Previous: My Uncle Chapter One My uncle lived in the world at the end of the last century (20th century).We all know one thing: In China, history is limited to thirty years, and it is impossible for us to know what happened thirty years ago.My uncle is more than thirty years older than me, so I don't know much about him—more correctly, I shouldn't know.He left a lot of notes, photos, and other than that, I still remember his appearance.He was a big dark man with a lot of hair when he was young and bald when he was old.What we know about them at that time is that coal was burned at that time, and the whole sky was covered with black smoke, and most people went to work by bicycle.Sports equipment such as bicycles was a means of transportation in those days, and its appearance is quite different from today's. There is a triangular steel pipe frame between the two wheels, and a pipe stands on the frame.In the cars that have been handed down to the present, a small part of the pipe has a seat on it, and the other part has nothing on it; this situation has puzzled archaeologists. I gave a deeper explanation - some of the people at that time were trusted and could enjoy a better life, and the cars with seats belonged to them.Another group of people are not trusted, so they have to torture themselves all the time in order to get the right to live, so this kind of bicycle without a seat is a tool for them to self-mutilate the anus and perineum.According to my childhood impressions, this latter statement is rather far-fetched.I still remember how people rode bicycles.But I don't want to argue with authority - my superiors still trust me, and I don't want to embarrass myself.

My uncle was a writer, but he never published a single work during his lifetime, which is solid evidence that he is not trusted.For this reason, his works are now published and piled up in bookstores.As we all know, now is very different from then, and our society has taken a major turning point to the light. —Anyway, as a nephew, I should be very happy about this, but the bookseller may come to another conclusion.How talented my uncle is, of course, should be judged by researchers of classical literature. All I know is that paper books are not popular at all now, and e-books are popular, and they should have multimedia illustrations.Therefore, if the bookseller really wants to let my uncle see the light of day again, he should invest more money in compiling my uncle's books in a decent way.Now they found me again and asked me to write a biography for the old man, which must include that he rode a bicycle without a seat, and it must be proved that he had hemorrhoids and even prostate cancer.But according to the information I have, my uncle suffers from various diseases, including arthritis and heart disease, but none of the above-mentioned organs grow near the anus, which is caused by the cruel vehicle.He died in an elevator accident and was crushed all at once, an enviable way to die, clearly better than dying of prostate cancer.This makes me very difficult.I myself study history, and history is a liberal arts; so I know the guiding principle of liberal arts—that is to say, everything that forms words should lead to a conclusion that is beneficial to us.My uncle is dead, and it's in our interest to let him die of hemorrhoids, prostate cancer, and there's nothing wrong with letting him die like this.But in this way, I don't know who the old man who died in the elevator is.I was twenty when he died, and I remember it.At that time, he took the elevator to go to the fourteenth floor, but went to the basement, and became mutilated.Some people said that the elevator was a waste product and broke down every day, and that the house manager took kickbacks from the contractor.It's not "guiding" enough to say this - in this way, he died because of someone's greed, not because of the system's ills.There must be another way to die for him.I can solve this problem, because I have taken writing courses in the Chinese Department for several years, specializing in the problem of how to write badly.

It is necessary to add a few words about the guiding principle of history, which consists of two contradictory requirements.One is: all historical studies and discussions must lead to the conclusion that the present is better than the past; the other is: all the above-mentioned discussions must lead to the conclusion that the present is worse than the past.The first principle applies to culture, institutions, and material life, and the second applies to people.So I still don't understand.Countless historiography colleagues stumbled because they couldn't figure it out.I have the most concise way of saying that when it comes to life, today is better than in the past; when it comes to ordinary people, it is worse than in the past.Such conclusions are always in our favor; but I don't understand who "we" are.

