Chapter 5 Chapter 4 Frenzy

F's arrest took place in the winter of 1967.The whole process is very dramatic.According to those present, he used a big nail to make a key and opened a jeep in front of the Post and Telecommunications Building on the north side of West Chang'an Avenue not far from Tiananmen Square.After getting it, I headed west, wanting to make an impromptu outing with no purpose.Along with them were Zhang Xiaoxiang, G and a young boy surnamed Mao Meili.When the car crossed the Xidan intersection and approached the military museum exhibiting aircraft and tanks, it knocked down a pedestrian who was pushing a bicycle across the road.After the incident, the companions got out of the car and scattered; F feared the accident and continued to drive westward. After being spotted by the patrolling police motorcycle team, he surrounded him back and forth, and finally abandoned the car and fled, and was caught on the spot.According to Zhang Xiaoxiang who rushed to the scene later, because F was wearing a yellow military uniform and seemed to have a background, the police officers present immediately asked him who his father was. F was unprepared and blurted out, but was immediately slapped and taken away.From then on, he stayed behind bars for five years.Did not implicate others.

The whole thing is very much in F's character. After the "Cultural Revolution" began, I rarely saw F, but it is not difficult to imagine his desolation.A pampered son who sees his father's head being pressed like a melon every day must have destroyed (or stimulated) all his pride; being excluded from the Red Guards must have hurt his self-esteem; friends His estrangement made him taste the cruelty of the world.I once walked into the hut where he lived, except for a messy bed, the only bicycle that accompanied him was already worn out.The shiny silk quilt I was familiar with turned into a car cloth, stuffed behind the bicycle seat, and lost its luster.The predicament of life is clear at a glance.He knows how to drive. I remember that when he was in school, he talked about driving his father's special vehicle on the Beidaihe seashore, how it felt at 70 kilometers per hour, and how it felt at 90 kilometers per hour.

Regarding F's arrest, the general opinion is that "the little nun and monk can touch it, and I can touch it too".At that time, the children of cadres whose parents were still powerful had established an organization called the "Joint Action Committee". According to the official position of their parents, the armbands were made of silk, satin, or woolen. Outside the military uniform of the general school, he did whatever he wanted in Beijing; he even attacked the Ministry of Public Security many times without punishment. F recalled Huai Nai's father's past scenery, but couldn't swallow this breath, so he also gave it a try, not wanting to cause a catastrophe, to the law.Morally, they have all been charged with crimes, and they are the ones to blame.Therefore, there is less sympathy, more ridicule, and more schadenfreude, holding up the stone that fell into the well.This even includes the class teacher.

In my opinion, F's actions are a real rebellion against society.He can still smile calmly after being arrested, affirming his role. The Struggle F meeting was held in the auditorium of the Xinhua News Agency.That day, almost all the classmates in the class went.When the prison van came, everyone surrounded it, and the first one to appear was F.He was slapped in the back by the policeman and staggered when he landed.His hands were handcuffed behind his back and he was bowed.Several of our friends stood very close, he saw it all at once, smiled and nodded.We quickly lowered our heads to avoid suspicion.At the meeting, the charges were announced.He was escorted up by four people, there was a light shining from the top, his face became unrecognizable, and it was "jet-like" as usual, his head was raised, and he was pressed down hard again, with his arms raised back high.He had obviously been beaten (he was kicked and kicked constantly during the struggle meeting) and had bruises on his face, but he was calm.He spread his feet apart and tried to stand still, just like defending on the field. It seemed that he was more heroic...

F's character is straightforward and rough, and he is a real person among all living beings.But his happiness or misfortune is tied to his father, and he has never been able to stand on his own.In the past, because of his nature, he didn't like to study, but he had to work hard to be a good student for his father.Now, having to be a "pariah" for the same reason, and do it well.What he protested and challenged by stealing cars, including patriarchy.Therefore, his behavior has extra significance.The reason why his rebellion is different from that of the Red Guards is that it goes against the consistent education and the teachings of the leaders.He chose to be himself in an era when the country was in crisis and shock, and his family was scattered, but people couldn't see through the true meaning, and still called him "someone's son of a bitch" at the struggle meeting, even if he committed a crime, he was not allowed to be himself.

F's story often reminds me of Nagisa Oshima's "Cruel Story of Youth" and other Western European films.Those young protagonists living in the early post-war period often express their understanding of an era through violence or death, looking like heroes at the end of their lives.And the reason why there is no better choice in terms of methods is really because of the desolation of that era.With a youthful body full of enthusiasm and vitality, he went straight to it, and performed a life that was not wrong in a wrong way, so F should be counted as one.To F, to us, to countless people in that era, what is more powerful than law and morality may be just a soft word.But what was given to F was a pair of bars, and what was taken away was eighteen hundred days and nights.

I even thought, if nothing happened, how happy it would be to drive a car and drive into the desolate world, to forget, even temporarily! Goodbye F, ten years have passed.We made an appointment to meet at G's house.The light was dim, and he put his feet on the table and smoked Zhonghua cigarettes.The cigarette was mildewed, he explained, and handed me one.He said that he worked as an electric welder in a small factory run by the street, and his father had not yet been "liberated".Nothing else. ——I didn't ask about the prison.He was still talking and laughing, but his laughter was much older, like a human being; as if he was greeting someone who looked alike, and found that he was not the same, it was chilling and strange.After that, I never saw him again.I only heard that later he became the manager of a certain company and had some money.I don't know if it is true.As people grow up, the difference between who they are and who they want to be becomes less and less due to society and more to themselves.A generation goes with the wind, and what is unforgettable is finally the crazy smile when he jumped off the prison car, generous and frank.Really rebellious, because really young.

