--- title: "Books at the Bedside, Wine at the Foot, and a Woman in Bed" title_zh: "床头有书，床尾有酒，床上有女人" type: "post" published_at: "2026-08-01T08:00:00.000Z" tags: ["生活日志", "纪念", "真诚", "幽默", "蔡澜", "Life Notes", "Memory", "Sincerity"] canonical: "https://shadowgege.com/#notes" --- # Books at the Bedside, Wine at the Foot, and a Woman in Bed > 床头有书，床尾有酒，床上有女人 I recently came across a line online: “Books at the bedside, wine at the foot, and a woman in bed.” People attribute it to Chua Lam. I looked it up and found no reliable source, but it still reads like a nine-word summary of the life he seemed to pursue. I have never studied Chua Lam closely; I have only seen fragments of his interviews online. Yet whenever he appears, I think of my late brother-in-law, Wang Yusheng. They looked a little alike—although I insist my brother-in-law was better-looking when young—and shared something increasingly rare: they were funny, unpretentious, and never in a hurry to lecture anyone. I did not know my brother-in-law for very long. He and my sister spent most of their time in the United States and moved back to China for a while around 2017. I met him when I visited my sister in Shanghai. Strictly speaking, he was not yet officially my brother-in-law; they had not registered their marriage. My first impression was simple: a kind, entertaining older guy. He was older than my sister and had diabetes. His health was not great, but his mind was quick. He liked telling me stories about leaving for America early, making money, and seeing the world. He sounded like a former wanderer, yet he was serious about my sister. Perhaps even a wanderer eventually learns where home is. One year I went to Shanghai on business with a close friend. We took my sister and brother-in-law out for Japanese food, then the four of us walked to a bus stop. My friend and I already had another plan for the evening: KTV. Before we parted, my brother-in-law quietly sent me the WeChat contact of a KTV mama-san named A-Cai. My sister said, “We’re heading home. You two should get some rest early.” They walked toward the bus stop hand in hand. Then my brother-in-law turned around, grinned at us, and said under his breath, “Go find A-Cai!” My friend and I grinned back. Years later, when he heard that my brother-in-law had died, he said only, “He was a good man.” That was accurate. My brother-in-law had none of that patronizing, father-knows-best air. He did not preach or pretend to be solemn. He treated his younger brother-in-law like a friend and made people feel at ease. Men like that now seem oddly rare. Simply being unpretentious has somehow become a premium feature. The internet probably deserves some blame. A man once compared himself with classmates and colleagues. Now he opens an app and sees an endless parade of luxury cars, elite universities, and other people’s beautiful lives. A regular bachelor’s degree dropped into a pool full of top Chinese and global universities begins to look rather plain, so everyone renovates the résumé. The social feed that once documented life gradually turns into a property developer’s show apartment. I am not against pretending. Pretend if you like; just know that you are doing it and be willing to pay the price when someone notices. I pretend too, and I once had a successful case. In 2023, I visited the University of Tokyo and posted a set of photos with the caption, “Always nice to return to my alma mater.” Later, I met a beautiful woman