Chapter 25 Section 25

Basolini adapted Sade's poems and put them on the screen to show people the ugliness of political power and human nature. This screen separates the reality from the audience, making people feel that there is a conflict between violence and human nature. Violence and ugliness also have their charm when viewed from the side of ugliness, which is probably the mystery of art and literature. The poet’s so-called sincerity is the same as the novelist’s so-called truth. The author hides behind like the cameraman behind the camera. They all seem to be fair, calm, and objective behind the lens—and what is projected on the negative film is also composed of love and love. Self-pity, or masochism and masochism, the false neutral vision is still driven by various desires, and what is presented has been infected with aesthetic taste, but pretends to look at the world with indifference.You'd better admit that what you write is realistic at best, and it's still far from the truth.It is business language, weaving emotion and aesthetic silk into it, and covering the naked truth with a veil, only then can you win the pleasure of reviewing and scrutinizing, and have the appetite to write down.

You put your feelings, experiences, dreams, memories, fantasies, thoughts, guesses, premonitions, intuitions, etc. into words, giving sounds and rhythms, linking them with the living conditions of living people, reality and history, Time and space, concept and consciousness are all dissolved into the process of language realization, leaving behind the psychedelic created by language. Compared with political scams, the illusion of literature lies in the mutual consent of the author and readers, unlike in political scams, those who are tricked have to accept it if they don’t accept it!Literature can be read or not, there is no such compulsion.You don't believe that literature is so pure, so you choose literature, but you just use it to excrete.

Besides, you don’t fight, you don’t stretch or amputate your limbs based on the size of your opponent, you don’t cut or repair yourself according to the frame of theory, you don’t limit your speech based on other people’s interests, you only write for yourself!Live happily. You are not a superman. After Nietzsche, the world of superman and group blindness is much bigger.In fact, you can’t be more normal, you can’t be more normal, you can’t be more real, you feel at ease, you are at ease, you laugh like Amitabha, but you are not a Buddha. You just don't want to make sacrifices, don't be other people's playthings and sacrifices, don't ask for mercy, don't repent, and don't be so crazy that you don't know why you want to trample others to death. Look at the world with a normal, mentality, like Look at yourself, and you will have no fear, no surprise, no disappointment, no extravagant expectations, and no sadness.If you want to take sadness as enjoyment, you might as well be sad for a while, and then return to this very ordinary you, smiling and at ease.

You're also less cynical, which is always trendy.Don't exaggerate the challenge to power, so you survive, have the freedom to speak, and get the favor of others.It's a false principle that people don't owe me and I don't owe others. You owe others, and although others owe you, the favors you get may add up to more. Of course, you are lucky. What else can you complain about? You are not a dragon, not a worm, neither this nor that, that is not that is you, that is not and that is not negation, it is better to say "a kind of realization, a trace, a consumption, a result, before exhaustion or death, you It is just a message of life, a performance and speech about what is not.

You wrote this book for yourself, this book of fugitives, your own Bible, you are your own God and apostle, and it is only fair that you don't ask others to sacrifice themselves if you don't sacrifice yourself.Everyone wants the bliss, so how can it be yours?We must know that there is not much happiness in this world. "what?" "I live in the yard next door, and I came to find the landlord, the original owner of my house! No one has collected rent for several months." He prepared an explanation. — The old woman shook off the soap scum from her hands, pointed to the side room with a lock next to it, then ignored it, and had to shake the quilt in the basin vigorously.

He can only speculate that something went wrong with the landlord's family, and even the house they lived in was confiscated and sold. In early spring and March, he went to Xiehejian in Xishanli, a suburb of Beijing.Get on the dog cart from the railway station in Xizhimen, which is mainly used for freight. It is a slow train to the remote mountainous areas in the northwest. Two hard-seat carriages are attached to the end of the freight train.The upsurge of the students' mass tandem was over, and after a ride in the empty carriage, there were only a few passengers here and there, and he was dying.Sit down facing the window in the next door.The train passes through tunnels one after another, circles up the valley, and passes through the window.You can see the old-fashioned front of the car emitting soot and steam, dragging a section of trucks, and the empty hard-seat carriages swaying at the rear of the vehicles.