After F was arrested, several classmates were implicated.It involved me because on the morning of the accident, one of my colleagues had called to ask me to go with me, but he didn't say what to do.Because of a cold, I declined, so I was not in the car.I didn't go there at first, but who said it was very suspicious. F betrayed no one, but one of his colleagues did, and was severely punished.This person is young and beautiful. At that time, a call was made to "resume classes and start a revolution." At the same time, a working group was sent to universities and middle schools. It was composed of workers and was called the "Mao Zedong Thought Worker Propaganda Team." Occupy forever"! Effectively took over the school.The control of the uneducated over the educated and those who are being educated was one of Mao Zedong's many great innovations.But the domestic situation is still turbulent, although many provinces and cities have established "revolutionary committees" to replace the old government agencies.Some of the original cadres have been physically eliminated, and most of them are locked in prisons or in the "cowsheds" set up by various units.Factional struggles among mass organizations have reached a fever pitch, and the use of firearms to carry out "fights" has spread throughout the country, and the scale is equivalent to local wars. The word "martial struggle" began at the beginning of the "Cultural Revolution" Mao Zedong first said: "We must fight with literature, not with violence." But Jiang Qing later said: "The enemy is coming to attack, what should we do? Attack with words and defend with force!" Chaos Among them, anyone who shoots can be called self-defense, so it is out of control.The expansion of the war has reached the regular armed forces.When I went to the famous Baiyangdian in Hebei Province in 1968, I saw with my own eyes that two armies fought because they supported different mass organizations.Soldiers with guns stood on the road, interrogated along the road, and all those suspected of being spies were detained; ambushes were set up in the fields on the outskirts of the city, and street fighting started in the center of the county after the city was broken.A friend of mine was walking through the sorghum field on the way back to the village. He heard the nearby leaves shaking, so he fell down quickly. Through the crops, he saw several captured soldiers being executed by other soldiers on the spot. The executioners then trampled the crops walk away.After the gunshot, blood flowed to my friend's eyes.He lurked until dusk before he dared to leave. Before he left, he saw the deceased's mouth and eyes were wide open. Under the setting sun, his complexion was fresh, the wind was blowing, and the black hair was messed up, as if he was looking up in the green field and meditating.The deceased were all in their twenties, which shows the depth of hatred.There are even more restrictions on folk affairs. The "Workers' Propaganda Team" came to talk to me at about one o'clock in the afternoon of the day, and they sent a special notification the day before.When they arrived, they found that Zhang Xiaoxiang, G, and the boy Meili had all come, but they entered different rooms, separated by a wall.When I was about to enter the door, I accidentally saw the head teacher wandering far away.At that time, she had already gained the trust of the workers and became the class teacher.My heart tightened and I knew it was not good.After entering, the door was closed immediately, and the two sitting behind the long table were workers, about forty years old.There is a bench in front of the table, which is mine, and a stove, which burns extremely hot.The "propaganda team" of No. 4 Middle School was sent by the transportation company, most of them were drivers.The attire of this line, in addition to the blue overalls, also has a black leather peaked cap.They stood up and shook hands with me. One of them poured me a cup of tea and said kindly, "Sit." I was grateful in my heart, lowered my head and was about to sit down, when I heard a loud noise on the table, and then I heard a loud noise from the next room There was a burst of angry shouting, mixed with the roar of "Stand up! Stand up!"I know that Zhang Xiaoxiang is next door.Then I heard the sudden and sharp cry of the young boy Meimei in another room, talking vaguely.The one opposite me roared angrily: "Chen Kaige, confess!!" The teacup on the table jumped up, the water spilled out, and it opened up, bubbling with steam.This is an interrogation that even time is unified, cheering each other to deepen the psychological shock.It worked.I stood up slowly, and before I could react, my eyes were filled with tears, and I couldn't help sobbing. "——Chen Kaige, explain the problem!!!" This was the first time in my life that I was so rudely scolded by someone, and it was also the first time in my life that I aimed at my heart and said, "Don't cry!!" The sobbing stopped immediately, but the tears One by one, it overflowed and wet the face coolly.My throat was salty and I thought: "So people have so many tears." In the next three hours, I was ordered to sit down softly at one time and stood up at another time.The one behind the desk kept getting up to add coal to the stove, and the room was so hot that it was unbearable to breathe; they kept smoking dry tobacco leaves rolled up in newspapers, and drank tea.My lips were scorched, my cheeks were hot, my back was wet with my underwear, and I couldn't see their faces clearly when I squinted.The subject of the interrogation was F, and I was pestering my father: What is your relationship with F?! Do you know that your father is a counter-revolutionary?! I don’t know, let you know now!! Is F the leader of the theft group?! How dare you I don’t know?! What do you want to steal a car for?! You want to drive to the Soviet Union?! You want to treason?! Right?! No?! Stand up!! Be honest!! Tell you, we are Chairman Mao Sent here!! The old man even gave our workers mangoes, which we were reluctant to eat, so we soaked them in potions!! The old man is the red sun in our workers’ hearts!! If you don’t explain, I’ll beat you up with a fist! !!

At the end of the interrogation, the dusk was getting darker, but the scenery outside was still very clear.There was fire and smoke over the kitchen, and the leafless trees stood simply in winter.The lights are very yellow.The two behind the desk looked like freshly baked iron, with sparks still shining.They stretched out their hands again and asked me to hold them, and one of them said, "I haven't drunk the tea yet, drink some tea." We came out one after another. The boy Meili who was farther away couldn't see his face clearly, only heard the sound of sobbing; Zhang Xiaoxiang raised his nose and hugged his glasses that were about to fall, he was very embarrassed.Only G's face remained unmoved, and he was still very personable. In fact, a big change had taken place in his family.Neither of us spoke, and when the bicycle lock was unlocked, there was a crisp sound in the twilight.The street was deserted, and there was a small and beautiful crescent moon in the sky, but no one looked at it.The air was crisp, like a cold hand on the back of my neck.

When I got home, I didn't even have the strength to repeat the experience to my friends.Parents were away, my sister was still young, and there was nothing to talk about, so I just felt very sleepy and vaguely thought of suicide.All night I dreamed of calmly researching the method of suicide with an unknown person. All the necessary utensils were there, picked up, and put down again.I finally died, but I haven't even tried a method. I only know that I am dead, and I hear the cries of my loved ones, like many other people's stories.But what brings me more joy in death is not the sorrow of my parents, but the panic of my enemies.I know that I already have the idea of ​​revenge in my heart, but I haven't found a way until today.The only time was when I went back to Beijing to visit my family in 1974. At that time, I was already a soldier, and I met the head teacher in a bright military uniform.She didn't hide her surprise: a young man with a father like me should not be able to be a soldier.I feigned no success in concealing my pleasure.After I said goodbye lightly, I turned around, and the joy had disappeared, as if I couldn't grasp the aroma of the wine.

