl in town.After an exchange of photographs and due investigation, the Wangs accepted him. Luo sold a great part of his land and bought Miss Wang a diamond ring even bigger than the one Miss Fan was said to have got. He was married after three months.For some reason, Miss Fan's match did not come off. Maybe the pawnbroker had his doubts about modern girls and had heard something of Miss Fan's long attachment to Luo. According to the Fans it was because they had found out that the pawnbroker had falsified his age. Some malicious tongues had it that it was the other way around.In the natural course of things Luo would have run into Miss Fan sooner or later, living in the same town. But their friends were not content to leave it to chance. Somehow they felt it was important for them to meet again. It could not be that they wanted Luo to savour fully his revenge; they had disapproved of the way he had hit back at her at the expense of his own ideals. Maybe they wanted him to realize the mistake he had made and feel sorry. But perhaps the most likely explanation would be that they just thought it would be sad and beautiful - and therefore a good thing - for the two to meet once again on the lake under the moon.It was arranged without the knowledge of either of them. One night Luo was out on a boat with Wen - Miss Zhou was now married and not seeing them any more. Some people shouted at them from another boat. It was a couple they used to know. Miss Fan was with them.When the two boats drew near, Wen stepped over to the other boat, urging Luo to come with him. Luo found himself sitting across the small table from Miss Fan. The tea in the cups shone faintly, in each cup a floating silver disc swaying slightly with the movement of the boat. Her face and white-clad shoulders were blue-rimmed with moonlight. It stunned him how she could look just the same when so much had happened.They went through the amenities as if there were nothing amiss, but without directly addressing a single remark to each other. No reference was made to Luo's new marriage. The talk was mostly about the government-sponsored West Lake Exhibition and its ugly memorial that dominated the vista along the bank."It's an eyesore. Spoils everything," Luo said. "It will never be the same again."Her eyes met his, wavered a little, and looked away.After going round the lake they landed and separated. The day after, Luo received a letter addressed to him in Miss Fan's handwriting. He tore it open, his heart pounding, and found a sheet of blank paper inside. He knew instantly what she meant. She had wanted to write him but what could she say?Soon it was no secret among their friends that they were again seeing a lot of each other. Luo again started divorce proceedings. This time he had very few sympathizers. He now looked like a scoundrel where he had once been a pioneer. It was another long struggle. On her part Miss Fan was also engaged in a struggle. Hers was against the forces of the years, against men's very nature which tires so easily. And in her struggle she had nobody to stand by her side as she stood by Luo. She remained quietly pretty. Her coiffure and clothes were masterpieces of subtle compromise between fashion and memory. He never wanted her to look any different from the way she did when he had first known her. Yet he would have been distressed if it had suddenly occurred to him that she looked dated. She fell in with all his moods without being monotonously pliant. She read all the books he gave her and was devoted to Shelley.He finally had to fight it out in the courts with his wife's family. The Wangs were adamant against divorce. Lawsuits were expensive, especially when judges proved to be tractable. Luo got his divorce at the end of five years. Though in reduced circumstances, he had built a small white house exactly the way Miss Fan and he had planned it, on a site they had chosen long ago. He had closed down his old house in the country after his mother's death. Their new home was on stilts, leaning out of the green hills right over the lake. Climbing roses and wisteria trailed over the moon window.The newlyweds paid routine visits to relatives. They were usually pressed to stay for dinner and play mahjong. Luo had never known her to be fond of the game. He told his wife it was good of her to comply but there was no need to keep it up all night and promise to come back for more the next day. She answered that people teased her into it, saying she could not bear to be away from her bridegroom a single minute.She complained of living so far out. When she came back late from her mahjong parties she often had difficulty finding a rickshaw puller willing to take her home. When she was not out playing mahjong she lounged about in soiled old gowns with torn slits and frayed frogs. Half the time she lay in bed cracking watermelon seeds, spitting the shells over the bedclothes and into her slippers on the floor. His hints at taking more interest in her appearance were at first ignored. Then she flared up and said his fussiness was unmanly. "No wonder you never get anywhere."Luo did his best to keep up a good front. Still he supposed that news of their quarrels got about,because one day a relative mentioned casually to him that Miss Wang had not yet remarried. "Why don't you ask her to come back?"Luo shook his head sadly. He needed some persuasion, but of course he knew that the Wangs would agree that this was the best way out, much as they hated him. The family's good name would suffer if their daughter took a second husband.His wife, the former Miss Fan, did not hear of the matter until all arrangements had been made. Despite scenes and threats of suicide, the day Miss Wang returned to him escorted by members of the Wang family she was there to receive them and play hostess at the small informal celebration. She addressed Miss Wang's brother and sister-in-law as "Brother" and "Sister-in-law". She apologized for the dinner. "It's difficult for us to get a