Chapter 4 third chapter

The hardest part of rice field management is the 40 days from planting and irrigation to when the rice seedlings stand upright on the water.These forty days are called the "seedling preservation period". After the "seedling preservation period", all thirteen people were relieved.The more than 200 mu of paddy fields each of us manages have completely sprouted; the more than 3,000 mu of paddy fields are completely green.But the labor camp did not send some of us back.Captain Wang, who is familiar with manual agricultural labor, knows that the leisure of the field management staff in the later period is just compensation for the hard work of the 40 days in the previous period.What's more, at this time, there was a steady stream of sending people to the labor reform team from outside, which made the labor reform team overwhelmed. The "Cultural Revolution" created a world-record crime rate, and the labor reform authorities have to worry about the board and lodging of the criminals sent in batches every day, so why rush to transfer us field managers back to the cell?

Tanzi, who went back to pick a meal, said that he met a prisoner who had just been escorted in the vegetable field and told him, "The court judgment notice posted on the wall outside has completely blocked the street!" Oh my God!Fortunately, I came in early, otherwise I would have been arrested at this time. If you come in early, you can get out early!The thirteen of us were very happy, thinking that this was the grace of fate for us. After the "seedling preservation period", the entire Loess Plateau was suddenly covered with a layer of verdant green.Everywhere is green: green mountains, green water, green fields, and even the space seems to be flowing with some kind of fragrant and intoxicating wild juice. Cranes and birds dance happily regardless of the wooden sign of "no entry" or the barbed wire fence. Come and spread their silver-grey wings on the green water.The long-legged egret strolled in the paddy fields, its pensive appearance was very similar to our Captain Wang.The wild ducks built their nests among the reeds growing beside the gutter, and worked hard to manage their small families.The bright sun shines on the feathers of the waterfowl, and their cheerful singing echoes in the vast fields.The wild wind rolled over the rice seedlings, and the rice seedlings quietly sucked the nutrients from the land.Nature is so full that it doesn't need anything, but man longs for love.

Captain Wang often came to the paddy field area, walking around the field ridge alone with his hands behind his back, checking our work.He was wearing a loose army green uniform, bouncing and flapping like a toy on a spring.After all the seedlings have emerged, we are not afraid of his inspection, nor will we follow behind him.We went about our business as usual, catching our fish, catching our wild ducks, or lying in the shade of the willows mending the prison clothes that could never be mended.Until one time he finished reading all over the field, came up to me and told me: "Tell those whores to clean up: the water inlet and drain outlet should be tightened, and the thin fields should be added. The brigade will come in a day or two Weeding."

We just got busy. In the morning of the third day, after we had finished eating the rice that the duty officer had brought back, and were washing the rice bowl, a member of the field management team who had gone out to pour water excitedly ran into the adobe room and shouted: "The brigade is coming!" Everyone seemed excited, including me.There were no relatives or friends of mine in the brigade, but the group in black prison uniforms seemed to have a strong attraction for me.Before I was transferred to the field management team, I lived there every day and night. The rigid rules and regulations formed this group of people to have common habits, common life rules, and slang that only we can understand.I also put down the bowls and chopsticks inexplicably, and ran out the door with everyone.

Long time no see, Team! The morning mist has not completely dissipated.The sun had just risen, and the orange rays could only reach the tops of the tallest branches of the willows and poplars; the night still remained on the ground.Looking north of Douqu Dam from behind the soil where we were standing, a ghostly gray figure quickly moved towards us.Then, they gradually approached.The gray turned to black, and their faces became clear.Serious, frivolous, self-denying, dissolute, cheerful, gloomy, kind, evil, handsome, and ugly faces flashed past the canal along with the sound of chaotic footsteps, making people It's amazing what kind of magic can collect all kinds of absolutely different people here, and at the same time stamp all the faces with a mark-"Laogai pattern".It cannot be said that their complexions are not good, because the food is good during the busy farming season.But every face bears the bleakness of an ascetic monk and the suspicion of an old litigator.In particular, the nasolabial folds on both sides of the nose and the creases at the corners of the mouth are connected together, forming a taboo in physiognomy, the so-called "snake pattern entrance".This painful "reform through labor" that cannot be found on the faces of ordinary citizens not only reveals his current situation, but also dooms him to never get rid of his dark psychology for the rest of his life.