The story of my uncle is like this: he was born in 1952, grew up and encountered the Cultural Revolution, went to the countryside to jump in the queue, and got a heart attack there.From a "guiding" point of view, these things are too old to matter.The important thing is that he was underappreciated later, and his works could not be published.At that time, he was in his forties and lived alone in Beijing.I remember that he had a little money, which was earned by doing business in Eastern Europe, so he didn't come out to work.In the spring, every afternoon he went to the park. At this time, he was wearing a yellow corduroy jacket, white corduroy trousers, and had long hair on his head.I don't know which park he often goes to. According to his diary, it seems to be the Badachu of Xishan Mountain, or Xiangshan, because he said that it is a place where some white bark pines grow and the vegetation is dense.My uncle's trousers are always bulging at the knees because he doesn't lift them up.And the reason for this is that he has suffered from heart disease, and if he tightens his belt, he will be out of breath.For this reason, he looked sloppy.If people knew that he was a great writer, they wouldn't be surprised. The problem is that they don't.In this way he walked up the avenue on the hill, and took a cigarette out of his pocket, and put it in his mouth.At this time, there was no one on the road, only a man in a blue coat was sweeping the floor.The latter's eyes seem to be fixed on the ground, but they are not.As we all know, there is a sign at the entrance of the park, which reads: No smoking in the first-level fire prevention zone on the mountain, and violators will be fined X yuan.This X is a variable that increases with time.A brilliant colleague of mine has documented that it grows geometrically.This growth not only reflects the emphasis on fire protection in the last century, but also leaves room for bargaining for the punished.The friend in the blue overalls was delighted when he saw my uncle taking out a cigarette, because my uncle didn't seem like a bargainer, and he didn't seem to ask for a receipt after paying the fine.My uncle was smoking a cigarette and took out another lighter.This made the sweeper emotionally agitated to the extreme.But he struck it, failed, put the lighter back in his pocket, put the cigarettes back in the case, and walked down the hill, with the sweeper following him.The latter thought that his lighter might be malfunctioning, so he wanted to go forward and lend him a box of matches for him to light a cigarette, then catch him and fine him; but this was a bit presumptuous.On the way down the mountain, my uncle took out a cigarette several times, but he failed to light it.Finally he walked out of the park, got on the bus, and went home.The worker paused at the gate of the park and called him crazy, but he didn't hear it.As far as I know, my uncle is not insane.He wanted to smoke on the hills, but he had neither flint nor propane in his lighter.He has a lot of lighters, all like this.It's all because he has a heart disease and doesn't dare to smoke, so he puts the cigarette in his mouth and ignites it, which is considered as smoking.This has an advantage and a disadvantage.The advantage is that he can smoke in all places where smoking is prohibited, but the disadvantage is that the cigarette after smoking basically remains the same, so it is difficult to say what he consumed.He must buy a pack of cigarettes every Sunday, and it must be Marlboro. Every time he buys new cigarettes, he gives me the old ones.I was in the first grade of middle school at the time, and although I smoked, I was not addicted to cigarettes; so I sold it.Because he was such a good to me, I still remember him to this day.The fly in the ointment is that this old guy likes to bite the filter with his teeth. I have to use a single-sided blade to cut off the place where the teeth have been bitten. There is no good price for these short cigarettes.He has been dead for many years, and the source of this cigarette has also been cut off for many years.But I am rich now, I don't need this kind of cigarettes anymore.

2 The above facts can be restated as follows. I have an uncle who was dressed as mentioned above. On a certain day in 1999, he came to a park on the west mountain.It was getting late at that time, the light in the park was dim, and there were few tourists.He walked to the mountain road, on the left was the forest, so it was quite dark; on the right was the valley, so it was brighter.My uncle was walking on the right, climbing the slender light poles one by one with his hands—the kind of light poles were made of iron pipes.Later, he took out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, took out a lighter, and flicked it twice; then he looked around, turned and walked down the mountain.There was a man in a black leather jacket sweeping the floor with a long broom behind him. When my uncle passed him, he looked him over, and the man turned his face away so that he could not see it.But my uncle smelled a musky smell, which was a must in perfume in the last century.My uncle didn't think he was a sweeper, and it was getting late, so my uncle quickened his pace.But he heard footsteps behind him, and of course it was the sweeper in the black leather jacket following him.In this case, it was no use going fast, so he slowed down again without looking back.When I walked to the gate of the park, I suddenly heard a thick mezzo-soprano shouting behind me: "Stop!"My uncle stopped.The person in the black leather jacket came out of the shadows. It can now be seen that she is a woman, and she is light on her feet, and she is not very old.She walked past my uncle and said at the same time: Come with me.At this time, my uncle glanced at the gate of the park, because it was getting dark quickly, and the lights at the gate were dimmed.He quickly gave up the idea of ​​running away and followed the woman.

