Chapter 6 Chapter 5 Widow He and the Feeling of the Dressing Room

This woman is a labyrinth, the shape of a cave, and I fell into this outline.The narrow space around us was full of darkness, as if we were covered in a quilt. We couldn't see each other clearly, our faces were blurred, and the walls around us echoed hissingly, so we didn't dare to talk loudly.Below our toes is an abyss that cannot be seen to the bottom. We are unable to move an inch, unable to move forward and unable to retreat, and nothingness spreads around us.The danger ahead compelled us to stop, to undress, to drop our burdens, to huddle together with the darkness, overwhelmed by the sensation of touching each other, pushed to the brink of existence.

Her age stands in front of me, but, on the horizon of time, she is my shadow behind. She said that I was her way out and ahead. Naturally, the movie of that day was not seen. When my mother came back to my room from the kitchen, she found that the pants had been cut.I heard her scream in my room, as if it wasn't a pair of trousers but a living leg, and blood was gushing out of the cut slit. However, my mother didn't call me home immediately, and taught me a lesson. The whole day, she turned around the huge "wound".Try to find a way to bridge it.But the cut was indeed too dazzling. After a day of careful repair by my mother, the joint of the originally smooth and delicate milky white trousers still looked like a sleeping black bug, conspicuously entangled on the trouser legs.

In the evening, when my father came home, he had a big fight with his mother because of the pants incident. I hid in my room like a fugitive, afraid to breathe hard or make a sound. My mother didn't teach me about it from the beginning to the end, as if I had never cut my pants. In fact, if she insisted on me explaining the reason for cutting the pants, I would definitely not be able to explain.Because the impulse to pick up the scissors is a very vague and subtle psychological process: at home, scissors have been listed as forbidden objects since childhood and are not allowed to be touched;The sound made when the scissors bite the cut object will produce a wonderful pleasure in the body to "solve" something. The sound is like an electric current, running through the blood vessels, and there is a tingling tremor; , It is the repression of our father... All these thoughts that are so chaotic and illogical cannot be explained clearly at that time.

An irrational girl who has not fully grown up, has a natural yearning for all taboo things, a strong rebellious personality, and the characteristic of inflating the general confrontation to the extreme in her blood, which determines this matter. The inevitability of things. That day, after I escaped from the house, I went to the street.I walked along the path paved by the morning light, my thoughts fluttering.After walking blindly for a while, he sat down on a deserted stone bench in the street garden by the side of the road. I looked at the swaying clusters of dead grass stems blown by the hot summer wind between the cracks of the stone on the opposite wall, anxiously waiting for the unknown ending.

Sitting there, I touched things and thought about emotions, and I suddenly got rid of the panic in my heart, and I couldn't help but miss the spring that had just passed away.I remember that in the early morning, the moldy moisture and the melancholy rain dispersed, and the sun, which had been hiding for many days, poked out its eyes from the gaps in the clouds, casting golden yellow and rose red continuously on Sunday. houses, streets and toon trees full of pink flowers. Ferns and vines are lush and fragrant.Strange birds of all colors bathed in the purple morning glow. Looking at the withered summer landscape in front of me, I miss the vibrant spring that has passed away. This does not mean that I am a person who regards yesterday as today and reality as a wish in my mind. I am sober that I never confuse reality and fantasy.The flashing picture of spring in my mind is nothing more than my "memory disease" without realizing it.

After sitting blankly for a while, I stood up and walked around again.For some reason, my train of thought has completely put aside the question before going out at this time, and jumped to another place. As I was walking, I suddenly realized, how come the bodies of all the people on the street have become specimens?It looks like a human being, but as long as you reach out and touch his heart, he will fall to the ground in an instant like a corn leaf.The living creature that fell on the ground was lying on the thick ground filled with golden light spots, lingering on its last breath, stretching its waist non-stop.Yawns were like bubbles, bubbling out of the top of his head one by one.Then the living creature tilted its head and turned into empty wreckages, leaving only two testicles or breasts the size of winter melons in the pictures I saw in Mr. T's office.What else do people have?nothing.

