Chapter 7 An eight-year-old executioner

In 1968, an 8-year-old female preschool child in G City, Y Province The more I can’t find my father, the more irritable I am—the public security bureau determined that the reactionary slogans were written by children about 1.2 meters—candy, watching movies, cutting off my father’s nose to feed a tiger—I was escorted to the execution scene to face a gun— "Don't be afraid, boy, they're teasing you!--Why didn't you shoot me that time?--I bowed my head when I was a child You asked people who experienced the Cultural Revolution to dictate their own words, and I would like to relay a story to you.This was told to me personally by the person involved.I have always planned to write it as a novel, but after talking about some of your chapters, I think this story is more suitable to put in your book. I think it is difficult for you to find such a profound model that can better reveal the cruelty of the "Cultural Revolution" .

The master of this story is an eight-year-old executioner.What, don't you believe? Yes, eight; not eighteen.When she faced a gun, she didn't feel desperate, on the contrary, she thought it was fun.Don't worry, I'll tell you this story right away, and it will be told completely truthfully, without adding any fictional touches.I know you demand a radical authenticity of the event itself. It was 1979, and the flames of war on the Yunnan border were still on, so I went to the front for interviews.After flying from Beijing to Kunming, I suddenly felt chest tightness and couldn't breathe.Some people say that this is altitude sickness, and it would be better if the terrain is lower in the south. I didn't stay in Kunming for a day, and I took two painters from Beijing as companions, and drove through K City to G City.It is said that from G city to the south, you have to go over mountains and mountains, and you have to take a military vehicle.It was getting late and it was not easy to find a car, so I stayed overnight in City G. City G already has a frontline atmosphere.There are many soldiers on the street; many large trucks full of military supplies, covered with large nets, filled with pine schools as anti-aircraft camouflage, parked on the side of the road; people's conversations are mostly about war.We went to several hotels and were blocked because they were full.Arranged by the municipal party committee, we stayed in the first guest house of the municipal party committee.

When having dinner in the cafeteria of the guest house, the waiter was a girl who looked seventeen or eighteen years old.She is so diligent, but when she serves us the food, I laugh when I see her.She is beautiful and even more beautiful when she smiles.But this is not the kind of gorgeous and fashionable beauty that is common in cities, but like the landscape of Yunnan, clear and shining, without any decoration.It's rare for me to see such a pair of bright eyes. She raised her eyelids and looked at you, just like hitting the keys in the high register of a piano.A casual smile will give you the best feeling in the world.But she is not as short as ordinary Yunnan girls, for example, like girls in the northern countryside, with flushed cheeks; when holding a dish, her arms are square, her wrists are thick, and her fingers are round.Her beauty is dissolved in a simple temperament.I asked her: "Why do you always laugh at me?" She said: "You are too tall!".Another smile.She was straight.Maybe the girls I see in the city are too talkative, posturing and devious. When I meet this kind of simple girl, it's like going out of the city to the countryside and seeing woods, grasslands, birds, and rivers flowing freely. , a piece of nature, it is delightful.The two painters I was traveling with were more sensitive to beauty than I was; it is the nature of painters to grasp at beauty.They proposed to her that after she got off work at night, they would invite her to our room to have a portrait of her.She seemed a bit embarrassed, but when the two painters told her that I was a writer, she looked at me intently, and this time she didn't smile, but nodded in agreement without hesitation.

In the evening, she came.I just got off work, and the white apron has not been taken off. When I entered the room, I used the apron to wipe a pair of wet white hands that had just been washed. These round hands were flushed red from the cold water.The two painters asked her to sit down and set up the drawing board, and she was a little restrained at this time.A painter said: "Ma, if you talk to her, she will relax." I smiled and said to her, "Aren't you afraid of writers?" Unexpectedly, she said very solemnly: "I am looking for a writer to write about me."

I laughed out loud and said, "What's so good about you as a little girl? Are you crying?" What's more, her bright eyes suddenly darkened, as if the shadow of dark clouds enveloped the water in an instant, and a kind of worry, sorrow, and bitter emotion filled her eye sockets.This is by no means the expression that a pure girl should have, but rather the gaze of a person who has suffered a lot.She said to herself: "If you don't write, I will practice in the future and write by myself!" I wonder, does this girl really have any extraordinary experience? I nodded and said, "Okay, tell me, and I'll write it for you." When I was saying this, I couldn't even imagine that she would say the following Unbelievable experience.she says:

"I have been a counter-revolutionary for ten years, and I was rehabilitated last year! My father is a middle-level cadre of the municipal party committee, and my family lives in the dormitory compound of the municipal party committee. When the 'Cultural Revolution' began, I was six years old. I am vague, and I still remember some things wrongly. For example, I remember that once a group of people broke into my house and rummaged through things, and slapped me hard. It hurt. Later, my father said that no one hit me, it was my father. Probably what I remember is just a feeling. Beating my father was like beating me. It was very painful. My father was the director of the cadre department of the Organization Department before the "Cultural Revolution". Divided into two factions, Dad joined one faction, but the army of the "Supporting the Left" intervened and supported the other faction, Dad was out of luck. But Dad's faction is mostly middle-level cadres of the municipal party committee, with strong organization. After being hit, I dare not do such extreme things as beating, smashing, and looting. The opposing side can't grasp the handle, and it is difficult to bring down the father's faction. But when the two factions jointly negotiated, my father didn't pay attention to the faction. The "Red Flag" magazine sat under the buttocks. On the opposite side, a smart person came up and pulled out the "Red Flag" magazine. There was a photo of Chairman Mao in it. At that time, almost all the magazines had Chairman Mao's portrait, so he was caught out by the other party. Insulting the great leader Chairman Mao, the heinous current counter-revolutionary! The military propaganda team immediately declared that the father's faction is a reactionary organization, and this faction collapsed immediately. It began to catch bad people, and anyone who had problems in the past was labeled as class revenge elements, gangsters, and counter-revolutionaries But they have nothing to do with Dad. Dad has no faults. When he was the head of the cadre department, he always offended people. The problem is getting worse. Dad didn’t smoke at first, but he smoked a lot at that time. One day he fell asleep while smoking, and burned a big hole in the cotton mattress. Thanks to my mother, she poured a basin of water on it. It was said to be arson and sabotage or attempted suicide. The pressure is really overwhelming. My mother's heart is not good, and her heart beats all day. The target is all focused on me.

On this day, a reactionary slogan appeared on the wall of our municipal party committee dormitory compound.Written 'Down with Chairman Mao' Wu Yu.The Public Security Bureau came to investigate. According to the situation at the scene, it was determined that it was written by a child who was about 1.2 meters high.They based on three principles: first, the position of the reverse mark is one meter above the ground, it is taller than adults when squatting, and shorter than adults when they are standing, which is just the right height for children to write tall and short while standing; second, the handwriting is crooked and very It looks like a child's handwriting; third, an adult cannot write 'Down with Chairman Mao' when writing this kind of reverse mark, but should write 'Down with Mao Zedong'.There were a total of eleven children about 1.2 meters tall in the municipal party committee compound. At that time, they lined up and determined four key points, all of which were problems with their parents.Only when the parents have problems can the child write this kind of counter-mark.At this time, my father's opposing faction intervened in this matter, saying that it was to assist the public security system in cracking this super-major counter-revolutionary case, and the default focus was on me.They said that my father was reactionary, cunning, and held a grudge against the 'Cultural Revolution', so they instigated me to write it. Of course, their goal is very clear, to mess with my father.I was eight years old...

"They took me away. At first they used candy to coax me to admit it. My father never allowed me to tell lies since I was a child. Maybe because of this strict family education, my father saved himself. I said it was not me. They sent me The villain book, the picture film, and even took me to the movies, and I said it wasn’t me. They got angry, and the group of adults surrounded me, a young girl, slapped the table and the bench to scare me, saying that if I didn’t admit it, they would beat me Dad, they also said what method they would use to beat him—that they would stab Dad in the eyes with a pen; , fingers, ears, nose, tongue, all with blood thrown into the cage in the park to feed the tiger. As he spoke, he picked up a knife and pretended that he was about to go. I was so scared that I cried, please Yelling, terrified, yelling, but still not talking nonsense. I was only eight years old at the time, and I was easily deceived, easily fooled by fright, why I kept insisting on not talking nonsense, and I couldn’t figure it out. Now that I think about it, I really Uncle, if I fell into their trap, in a word, my father would have been shot to death... Then I won't live today. When I grow up and understand, I will regret myself and commit suicide...

"During that time, in order to increase the pressure on me, they locked me up as a counter-revolutionary, as a real prisoner, and didn't allow me to meet with my parents. They rarely beat me, but they often starved me. They interrogated me once a day, and then They seemed to be out of ideas, so they took me to the municipal party committee compound to criticize me, put up a sign, and wore a tall hat with the words "currently counter-revolutionary ××" on it. They also put a "cross" on my name. My impression was very messy; many people surrounded me shouting slogans. I saw my mother in the crowd, her eyes were wide open with tears, and her hair was messy. I yelled: "Mom--" and passed out. Later, I let it out , my mother said, she was not there that day, but she was told that she had to go to my criticism meeting, but she had a heart attack and didn't go.

"One day, I don't want to say what month and day that day is. My family will always remember that day. As soon as I say it, I will...will...well, let me just talk about this day... "Today, they said they were going to shoot me today. I don't know what shooting is. When I asked them, they said, just like shooting the enemy in a movie, shoot you to death. I cried, and I said I would never see my parents again." Is it? They said, you will never see it, and you don’t know anything delicious, fun, or beautiful. If you admit that your father asked you to write it, you won’t be shot. I said, no I wrote it, I want to see my parents...

