Chapter 10 calm as water.1

The cicadas were still singing in the summer of 1988. I chose this windy afternoon to start recording last year's journal, and I seem to believe that this climate is good for my writing.The days pass by the north window day by day, and I think of 1987, when my mood was as calm as water.Among the tide-like sound of the city and the ensemble of ramming machines beating the city, I can distinguish another sound, that is the sound of colorful windmills spinning on the roof terrace.There has been no wind for a long time, and I have not thought of that windmill for a long time. Now I realize the significance of the sound of windmill rotation to reality, so I say, calm as water.

or a bad day The diary reads: Your years as a hapless bastard may have begun on this day.I want to go back to my hometown for the Spring Festival.I arrived at the station with a large canvas bag and a black umbrella.It was the old half-abandoned station of the city, which only served short trains to the south.There were signs of rain that day, and the sky was dark, but the rain did not come down for a long time.When I walked into the low waiting room, I felt that it was very dark inside, as if the power had been cut off, and the people sitting on the five rows of benches seemed to be looming like isolated islands.I found an empty seat and sat down. I put my bag on the ground and put my umbrella in the handle of the canvas bag. Everything was normal.A strong man next door was watching "Family Doctor" with his legs crossed. I asked him, "Is there a power outage?"But I am not used to the darkness of the old station.Why not turn on the lights?

No one is released at the ticket gate.I heard a female ticket inspector screaming at the person who hit the iron railing, "What's the hurry? A train is not a carriage. It can go if it should go or not. You won't go if you kill it." I remember laughing out loud. I can't help but laugh at other people's humor.Then I closed my eyes and waited for the announcement to check the ticket.In hindsight, I think that everything about me is normal.I want to go back to my hometown for the Spring Festival.I don’t know when I felt something cold on my forehead, and when I opened my eyes, the ceiling lights on the ceiling of the waiting room were on, and a policeman in white was standing in front of me.At the time I thought it was amazing that the light came with the police.

"Have you let him go?" I said. "Get your papers out," he said. That's when I realized what was wrong.I unzipped the canvas bag and took out my work card and gave it to him. "What's the matter?" "It's nothing." He flipped through his work card and glanced at it, then handed it back to me and said, "Put it away." "Let him go soon?" I asked. "Soon. Please come with me." He said again.I noticed that his face was serious, his beard was shaved blue, his eyes were piercing, and he was picking his nostrils casually with one hand. "Why? Do you think I'm a bad guy?" I stare at his other hand. "Come with me." The other hand was slowly raised. "Where to?" I guessed that hand was the key hand. "Come with me and you'll know." The key hand patted me on the shoulder.I thought about it and picked up the bag, I don't know what went wrong.He led me towards the iron door next to the bathroom, a black baton with a leather case hanging on the belt bumped his withered buttocks from time to time.Behind the iron gate is a long corridor.In the corridor I remembered that the umbrella had been left on the bench.I followed him into the station police station like a thoughtless sheep, and I had a premonition that an inexplicable slaughter was about to begin.There were four other people in the office, who seemed to be playing cards. One just took the note off his nose, and the other shuffled the messy poker into one piece in an instant with a click of knuckles.At this time, I laughed again. I always have difficulty restraining myself from laughing. This kind of problem will lead to disaster one day.The policeman who grabbed me turned back suddenly: "Don't laugh!" "Don't laugh." I responded and sat on the round stool in the middle of the room.I feel like a seasoned arrestee, which makes me a little lost.I sat hunched over and saw the canvas bag huddled pitifully on the ground. I wondered if there was something wrong with it, but I was definitely not carrying any contraband. I just wanted to go back to my hometown for the Spring Festival. "Name?" "Li Duo." "I ask your real name." "That's your real name. I don't have a fake name."

"Address?" "Fifth Floor, No. 11, Jiangnan Road." "Be honest, do you have an address?" "Why not? I'm not a fugitive." "Who knows? How do you know if you are a fugitive if you don't find out?" I finally understood that I was suspected of being a fugitive, but I didn't understand why I was suspected of being a fugitive. Encountering this kind of thing before the Spring Festival can not but be said to be bad luck.I looked at my watch. It was only five minutes before the train left. I stood up and said, "Is it over? I'll miss the train." They sat still, and those eyes had a similar stern and indifferent look.If I were the sheep, they were the shepherds.The shepherd does not let the sheep go and the sheep cannot go.So I sat down again, and I faintly heard the beeping of the announcement in the waiting room. It must be the ticket inspection, and everyone who wanted to take the train got on the train, but I suddenly lost this right.You can't understand my despair and depression.The policeman who grabbed me was whispering something to the interrogators, and then I heard them ask a question I didn't expect.

