Chapter 80 Talk about mysteries

After Wan Yu's death, the hat of a model student of philosophy fell to Rob's head.The team arranged for me to write an experience speech for him, and after I wrote it, I would read it to him sentence by sentence, guide him to memorize it, and then let him go to the commune or county meeting to give a philosophy project.The cadres said that Wan Yu didn't talk about philosophy well when he went to Gongduli before. Rob is old, qualified, and has a voice. He also heroically saved people on the aqueduct. The higher-ups will definitely be satisfied with him.Fucha also secretly told me that Rob is a well-known old revolutionary, but he is a little confused and illiterate, and when he speaks, he is a bit out of touch, and he is pulled from the crotch to the crotch of the horse, so we have to guard against it in advance.You must let him memorize the speech.

I later learned that it was very difficult to get Rob to avoid talking about his philosophy lectures.He broke away from the lecture notes while he was talking, and forgot all the things he had memorized with great difficulty.Sometimes I want to wait for him to find his own way, only to find out later that he always runs farther and farther, and the farther he goes, the happier he is.He has never taken in a wife in his life, and he has never even been close to a woman, but this does not prevent him from often having some dirty allegorical remarks: Man girl coughs—nothing to talk about (phlegm); Watching Manmeizi give birth to a bully... So many "Manmeizi" and philosophy are really not in harmony.

He saw the problem in my eyes, and blinked, "Pig, did I make a mistake again?" The more he rehearsed, the more nervous he became, and then he simply said it wrong: "Chiefs, comrades, this year I, Luo Yuxing Fifty-six years old..." What needs to be explained is that this is actually not wrong, but according to the arrangement of the party branch, I raised his age to sixty-five in order to better reflect the excellent qualities of others.The philosophical significance of a sixty-five-year-old robbing the collective in the rain and a fifty-six-year-old robbing the collective is of course different.

I reminded him sixty-five, remember, it starts with six characters. "Look at my mouth! Alas, what's the use of living when you're old?" He ignored my snicker, mourned for a while, looked up at the sky, calmed down, and started again: "Chiefs, comrades, My name is Luo Yuxing, I am fifty this year..." "It's still wrong!" "My name is Luo Yuxing, and this year...five..." I'm almost desperate. He was a little angry, "Am I fifty-six! Philosophy is philosophy, why change my age? Does age hinder philosophy?" "Isn't it to make your deeds more touching?" I repeated the truth I have already said carefully, emphasizing that an old man in Longjiatan talked about the philosophy of raising pigs at the age of 70, and it was broadcast on the radio. Compared with the age of seventy, the age is really too little, and it cannot be justified.

"I knew early on that philosophy is not a serious business. Wow, you are making up the past and making the present. The Communist Party just likes girls with radishes in their crotches—fake guys." These reactionary words startled me. Just at this time a commune cadre came and saw us.Rob went out and talked about what we were doing, blinking his eyes as if he hadn't woken up: "Philosophy. Learn! Is it okay if you don't study? I learned it at midnight yesterday, and the more I learn, the more energetic I am. During the puppet government, you If you want to learn, you can’t enter the school. Now that the Communist Party invites you to learn, isn’t it because you care about the poor and lower-middle peasants? This philosophy is the study of understanding, truth, and strength. Learn it in time and learn it well!”

The cadres were all smiles when they heard this. After all, they are old poor peasants, and their ideological realm is indeed problematic. How well do you think the summary is?How profound?Understanding, Confucianism, and Strength. I secretly admired that Rob was quick-witted and articulate. Although he always looked sleepy, he said it in a set way, and he talked about the itch of the listener. It was only later that I found out that he was such a person, with red eyes from different folks, one mouth and two skins, talking to people, gossiping, always speaking clearly and logically what people like to hear.When he met someone who fed pigs, he said that it is good to feed pigs: "The pigs you raise can be eaten wherever you want, and you can eat whenever you want. Why go to the slaughterhouse to be cold and hot?" When there is no one who feeds pigs, he said that it is better not to feed pigs: "If you want to eat meat, take the money and go to the slaughterhouse to chop it. Don't take it off! Why bother feeding pigs to the gods? I eat three times a day. If you don’t have enough to eat, you have to feed it first, you say it’s annoying or not!” When he met someone who gave birth to a cub, he said, “You still have to rely on the cub to do things, and the burden makes the cow, it’s you Blessed." When he met someone who gave birth to a daughter, he said that the daughter is good: "If you take a daughter-in-law, you will lose a son, and if you marry a younger sister, you will gain a son. Look at how filial the sons of pigs are? Do good deeds. It's still a woman who loves her grandparents, and from now on, your papa will have food and you won't have to worry about wearing shoes and socks, congratulations."