Or, as they walked, the crowd around them slowly collapsed, and in a daze, the color of the crowd gradually dimmed, and the original upright body appeared lying down and gray.After taking a closer look, I realized that the original crowd was actually a group of humanoid wolves. I had been walking in a pack of wolves without knowing it.I was terrified because I discovered that I could neither exist alone nor alone as a person.Can't be a she-wolf either... For a long time, I walked among the people in the street, and these two situations kept recurring. Until today, many years later, I still like to walk alone in the street.In order to avoid the recurrence of the above situation, I forced myself to avoid the main road, avoid the large crowds, and walk on the edge of the ascending or descending path.I have never liked the smooth and stable road, which seems to have become a symbol of my life.And I found that only the deserted street in the morning light, or the fading rosy light at dusk, is the way I want to go.

That day, as I was walking, I suddenly remembered a person.I thought, my mother couldn't find me, so I must have asked her.It's always like this.She would sit under the jujube tree in my yard and wait for me, while busy building a "bridge of mystery" that people can't see.Surrounding her is the cool mist or evening wind, and there are some scrap metal cans in front of her feet, which contain spells and blessings.At any time, she has only blessings for me, and only curses for those I hate. This woman always sits in the courtyard waiting for me to show up after school. She is my neighbor across the door—the widow who has a wonderful sexual magnetic sound quality.

I turned around ninety degrees quickly and walked towards Widow He's house. He was playing with her old records in the room. When I entered the room, I noticed her mermaid-like eyes light up imperceptibly.She put down the record as thin and crisp as a biscuit in her hand, and removed the needle of the old-fashioned gramophone, and the music in the room stopped abruptly. When the voice stopped, her elegant and charming facial features and posture were highlighted.Her long eyes shine like black clay pots, her quiet forehead is smooth and broad, and her long doe-like legs are like a smooth silk, slenderly bunched at the waist.

He peacefully stretched out his arm to me. I stood at the door with a heavy heart, looked at my house opposite, and then walked towards He. It was amazing, when I walked towards her step by step, the anxiety in my heart became peaceful and quiet step by step.A sense of complicity with He rose from the soles of my feet. Wo, this young widow a dozen years my senior, always struck me with a wonderful sense of complicity, no matter what I did.Like her voice, it gives people a fragile hope. He took my hand and said with concern, "Aoao, what happened?" I walked blindly on the street for a long time, and it seemed that I finally found a place to put the "garbage" in my hand.

