Chapter 11 Chapter 5 (Part 2)

Chapter 5 (Part 2) 6 In the autumn of 1967, when "Picking up a pen to make a knife and gun" first came to our building, people outside were always provocative, holding shields in their hands, and cautiously approached the foot of the building.Seeing this scene, the college students sang the tragic Internationale, picked up their spears, and wanted to rush out to fight-a sad song, calmly die, they seemed to like this sentiment.I told them that if the other party wanted to attack the building, there would be many people coming, but now there are very few people coming, so this is an old tactic to lure snakes out of the hole-I have seen it a lot in trees.We ignore them and just fix things.After a few days, the appearance of that building became so that people would not dare to commit crimes lightly.Later, they set up a lot of large slingshots on the opposite side, so that we couldn't show up at the window.So I made that trebuchet, and it knocked out all the big catapults in no time.

In the year when he broke into our building with a pistol as a knife, moths were growing in the school.The moth is dark gray with red spots on the wings.When they fly in the open space, they look like a living garbage dump; when they pounce on the light bulb at night, they form a huge gauze lampshade.When stepping into a swarm of flying moths, you too seem to fly.When he came out, his head and face were covered in powder from the wings of moths.This is because thick big-character posters are pasted on the wall, and the bottom of the paper layer is good for moths to spend the winter.There were also a lot of stray cats in the school that year. This was because many families were ruined, and the cats in the family went out to fend for themselves.I like both situations. I like to run into the moth pile, because I can breathe the powder on the wings of the moth without panting, but after running through the moth pile, my sister will pant when I come home.She is allergic, I am not.I also like cats.But I don't like my sister.

I could have hit the jackpot any time that fall, but I was always happy.People are not afraid of winning the lottery when they are happy.I also said that from the age of thirteen I was a pessimist.But the autumn of 1967 was an exception. Now let me tell you about the trebuchet I built.That thing is wonderful, with an anemometer to measure wind, a tension meter to measure tension, and an optical range finder.All moving parts are precision scales.At least ten people are required to launch. Some report the wind force, some use a balance to weigh the stone bomb, and some measure the target’s azimuth and distance. After the data is collected, I use a slide rule to calculate the trajectory. People walking up and down will be knocked down as soon as they are fired.If you play the noisy tweeter on the opposite floor, you can flatten the tweeter head in the center of the speaker with one flick, making it make a "poor" sound.If it hadn't been for the use of firearms later, it would be completely invincible with this weapon.When it comes to firearms, I agree with Don Quixote: the guy who invented them must be a devil, and he should be cut to death: no trigonometry, no calculus, pointing a broken pipe at someone else, Knocking people down with a single movement of the second thumb, what the hell is that!I can still remember every detail of that trebuchet, down to what each part was made of - fingernail picks to gauge the wood's texture, nose to smell if it was dry.The college student surnamed Color is my recorder, responsible for recording the weight of stone bullets, wind speed, distance, pulling force, and so on.Of course, you have to make a note of whether you have signed it or not.But I don't need those records at all, because every shot I fire is in my head--one has a good memory at sixteen.But in any case, it is a good habit to make test records.I don't remember at all who I hit, or what happened to the person who was hit.Did they roll off the ridge of the roof, or lay there waiting for someone to rescue them.To be honest, I didn't see these things at all, or turned a blind eye.I just saw a target coming out of nowhere, it walked into my range, and then I measured the distance, reloaded, and calculated the trajectory.After it hits, I don't care about it.Generally always hit its breastplate, which is easier to hit.Sometimes bet with people, hit the hat on the other side's head.A bullet knocked off the helmet on his head, and the man was terrified and turned around underground.To deal with the sentinel hiding under the iron net, I shot a wide-mouthed glass bottle filled with rose nails, and beat the man behind the net.Later they went to work wearing cotton coats, which could block these screws, but they were all uncomfortably hot.Later, the opponent concentrated a lot of large slingshots and wanted to knock us down.And we repaired the rails on the floor and made a trebuchet with wheels that we could push around.It was difficult to figure out which window we were launching from, so we couldn't knock them down. Instead, we knocked out all their big slingshots.Our trebuchets had steel plate shields that looked decent (like cannons) when they came out of the windows.Unlike their big slingshots, there is a wire-woven, wastebasket-like protective net (like a chicken coop) on it, which collapses when touched.Later, they admired us very much, so they gave up the idea of ​​attacking.It's just that sometimes someone will shout towards us: the opposite side!The wine bottle won't open, please help me.We happily accepted their request and knocked the cap off the neck of the bottle with one flick.That's what my trebuchet looks like.

