1 It was a nasty summer at the end of the century, and the weather was capricious: the icebergs melted, the snow line rose, and the ghosts of "El Niño" wandered everywhere.Drought and scorching heat afflict the northern plains, while floods and floods are like the bad-tempered bad boys in the legend, turning the beautiful countryside in the south into a turbid water town with turbulent waves. In this hot summer when disaster warnings were frequent, I went to Bangkok with a group of domestic writers via Hong Kong and Taipei to hold a pen meeting.Nowadays, holding a pen meeting is just a name, but it is actually another term for traveling, drafting and close relationship.You make a contribution to the magazine, and the magazine invites you to travel, which means reciprocating, and it is also an emotional investment.There are more than a dozen of us, from all over the country, half of them are professional writers and half of them are amateur writers. Some famous writers include Jiangsu Zhou Meisen, whose novels "The Righteous Way in the World" and "World Wealth" have been adapted into a TV series of the same name and are being broadcast on CCTV; Hubei writer Deng Yiguang, Shandong writer Li Guantong, all of them have quite impressive works that have won awards in China.There are also several young writers with great potential. They all regard this pen meeting as a great opportunity to broaden their minds and look at the world. I believe that they will work harder to write after being inspired.

Bangkok, the capital of Thailand, is located on the Indochina Peninsula in southern Asia. It is a beautiful and ancient tourist city. The Chao Phraya River is turbid and calm, and silver-white fish are jumping on the water. Ancient religious monasteries are in harmony with modern life.For the strange and mysterious Thailand, like many tourists, we have heard a lot and have mixed reviews, so we are full of curiosity.The reason why this ancient Buddhist country in South Asia has become a banner of the world's tourism industry is that it is famous and attracts tens of millions of tourists from all over the world to visit each year. In addition to the beautiful natural scenery, thoughtful and mature tourist facilities and tourism services, Of course, unique humanistic factors should be highlighted, such as religion, monasteries, clothing, food, customs, and the high degree of openness of the sex industry and entertainment industry, etc.One of the most famous scenery can be said to be the symbol of Thailand, just like the giant panda on the Great Wall is equal to China, the pyramid is equal to Egypt, the koala kangaroo is equal to Australia, the kimono is equal to Japan, and Coca-Cola is equal to the United States. A flag of desire rises in the hearts of tourists, arousing many urgent and strong yearnings, and everyone is eager to see it.

The name of the scenery feast is "shemale". Literati are emotional animals, and their mental temperament is like waves. They are easy to overwhelm mountains and fall into deep valleys, so these people always have many stories when they get together, and our group of literati is of course no exception.On the first day, watching the ladyboy show was arranged on a large cruise ship named "Maenam Palace", at eight o'clock in the evening.Before boarding the ship, we saw many beautiful girls gathered on the brightly lit pier to solicit customers from a distance.We are all Asians, unlike those European foreigners who can't understand oriental women.I can see that they are all young, with heavy makeup, tall breasts, thin waists, pink faces, peach cheeks, and beautiful eyes. If the tour guide did not say hello in advance, we would not believe it. These beautiful girls in front of me are actually transvestites.The so-called shemale is a man who turns into a woman.The tour guide Mr. Lu is a Thai Chinese. He taught us a trick to distinguish between real and fake ladyboys by looking at his Adam's apple and buttocks.Shemale has an Adam's apple and a narrow buttocks, but a real woman has no Adam's apple and a plump buttocks, and the rest is indistinguishable.We suddenly realized that we all stared at other people's throats and buttocks, really "not afraid of ignorance, but afraid of comparing goods".It's just that some people occasionally look badly and treat substandard real women as adult demons.

The cruise ship started, and the ladyboys kicked off the performance with singing and dancing scenes.I saw that the audience was almost all tourist groups from mainland China, speaking Mandarin with different accents. If it weren't for the different scenery outside the window, you would hardly doubt that you were in a certain place in China.The ladyboy jumped up and down, sang a few Thai songs, and danced again, winning applause from the audience.Then the performance began to show its hue as if it changed its taste.The lights were half-bright and half-dark, the ladyboys stopped singing and dancing, and competed on stage to perform undressing, one by one taking off more, boldly, and making various obscene movements to tease the audience, some even Jumping off the auditorium to perform sexual intercourse, the timid audience fled away in fear.There are two questions that I have always wondered and couldn't figure out: First, what are the advantages of changing a man into a woman?Like knockoffs, are they better than real women?The second is why these transgender men are favored?Just to satisfy people's curiosity?