At a small station called Yanchi without a platform, he jumped out of the train and looked at the train going away around the mountain. The dispatcher with flags and whistles entered a hut by the roadbed, leaving him standing alone. On the rubble pile beside the track. — When he was still in college, he came here to do voluntary labor, digging holes and planting trees on the mountain.It was also the earliest spring, before the soldiers thawed the second iron pickaxe, they couldn't dig two inches of soil, and after a few days, the palms of the hands were blistered with blood. "One time, he went down to the icy rapids to salvage a sack that was washed away by the water and was filled with seeds to be planted. He almost died, so he was praised, but the Communist Youth League did not want him. He and a few classmates who didn't make it into the regiment called each other

"Old Fei" established a drama club, and just made two plays, the cadres of the school's student union approached them and talked with them separately, although there is no express prohibition!But the troupe could no longer be active and disbanded automatically. They rehearsed Chekhov's Uncle Wanya, that outdated beauty, a girl from a small provincial manor, slender and kind, and said angrily: everything should be beautiful, beautiful people, beautiful clothes, inside, The heart is also beautiful, all of which are outdated sorrows, like old photos that have been burned. Walking along the railway track on the sleepers for a while, seeing an oncoming train in the distance, he got off the embankment and walked towards the river bed full of rocks.If the Yongding River hadn't swelled after the rain, or if the gate of the Guanting Reservoir upstream hadn't been opened, the water would still be clear.

He brought Lin here and took pictures. Lin has a beautiful waist, bare legs and bare feet standing in the water with her skirt lifted.Afterwards they picnic, kiss and make love in the bushes on the hill.He regretted that he didn't take a picture of Lin's naked body when he was lying in the grass with his chest uncovered and his skirt lifted up, but this was beyond his grasp. What else can be done?What else is there to do?No need to go back to his desk to deal with those stereotyped propaganda manuscripts according to the rules, no one to control him, no need to rebel, that kind of righteous passion is inexplicable, and it has passed.After several months of being the leader of the front line, the excitement seems to be too much, or rather tired, enough.He should have retired from the role of hero.

He took off his shoes and socks and walked barefoot in the cold and clear water.The trickling water reflects the fine ripples, and the sun shines brightly, and the mind is suddenly sober.He thought that he should go to see his father, since he had no letters from home for a long time, he should take this opportunity to go to the south without anyone noticing, and ask his father to find out about the "possession of guns" in his file. He hurried back to Beijing in the afternoon, got his passbook at home, and rode his bicycle to get the money before the savings bank closed, and then went to Qianmen Railway Station to buy a ticket for that night.Then I went home and locked the bicycle in the house, took a shoulder bag for work, and took the express train going south at eleven o'clock at night.