good cook, living so far away from the market. Terribly inconvenient. Else I would have made him fetch back your young lady long ago. Of course she ought to come and live here. One can't be staying with parents all the time." Miss Wang did not speak, since she was almost a bride.No agreement had been reached as to the mode of address between the two women, who were understood to be of equal status. They were merely referred to as "That of the House of Fan" and "That of the House of Wang" behind each other's back.Not long afterward an elder of Luo's clan spoke to him. "I see no reason why you shouldn't ask your first wife to come back. It would only be fair." Luo could not think of any valid objection either. He went down to the country where she was living with her family, and brought her back to the rose-covered little house by the lake.Both of his ex-wives were much richer than he was after the divorce settlements. But they never helped him out, no matter what straits he got into from providing for three women and their squabbling servants and later their children. He could not really blame them, taking everything into consideration. He would not have minded it so much if "That of the House of Fan" did not taunt him continually about the others' lack of feeling for him.And now that he had lived down the scandal and ridicule, people envied him his yan fu, glamorous blessings - extraordinary in an age that was at least nominally monogamous, for it was already 1936 - living with three wives in a rose-covered little house by the lake. On the rare occasions when he tried to tell somebody he was unhappy, the listener would guffaw. "Anyhow," the friend would say, "there are four of you - just right for a nice game of mahjong."Epilogue: Days and Nights of ChinaIN THE DAYS BETWEEN AUTUMN and winter last year, I went every day to buy vegetables. Twice, I was able to write a poem on the way to market, which left me both surprised and delighted. The first came when I saw the leaves falling from a French plane tree. One of the leaves fell very very slowly, holding its strangely graceful pose all the way down to the ground. I stood still to watch, but before it had touched down, I moved on so that I wouldn't seem to be staring blankly in the same place for so long. As I walked away, I turned back for one final glance. Afterward, I wrote this:The big yellow leaf tumbles downslowly, passing by the breezeby the pale green skyby the knifelike rays of the sunand the dusty dreams of yellow-gray apartment buildings. As it falls toward the middle of the road you can see that it means to kissits own shadow.Its shadow on the groundreaches out in welcome, reaches outand seems also to drift to the side. The leaf moves as slowly as can be, feigning a middle-aged nonchalance, but as soon as it hits the grounda hand baked gold by the season carefully palms its little black shadow as if catching a cricket: "Oh, here you are!"In the autumn sunon the cement groundthey sleep quietly togetherthe leaf and its love.Another time, I went to the vegetable market when it was already winter-time. The sun was dazzlingly bright, but there was a damp, clean smell in the air like freshly washed laundry hanging in a neat array from a bamboo pole. The colors and patterns of the padded cotton gowns of two children wobbling somewhere around my feet had a certain similarity: one was the color of salted vegetables, the other of soy pickles, and both were covered with a deep, dark oily stain formed of innumerable smaller stains across the front, resembling the proverbial embroidered sack in which Guan Gong, the god of war, keeps his beard below his chin. There was another child, cradled in someone's arms, clad in a peach-red fake serge padded gown. That precious splash of color was cradled between the accumulated dirt and grime of a whole winter and seemed all the more poignant because of the filth, like a lotus blossom rising above the muck. As for the blue of blue cotton cloth: that is our national color. Most of the blue cotton shirts you see people wearing on the streets have been mended so many times that they are a patchwork of light and shade, as if they had all been rinsed by t6e rain, leaving an eye-opening bluish green. Our China has always been a nation of patches. Even our sky was patched together by the goddess Nüwa.A tangerine seller puts down his carrying baskets to take a rest on the side of the road, his arms crossed in front of him as he leisurely watches the passing sights, the whites of his eyes clearly outlined by the contours of his flat, round face. But, in the split second after I pass by, he lifts his head abruptly, his lips split into a gigantic circle, and his chant seems to reach for the skies: "Two for a hundred silver dollars! Two for a hundred silver dollars! Come on, fellows! I'm practically giving them away!" I often hear his song from upstairs, and yet I'm still startled out of my wits, for how could it be coming from this man? The sound is so huge, and yet just seconds earlierhe was standing and gazing quietly at the world around him. Now, he's holding his head up at an angle, his face beaming roundly like a full moon as he shouts merrily to the street, just like the Chinese in Sapajou's cartoons.1 The Chinese in foreigners' cartoons are always carefree, crafty, and lovably capable of laughing off the bitterness of their lives, so much so that it almost seems a pleasure to be swindled out of a couple extra dollars by them. And when you think about it, the delightful atmosphere of such cartoons is quite heartbreaking.There is a Taoist monk who walks the streets begging for alms, clad in a great adept's cloak made of faded black cloth. His hair is worn in a little gray coil on the crown of his head, not unlike the massed curls of a stylish modern woman. With his squinty eyes and hair pulled back across his temples, his sallow face has something of the look of an embittered woman who's fallen on hard times. It is difficult to tell how old he