Suddenly there was commotion in a corner of the audience, causing many people to stop and look there. It turned out that Shandong writer Li Guantong had a fit and insisted on throwing a beer bottle onto the stage.Li Guantong is tall and tall. He has won the National Short Story Award. He is a bloody northern man.He probably drank a lot of beer after boarding the boat. He insisted on breaking free from Zhou Meisen and Deng Yiguang's obstruction, yelling loudly that if it was my daughter, I would... kill her! ...Kill...Kill!After all, I hugged my head and cried.I believe that this is a shemale pornographic performance that directly damages the self-esteem of this Chinese man and his father. The 1.80-meter-long Shandong man burst into tears and couldn't help himself.What kind of feeling is this?If you love your own daughter, can you watch the depravity of other people's daughters and remain indifferent?This is the writer's conscience!I heard that Zhou Meisen and Deng Yiguang also shed tears on the spot. Later, some Chinese writers left the scene midway to defend their personal dignity and protest.Of course, shemales don't care about other people's protests, and they continue to continue the more unbearable pornographic content until late at night.

Everyone felt very heavy that night, not because the Thai transvestites betrayed their lust, but because our friend Li Guantong was hurt in his heart.On some occasions since then, some writers insisted on their moral stand by leaving early.Because I am a paying audience, I feel that it is a bit cheap not to watch it, and I am really tempted in my heart, and I am a little ready to move.It is an embarrassing thing to admit that you are weak-willed, showing that you are not very noble and have a tendency to degenerate.The problem is that I can't beautify myself, because I really didn't respond to Li Guantong and Zhou Meisen's exit in time.I discovered that I was likely to be an untested and weak-willed person.

2 After leaving Bangkok, we traveled by car to the scenic spot of Pattaya (PATTAYA).Pattaya was originally a desolate beach, a few hours' drive away from Bangkok. Since the US military built a huge military base here after World War II, Thais came here to make money and provide services for wealthy American soldiers. Later, Pattaya became A well-known tourist destination. The sun was scorching, the sun was like fire, and the vegetation on both sides of the road hung their heads.The air conditioner is on in the luxury bus, and pop music is playing on the stereo. For the hard-working passengers, the journey always seems particularly boring and long.The tour guide Mr. Lu is really a very responsible person. He is in his thirties and has worked as a tour guide for more than ten years with rich experience.I think the job of a tour guide is to keep talking, to keep finding something to say, so as not to get lost in the murky river of lethargy and drowsiness.At that time, an anarchic atmosphere of laziness, sleepiness, self-directedness, and lethargy was openly pervading in the carriage, and someone was snoring loudly like a trumpet.I saw the expression on Mr. Lu's face like that of a tragic band conductor who still stands firm when the whole band is about to lose control.It was in such a state of disorganization and fragmentation that he happened to mention the Golden Triangle.

Mr. Lu said that the Golden Triangle has been partially opened, the 93rd Division (the Thais’ collective name for the remnants of the Kuomintang) headquartered in Maeslo has handed over its guns, and the big drug lord Khun Sa has also surrendered to the government. Years ago, I visited the Golden Triangle in person, and so on. In fact, Mr. Lu's nagging only lasted a few minutes.In the running water of low roaring cars and unresponsive passengers, these words and sentences are like a gust of winding wind, skimming quietly over the surface of a pond that is about to freeze, and are quickly thrown under the wheels.Many traveling companions around me, when they are awake, they all have bright eyes, flexible minds, quick thinking, and insight into the world and life.But at the moment they are mostly drowsy, the subtropical climate and marathon-like long-distance travel have made them all physically and mentally exhausted.No one pays attention to Mr. Lu's enthusiastic explanation, or people are used to the professional language of tour guides and are indifferent.

