Chapter 2 Stars of Last Night in Bada Hutong

Back to the "dormitory", it was already four o'clock in the morning. When Mr. Wu's luxury Mercedes drove into Lily Garden, he once gave me a meaningful look.But nothing was asked. I didn't explain either.Such a temporary residence, of course, is not only something that can be exchanged for a singer's status. We said goodbye outside the garden gate, and I kissed him gently on the cheek, a standard good bye kiss.Such a kiss has no meaning, but it should not be underestimated, it is sometimes more ecstasy than a passionate kiss. It can be seen that Mr. Wu was immediately relieved of my ambiguous identity, and said softly: I will come to "Night Angel" to see you at night.

Listen to me sing "Black Sunday".I waved my hand and disappeared into the fence gate, leaving him with a skirt flying back. I have a slender figure from the back, especially in corset dresses, I know. Pulling the curtains aside, I saw the luxury Mercedes stop for a while before slowly driving away. This man is within my grasp. After removing my makeup, I turned on my computer and surfed the Internet. Several avatars flashed up on QQ at the same time to say hello to me.I answered them one by one, with a respectful and serious attitude. Maybe that's the only moment in the day when I'm happy, free, and truly alive.

I like the Internet because I like the mystery. Free because of mystery. Occasionally pour water on the BBS as well.Fan back.Elegant and serious like me. Or, that serious person is me. "There is a fish in the Northern Darkness. Its name is Kun. The size of Kun is unknown for thousands of miles. When it turns into a bird, its name is Peng. Its back is unknown for thousands of miles. It roars and flies, and its wings are like The clouds that hang from the sky. They are birds, and the sea will migrate to Nanming; those who are in Nanming are also Tianchi.” When writing fluently like this, the depression in my heart will disappear inch by inch, and what I am facing in a trance is not the computer screen, but the sea, floating clouds, waves, and reefs.

Strange rocks, wind and waves, my world is not only as big as "Night Angel". No wonder some people call chatting online "surfing".There is indeed the thrill of being proud of the world. The forum I often go to is called "Fate Beijing". It has been a whole year since I left Beijing. I miss the night market at Qianmen and the fragrance of books at Liulichang very much. Therefore, I greedily searched between the lines for the dusty dream of Beijing. A writer named "Great Wind Qixi" caught my attention. ——My net name is "Join and Scatter with the Wind", which fits somewhat meaningfully.

Gathering and Scattering with the Wind implies my surname and also symbolizes my destiny. A bit hypocritical. This hypocrisy makes me feel very young. Young and soft. Dafeng Qixi writes about the street news in the capital, very trivial and sharp, with narrative and discussion, rich in pictures and texts - old photos of the Maoer Hutong where Wanrong lived, the emotion of the new look of the old Dashilan store, The account of Bixia Yuanjun's grand incense meeting on the eighth day of April in Tianxian Temple, and the entertainment gossip of the stars in the capital... every bit of it is like a sweet spring dew, and it quenches my thirst for homesickness.

In an article titled "Book Publishing Fever by Stars in Beijing", he wrote: "A book by a star is literally a lively strip show, and it is a popular show like a bikini show. The people who write it and the people who watch it We are all eager to tear off the last three-inch cloth strip, although we all know exactly what is behind that cloth strip." The picture related to this document is a cover painting of a nude woman in a bikini, next to which is a small figure in a reader's hat desperately trying to uncover the page. I laughed out loud and followed up with the post: "Grandpa Qian Zhongshu compared Ms. Bao in a bikini to a 'partial truth', and the phenomenon that books published by celebrities far outsell books written by literati fully verifies that 'truth often in the hands of a few' this truth."