The paragraph just now is the biography I wrote for my uncle, which is taken from the first verse of the first chapter.Overall, it's pretty average, and I don't see me making a mistake for it, although some reviewers say it has the wrong mood and leanings from the get-go.In good conscience, I really wanted to write a Chinese-style thing, so I didn't take what the critics said to heart.Critics have been known to have to pick the bones out of their eggs, or they'll be fined if bad work comes out.Critics also said that there are too many "well-known" in my works, which are suspected of provoking and inciting.As we all know, it is my mantra, which cannot be changed.In addition, these four words can also bring two cents in the manuscript fee, so I don't want to change it.

My uncle has heart disease and had heart surgery. He was young when he had his first surgery, so he is recovering very well.Later, he had another heart problem, so he planned to have a second operation.But before he could get to the hospital, he was crushed to the ground by an elevator.This is just a way of saying it.Another way of saying is: because the hospital was irresponsible, the first heart surgery was all done on the stomach.For this reason, his heart was still so bad after the operation, and he also developed a stomach problem.By either version, he had only one operation and only one scar on his chest.Apart from this scar, his body is perfect, muscular and tall, he can almost run for bodybuilder.Every Sunday, he would come to our house for dinner.My physics teacher also often comes to eat. She lives in the building in front of our house. At home, I call her Auntie Yao.This Auntie Yao was just in her early thirties at the time, she was divorced, and she was very beautiful. Every time she used the toilet in my house, I would snatch her in and sit on the toilet with her body temperature, full of joy .For some reason, she took a fancy to my uncle, a consumptive man—probably because of his size.When my uncle had a good heart he could tear a new deck of cards in half better than a knife could cut them, but back then he couldn't even tear the ass apart.In addition, his lips are dark purple, which means that his whole body is bleeding from weak veins.At the dinner table, he always said nothing, finished eating early, and said: Everyone eat slowly, take the bowls to the kitchen, and leave.Aunt Xiao Yao held up her chopsticks and said: Your brother is very interesting; I told my mother this.I'll add right away: he has a heart attack.My mother said: He is going to have an operation in a while.Aunt Xiao Yao said: He doesn't look like a sick person at all.I'd like to talk to him if I get a chance.My mother said that he was a very interesting person, but a little shy.I said: He doesn't have a job, he's a vagrant.Auntie Xiaoyao said, "Little brat, interrupt me indiscriminately, you are not jealous, are you?"My mother just laughed.I left the table.Later, when I heard them muttering, my mother said, "I'm afraid my younger brother can't do it now."Aunt Xiao Yao said: I am not too interested in that matter either.My mother said: You need to think more about this matter.I rushed over and said: Yes!To think about it, it is best to ignore him.Auntie Xiao Yao said: This kid!Really in love with me!I said: is not it.My mother said: Get out!Don't be silly here.I walk away.This is based on the former statement, which is what I have seen or what is recorded in my uncle's diary.But this statement is often unreliable, so there must be another statement.

Another theory is that Auntie Xiaoyao is the woman in the black leather jacket, but in this version, she is not called Auntie Yao.She stopped my uncle in the park and took him to the police station.This place is a gray brick flat-roofed house, which looks a bit like a toilet, so when there are many tourists during the day, people often rush in with their pants up.But that time there were no tourists, only one policeman was on duty, and he kept yawning.After she greeted him, she took my uncle inside and walked into the grayish-yellow light.Then sitting across a table, she asked: What are you doing in the park?My uncle said: Take a walk.She said: Why take a lighter for a walk?My uncle said that there was no flint in the lighter.What are you doing without flint?My uncle said: I want to quit smoking.She said: Show me the lighter.My uncle handed her the lighter, which was a very ordinary plastic lighter, completely transparent and with an empty shell.Now it seems that there is no problem.The woman slowed down and said, "Have you brought your ID?"My uncle handed over his ID card.After reading it, she said: Where do you work?My uncle said: I don't go to work, I write at home.She said: membership card.My uncle said: What membership card?The woman said: Membership card of the Writers Association.My uncle said: I am not a member of the Writers Association.She smiled: Then who are you?My uncle said: You can count me as unemployed.The woman said: Unemployed?He stood up and went out of the house, closing the door.The door was made of iron plates, and with a bang, it was locked shut.My uncle sighed and looked at the house to see where he could endure the night, because he thought they were going to lock him up here.But at this moment a small window in the wall opened, and stronger light came from it.The woman said: Take off your clothes and pass them in through the window.My uncle took off his coat and tucked them in.She said again: Take them all off, don't make trouble.My uncle had to take off all his clothes and stand naked on the shoes.At this time, she could see a man's strong body, with black hair growing on his chest, abdomen, upper arms, and legs.My uncle's dick is huge but hangs between his legs.It was cold in the house, and he immediately had goosebumps.So he folded his hands across his chest and squinted into the window.Then he waited for this sentence: turn around.And then: bend over.Finally: I'm going to call and ask if there is someone like you.Where to call?In all fairness, I find this statement odd.I saw it up and down, is there any problem with this person?