"Do you have any previous convictions?" "What?" "I'm asking you if you have been involved in hooligan theft and anti-Party activities, such as the Riverside Street arson, the Friendship store robbery, or the Democracy Wall movement. Do you have any previous convictions?" "No. This is ridiculous." "Who are you calling ridiculous?" "I said the train, the train is about to leave." "Do you think it's more important to take the train or to maintain public order?" "Both are important. But I didn't disrupt public order."

"Then why did you hide the murder weapon?" At this time, I was really stunned.I don't have a murder weapon.I never fight why should I hide the murder weapon.I said, "You're mistaken, I don't have a murder weapon." And I pushed the rucksack forward for them to check.The policeman who grabbed me took out a pair of white gloves from his pocket and walked over. He squinted at me and opened the zipper of the canvas bag.I saw him draw a pistol quickly.I breathed a sigh of relief and almost laughed again.But I desperately held back.Because it was a plastic pistol made in Hong Kong with a lifelike shape, but it was not a murder weapon after all. "It's a toy pistol for my little nephew."

He weighed the plastic pistol in his hand, looking annoyed.He continued to fumble in the bag, grabbed another watermelon knife, and shook it at me with the handle. "What is this?" "Watermelon knife, not a murder weapon." "There is no watermelon now, why bring a watermelon knife?" "There will be watermelons in summer." "Sophistry, any knife over ten centimeters is considered a murder weapon. It's a regulation." "I don't know this regulation." "I brought you here to let you know. We confiscated pistols and knives. Now you can go." "I didn't say that the knives were confiscated, but why should guns be confiscated?" "Toy guns are not allowed to be carried in the car. This It's the regulations." I finally stood up, my head was like a mess, and I really nodded to them like a paroled prisoner.Suddenly remembered that I was here to take the train, and hurried to the waiting room.The lights in the waiting room faded again, and I saw that the row of benches I had sat on was empty.I waved the ticket and rushed towards the ticket gate.The female ticket inspector quickly closed the gate.She said what are you doing?I said I took the train.She snatched my ticket and looked at it, and said to me with a smile, "If you enter the station, you won't be able to catch up with that train. Do you understand that trains run faster than people?" I hung my bag around my neck for a while , and I said, fuck your shit.She twisted Liu Yemei and said, who are you scolding?I said I scolded the whole world, scolded the whole world, it's none of your business.I went to look for the umbrella again, but there was no sign of the umbrella at all, and someone stole the umbrella.I walked outside and found that it had been raining for a long time, and I didn't even know it.There is nothing you can do if you know it. If someone wants to steal your umbrella, you can only go to the store to buy a new umbrella.Nothing wrong with buying a new umbrella, sadly my favorite plastic pistol was confiscated.

no second quarter I named my apartment at No. 11 Jiangnan Road Sun Building.It was a gift from my grandfather's sixty years of revolution.He painted all the cream doors, windows, and closets in the house a red coat and delivered them to me.I said why should the white room be painted into a red room?He said you can't be too bourgeois.Red makes people progress, white makes people fall.I think grandpa's thinking is very cute, you can only let it go your own way with this kind of infantile tyranny.I covered the wall with coloring pages cut from various pictorials, from boxing champion Tyson to sexy actress Kinski to US President Reagan. Grandpa didn’t know those people. He asked me which hero this is?I said it was the American Communist Party, and he slapped me on the top of the head, "You liar, isn't the Communist Party of any country like this, don't wear clothes?" I said that I can't help whether they wear clothes or not. It doesn't matter.That's America.

The residents of the Sun Building are used to living in a small house. Sometimes I see those reclusive neighbors by the mailbox downstairs, and their faces have a kind of bad luck of excessive indulgence and malnutrition.They walked up the stairs slowly with newspapers between them, their hips as heavy as the earth. I don't know what they have been busy with from morning to night to make this half-dead look.After the sun sets, it will be dark in the future.The volume of the TV poured out from the various windows of the Sun Building, and the Condor Hero Guo Jing, the announcer Du Xian Luo Jing, and the American Donald Duck singer ××× were noisy.Occasionally, there is the sound of a rice bowl slamming to the ground.This is the night.