When I got off the assembly line, I heard a rooster crowing in the distance. Where I live, I can hear roosters crowing.One or two distant and long sounds in the dark night are not like announcing the dawn, but like dying. There is no sound of cars here, and the whole city is dead. Villa area, a place where lonely rich people live away from the hustle and bustle.Behind every ornate window is a sleepless woman waiting.Their man bought them this mansion, so they have a reason to stay out at night-tenderness and money can never coexist. Unless, of course, that man is a father.Although my father also refused to go home, he would be more generous with the money.People who ask for money are also confident, walking their dogs in the garden, and seeing the wives are mostly disapproving.

And the wives look down on lovers with unknown history. Lovers look down on mistresses. Mistresses look down on courtesans. Unfortunately, I'm that courtesan. A courtesan who lives in and out of mansions.Live in this high-rise today, and live in that villa tomorrow.None of them are my home. I'm just a guest, not a host. In fact, I can justifiably ask people for money, for example, from my mother. But I hate her, and the way she makes money.Although, now I am dirtier than her. Memories always come back in dreams. The unknowable background, the undefended night, the past is as old as clothes, and when it suddenly strikes, people are lost in an instant.

Pain in the heart, want to cry but no tears, the sorrow and joy of what was once obtained and finally lost collided, the separation and reunion in the middle, the wandering, the missing and the forgetting did not exist at all, so the memory was revived. At night, I dreamed that I held a knife and stabbed my mother's chest. There was no blood, and the feeling of the knife piercing into the flesh was dull and unreal. I longed for truth and blood, so I stabbed again and again, stabbing in and out desperately, frantically, without a drop of blood on the knife. A voice is cursing: "For generations...prostitutes...hate...never reborn..."

I howled and stabbed the hatred even harder. Blood was streaming from the mother's eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, but her chest was still intact.The place where the knife stabbed was still intact.She smiled coldly, didn't hide, didn't fight back, and didn't fall down. She will never fall.She is a wall in front of me, a snow field with no exit and no footprints. I can't escape. Then I dreamed of grandma, she was eating melon seeds. Her posture of eating melon seeds is timeless and elegant, becoming a freeze frame of life. Grandma and melon seeds are inseparable. Prostitutes and melon seeds are inseparable.

