Chapter 5 Fives

5 If you saw me on the street, you'd think I was a basketball player, never that I worked in the fiction room of a writing company.I am more than two meters tall.But I'd never been on the court to even think about it -- I'm too dumb and prone to injuries -- and I wasted a lot of money on clothes and shoes.The clothes and shoes I wear are very expensive.Every time I go to a public restroom, a bored little boy will stand next to me and unzip it and pretend to pee, just to see what I've grown.I humbly let him pee first, but he couldn't pee.So, I grabbed him by the neck and threw him out of the toilet.

Few people have seen this thing of mine. Compared with the body, the goods are very ordinary.Beneath the mature, even hideous appearance, I have a child's body: very little body hair, and no pigmentation in the hidden parts of the body-I think this is a student, and a body like this is gradually becoming Being exposed to my teachers made me feel ashamed—that's all I wrote while sitting in my office.When I was in college, I fell in love with my teacher. This is a story.This story is gradually being exposed to readers, and it makes me feel ashamed.Looking at these familiar words, my face is hot.

I deleted some details from the old story: as soon as the bedroom door was closed, the teacher hooked my neck with both hands, tried to climb up, put his small face on my forehead, and separated my eyes with two eyes. He stared at my eyes and shouted sharply: "Stupid, what are you thinking about!"I didn't expect her to ask me like this, I was terrified, and said eagerly, "What did you think?"The teacher said: Damn it!What do you mean without thinking?She pushed me down on the mattress, reached out and pulled at my clothes... I wasn't scared anymore.I left these things out for a reason: Everyone can think of them.Things that everyone can think of seem to be made up.I'm always making up a story, but I don't want people to see that it's made up.

"In the teacher's bedroom, I tried to unbutton her chest, but failed. The reason for the failure was that my fingers were too thick to hold small things; another reason was that the air was too humid, and the friction coefficient of the clothing material So much increased. She solved the problem herself, got out from under the silk dress, and hung it behind the door. Behind the door was a shelf made of balsa wood, a movable parallelogram with raised A wooden peg, she used it as a coat hook, but I think it is a drawing instrument. The teacher left a doll head, and her figure is not as slender as I thought, but small and strong ..." My story has only one beginning, every time it starts from the classroom of thermodynamics, and then comes to the teacher's dormitory.Then I unbuttoned the teacher's chest, but I couldn't untie it—after so many years, I should have made some progress.I've tried to get the story to start in another time and place, but it just doesn't work out.

I went back to school recently, and the dormitory where the teacher lived is still there, standing alone on a piece of yellow land.The ground is full of broken bricks and tiles, and there are countless pieces of broken glass shining.It turns out that there are still several tube buildings here, but now they are all demolished—if they are not demolished, those buildings will fall down by themselves, because they are too old.That building, too, became a green cube: they put it in scaffolding and covered it with plastic woven fabric, so that it had no doors, no windows, no face, only a small opening in the front, The opening was sealed by a wooden fence, and a sign was hung on it, reading: Film location.I heard people say that everything inside has been kept in its original state, even the broken cabinets in the corridor have been put in place.Whenever I want to make a movie, I can shoot it by uncovering the woven bag, but the mice and cockroaches that used to live in the building are gone—probably they all starved to death.Fill it up with captive-raised ones—there's a department in a film studio that raises both rats and cockroaches.If you go there now, the electrician is laying wires, and there are generator cars and cranes parked on the surrounding loess land; the little workers are dismantling the scaffolding in a hurry-this means that the new version of the teacher-student relationship is about to start filming.This is what the building looks like.This movie is said to be based on my novel.I haven't seen the teacher for more than ten years.What she looks like now, I don't know.

There are only two things a man can do in a company: shoot other people's manuscripts or write his own manuscripts for others to shoot.I have already shot other people's manuscripts, and now I can only write my own. On the black screen, I wrote dejectedly: "...she came back with a pack of cigarettes and an ashtray from the bookshelf. I set up a movable metal crane. When she took out a cigarette, I knocked the crane down, and it turned out to be a lighter underneath. Lighting a cigarette for the teacher can satisfy my Oedipus complex. Later, she Turned the cigarette upside down and put it in my mouth. I didn't know how to smoke at the time, and I smoked it. I quickly bit off the filter, and then the second half of the cigarette disintegrated in my mouth. The tobacco shreds and cigarette papers all over my mouth; the front half of it, together with the burning cigarette butt, spread out on my bare chest. The teacher put the remains of the cigarette into the ashtray, laughed, and then she lay down beside me When she lay on the bed, it seemed that the bed was very big; when I lay on the bed, it seemed that the bed was small; patted my chest and said, "Come on, give me a hug. I turned around and hugged the teacher—this was the first time in my life. Before this, I had never hugged anyone. I don't like it, others Even a child who can't speak will be frightened and cry bitterly when he sees me stretch out my arms like a mast to hug him... Later, I asked the teacher if she was afraid when I hugged her. Look at the arm that hangs over your shoulders—the thing like an elephant's trunk—and shake your short hair on your head, and say, 'No. I'm not afraid of you. What am I afraid of you for?' Yes ​​yes. I'm hideous, But it's not scary. I'm just a student."