I, too, was about to drowse. I stretched my limbs, made my legs as comfortable as possible, rested my head on the headrest, and let the soft tentacles of tiredness and sleep grab me from all sides like an octopus.I intend to fall, like a docile and sweet captive, into the short but happy dreams of the journey.But I was doomed not to get my wish.I can't imagine that if I fell asleep or knew nothing at that time, would I have missed this thrilling life experience and a once-in-a-lifetime historical opportunity? About a few seconds after Mr. Lu mentioned the Golden Triangle, I was startled suddenly, like a big fish jumping out of the water heavily, breaking the calm lake surface with a "pop"; Blast a hole and my befuddled brain starts to clear itself.With a sharp car brake, my body bounced heavily from the seat, and then fell back to the original position.When the car resumed driving, I continued to feel a sudden shock: blood vessels were dilated, heart beat faster, top-heavy, and brain lack of oxygen.I gripped the armrest tightly and bit my lip to keep from screaming.

This is not the body, but the spirit is hit by an unprecedented shock.It was difficult for me to distinguish where this irresistible force came from, history or reality, time or space?My heart was beating like a drum, and there was a pounding response in my brain.It should be said that no matter how you look at it, the dreaded devil's golden triangle has nothing to do with my peaceful life. It is as far away as the moon, and our concern for the moon does not mean that we need to grow wings and explore the moon.The problem is that one day in 1998 AD, I was easily hit by those simple words, like a bottle being crushed by a bullet, or an explosive being detonated by a detonator.My world began to crumble, and I was shaken so badly that maybe only one thing could compare to it, and that was the comet hitting the earth.

For a moment, the hustle and bustle faded away, the surroundings became quiet, and the world looked like ruins.I was hot all over, short of breath, unable to control myself like drunk.I stood up and staggered towards the tour guide, Mr. Lu, when I heard a strange voice coming out of my throat: "Hello, Golden Triangle?..." 3 It was a hot summer day at the end of the century, the outdoor temperature was 36 degrees Celsius, an ordinary transnational pen meeting, an incredible accidental topic, or a weak biological information, an inescapable hand of God, unexpectedly took me, a Chinese writers are closely connected with the mysterious foreign land thousands of miles away, the "Golden Triangle" that makes people shudder at the drug kingdom. I believe this is fate.On this bus from Bangkok to Pattaya, fate led me to start a dialogue, to approach and talk to a destiny crisis that threatens our human existence.Not everyone is so lucky.I think this is about a calling, like God calling his servants.Later, I often thought, if it wasn't for Mr. Lu, the tour guide, if he hadn't said those few inadvertent sentences, would I have irresistibly embarked on a trip to the mysterious Golden Triangle?The problem is that the whole world cares about the Golden Triangle as much as I do, and many people are interested in the Golden Triangle, why am I the only one being hit?I think this is probably fate, and it is an inevitability in your destiny. When I was young, I wandered briefly in the mountains of northern Myanmar. At that time, my childish brain was in chaos, and I didn't even notice that I passed the god of fate. But this time is different.The reason why Mr. Lu's words were earth-shattering was because he made me realize suddenly and unprecedentedly that a major opportunity had entered my field of vision and collided with me head-on.The Golden Triangle, one thousand kilometers north of Bangkok, arrives at Chiang Rai, then goes up the mountain and enters the famous Mae Sa Le.Mesle, the headquarters of the remnant army of the Kuomintang, full of stars, and the lair of Kun Sha, the world's drug kingpin.There are also Lai Nang, Tachilek, Jiangkou, and Mengsa, all the secrets of the world drug kingdom.I felt dizzy and dizzy.I used to pay attention to the Golden Triangle, it was out of curiosity and professional instinct, I never connected the Golden Triangle with my own creation, but now it is different, I suddenly and strongly realize that the Golden Triangle is right in front of me, and it belongs to me! I remember that more than ten years ago, I had a feeling similar to the earth-shattering feeling in Songshan, western Yunnan. That time, an old mason cracked the eggshell of my fate with a chisel. This time, when I walked crookedly towards the end of the carriage and towards Mr. Lu, the tour guide who was a few steps away, I felt like a rocket that