He talked again and again, not necessarily telling lies, but telling the truth in every sentence, speaking truthfully, eloquently and forcefully, with a serious face.People from Maqiao said that he was the best at "telling mysteries".Xuan is metaphysics, yin and yang Luo Yin is right and wrong, one or the other, Xuan Dao is the tact that cannot be attached to one end, it can never be explained clearly and never can be explained clearly. He has no heirs himself, only a dry cub, who is from Pingjiang County.According to the custom of the local people, the first guest to come into the house after giving birth is the baby's "Fengsheng Goddess" or "Fengsheng Godmother".Many years ago, Rob went to Pingjiang to sell fir greens. He went to a house on the side of the road to beg for saliva. A bag of sweet potatoes.He didn't expect that the dry bastard would later join the Red Army and become a general. After entering the city, he would be picked up to live in Nanjing.He said that he was an unlucky person. After getting on the Nanjing Grand Wharf, the general and his wife took him into the little turtle car. As soon as the car moved, he felt dizzy and couldn't help shouting that he had to get out of the car.In the end, the general had to walk with him, and the car followed slowly behind him.

He was also not used to the fact that there was no firepit or urine bucket in the general's house.The open space behind the house could have raised a garden of vegetables.He managed to dig it up and level it out, but he couldn't find the urine bucket.They used buckets and enamel tanks to put manure on, and the general's wife and two younger sisters covered their noses and screamed, complaining that he was not hygienic and uncivilized.When he got angry, he didn't eat for a whole day, and forced the general to buy a boat ticket to take him back to Maqiao. "Lazy!" He shook his head when he talked about his two goddaughters. "It's too scientific. They are all fleshy. They can't be fed to pigs and can't be spun. Why do you go to your husband's house to put the pot in the future?"

I heard that the general sent him some money every year and festival, so I couldn't help asking enviously. "How can there be a lot of money? Picking, picking very well." He dug the shredded tobacco in the cloth bag, his eyes fell asleep for a long time, and his mouth was vague, "That's... that's... three or four dollars." "More than that?" "At my age, how can I still tell lies? Girls' earwax - that's all!" "I'm not looking for you to reform the land!" "Why don't you rob the house, you rob the house!"

I am very interested in this passage, and I think it reflects the simple and industrious nature of the old poor peasants (he does not want to enjoy life in the city), and also shows his glorious history (for example, he has a close relationship with the Red Army). I hope to write to his report.I didn't expect that once he said something deep, his profound energy would come out again, which made me confused instead.He was singing the praises of the Red Army, he had been singing the praises of the Red Army all the time, and his words changed when he talked about it; he said that the Red Army was so vicious—there was a platoon leader who made friends with fellow villagers, and the new company commander regarded him as a counter-revolutionary killed.The company commander is only sixteen years old, and short in stature, he jumps up and chops off someone's head, spraying it straight into the sky, and he just sits on the neck and drinks it while it's hot, isn't it scary?Speaking of class enemies, he even shed reactionary tears. "What kind of bad guy is Scarlet Ma? A man who works in the field and is a staunch man. Poor, it's so easy for him to vote, and you want him to vote. After he voted, he said he was a fake vote, which made him swallow cigarettes and pity him." man..."