I said, "Dad's pants, cut them off." He said, "It's nothing, don't be afraid, don't be afraid." She held me in her arms, "It must be the scissors desperately holding your hand, it cut it by itself, right?" I said, "That's right. I really didn't want to cut Daddy's pants at all. Somehow, it was done. I didn't mean to." "Uh, it's okay, it's okay." He gently patted my back, her arm was as light and wonderful as a windmill, and my whole body was like a leaf in the wind, trembling and erratic. She stood up, wiped my face with clean wet fur, and wiped my feet, and then let me go to bed and lie on her jade pillow. It was a real jade pillow, the emerald green was so rich that juice could be squeezed out, and the oblate jade stones were inlaid on the purple smooth flannelette, cool as ice.I lay the pillow under my head, and immediately felt the cool pebbles go down my hair and penetrate into my brain, refreshing my chaotic mind. I heard from my mother that in the past, emperors slept on jade pillows. Earlier, I heard from my grandma that He's ancestors were descendants of high-ranking Manchu officials in the Qing Dynasty, and they were born in the Xiangshan area.One of her distant ancestors used to be the Yin and Yang Department of Qin Tianjian, who was in charge of Fengshui under Emperor Qianlong, and had a relationship with Cao Xueqin.In the fourteenth year of Qianlong, Emperor Qianlong established a special force in Xiangshan, called the Flying Tiger Yunti Jianrui Battalion, with a total of 3,000 soldiers, and built a "flag plate" according to the Eight Banners system.Emperor Qianlong sent He's ancestor, Qin Tianjian Yinyang Division, accompanied by Xiangshan Guard Commander, to inspect Fengshui in the Xiangchu area.Qin Tianjian climbed to the gate of Xiangshan tower, looked east, and saw a mountain ridge in front of him, surrounded by green trees.The wild flowers are all over the mountain, like a phoenix flying with wings, this is the famous Phoenix Mountain.The ancestor of He was immediately overjoyed. He said, the one in the north is called Guiling, which is the back of a divine turtle, and the one in the distance is called Hongchutou, which is the head of a divine turtle. It's the turtle's tail.The tortoise is originally a dragon species. There are phoenixes and dragons here.He reported it to the emperor immediately, and made a drawing to determine the place.So the emperor ordered the Han people here to move out. one day.Cao Xueqin came to ask for an interview, and told Qin Tianjian that Xiangshan Mountain is indeed a treasure land of geomantic omen, but the five elements lack water, and the forest will not grow if the mountain lacks water, and the birds will not grow if the forest is not lush—then how can the phoenix take off?The radical of the word "Han" is three dots of water, and the radical of the word "Man" is also three dots of water, such as letting scattered Han people enter each village side by side, forming a pattern of "two Manchus and one Han".This becomes nine points of water, and there are more than nine points. If there is enough fragrant mountains and waters, the wind will fly like dragons and winds, and Fengshui will be preserved. He's ancestors admired Cao Xueqin very much, so they reached an agreement and reported it to the emperor again.In this way, the Manchu and Han races settled down in Xiangshan from generation to generation. He's ancestors were wealthy, well-educated, and once very brilliant.Although due to various changes in history, generations have declined, and the family has been reduced to impoverishment, but the legacy of her ancestors still makes her have a declining aristocratic and scholarly atmosphere. He graduated from university in his twenties and was assigned to work as a teacher in a middle school.Her man's ancestor was also a descendant of Huang, suave, handsome and unrestrained. He was omnipotent in playing piano, chess, calligraphy and painting in private. He looked very much like the Vasily in the movie "Lenin in October" at that time. He was tall, slender, and fair-skinned. On the face, there is a big Soviet nose standing upright, and wearing a peaked cap, he is very handsome.His job is to work as a music teacher in a district cultural center.Although his humble life as a clerk has long lost the splendor of his ancestors, he has inherited the habits of those distant ancestors who are idle, eating, drinking, whoring, and gambling. He and He had been in love for a while when they first got married. Every night, the two of them would huddle together in the bedroom, laughing and making noises while turning the Voice of America on the radio station to creaking noises.But soon, the man found another new love, and fell in love with an old lady who could play the accordion and was assigned to the cultural center after retiring from the art troupe.The two played and sang, chattered and talked sweetly, and once performed in the name of a propaganda team, they never returned all night.Later, he caught an inexplicable fever and died suddenly.Wo was a young widow before she even had time to conceive a child or expose his fancy tricks on the outside. Not long after her husband died, He developed diabetes again.In less than a year, he