The night is difficult, sometimes I go through the winding corridor to the roof platform, turn on all the lights that are extinguished all the way, I see that the wooden ladder is still hidden in a secret corner, I set the ladder to the opening and climb up.The Sun Building has lost its freshness now, and the only thing I like is the roof platform. The four bunkers on the platform are actually four large water tanks, otherwise it is basically an urban grassland.In the middle of the prairie there is a chair with a broken leg. It has stood alone since the first time I stepped on the platform. I don’t know who put it there.If I sit on it, I feel like a modern king, the world around me is cool and sacred, everything is gone, only the stars and the moon are very close to you.The night dew has fallen, and I shall hear some mysterious call after passing the night freight train on the northwest railway.I always hear the sound of the chair breaking, click, soft but deep and penetrating.I heard this voice as early as 1986.I was sitting quietly on the platform when I heard this voice from behind me.I looked back but saw nothing, the moonlight was dim that day.The next day, I heard that someone jumped off the building and died at night.The residents of the Sun Building panicked around the pool of blood on the ground floor. My hands and feet were cold. I thought why I didn’t see that person. I was on the roof platform when the incident happened, but I didn’t see that person. The suicide person stuck a colorful windmill in the concrete crack and jumped off the building. When I saw the windmill, I remembered the scene of a human body falling freely in the air.People said it was a beautiful girl, wearing a white dress and long hair covering half of her face.The summer of 1986 passed in a trance.I gradually suspected that it was the girl I was passionately in love with.I suspected, and so did others, that I had pushed the girl off the roof terrace.It's almost a mystical proposition, I never tell you about the roof terrace.Whenever the moon is clear, I hold a book and read it under the moonlight. The book I am reading now is John Wayne's "Killing the Father", telling you that the title does not matter, you can't find this terrible book anyway . About Thunderbird I'm about to get to the hero of the story.The protagonist is not me, but a guy named Thunderbird.Thunderbird is a third-rate poet, the one my grandfather calls cultural shit.Thunderbird disappeared in 1987.Throughout his history you could tell he was a notorious badass.Half the people who knew him (including me) wanted to settle accounts with him, but we don't know where he went.If you see Thunderbird on a strange city street, please help us catch him.The appearance of the Thunderbird is as follows: 1. A knife handle face.Lips darkened.The eyes are small and bright.Grow an artistic beard.About 1.80 meters tall.2. Wear a black suit, knot a tie with diagonal stripes, and carry an artificial leather briefcase.Three, in a trance, in a trance. Thinking about it now, I may have known Thunderbird very early. Our social circle here is a bit like dominoes. Whoever moves first, countless people will all move. One by one, you will meet on the street after the collision. Some stranger says hello to you.You stop and tell him, how are you doing recently? Have you traveled or released any new works?But you don't know the other person's name.Later, when I walk out on the street, I feel like I know more than half of the world's population.This is the case with Thunderbird.That was when I just moved into the Sun Building, one evening I heard someone knocking on the door, I asked who it was, and the person outside said that they would know when they opened the door.I opened the door and saw a dusty man with a briefcase leaning against the wall. He extended a hand to me. I shook his hand without remembering who he was. "Thunderbird, poet." He broke in and introduced himself. "Hello, Thunderbird," I said. "Sit down, it's just a guest, it's all about your mouth." "We met at Machu's." He sat down and threw the briefcase on my bed. "March," I said.I can't even remember who Machu was. "March went to America, did you know?" "I don't know." "I just came back from Shenzhen, I got off the plane yesterday." "I heard that you are on a tourist trip." "No, I do business there. I partnered with Xiaotian to open a small company." "Which Xiaotian?" "Son of Vice Governor Tian, ​​our company specializes in negotiating business with foreign businessmen, and the turnover is very high." "Talk Car or Polyethylene?" "No." He burst out laughing. "Talking about bras and all that women's stuff." "It's a good business." I laughed too.At this time, I found that he was indeed familiar, but I didn't know whether I met him at Machu Niuqiu or Pigqiu's house.It doesn't matter to me.Then I saw his eyes light up and he said, "I'm hungry. I'm rumbling." "Then eat instant noodles and see if there are any eggs?" "Anything is fine, I don't care about food." He shrugged. It was a day in the autumn of 1986, and Thunderbird asked for an overnight stay at night.I saw him take off his black suit, fold it carefully and put it on the chair, then fell asleep on the floor.I noticed that he was sleeping in a strange posture, lying on his stomach with his hands and feet spread out, like an unfortunate person who fell from a building.At that time, I couldn't