The matter of the interrogation was settled later.But what it brings to me is the boredom of life, and there is malice in the eyes, but the nature is not fierce after all, so it is even worse.We all know that the director of that play is the head teacher.I don't know if it was because of the grievances that sent her to the table at the beginning of the "Cultural Revolution", or because she wanted to restore the prestige of the class teacher, so she wanted to use the workers to scare us, I don't know.On the contrary, the young beauty has become docile since then, often appearing beside the head teacher, smiling.Probably because his father had no problems, and because of his performance in the F incident, the class teacher often mentioned him in speeches, walked up to him, stopped, smiled, looked up and down, and even patted him on the shoulder.He was still wearing the whitewashed military uniform, sometimes blue. He only took off the red armband and hid his hands behind his back. He was indeed beautiful for a while. Soon, another classmate of mine, M, was also arrested on the charge of taking photos of top-secret military bases and was a spy bought by the Soviet Union.The head teacher announced in public in class, and taught us to "learn a lesson" based on the fact that he and F committed a crime at the age of fifteen.Dozens of days later, M was released without charge.He returned to the class, thinner and pale, and slowly talked about how to share the food of the dead prisoners in the prison.The building where his family lives is not far from the "Diaoyutai", the garden of Jiang Qing and other "central leaders".One day he happened to take pictures on the balcony, and the police came while eating at night, confiscated the film, and took the person away.This is how it happened.It is said that when M was taking pictures, he was spotted by a high-powered surveillance camera in the park, and he was cursed.In fact, the "Diaoyutai" has lush forests, not to mention ordinary cameras, even satellites are hard to see. This may be the reason why M was finally released.As for how he became a horrific Soviet spy in the head teacher's mouth, what is the evidence for it, it is not worth asking at all, just as the police said when releasing M: It is right to arrest you.It is also right to let you go.Fortunately, M was always honest, and his father was a scholar who wrote articles and a first-level leading cadre. Otherwise, secretly filming "Diaoyutai" was actually a bigger crime than a Soviet spy. M became a soldier later on, and worked as a photojournalist for a TV station after retiring from the army. I went to see him, and he was running around with a video camera.When he mentioned the past, he smiled lightly.His nickname among his classmates is "Wooden Donkey", which is related to his surname, and it also means that he is dull and serene. Zhang Xiaoxiang's nickname is "Blind Donkey".He was very short-sighted, and when he took off his glasses, his eyes became innocent, as shy as he was seeing the world for the first time.Perhaps because of the atmosphere, the nicknames among classmates are very indecent. In addition to "wood" and "blind", there are also donkeys such as "old", "bald" and "good". It seems that everyone is a donkey. The revolution is convenient, it is the "proletariat". "Blind Donkey"'s father was a senior general of the Air Force, and he was also caught after the "Cultural Revolution". Whether he is defeated or not depends on whether he agrees to frame others.It is said that he cursed loudly, would rather die than surrender, quite military blood.As a result, his wife was driven crazy, he was imprisoned, and his children were separated. "Blind donkey" came to my house again, and since then, it is no longer the look of coming to raid the house.As soon as I entered the door, I met my mother. He lowered his head and called "Auntie", blushing to the neck.I thought of the look of shame in his eyes when he came to raid the house, afraid that my mother would bring up the old story again.But his mother asked gently: "Zhang Xiaoxiang, how are you?" "Blind Donkey" dropped his glasses, embarrassed, and said: "Okay." His mother patted him on the shoulder, and his breathing became heavy.Later, when he talked about books, he was elated again.I found that he read more, and most of them were so-called "banned books". During the "Cultural Revolution", the library was closed, and most of the private books were piled up in some vacant rooms except those that were burned, sealed with seals, and left to be eaten by moths or mildew.There is one such place in our courtyard.When there is no sign of trouble, my partners in the yard and I often pry open the window in the middle of the night, illuminate it with a flashlight, and flip through the pages like treasures.The book smelled musty, and some pages were rotten.The stories in the book are immortal.There are many kinds of books, and I have seen many that I don’t usually see. Surprises and adventures are more interesting than sitting in the library.When you hear human voices, you only need to turn off the flashlight, and sit in the dark among the books, like a thief guarding wealth.A good friend of mine, whose father is a great film artist, has all his books here, and his favorite is Western picture albums, and gradually he knows who Rembrandt, Rubens and Goya are.The light of the flashlight makes the light flowing among the characters more mysterious. Village women, priests, nobles and soldiers, all