at a bar. The second time we went out, she was noticeably warmer and said, “No wonder your style feels so Japanese—you studied in Japan.” I wanted to laugh, but I did not correct her. She did not ask for details. At that moment, truth was beside the point; the important thing was that the performance had worked. That night she got drunk and insisted on coming home with me. I refused—not because I had suddenly become virtuous, but because my girlfriend was at home. The refusal only made her more interested. She thought she was not good enough for me, and I ended up consoling her. Once people receive positive feedback, they are quick to mistake an accident for a method. From then on, whenever I visited a city with a famous university, I took photos and wrote, “Always nice to return to my alma mater.” Soon my feed included the University of Tokyo, Stanford, and Cambridge. When someone seriously asked, “You studied at all these universities?” I replied, “Different schools for my bachelor’s and master’s.” Eventually it became nothing more than a running joke. If a woman I like asks now, I tell her the truth: I was never good at school, so as an adult I collect honorary alumni photos wherever I travel. Most people find that more interesting than an elite degree. Sincerity, then, is often the real finishing move. Pretend if you must, but do not disappear inside the performance. Knowing that you are acting is comedy; acting so long that you believe it becomes a problem. If no one has exposed you yet, it may not mean you are brilliant. Perhaps you have not met an expert—or perhaps everyone else is simply too polite. What made my brother-in-law lovable was that he never packaged himself as a saint. He had seen the world and kept his appetites; he understood people without becoming patronizing. There can be books by the bed, wine at its foot, and a few jokes from life that do not belong on a résumé. I hope the world gives us more people like him: clever, funny, and free of false solemnity. For my brother-in-law in heaven. Miss you. --- ## 中文 最近在网上看到一句话：“床头有书，床尾有酒，床上有女人。” 有人说它出自蔡澜。我查了一下，出处并不可靠，但它确实很像给蔡澜一生写的九字评语。 我没有认真研究过蔡澜，只偶尔刷到几段访谈。每次看到他，我都会想起去世的姐夫王宇生。除了长得有点像——我坚持认为姐夫年轻时更帅——他们身上还有一种现在很稀缺的东西：有趣，不装，也不急着教育别人。 我和姐夫认识的时间并不长。姐姐和他大部分时间住在美国，2017 年前后回国住过一阵。我去上海找姐姐，才第一次见到他。准确地说，那时他还不算正式的姐夫，因为他们尚未领证。 我的第一印象是：这是个和蔼、好玩的大叔。姐夫比姐姐年长，有糖尿病，身体不算好，但脑子很快。他常给我讲年轻时在美国闯荡、赚钱和见世面的故事。听上去像个浪子，待姐姐却很认真，大概是浪子终于知道家在哪里。 有一年我去上海出差，还带着一个好兄弟。晚上我们请姐姐和姐夫吃日料，饭后四个人一路散步到公交站。我和兄弟其实另有安排：去 KTV。 临别前，姐夫悄悄给我推了一个 KTV 妈咪的微信，名字叫“阿蔡”。 姐姐说：“我们先回去了，你们也早点休息。” 两人牵着手往公交站走。姐夫忽然回头，冲我们一笑，压低声音说：“去找阿蔡啊！” 我和兄弟会心一笑。多年后，他得知姐夫去世，只感叹了一句：“姐夫是个好人啊。” 这评价很准确。姐夫没有“爹味”，不说教，也不假正经。他能把小舅子处成兄弟，让人舒服。现在，这类人反而越来越少。一个男人如果能做到“不装”，竟然已经像是高级配置。 互联网大概对此负有一点责任。以前一个男人只需要和同学、同事做小范围比较；现在打开短视频，满屏都是别人的豪车、名校和美好生活。普通本科生把简历投进一个挤满 985、211 和世界名校的池子里，难免想精装修一下。于是朋友圈从记录生活，慢慢变成了售楼处的样板间。 我并不反对装。装可以，重要的是知道自己在装，也接受被拆穿的代价。我也装，而且有过成功案例。 2023 年去东京，我在东京大学拍了一组照片，发朋友圈时配文：“常回母校看看。”后来在酒吧认识一个漂亮女生，第二次见面，她明显热情了不少，还说：“难怪你风格这么日式，原来在日本上过学。” 我很想笑，但没有解释。她也没追问。那一刻，真相并不重要，重点是我装成功了。那晚她喝多了，坚持要和我回去，我拒绝了。倒不是我忽然品德高尚，只因为家里还有女朋友。这个拒绝反而让她更上头，以为自己配不上我，我还安慰了半天。 人一旦收到正反馈，就很容易把偶然当方法论。后来每到一个地方，只要有知名大学，我都会拍照发一句“常回母校看看”。于是我的朋友圈里陆续有了东京大学、斯坦福大学和剑桥大学。有人认真问：“你在这么多大学都读过？”我就回答：“本科、硕士不同学校。” 后来这件事纯属恶搞。如果喜欢的女生再问，我会直接告诉她：因为小时候学习不好，长大后每到名校，就补拍一张校友照。她们通常觉得这比名校学历更有趣。 所以，真诚常常才是必杀技。装可以，但别把自己装进去。知道自己在演，是幽默；演久了连自己都信，就比较麻烦。至于还没被拆穿，多半不是技术高，只是没遇到高手，或者别人素质比较高。 姐夫可爱的地方，正是他从不把自己包装成圣人。他见过世面，也保留欲望；懂得人情，却没有爹味。床头可以有书，床尾可以有酒，人生也可以有一些不方便写进简历的笑话。 希望身边像姐夫这样聪明、有趣、不假正经的人多一点。 谨以此文献给天堂的姐夫。 Miss you.