The father and son hadn't seen each other for two years. When he came home suddenly, his father was so happy that he went to the free market to buy fresh fish and live shrimps that were not available in the north, and went to the kitchen to dissect the fish himself.Now his father has also learned how to use the pot money. After his mother's death, he changed his depressed and reticent appearance, and talked a lot with great interest. He actually cared about politics, and repeatedly asked about those party and state leaders who had disappeared from the newspapers.While drinking wine at the dinner table, in order not to disappoint his father, he told some unreported news, and at the same time told his father that this was all a struggle at the highest level of the party, and ordinary people could not figure it out.His father said he knew it, he knew it, and it was the same in this province and city, and he also said that he joined the rebel faction, and the chief of the personnel department in his unit, who always punished people, also stepped aside.He held back for a long time, had to wake up, and said: "Dad, don't forget the lesson from the Anti-Rightist Movement—" "I have no opposition! I'm just making some comments about his personal work—." His father immediately became agitated, and the hand holding the wine glass trembled, and the wine was spilled on the table. "You're not a young man. You have problems in your history. You can't join such an organization! You don't have the right to participate in sports!" He was also very excited, and he had never used this tone to his father. "Why can't I?" His father put down the wine glass with a heavy voice, "My history is clear, I have never joined a reactionary party, and I have no political problems! Back then, the party called for liberation. I just said that the wall that separated me from the masses would be removed, and I was talking about his personal work style. I never said a single word about the party, it was his revenge! I said this at the meeting, and many people were present and heard it, and they can all prove that my blackboard newspaper with hundreds of characters came from their party branch need!" "Dad, you're so naive—" He was about to argue, but was interrupted by his father. "You don't need to teach me a lesson! If you think you've read a little, it's because your mother spoiled you and spoiled you!" When his father's seizure passed, he had to ask: "Dad, have you ever had a gun?" As if hit in the head, his father was stunned, gradually lowered his head, turned the wine glass with his hand, and stopped talking. "I was told that I had this issue in my file," he explained. "I'm here to take care of Dad. Is there such a thing?" "It's all your mother's honesty..." his father muttered. That is to say, there is indeed something suitable, and his heart is also cold. "At that time, just one or two years after liberation, everyone had to fill out a resume form when they were sent out. There was a column like weapons. It was all your mother's fault. If I had nothing to do, I was asked to fill it out truthfully. I sold it for a friend. Pass a pistol..." "What year was it?" He stared and asked, and his father became the object of his interrogation. "It's early, during the Anti-Japanese War, you were still born in Pikou of the Republic of China..." This is how people confess, and they have to confess, he thought.This is an indisputable fact.He had to try his best to be as calm as possible, not to interrogate his father, so he said softly: "Dad, I don't blame you. But what about the gun? Passed it to a colleague in the bank.What did your mother want that thing for?Be brave in self-defense, the society was in turmoil in those days, but your mother said that I didn't know where to shoot my gun, and I was about to go off? " His dad laughed. This is not to be laughed at, he said seriously: "But the file records that there is a private possession of guns." That was exactly what Lin told him, and there was no way he could have heard it wrong. His father froze for a moment, and almost cried out: "This is impossible, it happened more than thirty years ago." Father and son looked at each other, he believed in his father more than files, but he still said: "Dad, it's impossible for them not to investigate. "That is to say..." His father was depressed. That is to say, no one who buys a gun dares to admit it now, he is also desperate. His father covered his face with his hands, and finally understood what it meant, and cried.The dishes on the table that haven't touched the chopsticks are cold. He said he didn't blame his father, even if something happened again, he would still be his son and would not deny his father. In the famine era after the "Great Leap Forward", his mother was naive, and responded to the party's call to go to the farm for labor reform. She was overworked and drowned in the river. The father and son depended on each other.He knows that his father loves him, and seeing that he was swollen when he came back from school, he bought lard for a two-month meat ticket and asked him to take it away, saying that he could not get any nutrition in the cold weather in the north, and he could buy it at a high price from the countryside here. Get some carrots.His father poured hot lard into a plastic jar, and the jar immediately shrank and melted, and the oil flowed from the table to the ground. When they squatted down and scraped the solidified lard from the floor with small spoons , They all remained silent, which he and Shui would never forget.He also said: "Dad, I came back to find out about this gun, not only for Dad, but also for myself." Then his