He pushed up the nostrils with his palms. I had to stop him, "Why are you crying? You are so confused, the Communist Party's purge of bandits and hegemony is a revolutionary action, why are you complaining about Ma Scar?" "I... can't cry?" He was a little puzzled. "Of course you can't cry. You can't cry. You are a poor peasant. Think about it, who were you crying for?" "My brain is no longer a brain. If I say it or not, you force me to!" "That's not true. Some places are still good." He was going to relieve himself, and he went there for half an hour, which made me feel strange.When he comes back, I guide him to recall some of the crimes of the Kuomintang reactionaries, let him drink his saliva, calm down, and start again.Only at this time did he return to his status as an old poor peasant.When he talked about the Kuomintang's suppression of the Communist Party, it was so venomous, so venomous.Even the mother-in-law and the baby were killed together. The three-year-old baby was grabbed and thrown against the wall. Without even humming, his head exploded.Some were thrown into brick kilns and burned until their skin and flesh stink, and the stench lingered for three days and three nights.He mentioned Lu Mazi, probably a leader of the Kuomintang, who did the most insidious things. He took the liver and lungs of the Red Army and secretly warmed them in a large pot of beef for everyone to eat.He, Luo Yuxing, didn't know about it at first, but only heard about it after he ate it. At that time, he vomited so much that his intestines were about to turn out... He also served in the Red Army for a month, fell behind and returned home.He almost had his liver and lungs taken by Lu Mazi. Fortunately, he sold a coffin for his old lady, bought three tables of companion wine, and asked two people to be sureties, so he survived. "Lu Dazi, I'll stab his ancestor! He's the offspring of an old bug and a pig, he's stupid and evil, he'll die for seven days and seven nights and he won't lose his temper!" Speaking of his old lady's coffin, he couldn't help yelling.The snot and tears came again, pushing up the nostrils again with the palms. This time, I feel more at ease. "If it wasn't Chairman Mao and the Communist Party, how could I, Luo Yuxing, be where I am today!" "Well said, you have to say the same when you are on stage, and you must cry." "Cry, of course you have to cry!" The result is regrettable: no crying.But it’s not too bad. Although he was a little nervous and stuttered, he basically followed the script he had memorized. From history to reality, from individuals to society, he used philosophies such as "essence and phenomenon" to talk about his own excellence. deeds, and extolled socialism.He is not too good at talking eighteen, and after I repeatedly warned him in advance, he finally did not say such stupid things as he used to be a porter for the Kuomintang and ate American flour.At most, he added a little improvisation when criticizing revisionist philosophy, saying that revisionism is indeed bad, not only to murder Chairman Mao, but also to cause us to come to the meeting now and delay work.Although this misses the point, it also fits the theme. I recited it with him for three days, and it was not in vain. He was later named by the commune and went to other communes to give lectures several times.After that, I was temporarily transferred to the county cultural center to write scripts, so I didn't have much contact with him.I only heard that once when he came back from a philosophy job, he was attacked by a mad dog on the road and was bitten on the leg. He was bedridden for more than half a year without timely diagnosis and treatment.Afterwards, it dissipates and dies. I remember the last time I saw him, he had green medicine on his forehead, he was so thin that only two eyes could be seen, and he was watching cattle by the field.A golden butterfly stings on the back of the cow. When asked about his illness, he opened his eyes wide and said to me: "Do you think it's strange? Dogs never bite me, they only bite the spot." This sounds a bit awkward. He held up one foot to show me.What he meant was that there was a scar on this foot, which was cut by a sickle before, broken by a fall, and finally bitten by a dog.He was puzzled by the repetition. "Is it almost ready?" "What's the matter?" "Did you get an injection?" "The doctor in the world only cures the disease, not the life." "You old man, you have to have confidence, you will be fine." "What's so good? Why don't you have to work on the horsepower again? Harvesting grain, digging mountains, what's the good thing? I might as well look after the cattle now." "You still don't want to get well?" "What's good if it's not good? It hurts to walk every step, and I can't even squat in the toilet." He can say anything smoothly. In his hand he held a small pink radio, probably given to him recently by his godson, the General, a rarity among countrymen. "Here's a good guy," he said, pointing to the radio, "talking and singing all day long, and I don't know where the energy is." He held the radio to my ear.I can't hear clearly, the sound is too low, probably the battery is not enough. "I know every day whether it's raining or not in Beijing," he said with a smile. I found out later that he was very ill at this time, and I put all the birthday shoes on the bedside, fearing that it would be too late to wear them, but he still got up calmly and looked at the cows for two days, and changed them for the cow pens. A round of new grass, twisted two ox ropes, and talked to me about the rain in Beijing with a smile.