kinds of war and peace, and the peaceful forest scenery all come from another world, making our dreams less desolate.Seeing that I really can't let it go, I will sneak out and re-disguise the broken window so that I can come back next time.I know that most of Xiaoxiang's books are read in this way.Later, people often asked me how to make a movie, but I was at a loss.After thinking about it, I realized that it was because I had read the book in the way of watching a movie, and I knew how cute this thing was. Xiaoxiang mentioned that he wanted to run a newspaper.This is very natural. The more you read the book, the more you will have something to say.But he didn't know how to start. I feel more and more that he is in love, and there is no need to ask about it. When there is love, it is not just the lover.When you're with him, there's always the feeling that there's another one there who speaks to her, as if she can see everything he does.Later, I heard that he was passionately in love with a girl who was three years older than him, and her family was also a victim.I can imagine Xiaoxiang's clumsiness in front of girls.Will he squeeze her hand with a strange smile? I guess not.I remember once he asked me to buy a few catties of sweet-scented osmanthus mincemeat rice cakes, and he had eaten them at my house and agreed.He came in a hurry, took it away, said he was going to see a friend, and left in a hurry.This time, I haven't come for a long time. Next, he looked very flustered.As soon as they met, they said that the air force wanted to send the children of the downed cadres to the rural areas of northern Shaanxi, but they were unwilling to go, so they tied them with ropes and put them on the train by force; get a response.He got the letter in advance, ran out, and asked if he could hide at my house for a few days? At that time, most of the parents were away, so staying at a friend's house was common, and I agreed straight away.Unexpectedly, he hid for two months.My sister and I put him in the room where my parents used to live. At first he didn’t even dare to leave the door, and went to the bathroom at night; when eating, my sister knocked on the door, and he poked his head out, took the food, and closed the door.After eating, pass out the empty bowl and close the door.During the day, although I kept away visitors, it was still unavoidable for idlers to come. It was strange to see the door closed, so I had to explain that it was my mother who locked the door.People were talking and laughing outside, but Xiaoxiang couldn't make a sound.In the dead of night, I knocked on his door, and often a book was spread out lonely under the table lamp.Gradually, he dared to go to other rooms in the evening, and sat on a chair after dinner, still holding a book.He never talked about his first love to me, but sometimes he raised his head from the book, opened his mouth, thought blankly for a while, and hurried back to the book.Looking at the people under the lamp in front of him, it turned out that Xiaoxiang, who was chatting and laughing, is different from yesterday.One day, the school called to inquire about Xiaoxiang's whereabouts, saying that the Air Force was eager to find him.The other party's tone was very severe, so I naturally said I didn't know.Afterwards, I told Xiaoxiang, who was stunned for a moment and said, "I can't make it through." From then on, he retreated into the inner room and never came out again.I understand that the situation is serious, so I don't force him, and I am more cautious, but I don't know how it will end.Once, my sister and I had a loud quarrel at night, Xiaoxiang endured it for a long time, and finally poked his head out; he had already fallen asleep, without glasses, his eyes were very shy, and he said: "It's just you two. Don't quarrel ’—almost a plea.I was suddenly very ashamed. After a long time, even I ignored his existence.My sister is now my only relative, and his words contained reproach. He decided to go after receiving a letter.He was very excited and left me an address, Xinxiang, Henan, where the letter came from.The person who forwarded the letter was a woman named Yan, who was also the person who sent the letter.He said she invited him to come and do something there.We said goodbye and shook hands rarely.Xiaoxiang was a little grateful to his younger sister—he came in a hurry and had no clothes to change. Often, it was his younger sister who asked him to put on mine, washed, folded his clothes, and sent them in; It's been like this for two months.Xiaoxiang stared at other places, nodded, but said in his mouth: "Thank you Kaiyan." I sent him to the gate, and then realized that we hadn't had a good talk.He waved his hand, turned around, hurriedly walked with his schoolbag hopping behind his back, and disappeared at the entrance of the alley.This farewell has become an eternal farewell. Before the "Cultural Revolution", I had not been to G's house because it was under renovation. When I went there during the "Cultural Revolution", it was winter.In the city where the yard I often visited later was located, there was a simple building with two floors.There is a wisteria in front of the door, which blooms clusters of grape-like flowers in summer, which are lighter in color and more elegant.There are flower beds and vegetable beds in the courtyard, which are green and fragrant at dusk.There are two jujube trees, both of which are very old, but the jujubes are getting sweeter and sweeter. When they are