had already been ignited, and was irretrievably heading towards an unknown destiny. Tragic. Fortunately, Mr. Lu showed good professionalism in response to my nonsense inquiries.He patiently answered my questions, drew me a traffic map to the Golden Triangle, and even enthusiastically suggested which travel agency to contact, and so on.But when he understood that my intention was to leave the team for the Golden Triangle alone, he immediately and categorically opposed it. "You can't get there!" he said, chugging down a bottle of mineral water. I said, "Why?" He replied: "No reason. Do you know the story of the mountain people entering the city? They often bump into the transparent glass wall, that's all." I think the Chinese Mr. Lu is very talented in literature, but it is a pity that he was mistaken as a tour guide.As a mainlander, I was instilled in the spirit of man-made things since I was a child. I believed that the only reason why the iron rod was not ground into a needle was that the work was not deep.So I immediately made an astonishingly reckless decision: "I'm going to get off the bus—back to Bangkok, to the Golden Triangle!" The organizer of the PEN, that is, the person in charge of a certain magazine, flatly rejected my unreasonable request.This is a group activity, not a personal tour. They are responsible for all my behaviors abroad, including my life safety.Mr. Lu, the tour guide, once again joined the ranks of opponents. The strong reasons he cited were like pulling off an electric switch, which made my eyes go dark.He bared his yellow teeth and said hilariously, Mr. Deng, you have less than a week left on your visa in Thailand, and the Golden Triangle is thousands of miles away. Your time is obviously far from enough. "...Do you know anyone else? Do you understand Thai, Burmese, Shan, and the local dialect? Who are you going to interview? Who will accept you, an unknown foreigner, rashly? The Golden Triangle is a vast area, half the size of Thailand. , there are dozens of ethnic minorities, you can’t go around blindly, right? And it’s dangerous there, who can guarantee your safety? Are you willing to take risks for nothing?… Let me remind you that according to Thai law, it is illegal for tourists to stay in transit Behavior, you will be imprisoned." The tour guide warned me.Like a well-informed schemer, he turned my hopes into scorched earth. I failed, so I had to return to my seat in frustration with my tail between my legs.The companion is still sleeping, the snorer is still snoring, the air inside the car is cool, the sun outside the car is still scorching, and a golden flame rises between the sky and the earth, but I failed in my attempt!I have long been sleepless, pens are boring to me, and all my thinking space is firmly occupied by the mysterious golden triangle.The Golden Triangle stands in my heart like a cloud-shrouded pyramid, where the most beautiful scenery in the world can be found, which makes me yearn for it.I curled up my legs as much as possible, holding back my energy secretly, just like an athlete's starting posture: a journey of a thousand miles begins with the feet. My whole goal is to break into the Golden Triangle! 4 Once in Pattaya, I started the hard work of finding clues to the Golden Triangle.A great goal begins with the feet. This is my experience. Mr. Lu, the tour guide, is an enthusiastic person after all, and he promised to help me. My method was very clumsy. When I saw overseas Chinese everywhere, I used Chinese to chat with him, because there are so many overseas Chinese in Thailand, and my work soon began to bear fruit.In a shopping mall in Pattaya, I happened to meet a Chinese girl named Mei Lin, who was standing behind a counter selling gold-plated ornaments and Buddha statues. I immediately concluded from her appearance that she was not a local.Sure enough, she told me that she was a descendant of the 93rd Division of the Kuomintang.Her grandfather was an officer of the Kuomintang and had passed away many years ago. Her father was a soldier, fought in wars, and also did business. He is now in his sixties and is enjoying his old age in the Golden Triangle.She also said that there are tens of thousands of descendants of the 93rd Division like her in Bangkok and Pattaya alone. That last sentence made my heart skip a beat. A young Chinese man driving a taxi, who is also a descendant of the 93rd Division, agreed to contact my friends in the Golden Triangle for me, and we exchanged mailing addresses and phone numbers. A few days later, an exciting news came.Mr. Lu, the tour guide, told me that his friend contacted me with the son of a Golden Triangle Kuomintang general, who agreed to see me in principle, but it had to be me alone.The time was set at 8:00 pm