father said: "The one who bought the pistol was an old colleague of mine in the bank more than 30 years ago. After the liberation, there was no contact with him after a letter. If he wanted to be around, he must still work in the bank. You call him Uncle Fang, you Do you remember? He professed to love you very much and would not betray you. He has no children, and he even said that he wanted to take you as his godson, but your mother didn't agree at that time. " There was an old photo at home, if he hadn't burned it, he remembered that Uncle Fang was bald, with a fat round face, like an Amitabha, and he could wear a suit and tie.The kid sitting on the lap of the living Buddha in a suit, wearing a sweater, held a Parker gold pen in his hand, and did not let go. Later, this pen was given to him, and it was a real treasure when he was a child. After only one day at home, he continued to go south, and it was another day and night train. When he found the local People's Bank to inquire, he was received by a young man organized by the rebels, and he asked the cadre in charge of personnel affairs. Mr. Fang was transferred to a savings bank on the outskirts of the city 20 years ago, probably because the former retained staff were not trusted. He rented a white car and found this savings bank.They said the man was retired and gave his home address.In a two-story simple building, at the end of the aisle, he asked an old woman wearing an apron who was washing vegetables in a public sink. The old woman was stunned for a moment, and then asked: "What are you looking for him for?" "I was passing by on a business trip, so I came to visit this old man," he said. The old woman faltered, wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing, and said he was not there. The old man lowered his head and looked for something, then held up the teacup, trembling.He said that no old man's certificate was needed, and he just asked him to explain the situation: Did my father ask you to resell a pistol? He emphasized that it was for sale, and he did not say that the old man bought it.The old man put down his teacup and his hands stopped shaking, so he said: "This happened decades ago. We fled during the Anti-Japanese War. In those days, there was a lot of chaos and bandits. We worked in the bank for many years. We had some savings. The banknotes depreciated and were exchanged for gold and silver. Let's go." Take it with you wherever you go, and have a gun just in case." He said that his father said it all, and he didn’t think it was a big deal. The problem is that the whereabouts of the gun has been an unsolved case so far, and the suspicion of his father’s possession of guns has also been transferred to his file. He said it as plainly as possible. . "It's all unexpected!" The old man sighed. "Someone from your father's unit has also come to investigate. I didn't expect it to bring you such a big trouble." "Not yet, but it's a potential trouble. In order to deal with it happening one day, it's better to be aware of it in advance." He explained again that he was not here to investigate, and put on a smile to reassure the old man. "I bought this one," said the old man at last. He still said: "But my father said he entrusted you to resell a piece of paper. "Who did you sell it to?" the old man asked. "My father didn't say that," he said. "No, that's exactly what I bought," said the old man. "Does he know?" "Of course he knew. I threw it in the river afterwards." "Does he know?" "How does he know that?" He had nothing more to say. "But why did your dad say that? He's too troublesome!" the old man blamed. "If he knew that the gun had been thrown into the river..." he explained for his father. "The problem is that he is too honest!" "He may also be afraid that the gun is still there, and that if it is found out, he will ask the source—" He wanted to excuse his father, but after all, his father confessed and implicated the old man, so it was his father who should be blamed. "I didn't expect it, I didn't expect it..." The old man sighed again and again, "Who would want to know what happened more than 30 years ago? You haven't been born yet. From your father's file to your file—.one Maybe this non-existent gun, which has been paved with scum at the bottom of the river bed, is still in the file of the retired old man, he thought, without saying anything, and changed the subject: "Uncle Fang, you have no children. "No." The old man sighed again and did not continue. The old man had already forgotten that he wanted to adopt him as a son. Fortunately, otherwise, the old man's heart would have been even heavier than his father's. "If we come to investigate again—" said the old man. "No, no need," he interrupted the old man.He had changed the purpose of his visit, and there was no reason to blame them, the old man or his father. "I have lived to the end, you listen to me," insisted the old man. "Isn't this thing gone? Isn't it all rusted?" He stared at the old man. The old man opened his mouth and laughed loudly, showing his sparse teeth, and a tear flowed from under the drooping eyelid. The old man and his wife tried to persuade him that he must stay for dinner, but he insisted on declining, saying that he had to go back to the city to return the rented mountain pass car and catch the evening train. Uncle Fang sent him out of the building, and when he arrived at the intersection, he waved again and again, told him to say hello to his father, and said repeatedly: "Take care! Take care!" He got on the bike, and when he turned around and couldn't see the old man, he suddenly said: This investigation is superfluous, is there any use for it?