Our home became a battlefield for fighting, and the whole family moved to the "neutral zone", which was a warehouse in the past, with no ceiling above the head, and the lights were always on; and there were hundreds of people living in it, and the smell was not good.That place is like the place where the victims of the flood lived.I used to go home across the battlefield and say "I'm a housekeeper" and no one would beat me.When we got back to our house, we lay down in bed, slept for a few hours, and then went to fight again. X Haiying heard me talk about this incident and said that I was a double-faced person.Actually I am not two-faced.I am neither.This is where happiness lies.

I've lived so long that there's only one thing that's really my own, and that's the trebuchet.Even I couldn't believe I could build such an accurate trebuchet - that's the point.I don't know where that stuff went.Although there are some televisions and refrigerators at home, with complicated structures and ingenious designs, I don't like any of them.If I built a TV for myself, I wouldn't make it like this—of course, I'm not crazy enough to build a TV for myself, and it's not worth it for that shit.But people have to do something to live.For example, editing software.The software I compiled for Professor X in the United States is a dog-head software for a mechanical dog.Later, the dog was finished and put on display in the school hall. The whole body was made of stainless steel and titanium alloy, shining silver.In addition, it can run around, it looks very light, and everyone applauds, but I don't like it at all.Because this is not my dog.It is said that the dog also borrowed the air force's equipment and technology for balance. Once I asked Professor X about it, and he talked about other things.I understood this at a glance: I am a foreigner from a communist country, so you can't tell me.This is understandable, but I was not happy, so I said to him: I fuck you!You think I know nothing!This is a good thing in the United States. If you are unhappy, you can scold them face to face.If you ask me what I said, I will say I am praying.But then I chose him as a mentor, and now I send him greeting cards every New Year's Eve.It was the only way to avoid hating him for the rest of my life and blowing my stomach out.

During the Cultural Revolution, I didn't make trebuchets for "Picking up a pen to make a knife and gun", and I didn't repair fortifications for them.If I do these things, it's all for myself. Professor X has also done many things, either for the company or for the school, none of which he did for himself.So he is not as happy as me. 7 When I was young, I scratched my wrist on the pot, revealing the white fascia, which gave me the impression that I was tied up with a wet quilt.I later connected my own sexuality with this impression.I like the smell of a woman's fragrance, but I also want to hide my wet and sticky nature.This shows that for me, sexual immaturity.It is like the fruit on the tree, it can only be eaten when it is ripe.

When I was young, the weather was often sunny and the air was better than it is now.I went to school with my schoolbag on my back, and when I saw a beautiful woman on the way, I would sneak a few more glances at her.This shows that I am not naive at all.I have never been naive. My first lover during the revolution, the college student surnamed Color, smelled of fudge.So she can be called a college student who smells like toffee.This is especially true when you are sweating.When I first saw her, her hair had a tinge of blond, a color comparable to what I saw twenty years later on the beaches of Nice, France.A woman asked me for a cigarette.At that time, the golden sun was melting on the sea, and the sea was also covered with a layer of gold.The woman was naked from the upper body, and her whole body was the same color as the sun.I gave her a cigarette and drank one myself, only to realize that the cigarette was held backwards when I lit the fire.At the same time, my wife yelled into my left ear: You are crazy!Shout into my right ear: You are stuck.Her smell can be compared with the freshmen I met when I registered in the United States. Those crazy girls were laughing and laughing in the office, bringing all kinds of aromas, some like chocolate, some like freshly baked French croissants, some have a floral fragrance, like magnolia flowers that have not yet opened, with a light sour taste.Every time she saw me, she smiled and said: You little villain is here again.Then he helped me sew the button that had been torn off.Back then I was always crawling down the drainpipe to get to them, so it was inevitable that the buttons would come off.Later I tied the buttons to the clothes with copper wire, and lined the skirt with a steel bar.After doing this, the clasp will never come off again.At that time, I was only fifteen or sixteen years old, and I was still a child.