3 According to the former statement, Auntie Xiaoyao didn't need to take my uncle to the police station to know what his body looked like, because we went swimming together.My uncle wears a pair of nylon swimming trunks, but he never goes into the water, he just lies on the sand booth and basks in the sun.He knows how to swim, but once the water covers his chest, he can't breathe, so at most he can wash his feet in the river.Auntie Yao was wearing a bright red nylon swimsuit, and she was in great shape.The fly in the ointment is that she doesn't shave her armpits, it doesn't look good when she shows her armpits.I think her breasts are pretty close to perfectly spherical and her stomach is pretty flat.Unfortunately I was too skinny to be around her.And she always likes to get close to my uncle, and she took off her sunglasses to admire his big scar carefully.As we all know, the scar was left by an acupuncture operation.Acupuncture works for some people, but not for my uncle at all.He trembled in pain on the operating table. At that time, electroacupuncture was used, and the acupuncturist increased the current. In the end, almost high-voltage electricity was passed through, which burned the skin and flesh. Later, the monk's head was left on the acupuncture point. For that kind of scar, the operating room is still full of smoke from burning pork skin.According to my mother, after that operation, he was not very talkative.Auntie Yao said, my uncle is very cool, that is to say, very sexy.But I think he was stunned by the electric shock.One of his favorite words is: Really?Even a fool would say this.At that time, Auntie Yao was about to decide to marry him, but I hadn't given up my plan to sow discord.When I was with her, I said: My uncle has a lot of hair.There's only so much you can see, and even more that you don't see.He is not alone, he is a piece of felt.Auntie Xiaoyao said: A man should be a little hairy.These words hurt my self-esteem. I was not hairy at the time, and I was proud of it. Who would have thought that she would have such a low opinion of this.I sighed and said: Well, you love to sleep with felts, that's your problem.She listened to me and gave me a twist, and said: Little devil!What sleep, sleep, it's really ugly.This incident happened at the end of the last century, in today's words, it is called the evil old century.No matter in what century, there will always be a woman with a graceful body and a good face like Auntie Yao who will marry a man impulsively.This is the most beautiful thing in the world.Unfortunately, she is going to marry my uncle, a wretch.

When we talk about centuries, we think of history, which is my profession.There is a small part of history that I have experienced, that is, thirty years, accounting for less than one percent of all written history.I know that this one percent of the written history is completely fabricated, and if there is still a little truth, it is out of necessity.As for the remaining 99%, it is difficult for me to judge its authenticity. As far as I know, no one who is still alive can judge it. That is to say, it is not optimistic.I'm currently writing a biography of my uncle, and I'm a licensed historian.It is up to you to draw any conclusions from this.I have already written about my uncle being taken into the police station by a woman in a black leather jacket, whom I decided to call F.The appearance of the police station has a lot of real elements. This is because when I was young, I went to the park with a group of classmates. I was caught smoking on the mountain, and I couldn’t pay the fine, so I was taken there.There I took out the short cigarettes my uncle gave me, and said sweetly to every policeman: Uncle, please smoke.A policeman smoked one and made a prediction about my future: "If you don't learn well at such a young age, you will be a bad guy when you grow up." I think this prediction has come true now, because I have written five this history book.If this standard is considered too low, then I am now writing the sixth book.We were detained for eight hours that day, and the police said they would call the school or parents to come and pick us up, but the phone numbers we gave were all fake.Some of them can’t get through, and all the ones that can get through are paid toilets——I have memorized all the telephone numbers of the paid toilets in Haidian District, which are specially used for such occasions.When it was released, even the last bus had left, so I called a taxi to go home.We also saved a lot of money, excluding the taxi fare, because if five of us were fined, one would be fined fifty, which would be two hundred and five times, which is twenty-five times more expensive than a taxi, but this kind of frugality is hardly praised.Now to get down to business, F searched my uncle's clothes, and threw them back through the window one by one, some fell into my uncle's arms, and some fell on the ground.But there's no harm in throwing it like this.She also said: It's time for the shirt to be washed.My uncle put on his clothes and sat on a stool to tie his shoes, when F opened the door and came in.My uncle put down his shoelaces and sat up straight.The police station is very black except under the lampshade, and F is wearing a black jacket again.