the next day, and the other party sent a car to pick me up at a restaurant. The name and location of the restaurant were unknown, but it was said to be far outside the city. I have no doubt that I have hit a stroke of luck.It is true, son of the General!That day I was so excited about the pie that fell from the sky, I was like an ant on a hot pan.I was thinking wildly about the mysterious meeting the next day, and my head was full of stories about the Golden Triangle, which made me very mentally haggard, like a broken-hearted lovelorn with a nervous breakdown.The news that I wanted to do an exclusive interview soon became known to several PEN friends. Deng Yiguang, a Hubei writer, is close to me. We are called brothers.Yiguang was very worried about my behavior, because I was in a foreign country, and the other party was a descendant of the Kuomintang, who knew what would happen?Of course I understand the risks involved. If the other party sets a trap, I will become a fool who falls into the trap.But I insist that I have no plotting value. Writers are open people, friends of the society, and known for their hard work in earning manuscript fees. Who would plot against a poor friend?What's more, the temptation of the Golden Triangle is really irresistible. If you don't give it a try, how will you know what will happen? I gritted my teeth. Sometimes life is like a detective novel. We ourselves are the characters in the novel, but the author of the novel is the God in the dark. The time to meet finally came.It was very unfortunate that day, before the sun set, there was a storm on the sea, and fishing boats and yachts hid in the safe haven.Not long after, the thick clouds that piled up over the Gulf of Thailand engulfed the ocean and land with thunder and lightning, the trees bent over, the tropical storm roared loudly in the air like an angry giant, heavy rain poured down, and the sky was as dark as the bottom of a pot. There was a pungent smell like burning sulfur in the air.It was a taxi that came to pick me up. Local taxis are the kind of light "pickup" (cargo truck) without a roof.I later realized that the person who invented this car for rent must be a malicious slave trader, because the driver hides in the cockpit, which is equivalent to the guest, and the guest is exposed in the cargo compartment, which is equivalent to the cargo.The one with a shed is better, but the car I picked up did not have a canopy, and there was only half a piece of canvas on the top of my head, so I just curled up like a crucified Jesus, letting the heavy rain pour me into a drowned chicken. The car is like a small sampan, bumping and sailing on the storm-ridden road and river.In front of the headlights was a thick wall of night and rain, and nothing could be seen ten meters away.Raindrops dripped from my forehead, and I was extremely nervous and uneasy.The wind was whistling, and the sound of the water in my ears was like the waves of the sea. I wish I could turn into a fish, or this car into a submarine, so that we could swim in the stormy river without crawling.In fact, I don't care about the embarrassment caused by the heavy rain. On the contrary, I like this tropical storm. This specific atmosphere seems to be the beginning of a wonderful novel. It is not always possible to enjoy a novel in life. I insist that this is A rare pleasure.I thought, if the story were to unfold in the future, I would have to start like this: "A terrible tropical storm is approaching..." The car finally stopped in my wild thoughts, there were a few lights on the side of the road, and I could vaguely see a big house tens of meters away.I looked at my watch, it was past eight o'clock in the evening, which meant that the car had been driving for nearly two hours.The driver is a Thai. He hastily rolled down the glass from the cockpit, poked his head out to say something, and pointed to the big house.Because it was dark, I couldn't tell the direction, and there were no identifiable buildings or street signs around. In fact, I tried to identify the direction along the way, but it didn't work, because I was basically blind in the dark sea.I shivered quietly. There was no sound in that big house, and there was not even a ghost at the door.My mood became tense again, a chill rose from my feet, and my calves trembled a little.The driver knocked on the window pane impatiently and urged me to get out of the car.I dare not hesitate anymore, because I am standing at the gate of fate after all, and I am deeply afraid that fate will pass me by. The taxi drove away, its taillights flickering, and quickly disappeared into the mist and darkness, leaving me alone in the clearing, facing the dimly lit big house.I think, even if this is the gate to hell, a road full