Chapter 4 Chapter 3 I am a carrier

"Better through a keyhole than through an open door." After the heavy rain, there were a few days of cold weather.I lowered my eyes and walked alone on the way to school, and the pedestrians passing by were all taller than me.I inadvertently looked up at the landscape outside the intersection, and going to school put me under a lot of pressure. A lunatic walked towards me, he smiled at me, his withered body was like a handful of firewood, fluttering in the wind of coughing and screaming.He stared into my face and smiled happily, as if he was walking on the road to a happy paradise.I don't know if he's really a lunatic, but I think he is.Who in the street would laugh at someone Suo didn't know?Especially laughing at a little girl like me who doesn't have any social behavior power?

He flew past me like a beam of joy.I stopped, turned around, and looked at his back reluctantly for a long time, until he turned and disappeared, and my daylight was broken by the wall at the corner. The clouds in the elementary school were low and foggy, as if there was green smoke everywhere.Today, Teacher T will assign extracurricular study groups to the whole class.I hurried to the classroom. Teacher T was already in the classroom, and he was walking back and forth between the desks.The class bell has not rang yet, but the students in the classroom are sitting upright one by one, as if something happened, and everyone is waiting.

As soon as I walked into the classroom, I heard Mr. T's tracheitis attack, and there was a whistle hissing in his throat.It's a sign, a harbinger of something important to come. Once, at the end of my fourth grade, when Mr. T was about to announce to us the despicable act of someone cheating in an exam, the classroom was solemn and quiet.At this time, only a slight and sharp whistle was heard floating over the classroom. Mr. T yelled, "Who is blowing the whistle?" Everyone listened blankly for a while, and found that the strange hissing sound was coming from T's throat, so they all buried their heads and laughed secretly.

After a while, Mr. T seemed to have discovered the source of the voice, cleared his throat, and said angrily, "Why are you laughing? This is a cruel commemoration imposed on me by Chinese history! How do you know that?" From Mr. T’s one-of-a-kind and intermittent complaints about us in the past few years, I know that he is the third-year-old educated youth. In 1966, he took the image of a rebel who was a son of a fallen high-ranking cadre, and became a soldier of the Northeast Production and Construction Corps. It took eight years to take root. It was not until 1974 when his father was rehabilitated that he was finally able to return to the city.However, on the ninth day after he was rehabilitated, his father died suddenly, and the family fortune has since declined.

When T mentioned this to us, he had an angry and unlucky face, full of underappreciated talents. Some of T's personal history was revealed to us by T at the time, and his psychological background as a person was due to some strange and confusing personal relationship he had with me at the time, many years after that.I experienced it myself. That day, after I walked into the classroom, I quietly sat down in my seat.Then look east and west. My deskmate told me in a low and mysterious voice, "One of us stole other people's money." The classmate behind me immediately retorted in a low voice, "No, someone wrote a reactionary slogan in the toilet."

My heart was beating wildly. Teacher T was like a red wolf in a zoo, walking back and forth between our seats angrily but calmly.His vigilant eyes flashed like nails, scratching from our faces, as if his eyes could penetrate into our hearts from the outside to the inside, and he could peek into the inner secrets from the outside.I don't know if it was because my heart was beating so fast that I had an illusion, or the "nail" that was drawn back and forth really pierced my cheek. I just felt that the blood on my face had flowed out, like a wipe. Layers of hot peppers. Don't blush, you didn't do anything!I told myself.

"Now," Mr. T finally spoke, "some of us are circulating pictures of human bodies, the kind of pictures that specifically show the private parts of men and women." Ah, thank goodness, not stealing money or reactionary catchphrases.But, the private department, where is the private department? When Mr. T talked about the "private department", his tone was very special, with a special charm.It was as if the word had been phosphor-coated and ignited by the spark of Mr. T's fleeting voice, causing the word to jump out of a coherent sentence and burn for a moment like a matchhead.