Grandma was a real prostitute——before liberation, Xiao Susan, the famous top oiran in the famous flower shop in Yanzhi Hutong, one of the famous Eight Hutongs in Qianmen, Beijing.The smoke looks charming, and the waist makes a living. She said: People in the world are nothing more than clients and prostitutes.The first-class clients visit the first-class prostitutes, and the last-class clients visit the last-class prostitutes.that is it. In Bada Hutong, the first-class brothels are called Qingyin Xiaoban, and they live in courtyard houses or small Western-style buildings. The girls live in embroidered pavilions hung with red and green silk. , there is no string of lights hanging on the courtyard door, and there is no red and green colored silk in the house, but the girls still hold their dignity; the third-class brothel is called the next place, and the interior decoration is getting more and more simple, which can no longer be called decoration. As long as there is a kang It's enough to "do business"; when it comes to fourth-class brothels, it will be even more severe, and they will be called local prostitutes, and they will be called small servants.In addition to this, there is also a half-closed door, also known as the hidden door, and the content is probably similar to the current hair salon with Seer. My grandma is the head of Qingyin's small class.Stretch out your hand for clothes, open your mouth for food, and enjoyed the treatment of a girl for several years, and then met my grandfather and calmly went ashore. Strange to say, the best way out for prostitutes is to be good.There seems to be a lot of prostitutes in the planting flower hall. The oiran and Xiao Susan are even legends in the Eight Great Hutongs. Everyone's story is a sensual excerpt. Grandma said: "There is a Saijinhua and a little Impatiens in Shaanxi alley, and they are very famous; but they are still not as good as our flower planting hall in Yanzhi Hutong. Why? Because every few years in the flower planting hall We must sing Yutangchun gracefully and send the girl to be good." When she said this, she winked and smiled, her brows were smug... I suspect my grandma misses her days as a prostitute. Who hasn't had the dream of Yanshimeixing? Hasn't the manager, Ms. Qin, been there? Hasn't Arong ever been there? Or did Xi Yan not? Xiyan is Shelly's real name, surnamed Lin, Lin Xiyan. Here, there is also a woman named Xiyan.It says that Xiyan is a kind of flower that blooms at night and withers at sunrise.I suspect it is another name for morning glory.It was so chic and elegant that it made people hate it. Xi Yan is not a beautiful woman, which comforts me somewhat.But no matter how harsh people are, like me, I have to admit that her temperament and demeanor are top-notch. Young girls rarely have real grace. Many people have praised my temperament, but they didn't say that I have good manners. As for Xi Yan, no matter how harsh a person is, like me, she must admit that she is a graceful woman. I hate Xi Yan's smile.Quiet, clean, can't tell whether it's naive or mature.It is like the sky after a storm, because it is so pure that people suspect that it has just passed through a catastrophe. Ms. Qin showed me Xiyan's information. She is a college student from Shenyang, majoring in physics engineering. Why she came to Meizhou to work as a service company is unknown. Ms. Qin said: "Shelly is the only college student in the club, and it's okay to be a signboard. However, a college student can't do anything well, so he has to do this." I was secretly shocked, feeling that she was mocking me.But then I remembered that here, no one knows who I really am or how old I am. In theory, my academic qualifications are higher than Xiyan's, but I didn't get a degree in the end. Thinking about my master's degree makes my heart ache.Very sharp and deep kind of sting. There is no mistake in the world more unforgivable than voluntary depravity, and no kind of person is more absurd and base than a master's student who is a prostitute.No matter how I find reasons for myself, no matter how I memorize it, I don’t eat melon seeds. The fact of being a prostitute still makes my heart ache.Especially when the identity of a graduate student is reminded again, this kind of heartache becomes more acute. The feeling of heartache lasted for a long time, like a thorn in my heart, forcing me to remember Lin Xiyan's name. Although Xi Yan is not the only college student in the club, she is the only woman who does not make a living from her appearance at all. This also makes me jealous. I hate when other people are different.Because only I can stand alone and excel. I regard her as an opponent, an imaginary enemy. A person can live without friends, but he cannot live without enemies. Only with enemies can we live soberly, have goals, and have the will to fight. Xiyan is my mirror, I want to live better than her. It is a pity that we have never had the opportunity to face the enemy head-on.The war between women always has to use men as bets and chips.Especially in this sensual venue, whoever attracts more guests and earns the most tips will be the most dazzling, the most prestigious, and the most FASE. But Xiyan seems to be heartless and desireless, she maintains a buddy relationship with