of thorns and flames, I have to face it with confidence.I am the Kuafu of Chasing Days, the Jingwei Bird of reclamation, I want to hold high the torch of confidence and courage, and my heart is blazing with yearning for all heavenly temples or devil kingdoms. All cowardice, cowardice and hesitant obstacles will be completely burned. I shouted softly in my heart: Golden Triangle, here I come! 5 The big house is indeed a restaurant. I don't know why it is far away from the city and villages, and it closes early.There is a crack in the door, I don't know if it is specially prepared for me as a guest.There was no one in the room, and a dim light bulb was on, like a tall mausoleum.A person stood far away in the hall, leaning on a pillar, crossing his arms, staring at me like a lifeless shadow. I think he should be the owner of this restaurant, the son of the Golden Triangle Kuomintang general. I looked at each other for a few seconds. I feel that the time is extremely long. This is a strange experience. We are all Chinese. There was no difference between our ancestors before, but now we are like two astronauts from different planets. After a long journey in the universe, we finally stand face to face. together.We all looked at each other with strange and curious eyes. He was in his thirties, with a stout body, dark and rough skin, and short, bristly hair, like shoe brushes.I think his eyes convey a lot of content, that kind of gaze is very hard and domineering, like a drill bit or a bullet, drilling many holes in my body.They were impolite, uncultured, hostile, and undisguised.To be honest, I don't like these eyes, nor do I like the owner of the eyes, he is not a good person, and reminds me of those rampant pirates and mafia bosses.Of course, the Golden Triangle is not a state of etiquette. It is rich in the most drugs in the world, but it never produces cultural people.From the moment I received the first glance of this master, I knew that I would face many difficulties, including completely different identity experiences, differences in ideology and political background, contrasts in cultural education and values, and so on.I have no confidence that he will understand and help me. I held out my hand to him, but he didn't respond. "What are you curious about the Golden Triangle? Tell me if you have anything to say." The master broke the silence. I saw him frowning, disregarding the fact that the guest was soaked, and speaking to me in an impatient, very rude Yunnan dialect.Experience tells me that he and I are by no means the same people, neither a literary youth nor an intellectual. We are strangers to each other and very wary, but I have nowhere to go. I must eliminate his hostility and gain his trust. "I plan to write a book about the Golden Triangle. I hope to interview various people in the Golden Triangle and Messler, including Jiang Canbandit..." I suddenly realized my mistake, and changed my words in embarrassment: "Well, the National Army, it is The entire history, including the officers and soldiers of the Ninety-Three Division." The master ignored my slip of the tongue. He stared at me and asked, "Why are you only interested in the Golden Triangle? Who sent you here?" I secretly laughed, feeling a lot more relaxed.I feel that the owner is actually very naive. He basically knows nothing about cultural people, so I feel scared.So I calmed down and briefly introduced my life experience. For example, I have published many long works on the Kuomintang’s War of Resistance, which not only caused a sensation in China, but also published many times overseas, receiving rave reviews.My father participated in the Anti-Japanese War. He joined the army before graduating from high school, participated in the famous Chinese Expeditionary Force, fought bloody battles from India and Burma and returned to China until the victory of the Anti-Japanese War, and so on. "...So the history of the Golden Triangle, or the history of the 93rd Division has always been my concern. This is a branch of the history of the entire Chinese nation, and it is still blank. I have the opportunity to come to Thailand today, and I am lucky to meet you. I think this It is my luck. My goal is to enter the Golden Triangle for interviews, and I hope to get your help." He kept crossing his arms, his eyes full of vigilance and suspicion, as if he wanted to see if I was lying. "...You should believe me. Now that China is reforming and opening up, Taiwanese invest and do business in the mainland, and the Chinese people in the world are one family. Why should there be confrontation?...So I want to go to the Golden Triangle for interviews, just to make this Chinese The history of China tells all Chinese people." I had to sell myself with all my heart.A