became emaciated and weak. He retired from illness and received labor insurance. These are what I heard when my one-eyed grandma was chatting with my mother while shaking the banana fan for me in the long summer night. At that time, I thought He was a very lonely woman, a somewhat mysterious and eccentric woman. I felt that she was different from ordinary people, and I couldn't explain why she was different.I love being with her and I'm a little scared of her. When I grew up, I realized that loneliness is actually a kind of ability. I remember, after her man died, every time my grandma made delicious food, my mother always asked me to take a portion for He.Grandma said that it was difficult for her to live alone. My impression of that man is very faint. I was still young at that time, but I just vaguely remember that there seemed to be a man coming and going in and out of her house in the early years. Chewing something, or holding a sorghum straw broom seedling for sweeping the bed, or holding a toothpick, and smiling politely when seeing my mother.I still vaguely remember that he sometimes took a few puffs of big cigarettes, and if I happened to be next to him, he would bend down, lightly spray the smoke on my face, and then smile mysteriously.The smell of smoke was very strong and fragrant.It was later heard that he had suffered from an acute disease called "loin-wrapped fire pill", and then developed into a strange fever. When he died, his internal organs were covered with cloud-shaped herpes zoster everywhere. After that, I remember more. I often saw He pricking her body with a needle. She said it was insulin injection.I remember that she was always leaning alone on the door frame, covering her eyes with her hands, blocking the thin evening sun, and looking into the distance, as if waiting for someone to come home.After standing and watching for a while, she retreated into the room, but the sense of loss on her face did not dissipate, perhaps because she was tired. At this time, I calmed down and lay on He Jie's big bed, feeling a kind of warm breath unique to women, permeating from my back to my chest.I smell a lavender or mint leaves fragrance.I looked up and looked around, the room was dim, and the gray and white bare walls on all sides formed oppressive light from all sides, swirling the rusty green breath damply.The dimness of the room made the ray of light obliquely coming in from the window particularly eye-catching. Widow He’s room, in my memory, always has the feeling of a dressing room. The walls are covered with invisible mirrors. Once you enter such a room, you will fall into a labyrinth of overlapping and bypassing. .This is just a woman's room, where a woman or two women dress and undress endlessly, they don't speak, they use code words, it seems that the eyes of men are hidden behind the invisible mirrors in the room, and the eyes are looking at They peered, their eyes met the whispers in their gestures.Women here are afraid of being revealed their secrets, afraid of the passage of time, afraid of getting along with the outside world, and at the same time afraid of losing their beauty and being rejected by the world.The light here always creates illusions, the images of women are both real and false, they often feel suffocated, the existence of oxygen seems unreal, they feel uneasy, and the distant horizon surrounds them from all directions. in a dangerous situation. The furniture in He’s house is mostly made of half-worn chestnut hardwood. In my impression, the high and low cabinets or chairs are all carved with old-fashioned patterns such as dragons or phoenixes, which permeates the stale air of old furniture. Nothing new. Wo likes to smoke a long, thin pipe.After her man died, she might be extremely idle.So I found a pipe from the old things left at home to pass the time.There is an emerald green jade mouth inlaid on the stem of this pipe. She sucks that wonderful jade mouth for a long time, and it seems to wake up, and the silent green stone blooms live jade flowers.Her manner of smoking a pipe is different from those old-fashioned grandfathers and grandmothers. She first crushes the best flue-cured tobacco leaves between her slender fingers, and plays with them carefully for a while. Just to crush the tobacco leaves.Then hurriedly put it into the pipe pot.Looking at her unhurried and leisurely look, it seems that she first tasted the mellow aroma of tobacco leaves with her fingertips.Then, she packed the tobacco leaves and lit them.After taking two big mouthfuls in a row, a faint blush appeared on her face, it seemed that the smoke inhaled, after entering her body, turned into blood, which slowly rose to her cheeks. The pipe rod and her slender arms form a graceful geometric pattern.When she was smoking, her eyelids were slightly closed, and the indigo-colored smoke filled the sky from her face, her expression seemed to be intoxicated in an old and broken past, as if she had been waiting for a sweetheart, Or someone like her would show up, for which she longed for it. Looking back, she was about twenty-five or six years old at this time.After many, many years, I didn't know.She has been waiting for me to grow up.I have been waiting since I