all the male employees in the club, neither close nor alienated, and treats guests politely and never solicits. The women in the nightclub, whether they are managers, singers, waiters, or dancing girls, are all part-time serving as hostesses under the premise of doing their own thing.Because the highest standard in the service industry is "Never say No", as long as the customer has a request, you have no right to refuse, but Xiyan, there is always a way to save the day, and to protect herself without causing trouble. Even Gao Sheng had to look at her differently. Before the Spring Festival, Gao Sheng came from Hong Kong to entertain friends in the club.Naturally, I am also present to accompany you.The guest was a super alcoholic. He drank all the people at the table drunk, and he was still drunk.First he tried to persuade me to drink, but I declined on the grounds that I wanted to sing on stage.He became displeased, and challenged Gao Sheng: "You can find any young lady to have a drink with me. I'm white wine, she can do whatever she wants, fruit wine, beer, or color wine, as long as it has alcohol. One glass vs. three glasses. If I lose, today's I'll pay the bill, I'm going to win, and I'll come to your club for free for the whole month." Gao Sheng scanned the lobby with a smile, hesitating.It happened that Xi Yan was passing by, so I pointed at her casually and said, "Why don't you call me Shelly." Usually the employees have supper together. I know that Xiyan does not drink alcohol, but "Never say No", as long as the customer has raised the glass, even if you are allergic to alcohol, you have to drink it. Just can't say no.What's more, no matter whether she refuses or accepts, there will be a good show to watch. "Okay, it's you, come here." Gao Sheng chuckled, "Sit here and get this drunkard drunk for me." All the people in the lobby stared at me. I smiled and asked Ah Rong to place an order, and said, "Shelly, Mr. Gao invited you to drink, so you can order whatever you want." "Is it really casual?" Xiyan smiled and ordered fluently: "A glass of Snow White, a glass of Bloody Mary, a glass of Latin Lover, a glass of Pearl Harbor, a glass of Golden Years, a glass of red cherries..." He said the names of dozens of high-end cocktails in one breath. Gao Sheng was taken aback for a moment, and immediately burst out laughing.His friend couldn't help laughing, and hurriedly shouted: "Okay, okay, I admit defeat! If you drink these things, you won't be drunk until tomorrow morning. You intend to make me go bankrupt, this is it." Xiyan nodded and was about to leave when Gao Sheng called her: "Are you new here? What's your name?" "Shelly," she replied, nodded again, turned and walked away. Gao Sheng's eyes still followed her far away, brightly, full of admiration and curiosity. That look is familiar to me.I've seen this look in men's eyes so often and know exactly what it represents. Xiyan is really a strong opponent for me. I started to get ready to confront her with all my might. However, after that, Gao Sheng and Xi Yan had no further contact. It's not that Gao Sheng is forgetful, but that Xiyan's attitude is too cold and solemn, she is always so polite and impeccable.Always smiling and rejecting Gao Sheng's invitations again and again, the smile is gentle and calm, which makes people unable to get angry. Gao Sheng is not a lover, nor a pervert, and he is jealous that Xi Yan is not easy to force by his subordinates. After a few times, he will no longer find trouble. After the Spring Festival, Gao Sheng returned to Hong Kong, and there was no further story.I won without a fight, and my mood only became more depressed.No matter what, I have to fight Shelly head-on once, in vain as the daughter of the Yun family, don't let her be defeated by me, never give up. In the dream, I vaguely heard singing: "I only ask for four seasons clothes and three meals, and the two of you are equally crazy..." The woman singing and begging like this is a lady?Or whore? Su San and the others live in the main room of the planting flower hall, the dark purple door is hidden by the tung locust tree with draped branches and leaves, and they are knocked by the leading mother or the big teapot from time to time: "Girl, it's time to see you!" three times , the girl responded lazily.He won't show up right away, he always has to stop for a while to touch up his makeup, which also wears down the temper of the guests.It wasn't until the tea had been changed and the guests stood up impatiently to leave, that the embroidered door curtain was gently raised, and the girl half-shown her face, beckoned to the guests with silk, and smiled before saying anything: "You are here!" ?” That is hate, but also love.It's the best time of a woman's life. Grandma gave many men the best time. She lives in the memory of those men, and those men also live in her memory.All her life she was inseparable from men. There are prostitutes because there are clients, which is as inseparable as the relationship between chicken and egg. I never deliberately inquired about grandma's story. But I seem to have seen everything she experienced with my own eyes, and relived it in my dreams every cold night. Her thin body, like flattened petals, passed through the sunshine and cool wind