ripe, they fall to the ground and break into several petals.There are two geese who love to eat dates. They are tall and white, and they chase after each other, spreading their wide wings and screaming. They can't fly, but they guard the door like dogs.But when I first came, the room was only six degrees Celsius, we were wearing cotton clothes, and we were blowing out hot air like horses, because there was no coal heating.And G's father was the minister of coal in the central government. G is the youngest of the four children. I asked G's sister K carefully about his father's life.He is a native of Hebei, and he devoted himself to the revolution in his early years. Because of his flushed complexion, he was called "Hong Zhang" in Hebei during the Anti-Japanese War and had military exploits.After 1949, he entered the industrial construction department and successively held important positions. He was one of Zhou Enlai's strong generals. At the beginning of the "Cultural Revolution", it was hit, but it was still able to work, because it was in charge of the energy sector, which is an important part of the national economy.In November, he led a government delegation back from Eastern Europe. At that time, the rebels of the School of Mines had repeatedly ordered him to go to the school to accept criticism.Due to the prevalence of violence, someone once advised him to avoid it temporarily, but he replied: just go, I am not afraid. K narrated the situation when he left home: when he walked out of the house, the car was already waiting, his coat was unbuttoned, and the hem was blown up by the wind; he turned his head, waved, smiled, and left immediately.It can be seen that she was deeply impressed.But once he left, he never looked back.He was detained for dozens of days, tortured and deprived of sleep.The torturers changed shifts day and night, but he had no one to replace him, and he was close to madness.Finally word came out that the visit was allowed and that the prisoner wanted to see the eldest son by name.Seeing it, the son burst into tears.The father was shaved into a yin and yang head, covered in scars and unable to move.He said: I want you to come because I don't want to make other people in the family feel sad.You are the eldest son, so you should be able to hold on.This was the last time the Zhang family saw their father alive.A few days later, his death was reported suddenly, and a suicide note was sent to Chairman Mao and Premier Zhou, defending his confession, and stating that he was worthy of his life-long belief. K described the situation when we saw the dead body: We took our mother into the morgue, and the father's body was thrown on the concrete floor, with no clothes on his upper body, wounds on his back, dripping with blood, and several other dead bodies beside him. The body of the farmer in the car accident also fell to the ground.None of us cried, and it never occurred to us to cry.Just stood there in a daze.According to another document: "When Zhang XX, Minister of the Coal Department, died, he had fifty-six wounds all over his body." Afterwards, the body was cremated, and one person was eliminated in this way. His death was declared a suicide by the rebels.The family members strongly opposed it, calling it murder. During the "Cultural Revolution" it was impossible.Among the victims, few died after being tried by law enforcement agencies, and many died in private courts and torture to extract confessions.Among the latter, it is clear that they were mentally tortured.There are not a few who were physically abused, but there are also quite a few who have committed homicide or suicide without any evidence. Over the years, it has become a mystery.When the victim is about to die, the perpetrator often creates the illusion of suicide, such as pushing the dying criminal off a tall building and smashing it to pieces. This can not only cover up the misdeeds and escape guilt, but also charge the suicide charge back to the deceased. on the head.The relatives of the victim often spend time and a lot of energy trying to prove the homicide after the body is incinerated without the scene or evidence.Even in the case of suicide evidence, still trying to overthrow it.Judging from the desire to redress Xuexue's innocence, the mood of the bereaved family is undoubtedly understandable. But, apart from the need to ascertain the facts, why is homicide better than suicide in the eyes of the kin? Or, from the perpetrator's point of view, why is suicide (for the victim) worse than homicide? Apart from their different interests, they all agree on a rule, that is: since everyone must be in the group to survive, and since everyone has the fear of being kicked out of the group, then suicide by automatically leaving the group is the right choice. Not only a betrayal of the collective, but a contempt for fear, that is, contempt for the masses.Therefore, suicide that shakes the sense of security of the crowd is extremely ugly.Even for relatives, the same is true.The term at that time was called: "Self-exclusion from the people, self-exclusion from the party."That's exactly what it meant.As a result of suicide, not only my own reputation is ruined, but also the family, especially the children will never be able to hold their heads up.It is no wonder that the perpetrators fear that the deceased did not commit suicide, while the survivors fear that the deceased committed suicide.Even many of the victims were the same. During the "Cultural Revolution", the