Text by Zhou Zhitao Photos by Zou Bin

With the rapid development of the economy and culture in China, countless “technical jobs,” which were admired in the past, have been disappearing. Pen repair is one of them.

For a passage of words, to write or type them down might just be a matter of choice. However, behind numerous such choices are hidden the fate for pens, ink, and keyboards.

Not long ago, the group depicted by flowery languages likewen zhi bin bin“gentle and refined in manner” andqi yu xuan ang“impressive in appearance” always wore eye-catching pens in their clean coat pockets. Nowadays, however, pens have gradually fallen out of our sight. In this situation, pen repair cannot help but accept its fate of being belittled.

Unlike many other pen repairmen, Wang Junnian has chosen to persist in his trade.

Let us have a look at Building 288, Jiefang Road, Wuhan, a city in Central China. From here you can go through a lane and find a workroom in a small partitioned house behind the stairs. Relying on the workmanship passed down by his father, the owner Wang Junnian has kept to the workmanship of pen repair for several decades. Along this street there were several other similar handicraft shops, but now they are lost to sight.

隨著中國經(jīng)濟和文化的發(fā)展，無數(shù)曾被人們高看一眼的“技術活”正在作古，鋼筆修理就是其中之一。

對文字而言，書寫或者輸入只是不同工具的選擇，但對于筆墨和鍵盤，卻是一次命運的安排。

曾幾何時，“文質(zhì)彬彬”“氣宇軒昂”這些辭藻所描寫的對象身上，少不了整潔上衣口袋里別一支顯眼的鋼筆的細節(jié)。如今，鋼筆已漸漸淡出人們的視野，鋼筆修理工也不得不接受被冷落的命運。

與眾多鋼筆修理工不同，汪俊年選擇了堅守。

鏡頭聚焦到中國中部城市武漢解放路288號門棟。從這里穿過一段小巷，一個工作間藏在樓梯后的小隔間。主人汪俊年，靠著父親的傳承，堅守著修鋼筆的手藝，一守就是幾十年。這條街上曾經(jīng)還有三五家這樣的手藝店，如今蹤影全無。

工作臺前，一手握住鋼筆，一手握住修理工具，汪俊年堅定的眼神凝視著指頭夾住的筆尖。鋼筆尖端的縫隙，窄得插不進一張刀片，這是墨水流向紙面的通道?？p隙寬一絲，字跡就粗一分；縫隙窄一線，字跡就細一分。

A customer has to wait outside the door since the shop is too small. 因店鋪太小，客人只能在門外等候。

Besides repairing pens, Mr. Wang also repairs zippers and glasses. 除了修鋼筆，汪師傅還修拉鏈和眼鏡。

看上去，修理鋼筆不過是對付幾個簡單的零件，但對汪俊年，足夠的耐心和細心卻要幾十年的功夫。他的堅守里，還有穿越時空的懷念。

Holding a pen in one hand and a tool in the other, Wang is firmly staring at the pen point clamped by his fingers behind the working table. The gap in the pen point is so narrow that you cannot insert a blade into it. From this gap ink flows to paper. The wider the gap the pen point has, the thicker the handwriting you have, and vice versa.

Pen repair seems to deal merely with several simple parts. For Wang Junnian, however, enough patience and care for this job has been formed through years of effort.

Additionally, his persistence is accompanied by his memories lingering over time and space.

This 63-year-old man wears a white beard on his face. In his toolkit lie many pen points of those disappearing pen brands such as “Hero,” “Parker,” “WingSung,” and “Golden Star.” While these pen points are still as glistening as they were in his father's hands 30 years ago, customers have less and less interest in them. Occasionally, his shop is visited by several old customers of his and his father's.

One yuan, two yuan, three yuan… such meager repair fees look more like a simple greeting. Spending some time smoking at the working table, Wang waits for customers to come. Regardless of their need to repair pens, glasses, zippers, umbrellas, and so on, this old man is ready to serve customers.

This narrow space is more a place of meditation than a workroom since Wang's retirement. In here he meditates and refines himself.

The pen parts were collected by Mr. Wang over the past decades. 幾十年時間積攢下來的維修配件。

(Translation: Cao Qing)

今年63歲的汪俊年，胡子早已刷白了他的腮頰，“英雄”“派克”“永生”“金星”……這些在歲月深處，日漸無從打撈起的鋼筆品牌，躺在汪俊年的工具箱里，還如30年前，在汪俊年的父親手中時那般閃亮，但漸漸地，問津者寥寥。偶爾有幾位老主顧和曾經(jīng)找汪俊年父親修過鋼筆的朋友，還會光顧一下他的生意。

一元錢、兩元錢、三元錢……修理費如今更像是一種簡單的問候。抽半天的時間，汪俊年在工作臺前點一支煙，等顧客上門，修鋼筆，或者眼鏡、拉鏈、雨傘，修什么都好。

這狹小的工作間，更像是汪俊年退休后的一個修煉場，他修的是他自己。

Mr. Wang waits for customers at the entrance to the corridor. 在樓道口等客人。