was born in the 1960s. The mountains in the distance grew taller and taller, covered with white-haired withered vines;Waiting for me to grow into an adult woman with independent mind and behavior ability like her.The time between us is like the hills, wilderness, city siege, fog and taboos. These cruel things block her vision and hinder her desire. These, of course, I did not know until many years later. At that time, I just thought it was a kind of enjoyment to watch her smoke.When I was younger, I saw opium smokers in comic books. Those men and women were haggard, skinny, with disheveled faces. When the wind blows, they will be swept away like dry leaves, baring their faces. Yellow teeth, breath out of the mouth, as if the blood flowing in the veins is not blood, but muddy slurry from the gutter. However, looking at He smoking a pipe, it was a completely different feeling.Refreshing and elegant, it is a kind of decadence from nobility, the smoke from her mouth is like a ray of white sunlight pouring in from the slightly opened skylight, graceful and Nana passing over my skin, the air is soft and warm, that The twists and turns of the blue mist set off the walls of the room with brilliance.The resinous fragrance is still stagnant in my lungs to this day. At this time, He held his pipe and leaned against me.She made me rest my head on her chest, and said something to me that didn't matter.Her chest was very soft and cool.I lay on it and felt at ease.She stroked my back with one hand, much like I stroked the Sophia Loren I once had at home. He said, "Is it hot?" I said, "No." He then pulled out my short-sleeved shirt from the waistband of my trousers, stretched her hands inside, and kept bulging my clothes.Her fingertips kept touching my back, itchy and crispy.So, I twisted my body and cried out.Her hands stopped fanning the clothes and caressed my back quietly. At this time, He finished smoking, and lay down comfortably with his body leaning on the back of the bed.I still rest on her chest.She closed her eyes slightly, looking sleepy.Then, she started kissing my hair, and after a while, she raised my head with her hands, and kissed my eyes and cheeks. He said weakly, "Aoao, you know, your eyes are beautiful." I said, "I don't know." She said, "You must be a beautiful woman when you grow up." I said, "I'm not as pretty as you, and nobody likes me." "How come? I like you very much." He said. I was a little surprised by what she said.Except for my mother, no one in this world has ever said this word to me so bluntly.My heart was filled with gratitude and joy. I said, "Mr. T, my father and many classmates don't like me, I know." "But, I like you." He said. I said, "I like you too." He closed his eyes and smiled, "Why do you like it?" "Like, I like seeing you." "anything else?" "Also, I like being next to you." He opened his eyes, took my head and kissed me earnestly. "Like me kissing you, don't you?" I said, "Yes." He kissed my forehead, cheeks and neck, and at the same time used her hand that reached under my clothes to gently slide on my back.Now, I understand the Sophia Loren in my house, why when I stroke it, it closes its eyes lazily and remains motionless, because it is very comfortable to be stroked. I lay on He's body, remained motionless, and let her do whatever she wanted.I have a natural trust in He. so.After a while, I saw a teardrop roll out of He Wei's closed eyes, and that teardrop flowed down her fair face to the back of her ears. I say. "what happened to you?" He didn't make a sound. After a while, she said, "Aoba, do you want to kiss me?" I didn't know what to say, but I just stared at her teardrops, which fell from her earlobe to the jade pillow like a crystal.After a while of silence, I stumbled and said, "So, where am I kissing?" Wo hugged me to her chest and sobbed. I said, "Don't cry, I'll kiss you." So, I kissed her east and west.I said, "I think your boobs, like my mother's, are not quite the same as mine." "It'll be the same when you grow up." She gasped and said again, "Do you want to kiss it?" I do not speak.I am a little scared. Mr. T once lost his temper because of those private parts painted on the picture.I don't know if seeing it, is making a mistake. At this time, He lifted up her skirt and unbuttoned the bra inside, and two peach-like white and transparent breasts jumped out; like spring silkworms before spinning, they were cool, and seemed to burst when touched. "Kiss it, stubborn." I put it in my mouth and squirmed my lips like I sucked my mother's milk when I was a child.Pretend to eat it. I ate like this for a long time, and gradually I heard her breathing quicken. I looked up to see her eyes tightly closed, one of her hands squirming between her legs. I was kind of scared and I said, "Are you okay?" She didn't speak, just put me back on her body. We've been playing like that, and she occasionally says something specious, or makes a weird hum.Until my mother called me home for lunch. My way of remembering the past can always be like a sieve. What I want to remember is those rainy dusks, the old and sad singing that seeps in from a distance, and the blurred images of grass in the room in the dim light. It's all printed in my head.