number of people who had suicidal thoughts was much more than the number of people who actually committed suicide; or, before the point where not committing suicide is death, suicide is also death, and they would rather endure torture than commit suicide. After the "Cultural Revolution", the general public opinion, as far as possible, tried to attribute the death to homicide, so as to comfort the hearts of the survivors. In fact, under the premise that most of the victims completely lost their personal freedom and were tortured first, no matter how they died in the end, there was no fundamental difference.Specific distinctions cannot obscure the nature of the murder.Mr. Lao She was murdered by suicide. At noon on August 24, 1966, I saw him in Taiping Lake Park in the north of Beijing.He threw himself into the lake that night. On the 23rd, he and some other writers and dramatists in Beijing were severely beaten in the Confucian Temple where Confucius was worshipped.While the perpetrators committed crimes, they burned countless Peking Opera costumes. Suddenly, thick smoke rose up, crowding the spectators, and roars and screams could be heard far and wide.When the costumes worn by the voiceless and witty actors were wiped out, Lao She was severely injured, and the blood on his forehead was still trickling down even though it was wrapped in white water sleeves.Later, he was severely beaten in two other places.After a day of tribulations, I was sent home in the early morning, the wound on my body was attached to the single clothes, and I had to use warm water to separate them.Among the senior writers, Lao She was almost the only one who was still writing after 1949, and the others did not write or failed to write.His gratitude to the Communist Party is probably related to his poor family background.Lao She, who was born in a Manchu family in the late Qing Dynasty, has been related to this imperial capital all his life.He has traveled to Europe and America.The Communist Party first took power, and he was in the United States. He returned to Beijing because of Zhou Enlai's gracious call.He claimed to be a "pawn crossing the river" in chess, and he had to listen to orders, and he was indeed an exception among writers who won the title of "People's Artist".When the belt and stick really fell on this conceited literati who once described such scenes, it shattered the "Pride of Beijingers" that he repeatedly mentioned in his works.The shock and humiliation caused by the violence made him like a naked man in the crowd, unable to see people ever since.Fate pushed him to the same ending as most of the characters in his works. Taiping Lake is not far from my home, it is very quiet, and it is a place where I often go for a walk.Accompanied by a friend.This is a deserted lake with few tourists. There are weeping willows along the shore, which surround the lake, and the shadows spread like green ink in the water.In the depths of the willow forest, there is smoke from fishermen's cooking.When he walked over, I didn't recognize him, but I felt that the old man was a bit strange, with a slight limp, so he walked very slowly; his clothes were clean, his face was swollen, he didn't wear glasses, and he was indeed holding the one that people mentioned later. roll paper.He also ignored us, his eyes seemed to be conceiving, and he walked away slowly.Only then did my friend say: Isn’t this Lao She? I said: Really? It’s not like that.My friend definitely said yes.None of us knew what happened the first day.His body was found the next morning, and the family members received a note: "Lao She killed himself by the people. I hereby certify it." There were huge crowds of spectators that day.He was rolled up in a broken mat and carried away, leaving behind pens, glasses and walking stick.According to the memory of the gatekeeper of the park, an old man once sat by the lake until late at night.After a period of time, dozens of people were inspired by him and threw themselves into the lake for different reasons. Lao She is a great talent of a generation.Congenitally intelligent, tempered the day after tomorrow, and his pen is like a gun. In his book, the world is as bright as a candle, and the description of the characters is more than a generation.He has been in the world too deeply, his name and reality are excellent, and he is entangled.Therefore, at the time of life and death, one day turns one hundred times one thousand times, lingering hard, and finally unable to understand. ——"I love our country, but who loves me?" "Whose idea is it that I'm not allowed to eat steamed buns?"——These monologues from his famous dramas just reflected his fate a few years later .The roll of paper that was blown down by the wind and drifted on the surface of the lake was filled with Mao Zedong's poems that he hand-copied.If it wasn't for expressing one's heart, there would be no reason to bring him to the scene of suicide.He also said in his final conversation with his family: "The people understand me. The Party and Chairman Mao understand me. The Prime Minister understands me best." His yearning ultimately lies in the recognition and recognition of the world. ——Do the people really understand him? Different from murder established in the form of suicide, compared with Lao She, the translator Mr. Fu Lei and his wife are the real suicides.Scholar Lou Shiyi once briefly talked about his career: "Fu Lei's artistic attainments are extremely profound, and he has extremely