Nabokov said: Kafka's is a pure black and white story.Monotonous colors are a sign of depression.The story of my uncle and F also had a purely black and yellow beginning.We know that white symbolizes misery.What yellow symbolizes, I still don't quite understand.Black is of course a scary color, and it's the same everywhere.Sitting in front of F, my uncle involuntarily took out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and then put it away again. F said, you can smoke; speaking, he took out a box of matches from the drawer and threw it to him.My uncle picked up the matchbox, shook it in his ear, and put it on his lap again. F stared, and said: "Moo?" My uncle quickly said: I have a heart disease and can't smoke.He threw the match back again and said thank you. F straightens up so that his face is exposed to the light.She had put on makeup, purple lipstick, and purple eyeshadow, which made her face look gray, haggard even.Might look better in bright light.But when a woman wears a black leather jacket, no one will pay attention to whether she looks good or not.She said to my uncle: You have a scar on your chest.how did you make it?My uncle said: I had an operation.She asked again: What surgery?My uncle said: heart.She smiled and said: Can you say a few more words?My uncle said that the heart surgery was performed more than ten years ago—no, twenty years ago.acupuncture anesthesia.She said, is it?That must have hurt.My uncle said it was very painful.So the conversation went on.Maybe you will say that this is beyond the level of normal questioning, but my uncle did not ask this kind of question.In the last century, whatever the man in the black leather jacket asked you, you had better answer without making trouble.Later, she asked some questions that my uncle was most reluctant to talk about: what was being written, what subject matter, what content, etc.; my uncle answered them all one by one.Later she said that she wanted to see your work.My uncle said: Where should I send the manuscript?The woman smiled mischievously and said: I will go and see for myself.In fact, she is very young and looks good when she is naughty.But my uncle didn't look at the woman's mood. He was wondering if there was anything in his house that people might not see, so he lowered his head very low. Seeing that he didn't answer, F raised his voice and said: What's the matter?not welcome?My uncle raised his head, fully exposing his expressionless face to the light.His face was completely Mongolian, wider horizontally than vertically.The face was drenched with cold sweat and looked like a fruit like grapefruit.He said that his address has not changed, and he will always be at home for the next few days. What my uncle's manuscripts looked like is an important question.One version is written in ink on paper, each letter as clear as a capital F.At the beginning, he wrote simplified characters, and later changed to traditional characters, and he didn't save a single stroke.If there are multiple variations of a character, he must write the most complicated one. For example, if he writes the word Lei four times, it counts as one character and he also pronounces Lei.Later, when his works were published, the planters always had to look up the Kangxi dictionary, and later said: If there is no additional labor fee, they will not accept this job.I proofread his manuscript, and I really wanted to kill him. If he hadn't been crushed by the elevator, I would have done what I said.But that's just a way of saying it.Another theory is that his manuscripts were written on paper with milk, alum water, and starch, but these secret writing methods are too simple and too common.Roast it with fire, soak it in water, and the bottom will be exposed.I also know a method of secret writing, which is to write with gold dissolved in aqua regia.But it is a sin to write a novel in this way.In fact, no matter what secret writing method he uses, it can be revealed. The only safe way is not to write anything.We now know that he did not resort to the last option.So I can't make any side effects, even if he wrote it on paper with ink. 4 Now the media is criticizing "My Uncle", and the tone is already very high.Some people even said that I used the past to satirize the present, which is the most terrible crime for historians.That's not enough to scare me, I still have some connections, some ways.But I have to introspect.I am afraid that I am too involved in writing the biography this time.But it wasn't my uncle who was involved—I had no affection for him.The real reason is Aunt Xiao Yao.Auntie Xiaoyao was about to become my aunt, but I loved her. When we went swimming by the river in summer, I