unobstructed, and walked silently on the gravel road covered with fallen flowers, without leaving a single footprint. But I can still smell her unique fragrance. Her blood runs through my veins, irrevocably. A whore's blood runs in my veins. This may explain why I have been against my mother for more than ten years, and finally chose to be a singing girl. At the age of seventeen, my grandma met my grandpa—San Ye Yun, a son of the Zhaimen family, the widow of a Zhenghongqi family. It was a rainy evening. There was mud on grandpa's snow-white shoe uppers, and even the socks were stained with mud. When he took off his shoes, the mud spots on the white socks were very conspicuous. My grandma knelt on the kang to help him wipe them off.He stroked her black hair, and suddenly he felt the warmth of a family member. He said, "If you were born into a good family, you must be a good wife and mother." Later he married her, took her home to be a good wife and mother, and created another generation of oiran legends in the planting flower house. When grandma came in, she was wearing a ten-pound Hunan embroidered gown, full of flowers, with thousands of stitches and thousands of threads making it airtight. It was a kind of astonishment, the astonishment of dizzying tinnitus, and the eyes of everyone present were suddenly blinded. A girl with unmatched makeup is inlaid in the decayed window pane. It is an unusually vivid and bright embroidery work. The flowers, birds, fish and insects on the girl's dress are vivid in every stitch and every thread. The afterglow of the setting sun There are waves of light flowing on her face, her lips are tightly closed, locked for a thousand words, but she seems to be opening at any time; her eyes are open, but her eyes are dead, lifeless. She is not a person, but a painting. She was originally bought into the mansion as a painting. Although it was just a concubine, they made arrangements wantonly, and the marriage was lively for three or four days. That was the last grand event in Yunfu. In Yunfu, grandma saw a bigger brothel.Far dirtier, more chaotic, and less restrained than the Shihua Pavilion. The first glimpse of the secret was after lunch. The scene of the lunch in Yunfu back then, my grandma still talked about it many years later. Eating in Yun's house is a kind of ceremony, grand, solemn, lengthy and dull.The Yun family pays attention to eating and sleeping without talking, and at the same time, health preservation requires them to eat slowly. Girls can't rest their elbows on the table, and they can't make a sound when drinking soup. Although the table is full of delicacies, they can only eat. For the dish in front of me, the servant would switch the positions of all the dishes every once in a while, and when it finally came to the dish I liked, it was usually already cold.In this way, a meal often takes half an hour. But after lunch it's nap time, and that table order disappears in no time. If you have the opportunity to sneak around each room at this time—but that is almost impossible, because there is a rule in Yunfu that during the nap time, not even a fly can disturb the wives in each room Well, the servants are all staying in the servant's room at this time, it's a big deal, and they can't go back until the nap time is over.So during the nap period, it is the quietest and most lively carnival time in Yunfu. Even the morals and etiquette that are always on the lips have fallen asleep. Everyone is living in a dream, and the dream is out of control —but if, I mean if you get the chance to go into the ladies' rooms, or rather into their dreams, you'll see the most exciting and sensual pictures in the world. You will see that the eldest wife recruited the butler privately to hide in the bed when it should not be discussing in secret, you will see the third young master teaching the new maid how to serve the bed, and you will see that you can’t get married Old aunts twist their stiff bodies to learn opera from their masters. You will see the master nephew who lives in Yun’s house in the distant nursing home burn his hands when he burns cigarettes for his concubine. You will see butterflies lazily, fainted by the sun. Head fluttering, flying unsteadily, dragonflies standing on the lotus buds trembling, fish sticking their mouths out of the water to chat unconsciously, third wife sucked a trance flower on her thick lips. laugh…… Grandpa died of a stroke half a year later, on the poker table, holding a white board in his hand, leaving behind his three wives and more than a dozen children, including my mother who was not yet born. Later, the people in these houses separated and did not communicate with each other. Even if they met on the street, they would not nod. Their eyes met together, but their eyes diverged. My mother was born more than half a year after my grandfather passed away, and was brought up by my grandmother alone. First, she relied on selling her property, and after she was liberated, she relied on receiving matchboxes on the street to make money. Grandma's gestures of pasting matchboxes are as neat as cracking melon seeds.Lao Wang, who is in charge of allocating work in the street, often helps her paste. It is said that he likes to use his tongue to lick those decals instead of