profound knowledge of all fields of literature, painting, and music, both ancient and modern, Chinese and foreign. He studied in France in his youth. The major is art theory. Since returning to China, I have been engaged in art archaeology and art teaching, but the time is very short, and I am always incompatible with the popular atmosphere, unable to work with others, and leave in the middle of every time. , unable to show his strengths, so he finally chose the career of closed-door translation for himself.” In the fifteen volumes of "Fu Lei's Translation Collection", there are French masters such as Voltaire, Balzac, Merimee and Romain Rolland, etc. It took 30 years and 5 million words.It is not a novel story that he was branded as a "rightist" in 1957 because of his character of "leaving without leaving his arms". Fu Lei's eldest son is the famous pianist Fu Cong who left Poland in 1959 because of his father's problems.Fu Lei has a book of family letters, which is a collection of correspondence with Fu Cong, which was republished in China.He repeatedly taught in his family letters; he said that music is like architecture, although it is invisible, it has volume, can almost be touched, and is also material.I noticed that he used the word PERFECTION many times in the letter.Perfection is not only for art, but also for life. He gets up at 8 o'clock every morning, works from 9:00 to 12:30 o'clock, returns to his desk at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, eats dinner at 7 o'clock, and reads and writes letters until late at night.He is the kind of character general who spreads the manuscript paper in the middle and writes "Guangfeng Xunleilou", the Chinese-French dictionary is on the right, the original work is on the left, and the pen and ink are in the middle.He is the kind of scholar who thinks that "without a sensitive heart, without warm sympathy, without proper taste, without considerable social experience, without sufficient common sense", it is difficult to write.He is the kind of gentleman who planted himself in his study, gentle as an orchid, upright as a cypress, who can smell the fragrance from far and near, and survive or be crushed without leaving any fragments. He was not physically abused during his lifetime, but after three days and four nights of ransacking his home, the Red Guards found a photo of Chiang Kai-shek embedded behind a mirror in the box.And this box was entrusted to him by his aunt many years ago, and he has never opened it, let alone this mirror.He couldn't argue with a hundred words, and he didn't want to argue.In the middle of the night on September 2, 1966, Fu Lei and his wife, Zhu Meifu, tore a piece of homemade cloth into two pieces, and both threw themselves to death.Before leaving, he even laid cotton tires on the floor, for fear that the wooden bench falling to the ground would affect the sleep of the nanny downstairs.The wife only told the nanny that night: buy less side dishes tomorrow.The suicide note left behind by Fu Lei never washed himself clean, nor did he have any political vocabulary or content. He only said that "the days that cannot be washed away are more sad than being in prison."The rest of the dozen or so things are trivial matters, such as: ask someone to pay the rent, return the watch that someone entrusted to repair, donate the nanny's savings as a means of living, lose something when someone ransacked the house, apologize, and so on.He also thanked the executor (wife and brother) modestly and said: "It is really disturbing to make you suffer for us. But there is no one else to rely on, please forgive me!" The eleventh item clearly reads: "Now A note of 53.3 yuan will be used as our cremation fee." At that time, their two sons were not around. Fu Lei is also a generation of great talents, but he has never asked others to understand him in his life.His understanding of life is not limited to desire, and his choice of death is not necessarily forced by external forces.That's why I come and go leisurely.Of course he died because of anger, but more because of pride.This life is over, and his and his wife's attitudes towards death are as serene as opening a door and entering another room.Looking back on the world, there is neither praise nor resentment, and there is not even any hope left. Maybe the hope has already been included in his translation.The self-destruction of a real person is like crushing a flower. While shocking, you can also smell the fragrance. I've always kept suicide a mystery.Because people, life, is not a personal choice; neither is natural death.只有自动中断了生命的程序,才是人生中最真实的选择。除去作恶自裁不算,历来的自杀有两种,一种是为了所爱或所信,用自己的肉体,在撞碎的瞬间,作了理想的火花,火花的散落,点燃了有心的人群,创造些更好的人生,是主动的。还有一种,在世事迁换的动局中,身体或精神上遭遇困厄,或为解脱,或为尊严而自行了断,是被动的。前者多被世人看做疯子,后者可以是烈士,却也可能被视如叛徒。历来中国,第一种少,第二种多,到了更近些,连“叛徒”也未必有了。古之慷慨悲歌之士,为自由或信仰,更多为尊严荣誉的缘故,不能立身便自毁其身。就这一点,傅雷“先生原来古之儒”。 一九六八年一月或二月的一天凌晨,六点刚过,天色尚黑。我被急促的打门声突然惊醒,坐起来,心“怦怦”跳着,看到门外一条黑影,以为又出了抄家一类的事情,才问了一句,就听见同院的伙伴小宁不对了的声音;“凯歌,快,快起来,我妈上吊了!!” 小宁的父亲就是前面说过的大电影美术师。小宁的母亲是制片厂负责组织剧本的编辑组长,多年和我母亲一同工作,又同住一院,是至交。她的经历也与母亲相似,只比母亲大几岁。不同的,是她在上海参加共产党组织的学生运动,曾被国民党逮捕下狱,后来由家人交保,释放了。这在“文革”中就成了叛徒的嫌疑,而受到审查。小宁的父亲和我父亲一样,被关着。他年轻的时候在上海,曾是鲁迅的学生,创作新美术,早就是共产党员。一九四九年以后,不做官,又拾起画笔。他所设计的电影,美术上的风格、功力,是大师水平。这一对夫妇,极刚烈。小宁和他的妹妹就是他们的孩子。小时候,两人都很胖,可爱,只是一黑,一白;黑的叫了猫头,白的叫了小清。小宁就是猫头,小我三岁。 等我进去时,阿姨的尸体已经被这一对兄妹放了下来,一个抱着腿用力向上推,另一个站在椅子上解开绳索,我们轻轻地把她放到床上。阿姨脸上蒙了一块白纱巾,取下之后面色安详。这是有准备的自杀。小宁在头天晚上曾经上了闹钟,六点钟时,闹钟准时响了,惊醒的小宁看到书桌上的台灯亮着,母亲却已不在身边——她前夜要求两个孩子与她同睡一床。——那盏台灯正与门相对,淡淡地照亮了外边的房间,雕花的梁下,悬挂着她的身体。她似乎预先想过孩子们怎样看到自己才不至受到惊吓,所以蒙上了那块白纱巾。