just looked in through the seam of Auntie Yao’s swimsuit—the thing is really tight, but it’s not perfect, especially when she just came out of the water—so I seldom Go into the water, so that several layers of skin collapsed in the sun, turning black like a ghost.Auntie Xiaoyao can't get a tan, but only gets red.When she felt itchy, she jumped into the water, then came up dripping, and continued to bask in the sun.This process reminds people of the barbecue method in the cookbook. When it is sizzling or bubbling, it must be taken out and brushed with oil or sugar.She soaked her own flesh over and over in this way, and finally at the end of summer, the front of her legs turned a little yellow.I'm not interested in that, I just want to see her come out of the water with slack straps, two small breasts peeking out from the top of her swimsuit, and clap and cheer if she sees it.This made her carry it over her shoulder every time she went ashore.After lifting it, the swimsuit will loosen, and even the nipple marks will disappear. Of course, this is a move that I can't live with.When she came to me, she would always give me a pinch, saying: "Little rascal, sooner or later I will kill you."Then I went to accompany my uncle.My uncle is always silent, and sometimes she gets tired of it, so she comes and sits with me for a while, but is always on the alert not to let me look in between her breasts; and says, you little rascal, why are you so It can be embarrassing.I said: My uncle is not ashamed?She said no.First, my uncle is very polite.Second, she loves him.I said: What do you love about such a living dead man?Come and love me.She said: I think you want to die, kid.If Teacher Yao fell in love with a boy in the first year of junior high school, it would be a big scandal.She was afraid of such a thing and threatened me with death.In fact, I also know that this is not advisable, but I still find it very enjoyable to flirt like this. My uncle was detained by F at the police station and sat there for a long time.The policeman on duty stretched his waist and came to this house, looked him up sideways, and said, "What's this guy doing?"He thought my uncle was an exhibitionist, and suggested that he should be dealt with by some members of the Union Defense Force, and let him go. F said: This one is a writer.The police shrugged and said, this is none of our business.He said again: sleepy, want to sleep for a while. F said, then go to sleep.The policeman said: This guy is not small, he'd better be handcuffed. F said: How can you treat others like this.The policeman said, "Then I can't go to sleep either."I can't take responsibility for what happened. F took out a pair of handcuffs from the drawer, smiled and said to my uncle: You have no objection.My uncle stretched out his hands together.The policeman took the handcuffs and said, "I have to loosen his shoelaces and take off his trouser belt."My uncle immediately loosened his shoelaces, pulled off his trouser belt, and put them on the ground.So the policeman put handcuffs on him, picked up the belt and walked out, saying, "Be careful, there is no serious harm." F said: Close the door.Now it was just the two of them in the room. Now it's time to talk about my own growing up.Out of nostalgia for the failed relationship (Auntie Xiaoyao is a physics student), I went to the Department of Physics of Peking University, and was considered the most talented student since the founding of Peking University, because I only went to the second year of university Proposed five or six theoretical systems to replace the theory of relativity.Of course, whether to let gifted students pass has always been controversial.When I graduated from undergraduate, I could no longer be in the field of physics, so I went to Beijing Normal University to take the postgraduate entrance examination of history.As we all know, time and space are the objects of theoretical physics research, so it is normal for people who study physics to switch to history.I passed the exam with the first grade, or according to the words of my seniors, fell into the shit (historical) pit, and later obtained a Ph.D. Also got a historian's license, a credit card, and the keys to a new car.Except for that license, everything else is given by the publishing company, because every licensed historian is a best-selling author.At this time, Auntie Xiaoyao was widowed, and she called me every weekend, asking me to go, and said: Auntie will make delicious food for you.I always go, but not to eat (I'm losing weight) or to remember my uncle, but to give her advice.The first thought is: Your elasticity is too poor, go for breast augmentation surgery.The second idea was