might he, but because of malnutrition, his body is tall and gaunt, seemingly stuck forever in the lanky frame of a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old. He holds a length of bam-boo at an angle, beating out a slow rhythm with a mallet: "Tock . . . tock . . . tock." This, too, is a kind of clock, but one that measures a different sort of time: the time of sunlight slanting inch by inch across a lonely and ancient temple in the mountains. Time is like space: there are areas that are worth money as well as vast stretches of wasteland. Don't tell me that "time is worth more than gold." There are those who would sell their entire lives for a bowl of rice and find no takers. (They would even sell their next life, if they could, in the form of their children's and grandchildren's prospects for the future.) This Taoist monk has brought their worthless spare time into the high-speed bustle of the metropolis. Around him is a riotous profusion of advertisements, store fronts, the honking of automobile horns. He is the fabled dreamer of the dream of yellow millet, but he has awoken from his nap without actually having had the dream-and feels an altogether different kind of emptiness.2 The Taoist walks over to the door of a hardware store and prostrates himself, but naturally they have nothing to give him, so he merely makes a kowtow to no one in particular. Having clambered back1 Sapajou (the pen name of Georgii Avksent'ievich Sapojnikoff) was a White Russian refugee who served as a cartoonist for the North China Daily News in Shanghai from the late 1920s until the 1940s.2A Taoist parable in which a man lives an entire lifetime—brimming with intrigue, romance, worldly success, and failure-only to find upon awaking that it was all merely a dream, whose decades corresponded in the mortal world to the time it takes to cook a pot of yellow millet porridge.up to his feet, the "tock . . tack. . . tack' resumes, and he crosses over to the cigarette stand next door and once again "makes obeisance to the earthly dust," kowtowing crookedly, his movements like the slow ooze of black water or the lazy bloom of a black chrysanthemum flower. To watch him is to feel that the dust of this world is piling ever higher, to know that not only will hopes turn to ash but anything and everything one touches will ultimately crumble to nothingness. I am rather carried away by this sentiment until I realize that if I continue to follow in his wake, he might ask me for alms as well. And with that, I hurry away.The shopping basket of a servant woman coming back from market is full of coils of silver vermicelli noodles, like the unkempt hair of an old woman. There is another woman contentedly holding a crimson-lacquered tray piled with "longevity noodles" that are ingeniously folded into different layers, each suspended above the other. The bundle of noodles at the top is tied at the end with a peach-red strip of paper, like the red ribbon at the end of a little girl's ponytail. The pale rice-colored tresses dangle below, each strand as thick as a little snake.Then there is the young girl who walks past holding a lidded wok. The handles on either side of the wok are threaded with blue cloth so that it is easier to carry. The indigo-colored strips of cloth look dirty but somehow make you feel that she shares an intimate bond with the wok, that "the heart connects to the hands, and the hands connect to the heart."The hands of the apprentice in the butcher shop are swollen with cold. If your glance darts toward。

张爱玲 Eileen Chang 英文介绍

This time also is Zhang's golden time of her writing career.
In November 1944,Hu seperated with Zhang ailing. After went to Wuhan soon, he quickly fell in love with a 17 years old nurse Zhou XunDe in Hanyang Hospital. Besides that Hu has all eight lovers . The last one is named She Aizhen, who companies Hu till death.
• 低低到尘埃里，但她心里是欢喜的，从尘埃里
• 开出花来.)
• This year, Hu was 38 years old, and Zhang Ailing 24 years old.
• 【Fell in love】
• Hu understands Zhang Ailing, understands her noble family background of elegant and her childhood misfortune because of the generation of the thought of relished. Only a "know", is perhaps the biggest reason for Zhang Ailing falling in love with him.
well-known saying
1.于千万人之中，遇见你要遇见的人。于千万年之中，时间无涯的荒野里，没有
一步，也没有迟一步，遇上了也只能轻轻地说一句：你也在这里吗？ 2.我要你知道，在这个世界上总有一个人是等着你的，不管在什么时候，

张爱玲的故事英语作文高中

张爱玲的故事英语作文高中英文：Growing up, I was always fascinated by the works of Zhang Ailing, also known as Eileen Chang. Her stories were filled with complex characters and intricate plots that captivated me from the very first page. One of her most famous works, "Love in a Fallen City," left a lasting impression on me with its portrayal of love and longing in a rapidly changing society.Zhang Ailing's writing style is both elegant and poignant, and her ability to convey the emotions and struggles of her characters is truly remarkable. In "Love in a Fallen City," she paints a vivid picture of the challenges faced by women in traditional Chinese society, while also exploring the complexities of love and relationships. The way she weaves together the personal and the political in her stories is truly masterful.One of the aspects of Zhang Ailing's writing that Ifind particularly compelling is her use of symbolism and metaphor. In "Love in a Fallen City," for example, the crumbling city serves as a powerful metaphor for the disintegration of traditional values and the upheaval of social norms. This use of symbolism adds layers of depth to her storytelling and allows readers to engage with her work on a deeper level.In addition to her literary talents, Zhang Ailing's own life story is also quite fascinating. Her experiencesliving through the tumultuous periods of Chinese history,as well as her own personal struggles, undoubtedly influenced her writing in profound ways. It's inspiring to see how she was able to channel her own experiences into such timeless and impactful stories.中文：张爱玲的作品总是让我着迷，她的小说中充满了复杂的人物和错综复杂的情节，从第一页开始就吸引了我。