In the tofu factory, X Haiying forced me to ask me about the college student whose last name was Hue. I told her: I don’t remember her last name, let alone her name. I only kissed her.This simple confession made her feel as if she was in a fog.Sometimes she said: You and this college student with the surname of color must have done something ulterior, so you dare not tell it!I was indifferent after hearing it.Sometimes she said: There is no such person at all, you just made it up—it can’t be made up now.I was still indifferent.As a storyteller, I am a master of suspense, comparable to the late Hitchcock.Although I have said nothing more, I have already said some.These words cannot be taken back.

In fact, the college student surnamed Hue and I have more than kissed—of course I remember her surname, but I don’t know where it is, and I can’t remember it now—she was in school for the entire six or eight years.At that time, I picked up a pen to make a knife and gun, and the whole group was wiped out, and only she and I were left as fish in the net. There were many factions of Red Guards in our courtyard at that time, but the faction that "took up a pen to make a knife and a gun" was a very small faction, and they were often besieged when they used force.But then they were the most unlucky, the leader was arrested and sentenced to prison, and when they were assigned, everyone was sent to the backcountry.This is because of the general ledger - their faction killed the most people and destroyed the most things, both of which have something to do with me.Our building was full of holes, and the original corridor doors and windows all disappeared.Moreover, they demolished and strengthened, and finally transformed a twentieth-century residential building into a fifteenth-century castle, and even a termite nest on the East African grasslands.Later, when it was restored to its original state, it cost three times more than the original building.Later, the higher authorities gathered them together to hold a study class and asked them to tell who did this, but they didn't tell me.Because no one will believe it.I have told them long ago that I will help you fight the war, and everything else is your own business.

At that time, the higher-ups sent people to the school, disbanded the martial arts team, and arrested all the leaders. Others locked up and held study classes to investigate the problem of killing people in the martial arts.She was left alone outside, waiting to go to the countryside.This is probably because the higher-ups think that women will not kill people-the leadership really lacks imagination.Later, she often asked me to go swimming with her.I am embarrassed to come to the house to find me, standing downstairs with the bicycle, ringing the bell.She told me when we were swimming that we were like a bunch of brats who were playing around when the grown-ups weren't home.Now that the adults have gone home, they will clean us up.I promised "Yes, yes", but I was thinking in my heart: This is your business, don't get involved with me.