From his tone, I could see that the private part was an unusual place, and I thought the private part probably meant "that kind of" place.Thinking of this, my face became hot again for no reason.I really don't know why my face doesn't listen to me so much. "Ni Aoao, stand up!" Mr. T called, "Tell me why you are blushing?" His questioning once again pushed me to an even more extreme isolation. Many people avoided me like the plague, and I became a "carrier". After school, Mr. T called me to his office. He judged the homework and asked me to stand aside and reflect.

Later, everyone else in the office left, and Teacher T finally stopped the red fountain pen dancing in his hand. "Tell me," Mr. T's tone was as gentle as possible, and he could see that he didn't want to continue to make things difficult for me. He said, "Why are you blushing?" I cleared my throat and thought for a moment. Since Mr. T made a peaceful gesture first, I intend to give up all confrontational emotions and enter a semi-resistance state. I said, "It really has nothing to do with me. I haven't seen those pictures, so I don't know what's painted on them."

"I drew the private part of the human body. You don't know why you blush?" The word "private part" appeared again, and I once again felt that this word seemed to be very hot in Mr. T's mouth, like holding a hot jujube just out of boiling water. I wanted to swallow it hastily, but I was afraid it would be hot go inside. I hesitated and said vaguely, "Where is the private department...? I really didn't see it." "Don't you know where it is? You blush?" I am silent. The room was silent for a while, and the feeling of confrontation slowly rose in my heart again. I turned half of my body, intending not to look at him, and not to say anything.

Suddenly, Mr. T stretched out his hand and pulled my shoulder, as if he was a little angry. He threw the stack of body pictures in front of my eyes like playing cards, shaking them one by one before my eyes. "Private, don't you really know?" He paused, then raised his hand again, "Private, this is here," he touched my chest, "Private is here! ’ He touched again between my thighs. I dodged backwards, my heart was beating wildly, and I didn't dare to make a sound. Mr. T stared at my face with a restless and excited expression. "Ni Aoao, in fact, I have always cared about you and treated you very well, why are you always at odds with me?" Mr. T's tone softened completely, and he spoke earnestly.For a moment, I even caught a hint of distress at our standoff in his expression. I didn't make a sound, and felt that something was wrong, but I couldn't implement it properly and couldn't say it. "Aoao, you are a big kid, you don't even know how to do your private parts?" Mr. T said, and touched my chest and between my legs again.His hands seemed to be smeared with glue, and he couldn't take them off again and again. I suddenly found out where the awkwardness was, it was all in his hands, he touched my body. My face was hot, as hot as it was in the classroom in the morning. In the midst of conflicting emotions mixed with anger, excitement, and resistance, I suddenly wanted to raise my hand and repeat it on the corresponding part of his body, saying, "Private. It's here. Private is there!" But, gasping for breath, I finally didn't move. I just rehearsed in my head what I was going to say and do.All the movements and sounds are actually done in my imagination without any movement. "Aoao..." Mr. T didn't want to say anything, I could see that he was just calling my name, "Aoao..." I saw the begging for reconciliation from his face. I ran away. At this time, there was no one in the elementary school.From the office in the backyard to the school gate in the front yard, you have to go through a long and narrow south road with tall walls on both sides.I stepped lightly, afraid that the sound of my footsteps would make me think it was someone else.I was engrossed in the adventurous minutiae of the imagination I had just imagined, with a vengeful rage and fear in my heart. However, as I walked, I gradually felt that the anger was being left behind me step by step.As my steps stretched stiffly between the smooth walls of the passage, I felt a dreadful and mysterious pleasure.Due to the narrowness of this trail, there is no "surroundings", but only "front and back".From time to time, my shoulders and arms touched the walls lined up on both sides, as if I was walking in a dream.Therefore, it was not my eyes, but my constantly bumped shoulders, that felt the mysterious and frightening pleasure first. I suddenly had an inexplicable sense of victory. But what this sense of victory is, I have no idea.