to tell her to get plastic surgery.Every idea could make her cry, but it was good for her.In the end, she finally married a rich Hong Kong businessman, and now she is fighting an inheritance lawsuit with her stepdaughter and stepson.Whether she wins or loses, she will be a rich woman.The gist of the story is: studying physics can only be a teacher, which is the worst job in the world; being a businessman's wife is much better.It's bad luck being a novelist, because people always suspect you of evil intentions; being a historian is much better.Another profession is futurist, which is also a good profession without me telling you.As for journalists, it depends on how you are.If you go out to interview, it is a bad business.Sitting at home and editing is a good job.The latter method is the best way to write a bright and good news. My uncle and F are in the police station.There was no sound at night, and my uncle had no belt and his hands were handcuffed together, so the clothes were loose, like a deflated rubber ball or a half-empty cloth sack. F leaned back, put his legs on the table, hid his face in the darkness, and said: Don't worry.Now the park is closed, and you can't go out even if you let it go.Wait until tomorrow.My uncle nodded, took out a cigarette from his pocket with joined hands, put it in his mouth, thought for a while and said: I want to smoke a cigarette. F said: smoke it.My uncle said: There is no fire. F kicked the matches on the table with his toes and said: Take it yourself.My uncle took the cigarette down and held it in his hand, and the smoke turned into fine powder. When F saw it, he thought: I forgot he didn't have a belt; then he got up, took a match, walked over, took out a cigarette from his pocket, smoked it himself, put it on my uncle's mouth, and said: Don't be impatient.My uncle replied: Yes.Then she took the pack of cigarettes in her hand and said: I want to smoke one too.Is there one you haven't bitten yet?Holding the cigarette in both hands, my uncle shook his head.This looks like an old bear doing tricks. F looked at it and smiled, reached out and pulled his hair, and said: It's time for a haircut.Then I picked a cigarette that my uncle bit the hardest to smoke.This situation shows that when she asked my uncle if he had any cigarettes he hadn't bitten, she was just trying to find something to say. Now I think, why is this woman named F. F is the meaning of female.In the same way, my uncle should be called M (male). F and M each represent a gender orientation, which is appropriate. F wore a pair of deerskin high-heeled boots, and the smell of perfume exuded from his body, which was all due to his orientation.My uncle sits on the stool like an old bear playing tricks, which is also due to orientation.Surrounding them was the house of the police station, and the long night surrounded the police station.What I have written is history. 5 As I said, what I write is history, and history is a kind of talisman.But each amulet has its limits.I have to be careful not to overdo it.When I was young, I flirted with Aunt Xiao Yao (now it seems that it is more correct to call it flirting), and I found it very enjoyable; this is because dating and flirting with female classmates are not enjoyable.Those people only talk stupid things, such as "you have to listen carefully in class", "help each other and make progress together", which makes people feel dizzy and lose all hope.I believe that if a caged sow sees a breeding pig and says, "Let's do a good job and make the breeder happy", the latter will think that she is too serious and will not be interested; After all, they are still people, not pigs, although there is still room for improvement in this regard.Auntie Xiaoyao was much better than them. When she got tired from swimming, she put on sunglasses, lay down to bask in the sun, and put her head on my uncle's stomach.Seeing this scene, I immediately wanted to lie down, put my head on her stomach, and squint my eyes to study her full chest. Later, I got very serious esotropia, and I couldn't even fit my glasses.We lay a big Z on the ground.Sometimes a fat old lady in a rumpled bathing suit would walk by and shake her head at us.小姚阿姨对此很敏感，马上欠起身来，摘掉眼镜说：怎么了？对方说：不好看。她就说：有什么不好看的？他们都是男的嘛。这当然是她的观点，我认为假如有三位女同性恋者这样躺着就更加好看——假如她们都像小姚阿姨那么漂亮的话。 小姚阿姨其实是很正经的，有时候我用指尖在游泳衣下凸起的地方触上一下，她马上就说：想要活命的话，就不要乱伸爪子。这种冷冰冰的口气触怒了我，我马上跳到水里去，潜到河底去。那里的水死冷死冷，我在那里伏上半天，还喝上几大口；然后窜出水来，往她腿上一躺，冰得她惨叫一声：喂！来制制你外甥！那个“喂”，也就是我舅舅，爬起来，牙缝里还咬着一支烟，一把捞住我，举起来往水里一扔，有时候能丢出去七八米远。在这个混蛋面前，我毫无还手之力。谢天谢地，他被电梯摔扁了，否则我还会被他摔到水里去。 我舅舅在派出所里吸了一口烟，喷出来时眼前是白茫茫的一片。一个长久不吸烟的人乍抽起来总是这样的。他还觉得胸口有点闷。F在椅子上躺好了，说道：我要睡了。天亮了叫我。就一声不吭了。我舅舅吸完了那支烟，侧过手来看表：当时是夜里三点。他长出了一口气，用手把头抱住，直到第二天早上人家把他放出去。那天夜里的事就是这样的。