梁下的小桌上,放着从外衣上取下来的毛泽东的像章和小红书,隔室的灯光映在像章上,渗出淡淡的红光。 事情已经发生过一次。大约一两个月以前的一天上午,十点钟左右,小清急急跑来,说母亲酣睡不醒,而她一早就该去上班的。我母亲当时在家,连忙走过去看,果然不对,送到医院,判断为服用了过量的安眠药。小宁把闹钟上到六点,就是担心母亲再度饮药。若果然,还可以救。他是不动声色而有主意的孩子,却没有想到投缳吊颈。他只有十三岁,小清十二,而母亲去意己定。她第一次被救转来,我母亲曾反复劝慰,要她想长远些。她表示了,做过一次就不会做第二次;又说,要我母亲把过去的事情和小宁、小清讲一讲。母亲以为她不过一时轻生,没想到她的话竟就是托孤了。 那天她回来的时候,天已经黑了,带回来好多食物,让小宁叫了我和妹妹,还有其他父母不在的孩子一同晚餐。晚饭很丰盛,除了饭菜,还有很热的汤。她很高兴,常常开心地笑,不断把菜夹到我们碗中,大家都吃得暖和,如同喝了酒。她站起来添煤,炉火红红地照亮了一张脸。她说,将来要带小宁和小清到新疆去找舅舅,就是种地也不做电影了。又说,凯歌你最大,爸妈不在,要照顾其他人。我们离开时,已近午夜;临走,她给我们每个人的衣袋中都塞了一把糖果,是那种用玻璃纸包了的,很韧、又很软的水晶糖。她推门走出来,在清白满地的月光中笑着,点点头。 这是告别的晚餐,要走的却是主人自己。在这个世界上,以人生为他乡的人是有的。当大家都走投无路的时候,他们却轻易地找到了那扇门。她剪断了生命,连同烦恼一起。她在诀别时谈笑自若,是为了使我们不至生疑,还是为了最后一次重温生的快乐?她塞给我们一把糖果,是说生活仍有甘饴,还是实在无物可赠?她和孩子们共进晚餐,是为了相信生命,还是为了正视死亡?她在寒冷的冬夜万籁俱寂的黑暗中,于世界,于人生,可曾想到过什么?至少,可曾顾念一双孤幼的儿女?——也许,什么也没有想。有人说她自私;但是,在那个有太多的人苟活的年代,人们真的有权利批评她吗? 我突然明白,区别生和死,只需要一瞬间。现在她躺在床上,盖着一条温暖的毛毯,身体却渐渐凉了。院子中几乎没有成人,我们几个孩子打电话要了一辆出租汽车,车子到的时候,天正破晓。我们抬起她,都有些惧怕——软而沉重。司机大声说:“怎么这样抬病人?”他走过来帮忙,手触到她的身体,这才瞪圆了眼睛:“死人啊?!”十分钟以后,我在医院的急诊室里恳求医生抢救,医生冷冷地看着我说: “——她是怎么死的?”话只问到这儿,意思却是清楚的:我们应该去抢救一个自杀者吗?换句话说,我们应该去抢救一个自绝于党的人吗?他转过身,走得似乎很远了才又回过头说:“她已经死了四个钟头了。”总得有一件事作注才会明白一个词的真意,那天早上,我只想干嚎,这时候,明白了绝望是什么。死去的阿姨没有遗言。 五年以后,我在同一座医院里,俯身看着小宁的父亲。他喘着气,说:“凯歌,你回来了?”我说:“我回来了。”他笑了。这微笑让我记起他妻子最后的微笑。他在第二天早上逝去。从此,小宁担起了父亲、母亲、兄长的责任。他做了车工,养活自己和妹妹。后来迷上了摄影,却终于没有机会拍摄电影,可我知道,他的才能,很大。后来他去了日本,就读于东京大学摄影系,用自己的双手挣出一份昂贵的学费来。我两次在东京见到他,一次比一次瘦,而且掉了一颗牙齿。记得在国内,他常常和衣而卧,因为没有时间好好睡觉。他帮所有人的忙,不管是谁,只要求到他。但他知道谁是他的朋友,也知道他是谁的朋友。他曾是富裕人家的爱子,家事突变后却从不诉苦。终于有一天,他对我母亲说:阿姨,我不舒服。——指了指心脏。在母亲的强迫下,这一次他睡了很久,醒来时脸色像个婴儿,笑了。他有时买一斤巧克力糖,很贵;然后坐在放在屁股底下的双手上,看着小清一粒一粒地吃完。从美术学院毕业的小清成了画家,去了美国。一件事非发生在自己身上,不然是永远不会懂的。我虽是他们的朋友,却总觉得在生活中无法接近他们那突然被改变了的对世界的看法,也就无法完全明白他们作为人本身。小宁是我见过的人群中的最优秀者,他已经把属于他自己的能力发挥到尽头,却仍然不见命运对他垂顾。 我的母亲也在不久前逝世。逝世时阳光很好,也是清晨,也是冬日。她在生前饱受病痛煎熬,在垂危之际看到一只晴日里的乌鸦,是中国人所不喜欢的。她却低低地说:乌鸦也是鸟,而且是北京的鸟。这一天是一九八八年的最后一日。 G的父亲死后,正逢冬季,煤炭部的造反派却及时取消了煤的供应。两层楼房的住宅中只好用小煤炉取暖,实际效果不过聊胜于无罢了。全家心境的凄苦绝不仅仅因为寒冷。一日晚饭后,剩了一些包子,放在橱中,第二天早上发现不见了,举家惊疑。K说,是爸爸回来吃了。这时大家才觉出到处是死者的气息和遗迹,对于K的话,几乎相信了。直到长子承认包子是他前夜下楼吃了,全家人才头一次破颜一笑,越加睹物思人。 张家的命运却因为一件事而发生了奇迹般的改变。这件事就是K的婚姻。K,生于一九四四年,因盟军攻克北非洲而得名。她是张家唯一的女儿,进城时不过五岁,深受父亲的宠爱,自此一帆风顺,到“文革”时,已是北京工业学院的大学生。她青春一度,皓齿艳唇,爱笑,爱动,矫健,兼备女儿的美丽和男儿的性格,后者也许是生于战争的缘故。她坦白宽广,又急躁任性,事事必得,颐指气使,不饶人,不让人,根本却极善良。譬如火焰,暖人,也灼人,非深知不能和她作朋友;作了朋友,又受她不了。家破人亡之后,她还能时时大笑,豪迈乐天,和她弟弟的儒雅沉静,有表里之分。K的丈夫,是她大学的同学,其父是“林彪集团”的大将之一。这一对夫妻之间起初未必没有真情,尽管K对我说,她的结婚确有解救家庭厄运的意思。这个婚姻的结果是使K的兄弟们成了当时令人羡慕的军人,家庭的状况也确实改善了。也做了军人的K成了某首长的秘书,婚后得一女。到一九七一年九月十三日“林彪事件”之前,两年之间,似乎又家风重振了。 林彪乘飞机出奔,并摔死在蒙古温都尔汗,极大地震动了中国人。K的丈夫也被牵连,关进牢房,接受审查。K起初无事,她通过秘密渠道与丈夫保持通信往来,除鼓励关心、嘘寒问暖,克尽妻子责任之外,有对时事的怨言,也是难免的。这在夫妻之间, 本属自然。两人相约,信件阅后销毁。K照办了,丈夫却将她的来信细细地缝进了棉衣。 K的丈夫,我始终没有见过。但其人的霸蛮,却有所闻。K自己说,他和生母发生口角,可以将腕上的手表除下,猛掷过去,其母侥幸躲过,背后的镜子却被击成粉碎。这样的脾性自非一日所成。待到成为管事的官员,怎样对待同僚和经手的事物,也就不难想象。他的存在,全靠乃父的权势。他和权力之间,犹如衣服和衣架,衣服在时,错认为“我即衣服”;衣服不在,所能幻想的也不过衣服的复得。自身是否为人,如何做人,全不重要,本是这类人的可怜处。所以,他会越狱潜逃而且成功,不在人们意料之中。事发之后,有白色床单从数层楼高的窗口垂下,在冬夜的风中飘扬,估计高度,他须从约摸二层楼纵身跳下方能落地,更使人们大吃一惊。 他原是罪名未定而先被捕,起初并不关在正式的监狱,却在北京市内一座军队医院里,病房权作了囚室。由于是重要案犯,没有行走的自由,每日的饮食有专人传递,负起这个责任的是年轻的军队女护士。父亲罪行重大,自身前途未卜,罪与罚织成一片噩梦,烦乱骚动;加之不自由的身体又正年轻,狭小的斗室刺激了想象的胀大,寂寞时传递的就不仅是粗糙的饮食;时间久了,门外人接受的也就不仅是餐后的空碗了。但是,门是始终紧锁着的,即使送饭的护士也没有钥匙。情欲眼看无法宣泄,却越发高涨起来,终于达到极点。 他关上灯,打开窗户,小心地把床单系在窗边,用力拉了一下,很结实。他看了看下面冬夜的街道,没有行人。他的身体跨出窗口,抓紧床单,慢慢向下滑去。在尽头他才发现地面还远。他悬在空中,心跳得像一面鼓。酸软的手渐渐没有知觉,自然地松开来。落地的瞬间他才意识到,他回不去了。床单太短——他在计划时竟然没有想到这一点。他匆匆会合了等待已久的女护士,双双隐入夜色。 两小时后,他再度被捕。地点在离医院不远、“钓鱼台”墙外的松林中。同时被捕的还有那位女护士。 他的出逃被立即发觉,虽然不想惊动市民,还是实行了局部戒严。部队展开紧张搜索。他被捕后,在重镣之下,被解往别处。男女双双在场,正好吻合传统的说法:捉奸见双。但是,无人相信他的浪漫解释。因为第一,一个重大的国事犯,处在生死未卜的境地,赎罪还来不及,竟愿为片刻的肌肤之亲提前决定一生的命运,是圣人能为而不为,傻子想做而不敢的事,而他不过一个凡人。第二,短布悬空,分明是不回的证据。第三条最厉害:做爱何以做到了中央要人墙外,不是阴谋杀害是什么?有此三条,百口莫辩。 这个故事,分明谈不到爱情。说到最坏处,K的丈夫不过如粗鲁的赏荷者,不满足于远观;为了采摘到手,不惜弄湿裤管。但是,环境的严峻,不会不使他在行动前完全没有考虑:缒窗而下,是否会被人当场发现?是否能够顺利返回?一旦被发现,以待罪之身,后果将会如何?但考虑之后仍然纵身一跳,之后又身陷重围,周身镣铐,义士一般地被牵回,竟是英雄模样了。女护士,说到最坏处,不过爱慕虚荣,欲一亲当年贵公子。但女兵是当时俊俏的职业,因同情落难的官人,纵使对其人全无了解,也愿以大好青春作赌注,博取短短的销魂,单纯忘情如此,也竟有侠女的古风了。至于其他,全不重要。作为人,终于不能降服的,终于是人性。 K的丈夫以“谋刺”和其他罪名被开除党籍、军籍(公职),判刑十一年,流徙青海,去饲养军用的马匹。青海地近西藏,苦寒,六月才有春事,草原多花朵。那里的人们爱唱民歌,其中有名的调子,一个叫“花儿”,一个叫“少年”。护士被判同谋,命运不得而知。也可想而知。K的丈夫在判罪之前,撕开棉衣,交出了K写给他的全部信件。 一九七五年,K在被释出狱之后,对其夫的行为这样解释:他害怕他永远不再是妻子的丈夫,特别不再是女儿的父亲。他害怕离婚,所以…… ——但她是因此而入狱的。他们终于离了婚。他们的女儿应该十九岁了,必定像她母亲当年一样艳丽而无忧。我不知道这件事是否已经发生过,或还未发生:她在某一天打开突然敲响的门,看到一位陌生人,从青海回来的马伕。 K被捕后一直关在北京郊区一座军用仓库的院子里。她的囚室,除了桌、床以外,还有一扇窗。窗被大钉钉死,玻璃从外面糊上了一张报纸。阳光好的时候,报纸上的字迹很清楚,好像一张幻灯片。只是光线更柔和,更黄。外面的树影依季节,在一天中不同的时间里出现在窗上。听到落叶声,就知道又是秋天了。起初,她站在窗前读得有趣,惊讶报纸上的话还是新闻的时候,自己竟没留意。后来,她躺在床上,连同标点符号在内,整段地背诵报纸上的文章,声音很大,又时不时跳起来核对;之后,又背,直到一字不差。有一次,她突然停住,想想自己正在做的事情,出了一身冷汗。她想忘掉那张报纸,结果反而梦见了它。吓醒后不敢睁眼,又不能不睁眼,报纸在的地方,同时是惟一的光源。她觉得那就是她的判决书,上面写满了她的罪状。她开始不停地尖叫、怒骂,看守者推测她可能疯了,当她试着解释时,看守者断定她已经疯了。她的叫声,曾经使初闻者惊得合不上嘴,后来渐渐嘶哑,成了远近市声的一部分,无人关心了。在叫声暂歇的时候,人们反而竖起耳朵,说:嗅?怎么安静了?——叫声复起,人们吃饭、洗衣、睡觉、谈笑,就像住在铁道边的人家一样。这样的日子,整整三年。我一直小心地和K说话,为了不那么经常看到她突然抬起头来,像火光中的刀子那样的目光。K也被开除党籍、军籍,只是没判刑,做了闲人。 春残了,K常常坐在家中二楼的窗前眺望,很出神地想着什么。远处,是旧城一片灰色的瓦脊和炊烟,眼底,是另一户人家的窗口。这户人家是在K的父亲死后搬进院子里来的,开始只是夫妻二人。为什么偏偏是他们搬了进来,怎么搬进来的,不知道。有一件事是确实的:这家的男人是煤炭部里的造反派,参与过迫害K的父亲。那时,他还是个青年。他们住的是原来司机住的厢房,自备大门的钥匙,下了班就走进家,很少出现在院子中,出来时也总是低着头,躲开K的母亲恨恨的眼光。这样的日子一定不舒服。特别在K的父亲平反、恢复名誉之后,仍然不想搬开,大约因为这里的住房到底比别处宽敞些。一天,K又在窗前闲坐,忽然听到毗邻的房脊上有弄瓦的声音,抬头一看,一个年纪极轻的军人正伏在房脊上向下窥视,K移开视线,就看见初夏窗口内正在洗浴的妇人。她立刻大叫起来。 立即消失了的年轻军人属于邻院的警卫部队。所保卫的,过去也是一位部长,后来更高,是所称“党和国家领导人”之一,在张家落难之后,曾经相助。K一叫,引来了调查的军官。第一次来,K的母亲不在家。第二次来,是在第二天上午。我走进她家的时候,K的母亲正在和一个高个子军人谈话,K本人,白着脸站在一旁。K的母亲说:没有这回事!是我女儿看错了!用不着调查,别难为战士们,更不要惊动首长。这件事,一风吹!我是老同志。听我的!高个子军人看了看K,很迷惑。K咬了嘴,低着头,不再说话。军人走后,K的母亲指了她说:你糊涂!打狗还要看主人!让隔壁(党和国家领导人)知道了,是什么意思?咱们家现在是个啥情况?有这么个邻居,有多少照应?敢闹吗?那家是什么人?是害死你爸的仇人!看看又怎么了?怎么就不该看了?看得好!你倒帮着她说话!K一直低着头,这时突然抬起来说:就是不该看!!K的母亲哭起来,大声责备,被别的人劝到里面去休息,关了门,还能听到哭声。 我随K走上楼去,劝了几句,都是废话,就住了口。她站在窗口,臂交抱着,看了我一会儿,说:她不也是女人吗?我说:谁?邻居?K说:不,我妈。