stranger of unknown origin seems to have fallen from the sky suddenly, and he came from the once hostile mainland China. What can you do to dispel his doubts in a short time?But I stayed in Thailand for a short time. If I can't convince the host and get his promise of help, will I have such an opportunity in the future? Time flies by in this stalemate and blunt atmosphere.I secretly looked at my watch, three hours passed, our relationship has not improved, the confrontation is still the same, the master still doesn't trust me, our relationship is like a frozen river, of course we can't communicate with each other through the thick ice.The master often went out on the phone or something, leaving me alone in the empty hall. Occasionally, some people in black clothes would come and walk around with excuses, and it was obvious at a glance that they were young Chinese.I think they should be descendants of the 93rd Division of the Kuomintang. They were obviously curious and wanted to see me, an uninvited guest.But when I smiled at them and tried to strike up a conversation, they immediately walked away with a tense face.I was helpless at this suffocating moment, seeing failure approaching me step by step, I remembered an old story about an ant piercing a bead.The hole of the bead is so small that many people can't get through it. A wise man caught an ant, wound the silk thread around the ant's foot, and smeared honey on the other end of the bead, so that the ant passed the silk thread smoothly to eat the honey.But where are my ants now?I was about to hate myself. Could it be that I was doomed to smash my head against the transparent glass wall like the tour guide Mr. Lu said? In desperation, I decided to go all in. I still had a significant background weight, but I wasn't sure if it would work.Now that I have reached the end of my rope, I have no choice but to throw this blockbuster out in a desperate struggle.I said: "Do you know why I, a mainland writer, care so much about the Golden Triangle? Let me tell you, besides my father who served as an expeditionary force, my mother's aunt, that is, my aunt, is very famous in Taiwan. She is Mr. Jiang Weiguo. Ms. Shi Jingyi, the original wife." In fact, I said these words out of helplessness.I hated myself in my heart for being like a shameless villain who is smug and self-satisfied, pulling a big banner as a tiger's skin, making people feel like I am some kind of imperial relative of the Jiang family.I have never met this famous great-aunt in my family, she went to Taiwan and died on that island before I was born, as evidenced by the Jingyi Girls’ Middle School and Jingyi Girls’ College in Taiwan.I was born in mainland China and grew up in Sichuan. Apart from my family tree and blood relationship, I have no strangers. However, I had no choice but to bring my illustrious great-aunt out, and the purpose of course was to knock on the door of the Golden Triangle. The owner was really taken aback, and I was delighted to see that this blockbuster was quite effective, blasting a gap in the frozen ice.Surprise flashed in the master's eyes at first, his mouth could not be closed, and then he was a little dazed, he seemed to have no idea, just a little at a loss, as if he was considering whether he should be more polite and respectful to me.But after a while, he raised his head and said, "I can't believe your words, who will prove that your words are not a lie?" I said, "It's not difficult for you to understand, Mr. Jiang Weiguo is still alive, and Shi Jingyi's relatives are still in Taiwan." His tone suddenly became resolute, and I saw the hostile city wall in his eyes being built again, and the gap that was blasted was gradually frozen by the ice again."I don't have to do that unless you can prove yourself," he said. God, how can I prove myself at this moment?Even if I cut open my heart, I can't make him tell the truth from the fake, even if I have a hundred mouths, I can't tell the truth!I looked at him with hatred, as if hating iron could not be made into steel. At this critical moment, I suddenly thought of someone. 