The field management team members stood solemnly on the mound, without ridicule or sense of superiority, and all looked sadly at the passing team.Not in the team, but outside the team, we feel oppressed and feel the misery of our fate.How did this happen?Didn't we all rush out of the house to see the "big team"?Yes.But we can't understand the feelings of the fellow villagers on Zhuangzi to see the prisoners in the labor camp.What they see next to them is another world, but what we see next to them is ourselves.And this black group also has such a function, that is, once it swallows you, you will completely melt into it and lose yourself.

To see your own face clearly, you must keep a certain distance from the mirror. "Fuck! Go on." Someone on the mound threw a lit cigarette over the ditch.The guards glanced at us but didn't interfere.A reform-through-labor prisoner walking on the canal dam hastily picked it up, put it into his mouth and breathed greedily twice, and passed it to others like a baton.Although they all gave us pocket money, the people in the brigade did not have the convenience of free criminals to buy things. Afterwards, the field management personnel threw the unfinished tomatoes and cucumbers on the canal one after another.The thrower and the catcher were as cheerful as players on an American football team.In the dissipating morning mist, there was an infectious laughter.Some people think that the prisoners in the labor camp are depressed all day long.No!How can you survive a long sentence like that?Gotta find something to have fun with.The line is a little messed up.And the guards just yelled: "Hurry up! Come on!" To the laughing man, how could they smash it with the butt of a gun?Perhaps, they also suspect that these people are really guilty.

How like a comrade in the army, I thought.But who is the enemy of this force?have no idea!No one can answer.Although these people have long been judged as "class enemies". The team is over.The light dust on the canal dam slowly fell.The team at the front of the team had already arrived at the edge of the field, and was ready to take off their shoes and go to the field under the urging of Captain Wang.The field management team members had finished throwing cucumbers and tomatoes, but they didn't seem to be having fun yet, with mischievous smiles on their faces.I should have cried, but I laughed instead. Is this the weakness of human nature or the strength of human nature?Suddenly, a member of the field management team pointed to the north again.Turning around and shouting happily:

"and also!" The prisoner who had fed the cow to death stretched his neck to look at it, smiled slyly and said: "It's the women's team!" Yes, the women's team. But, from a distance, you can't tell they are women at all.The prisoner who fed the cow to death must have smelled it.Their prison uniforms are also black, and their hair is all cut very short.Before 1966, when I was first sent to the labor camp, I worked in the grain field, and I could tell the difference between men and women from a distance, because at that time, female prisoners were still allowed to wear braids.After 1966, the wind of "breaking the four olds" outside also suddenly blew into the labor reform team, and all female prisoners, young and old, had their braids shaved off overnight.There is a female free prisoner in Caidi. She is a 60-year-old witch who dances the Great God. She was also cut off with only a few white hairs in a bun. She was sentenced to seven years. She has no complaints and thanks the government for her kindness: "I want to burn incense for Chairman Mao when I go out!" But when she cut her hair, she cried loudly and shouted hoarsely: "Sin! Sin! The revolution is coming to my scorched hair!" She hummed a strange song, and no one could understand what she was singing.She died a month later.It was I, the team leader, who took four male prisoners to bury her.That day, we followed Captain Wang, who had a gloomy face, into the cell of the female prisoners, and lifted up the sorceress in front of a group of trembling female prisoners.The four male prisoners couldn't lift it steadily, the door panel swayed, and a piece of newspaper covering her face fluttered to the muddy floor.I saw her shriveled, absent-minded eyes glaring at the sky.I rubbed her eyelids with my index finger and middle finger, but I didn't expect that the eyelids of this goddess who had turned into a decayed stick were still elastic.I rubbed her eyelids down, and it slowly retracted like a snail's soft body: "What are you doing? Why do you tell me to close my eyes? I'm going to open them wide!" Beside the dead, the harsh death , the eternal mystery that everyone can't figure out, suppressed my curiosity, and I didn't dare to look sideways at the female prisoner and the cell of the female prisoner, although this is an extremely rare opportunity to visit.It was just that when the witch opened her eyes again, she heard a group of women screaming and sobbing, as well as a few clanking metal bumps. I don't know which female prisoner knocked over the rice bowl in fright.

