Chapter 9 Section III 2

I suddenly discovered that I was not ignorant of the major I was studying, that is to say, my memory had not been completely lost—the place where I was was by the long river.This river is the waterway connecting the Summer Palace and the inner city of Beijing. Lafayette often took a painting boat to the Summer Palace to spend summer.The so-called Lafayette is just a yellow-faced old woman.She was honored because one day in the past a man, the Emperor himself, dragged a limp, ejaculated cock off of her.What we're talking about is history, and this limp cock is the umbilical cord of history.The emperor must have no common sense when he fucked Lafayette and when Lafayette was being fucked: this is not making love between men and women, but making history.I am very interested in this matter, and I will discuss it when I have a chance... Because the old woman needs a river to carry her to the Summer Palace, and there is a temple to rest on the way, so there is this river, this temple.A hundred years later, this temple, as an ancient building, is under the management of the cultural relics department; and we, as a cultural and historical unit, borrowed this courtyard and stayed in it with a little old relationship.It all had something to do with that limp cock.Lafayette made a debilitating contribution to that cock, and it goes down in history.As a student of history, this congested black water river everywhere, the garbage floating on the river, the dim yellow glazed tiles with peeling glaze on the gate of the temple, and the weeds hanging from the eaves all remind me of Lafayette. The weakened umbilical cord of history.True, there was a moment when the river was just dredged; there was a moment when the monastery was renewed;But none of these moments are history.History is tired, limp, and brown, as yellow as old paper.Obviously, what I am talking about now is by no means an idea that is unique to today, but it is still novel when I think about it now.

Now we finally come to why the men in Fenghuangzhai hang up their glans: this is a kind of etiquette, just like those sailing warships in the seventeenth century firing salutes.One ship expresses friendship to the other ship and let go of the loaded guns, which means: I will not use these guns to hit you.The man on the red soil hillside hung up his glans, intending to show the other party, I will not use this thing to invade you.Of course, a dropped cannon could be reloaded, and a hoisted glans could be lowered, but always after showing courtesy.Because there is an ancient atmosphere here, so the men are also sloppy with the head of their own penis, hanging it casually; it just stays there lifeless, like an old catfish that has been dead for many years and soaked in formalin .

Because he is from a big place, Xue Song is very particular about "reclining equipment". Every night, he cuts a section of young bamboo, breaks it into a bunch of bamboo sticks and soaks it in the pond to make it softer.This thing is for one-time use, and when you take it off when you pee or have sex, you have to replace it with a new one.When he was at home, Xue Song always held the bundle of bamboo sticks, never leaving his hands when he walked or sat.When going out, he hung it on the iron gun.Hanging with this kind of strips, it looks somewhat angry, although it still looks like an old catfish, but the time after death is shorter.Later, he used this bundle of bamboo sticks to whip the little prostitute's back.After a long day, there were only three or four bamboo sticks left, and it was extremely painful to pull.The girl was hit, raised her head from the tree trunk in convulsions, and said: Xue Song!How cruel are you.This made Xue Song feel embarrassed, and almost threw away the bamboo sticks, and went to pick up a willow stick used by others.But after another thought: I continued to smoke with the bamboo stick for her benefit.After another three or four pumps, she stepped aside and let her go to someone else.

The girl stood facing the big tree, with her arms around the big tree, her wrists tied together with toilet equipment.This toilet tool is a handful of green reeds twisted into a rope shape; it is fine for binding women and children, but not for men.Under the big tree, there are tree roots exposed to the ground, as well as moss and fine mud.The girl paced over tree roots and moss, pretending to be exercising on an exercise bike or a treadmill.Xue Song looked at all this, thought deeply, and suddenly pumped his leg with a bamboo stick—although the pain was severe, it was not unbearable.Then he was relieved and felt that he was not too much.It would be too much if I said that Xue Song was conceiving a military thesis titled "Some Experiences of Personnel Who Violated Criminal Laws and Disciplines Using Criminal Responsibilities"; but he was indeed thinking about something; How should I write "Chinese Men's Sexual Organ Examination"...

Later, a soldier reported: "It's over!"What are you doing?Xue Song said: Let her go!People let her go, and she has two green rings on her wrist.She wanted to wash off in the mountain stream, but others persuaded her: don't go.With water and dew, the wound will fester.In fact, there is no wound, but I always say this to show my concern.So she dipped the dew on the leaves with a linen handkerchief and wiped off the green marks on her wrists.Her thighs, stomach, and breasts were now covered with moss and bark; a soldier pulled a handful of cottonwort from the ground and wiped them off for her.She quickly took the grass and said: Thank you.do it yourself.All in all, it was quite a busy time, the girl being the center of it, before she went to her seat by the fire.This busyness has a touch of familiarity.At this moment, Xue Song sat alone by the fire, feeling the loneliness of being a general and leader, and thought silently: I beat her up again.Thus, this chapter has a gray start.Then she will be even more gray.That night, Xue Song beat the little prostitute, but he was thinking about the old prostitute.With every twitch he turned his head to the old whore's cabin, trying to see if she was sitting behind the paper door, looking through the crack of the door; but because it was dark and there were no lights in the house, he stared at her. His eyes were almost blind, and he still couldn't see anything.