"I took them to the execution ground, a large open depression, lined up with several death row prisoners who were about to be shot, with a big pit behind them, those prisoners were tied up, but I was not tied up, but I was petrified. A row of people pointed guns at us, and one of the guns was pointed at my face. I suddenly saw my father in a group of people not far away! It was only later that I found out that they were forcing my father to admit that he asked me to write a counter-mark. I He yelled loudly at Dad, to run over. At this time, the person in charge of execution cut back: 'Let go!' "Bang!" The gunshot rang out. The row of prisoners next to me suddenly fell down like a cabinet. One head flew away, flying far away like a big blood egg. I was so scared that I didn't move, thinking that I Dead. Blinking eyes, moving mouth, as if completely unconscious. I saw my father running towards me with his mouth wide open, pounced on me, and hugged me tightly. I said: "Am I dead?" Dad Said: "No, child, don't be afraid, they are just teasing you, these people are pretending to die!" I listened, laughed, and stuck my head in my father's arms. I really thought that all this, They're all kidding me... "...After that, I was sent home. When I returned to my warm home, I thought everything was over. I ran out to play with the children as usual, but the children in the same courtyard ignored me, and some even threw stones at me. Once, a kid who used to be close to me scolded me: 'Down with the little counter-revolutionaries!' I was so angry that I chased him all the way to his house, tried to reason with him, and asked him to apologize to me. His mother also scolded me when she came out: 'What are you doing? Reverse the case?' From this sentence, I seemed to grow up and collapse. This "little counter-revolutionary" was like a heavy boulder on my back for ten years! It was difficult to go to elementary school, and it was also difficult to enter middle school. Neither the Red Guards nor the Red Guards wanted me. I was like a ghost and a snake under control in those institutions. I didn’t dare to talk too much, I didn’t dare to joke and play with my classmates, and I didn’t dare to argue with unreasonable things. Classes are over every day , Sweeping the floor, cleaning the blackboard, tidying up the classroom, I want to do this in exchange for the goodwill of my classmates, even if it is a friendly look. But in the past eight years, I have not had a close classmate, as if I have terrible infectious bacteria on my body, Everyone avoids me. When I was in middle school, I changed to a school farther away, thinking that it would be easier for others to know about my past. But once I went to work in the countryside, the instructor sent me to pull a dung truck. All my classmates didn’t go , only sent me there alone. I was very surprised, before I asked, the instructor said: "Although dung stinks, the dung in the soul is even more stinky. When you don't feel the smell of dung, your soul will be completely transformed." Alright!' I just realized that the stone on my back was still firmly there, and I would never be able to remove it for the rest of my life. That night, I ran out and ran in the wild for two days and two nights. Later, my father found it by a big river. I was about to die. My father ran for two days looking for me, and his shoes were all torn. I yelled at my father, 'Why didn't you shoot me that time? You are alive, and you are tied up every day!' "I dropped out of school at that time. I helped my mother with housework at home, except for grocery shopping, rarely went out, and didn't talk to anyone. Life kicked me out. What's the point of life? I hate that I am young. The days were too long, I had no leader, and I was bored all day long, until I smashed the 'Gang of Four', and when my father's unit was cleaning up the Cultural Revolution issue, I found a piece of material about me, and then I said I would be rehabilitated and implemented. But at this time I was only nineteen Years old, without jobs, wages, housing, and confiscated supplies, what can implementation implement? Politics has never been responsible for people’s hearts. The person in charge of implementation is not bad, and he sympathizes with my experience. Later, he thought of a comforter Ways, methods, are the only things he can do. He said, you are not young, you can’t stay at home all the time, you should have a job, and you can work as a waiter in the canteen of the municipal party committee guest house. I thought to myself, stay at home, mother’s heart There is always a burden, and it came. It has only been three months until today. During the three months, I have done more work than anyone else. Others think that I am working hard because I am grateful for the implementation of the policy; in fact Otherwise, I would be able to forget things while working, but sometimes I suddenly feel like when I was cleaning the classroom at school, there is always a kind of guilt that haunts me, and I can’t get rid of it. I think of labor reform when I am doing work, which is very unpleasant... It’s hard for you guys to understand this mentality. I lowered my head when I was a child, and it’s not easy to raise my head…” When the girl spoke up to this point, something seemed to be stuck in her throat.But there were no tears in her eyes, nor any intense expression on her face, it was as calm as the cloudy sky.It was faintly like thunder, but I understood that she would no longer have torrential rain, thunder and lightning to vent.At a young age, he has already digested the most unbearable things in life.I turned my head and suddenly found that my companions, the two painters, had their eyes wide open and their mouths wide open, speechless.The paper on the drawing board was blank, without a stroke, just like my state of mind at that time, it was blank, a terrible blank. ***The real cruelty is against the innocent.