That's how we put a half-eyed old woman into the "crisp skin" of the poplar nails. "Crispy skin", which is a slang term for reform-through-labor prisoners, is much more vivid than the "thin coffin" image created by literati.However, this witch was lucky. The prisoner who died in 1960 didn't even have "crisp skin", just a mat made of reeds.At that time, I was almost swept out by Kang. Female prisoners and male prisoners are absolutely segregated.The isolation made us male prisoners almost forget that there were female prisoners beside us.However, after all, a farm is a farm, labor is a kind of labor, and roads are a kind of road. They are indeed all around us. Some young criminals can smell where the female criminals are today with their noses like male dogs. The work, which road they have passed, and even what happened to their women's team today.A rubber band dropped on the dirt road, which is used by female prisoners to wear on their wrists as silver bracelets, is an ornament for female prisoners who have been deprived of all worldly pleasures, so it has become a symbol of women in the labor camp.This rubber band can arouse the imagination of the male prisoner and make up a story. Also, the small reform shoes, the almost childlike thin footprints, the shallow small footprints pressed on the soil, and the small footprints that are still there. The crumbs of steamed buns and potato peels in the grass (female prisoners generally eat less than the male prisoners), will be like an elegant forest path in the garden, becoming a road leading to the union of the sexes.Of course, this kind of union can only be spiritual, just like a dream in the dark night, unless both parties are free criminals, it will never become a reality.

After the roll call at night, when everyone returned to the cell, before everyone fell asleep, the old prisoner simmered by the fire and would tell the newcomers a lot of love affairs under the black prison clothes.The old labor reform prisoners are the Homer of the labor reform team, and the history of the farm is passed down through their mouths.According to them, women are more difficult than men in the labor camps. Their fragile nerves cannot bear loneliness, and they always seek caress, support and protection.Some female prisoners flirted with the guards through the bars: "Squad leader, does your little mouse want to suck water?" As long as there is an opportunity—and opportunities are always found by people, it will not fall from the sky, the diameter of The 5mm wire can't stop their impulsiveness, and some of them will rush into the arms of male free prisoners. Now, here they are. The morning fog has completely dissipated.The orange sunlight moved to the canal dam, and the messy footprints on the dust seemed to be countless strange patterns.This is really a ridiculous and fraught path.There will be no wind in foggy weather, and the willow trees hang down and remain motionless; the reeds and ice grass by the canal proudly poke towards the sky, as if they don't care about these female prisoners.The female prisoners walked briskly across our hill, accepting our review with a challenging attitude.Yes, their footsteps were fairly brisk, and it could be seen that some female prisoners were deliberately coy, because the female prisoners who went to Daejeon were all young people. However, if you don't look at their gait, if they are as unmoving as reeds and ice grass, who can believe that they are women?It depicts Maslova walking on the Vladimir Avenue to Siberia, as if she was wearing a skirt; I can’t remember whether it was white or gray, but it was a skirt with a turban on her head.However, the female prisoners here are wearing black prison uniforms that are exactly the same as the male prisoners.Loose, sack-like tops and trousers cover up their feminine features.They have become animals that are neither male nor female, so they are uglier than male prisoners. What are they?Are they women? "Woman" is just a concept that is customarily imposed on them.They have no waist, no breasts, no buttocks; although there are no "labor lines" on each of their black and red, bloated faces, they show a kind of roughness like a female animal.Many female prisoners nibbled immature sunflower seeds as they walked and squinted at us like dead fish, as if they were very complacent, and it seemed that this was their way of coquettishness.The skin of the sunflower seeds sticks around the mouth like a ring of white foam.My stomach suddenly convulsed, flooding with sour water.I turned my face away.I can't watch anymore.They will destroy my yearning for women, my interest in women, and even my hope in life.If I think of the women I once loved and the artistic images of women I once admired will look like this when they are caught here, then what else in this world is worth nostalgic for? I turned my back to the canal and coughed. Oh my God!my mother! ... I reluctantly thought that the first ape-man to cover his lower part with leaves or animal skin must be a female ape...