paste, because paste is made of flour, so save it. Mom hates those matchboxes more than she hates grandma for eating melon seeds. One day when she came home from school, she couldn't open the door. After a long time of fiddling, she found that the door was locked from the inside. She was sitting under the eaves with her schoolbag in her arms, watching the pale winter sun slowly set to the west, and she refused to move a step for a long time. After waiting for too long, the door opened, and Pharaoh came out of the house with his cotton hat pressed low. Grandma didn't come out to deliver it, but called her daughter in through the window. At this time, mother realized that grandma knew that she had finished school, and she felt unforgivable for making her wait so long when she knew she was outside the door.When she walked into the room, she saw a pack of melon seeds next to the matchbox that was half-stacked on the bed, and her resentment suddenly exploded. She grabbed a box of matches and struck them, and threw the match into the middle of the pile of matchboxes, trying to create a fire that would burn out all the shame and hatred. Of course, such an arson event brewing under grandma's nose could not succeed. Grandma extinguished the little flames with the same agility of cracking melon seeds and sticking matchboxes. She reached out and grabbed her daughter's long hair and dragged her directly from the bed to the ground. Nose scolded. She scolded very dirty, the tone and tone of the prostitutes in Bada Hutong when they were swearing. My mother had never experienced this before, and was almost scolded for being stupid.Then, there was a sentence that stabbed her deeply and brought her to her senses. Grandma said, "Isn't it because of you that I did all this? Without you, why would I be in such a miserable situation? You are a burden, a waste!" Suddenly, my mother saw clearly her position and value in grandma's mind, and she froze, as if time stood still.After that, she didn't remember what more ugly things grandma said, and whether she slapped her again. She looked at her own strand of black hair that was torn off by her grandmother on the ground, and repeated a word silently in her heart: This house is unbearable.This home is too much to stay in.This home is too much to stay in. Mom ran away from home after twelve o'clock that night.I only brought a few changes of clothes and a diary. She has always had the good habit of keeping a diary, and it is still the same now. But never look back after making a note. She keeps a diary not to remember, but on the contrary, to forget. The things and feelings that have happened become ink marks and stay on the white paper, and the matter is considered to be over, it has passed, and there is an explanation. She once told me: After my death, when burning the ashes, don't forget to cremate this box of diaries, which is the footprint of my whole life. I often wonder: Will the dream of walking on the snow without footprints also appear in the night that belongs to my mother. But I didn't ask her. We, mother and daughter, never communicated. Language is used to convey orders and carry out orders. When my mother talked to me, she never showed any expression on her face, just like keeping a diary, without emotions, just completing a process. Mom left with her change of clothes and diary.on a cold night. There were no stars or moon that night.At least not in Mom's memory did she see any light. Later facts proved that that departure fulfilled her.Because the "Cultural Revolution" broke out soon.Grandma was criticized, her identity as a prostitute was exposed, and she paraded through the streets with broken shoes around her neck.The young Red Guards came to order the mother and grandma to draw a clear line. The neighbors said: They have already severed the relationship between mother and daughter.Yunxiu awakened early, so she belongs to the children who can be educated well. Mom went to grandma's criticism meeting.The young generals asked her to spit on her mother.Mom can't do it. Although she hated her grandma, hated her melon seeds and matchboxes, they were connected by blood after all. Even if the world is destroyed, time and space can be reversed, and there is no clear boundary between black and white, right and wrong, but the blood relationship between mother and daughter cannot be changed, it is truth, and it is eternal. Slogans sounded for a while, and someone was pushing and shoving my mother.Grandma struggled to raise her head under the heavy burden of the pile of broken shoes, and called: "Xiu'er, spit, spit at me, mom won't blame you. If you don't spit, they won't let you go. Spit. , spit..." Mom suddenly collapsed.She howled like a wolf cub, rushed to the stage and spit at her mother, then slapped herself dozens of times, turned around and rushed off the stage, and ran out of the venue like a whirlwind... To say that my mother's revolutionary attitude is actually very incomplete, but for some reason, those people let her go easily and did not force her to take further acts of loyalty. In the spring of the following year, my mother signed up to go to the countryside and became the first batch of educated youths in Beijing to receive re-education from the poor and lower-middle peasants.