6 I believe in the saying "inspiration is talent". It was at this dead end that my brain suddenly burst into a spark of inspiration.The person I remembered was Zeng Yan, a female writer who used to be an educated youth in Yunnan and also jumped in the frontier.She lives in Taipei. We are friends. We have written letters for several years, but we have never met, never talked on the phone, and we have never met each other.I know her from Zeng Yan's novels, and I know that she has wandered in the Golden Triangle for twelve years, and taught in many famous places, including Mess Leman Xingdie.The Golden Triangle is huge, like the sea, and the fate of a person is very small, like a small boat, or like a straw. I think of Zeng Yan because she has taught in the Golden Triangle for many years.I dare not put my hopes on it, but no matter what, Zeng Yan is my only straw, and I have no choice but to hold on to it tightly. I said Zeng Yan's name. I saw the master's thick body move, like a strong door being hit.His expression changed dramatically, first he was surprised, staring at me with his mouth open, like a big bear facing the audience, with a confused expression on his face.But soon he was happy, his eyes lit up, and his fleshy and menacing face was softened by it.His expression was like that of an old friend he hadn't seen for many years, he laughed out loud, his laughter was like a suona blowing in the wind, and he was full of energy.He said: "Haha, hahaha, it's her—Zeng Yan! My teacher, writer!...Why don't I remember her? It's been six years! My father sent the five of us to study at her home at school , It's really rare!... To be honest, I can still recognize and write a few Chinese characters today, all of which are the results of Teacher Zeng's education." My heart was nervous at first, and then fell back to the original place. Be happy. Over the years, when Zeng Yan and I have built bridges across the strait in letters, discussing issues and exchanging experiences broadly, I never thought that this peer would act as a guide of my destiny at a certain critical moment and help me achieve The golden key that opens the gate of the Golden Triangle.Thanks to fate, the world is so big, there are all kinds of surprises, life is like this sometimes: you plant flowers if you want to, but you don’t want to plant willows, you can’t find a place when you step through the iron shoes, and it’s easy to get it.A mutual acquaintance, a mutual friend is like a wire that connects the current that insulates the two sides.My ants found it, the beads came through, the ice was cracked, and a hole was knocked through the transparent glass wall. At this time, the host took the initiative to stretch out his hand across the table, and our hands were finally held together across thousands of miles. The floodgates opened, and the accumulated flood water poured out.Next, I asked for an in-depth interview in the Golden Triangle. Mr. Feng (I knew his surname was Feng at this time) showed his trump card: He can be regarded as a native of the Golden Triangle, the third generation of the remnant army of the Kuomintang. Xiao Kunsha was an adjutant.His father was the colonel and division commander (not a general!) of the 30th Division of the Fifth Army of the former Kuomintang Remnant Army, and is now the president of the Messler Self-Government Association.Mr. Feng told me that since the 38th year of the Republic of China (1949), hundreds of Han refugee villages have spontaneously formed in the vast Golden Triangle Mountains, inhabiting and multiplying millions of stateless Chinese refugees. Mr. Feng told me that his greatest wish in this life is to do two things well: one is to solve the nationality issue for Chinese refugees, because most of them have no nationality so far.The other thing is to run a school. "...Even if we sell our property in the future, we still have to go back to the Golden Triangle to run a school so that our descendants of the Han people can have the opportunity to receive education." Mr. Feng had a serious expression when he said these words, like a patriot who worries about the country and the people. 我却像挨了一颗炸弹。 金三角！数百万……中国难民！丰先生千真万确是这样对我说的。我理解难民的含义，是指大陆解放时逃过国境的原国民党军队以及各种其他人员，这个庞大数字大大超越了我的想象力。 民国三十八年(1949年)至今已经半个世纪，这些中国难民部落在金三角这片原始不毛之地怎样生存？怎样融入当地社会？他们同金三角其他民族以及历史、社会演变是什么关系？他们在金三角这个全球最大的毒品王国过去、现在和未来扮演着什么角色？ ... ... 我的情绪随即变得亢奋起来，就像饥饿的野狗嗅到腐尸的气味。无论如何，出人意料对作家是一个收获，“国家不幸诗家幸”，苦难是作家的养料。我觉得自己像个幸运的探宝者，远远看见星空之下的大地上躺着一块迷人的历史碎片。那碎片熠熠生辉，闪烁着令人眩晕的神秘光斑。我相信为数众多的宝藏还隐藏在厚厚的夜幕和迷雾后面。一想到这种令人陶醉的景象我就感到心跳和气促。坦白说，我的心已经像被海风鼓满的快乐风帆，期待扬帆远航，直驶神秘的金三角彼岸。我坚定地对丰先生说，由于种种历史原因，海峡两岸中国人错过许多彼此认识的机会，现在机会来了，条件成熟了，我明确表达我将在近期内采访金三角的愿望和信心。 告别时暴风雨已经过去，夜空中还在洒落着稀疏小雨。丰先生亲自派车送我，他表示愿对我今后采访提供必要帮助，至于哪些帮助他没有细说。 回到下榻宾馆已是次日凌晨，几位笔会朋友竟没有睡，正为我通宵不归着急，此情此景令我心里感动好一阵。 7 1998年初秋，也就是距离泰国笔会大约半月后的一天，天空淤集着厚厚的阴云。早间电视说，长江流域的抗洪斗争已经取得决定性胜利，国企改革攻坚战又将拉开序幕。这天我独自一人，背负简单行囊，踏着稀疏的落叶走进成都双流国际机场。 妻子把我送到入口处，她脸上每根细小的皱纹里都写满担忧，千叮咛万嘱咐就是一句话：如果采访不成也没有关系，人回来要紧。这句关爱之语令我心头布满阴霾。 空旷的停机坪，一架飞往曼谷的国际航班已经发动，我的心情也同停机坪一样空荡荡的。一位美丽的空中小姐站在舷梯旁向旅客致意，我看见她那张年轻的脸上焕发着露珠一般新鲜和晶莹的光泽。空姐轻轻对我说：欢迎您，先生。 我停住脚，问她：过几周返回还能看见你吗？ 她稍稍愣了一下，很快回答：是的，我一定还在这里欢迎您。 我心中有一缕明亮的阳光透进来，心情突然变得好起来。十年前，我为写作长篇纪实文学，曾向有关部门及国外学术机构和基金会发出无数申请报告，希望获准前往缅甸印度进行实地考察，采访和收集战争素材，并期待获得部分采访经费。不难想见，等待这些报告的下场是石沉大海，我至今没有收到哪怕一个“不”字的答复。当然也不能怪别人，写作毕竟是个人的事业，谁叫你自己不具备行动的能力和条件呢？谁叫你把成功的希望寄托在别人或者组织身上呢？ 现在我毕竟行动起来。虽然我的脚步姗姗来迟，采访初出茅庐，但是它毕竟属于我，一个中国作家的行动开端！我为此内心充满勇气和激情。不能想象，金三角将有什么不可战胜的困难和危险能够阻拦我，令我却步？ ! 于是我在心里暗暗发誓： ——上帝啊，只要你抛下一根丝线，我就能爬上月球去！