predict what happened to Thunderbird, but I just thought that people should not sleep in such a difficult position.If I were a philosopher who could predict the future, I should have rolled up the Thunderbird and thrown it out the window at that time, so that he would not borrow my two thousand yuan later and never return it. i am a foreign egg In life I'm just a foreign egg.This is my grandfather's evaluation of me. He always compares me to a foreign egg. I think it is because the surface of the egg is smooth, but it is fragile and cannot withstand bumps.As for the meaning of yang, it is obvious, because I have told my grandfather more than once that I want to smuggle to Hong Kong and then go to the United States to go to France or the Netherlands.My grandpa hated the xenophobia the most.Actually I dare not.I have said that I am basically a person who follows the rules, even if I dare, I may not succeed. Maybe I slipped across the border and wanted to go north to Inner Mongolia to open up a pasture.All kinds of uncertain factors are concentrated in me, and I may really look like a foreign egg as a whole.I work in a temporary fund-raising foundation with prizes, which is a leisurely and interesting job. I work three days a week to go to the office to draft and print various lottery coupons: mainly for the Disabled Persons Fund, environmental protection, maternal and child health, and university sports games. etc.I suspect that it is the leisure and fun here that has cultivated my irritability. When I go to the toilet, I always close the door tightly, hold my breath and yell three times, woo-woo-woo.My colleague asked me what's the matter?I said I was in a panic.Where did they say they were panicking?I said that I was panicking everywhere.They asked again who made you angry?I said no, no one made me angry, I was angry with myself, there was no other way.This is really impossible.In 1987, I was bored and irritable. One day they had a meeting by the gas fire. I secretly pressed the switch of the big ceiling fan, and then I left. I felt a little better when I heard their ghostly screams. .I know it's too cold to turn on ceiling fans, but it doesn't hurt to have them on.That's what I think.When you see a group of people's hair blown by the wind through the glass, you will feel that this day has not been in vain.Now I sit in front of the window and see myself in 1987 as a cumbersome and eccentric image. I walk up and down every street in the city, burrowing into crowded places.I saw a car wheel hit and killed a woman riding a bicycle, her bicycle was like a twisted twist lying in a pool of blood, there was a bunch of leeks in a plastic basket, and a high-heeled shoe was thrown at your feet and it still hurts. steaming.I saw two boys performing hard qigong on the lawn of the square. One wrapped himself around two times and three times with an iron chain, and then snapped the iron chain with a loud roar (I suspect there was a crack in the iron chain); the second was Legless boy, he sat on the grass and brought an aluminum lunch box in front of you and said, "Gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, please give us some money for food. If you don't, you will be inhuman!" (I didn't Paying out money is to taste what it’s like not to be human.) I have also seen foreign money tellers in denim clothes sitting on the steps in front of overseas Chinese stores, like a row of guards guarding passers-by. When I walked there, several hands suddenly pulled The corner of my clothes, "Do you have US dollars?" "Do you have exchange certificates?" "Do you want Japanese yen?"I feel very natural and kind when I sit in the ranks of bad men, and I am happier than them.Because I don't want to exchange anything, I want to exchange my nerves and brains and I can't find a client, who will exchange with me?One day I saw Thunderbird exchange something with someone behind a big willow tree, and when I ran towards him, he was nowhere to be found.It is a fact that the Thunderbirds are legendary.Later I asked him what he was doing behind the big willow tree.What did he say big willow tree?I said you are dumping dollars on the black market.He said that you are delusional, I, Thunderbird, never go to the black market, I have three thousand dollars, Peter gave me one thousand, Sandburg gave me fifteen thousand, and Shirley gave me five hundred.Peter wants to get me to California.I said what relationship do you have with them?Thunderbird waved his hand and said that you didn't understand even if I told you, do you know what sodomy is?Do you know how many orgasms American women need in one night?The look on Thunderbird's face that sees the world can easily overwhelm you, I said fuck you, it turns out that you sold yourself to seek refuge.Thunderbird sighed and looked up to the sky and said, this generation has no heroes, and this generation is all dreaming of the American Dream.They are all fleeing a huge shipwreck.Brother, run away, you are either a hero or a deserter.Perhaps the Thunderbird left a great man-style motto.Later, I often thought about the hero and the deserter, thinking of the shipwreck in the water, who was on board and who was pushing in the water?Questions don’t necessarily require answers, and later they turned into passwords, and when Thunderbird came to my sun building, he had to recite the password: "Password?" "Hero." "Deserter."