8 I've always had low expectations of women, with the exception of college students of color.For some reason, I always feel that she should write a novel like the magnificent French Duras.If she is not going to write novels, she should do something similar, because unlike X Haiying, she is an emotional genius.There are some things men can't do because it's not our game.But she just disappoints me like everyone else.Even she is willing to degenerate, and I don't dare to have any hope for others. Beginning in the spring of that year, I often went swimming by the canal with college students surnamed Hue.At that time, it was very desolate and there were weeds everywhere.The water is blue in spring, and I don't talk much with the college students surnamed Hue.She asked me to watch people outside while she went into the bushes to change.The college student with the last name has fair skin, sparse pubic hair, gray labia like the lips of a foal, and full breasts.When you take off your clothes, it's like peeling off the skin of a hard-boiled egg to reveal the white.Especially when you take off that shell-like bra, it's even more like it.In the gray trees, she is a white miracle.And when she just took off those cumbersome clothes, there was a sweet and sour message coming from her.She sometimes stared at the thing that caused me to be called a donkey while I was changing, but she didn't make a show of it either.Once in the water, he kept swimming, from one side of the river to the other side, a dozen times at a time.Then climbed ashore and sat by the river until dark.The lips of the college student with the last name turned purple, his hair seemed to be oiled, and his eyes were full of oily luster.We don't know each other at all, we just need each other.She told me that if you don't come to swim, you will be restless.I think it's because she's upset.She told me again that I seemed to be only five or six years old, and it was embarrassing to be with me, but I thought it was a good sign.If you are younger, you can live a few more years, isn't it good? The college student surnamed color and I sat in the bushes, side by side with our chests out.I have two well-trained pectoralis majors, and she has a pair of smooth and tender breasts, the nipples are upright and pink.Later she patted my chest and said, "Forget it. Don't compare. Everything is fine." My college student of color and I went swimming until after dark.After dark, the lights in the distance are dimmed, and the river water is like a flash of bright oil.She asked me to hold her, and I held her, sniffing her in the dark, and she had a warm smell at night.Then I said: time to go home.Then we came back by bicycle. In this season, the wind at night is warm, just like the water in a small river ditch in summer. It looks dark and transparent, but when you step in, you feel surprisingly warm.Walking close to the village, I heard voices indistinctly.My dad would beat me up if he found out I was hanging out with a big girl.If people found out that she was hanging out with a sixteen-year-old boy, they would laugh out loud.But if you ask why my dad beat me up, or why they laughed their bellies out, no one can answer. If a college student surnamed Color had the talent of Duras to write such a book, he would write that her lover was a small, muscular man with black hair all over his face and body (shoulders, arms, thighs), It looked like lanugo, fine hair, and the kind of downy hair that her bald husband had on the top of his head after applying 101 hair growth essence.Only sixteen years old, males look like donkeys.When I stood on the river bank, I spread my legs apart, stretched my chest and retracted my abdomen (I didn't mean to do this, I was trained by the teacher in the gymnastics team), and I was as male as a small bulldog.She'll mention that her lover's eyes are black, but sometimes turn to dead gray as well.She would also speak of deserted riverbanks, of thorny bushes, of hard dirt.Sometimes she would pull him into a tree and let him press his face against her wet pubic hair.After explaining this point, it can be explained that we are not destined to have no good books to read, but that they refuse to write, or someone refuses to let them write.If it is the latter case, then he will hold my idea during the revolutionary period: he thinks this kind of thing is too low-level. The college student surnamed Color also said in her book that when her lover stood in the water, the hairs on his body would float up, as if charged with static electricity, or like a kind of thin dandelion.The water in early spring is blue and very transparent.But it doesn't feel very cold in this kind of water.When you come out of this kind of water, you will feel that everything is blue and transparent.Sometimes he would go to the bridge alone to dive.At that time, he was still serious, like a small bulldog.Later, when she recalled these things, she would definitely not regret this kind of asexual sex.It was me who really regretted it. A college student of color sometimes pulls me into a bush and makes me put my hands on her bare breasts and then just close my eyes and bask in the sun.I put my hand on that place and didn't move, thinking that I had done my duty, and I just went to find the creamy smell.The smell is especially strong in the armpits and under the breasts.I stick my nose into these places—for example, to arch my breasts up with my nose, or into areas where armpit hair is sparse.Just out of the water, the nose is cold, which is more like a lapdog.At this time, the college student surnamed Hue also thought it was absurd.But then she thought again: whatever, absurdity is absurdity. I can still smell a chilly scent under the abdomen of a college student with the last name color, but I am embarrassed to smell it there.It's like a puppy with eyes closed sniffing a delicious dessert but afraid to eat it.For small dogs, the whole world is full of taboos, and they don't know when they will be bitten by big dogs.For me, knowing how to fight is a piece of cake, and I can do it without learning.But it will take many years to learn how to have sex. When I was a child, I climbed over a high wall, entered a furnace, saw a straw mat on the ground, and saw traces of having sex.From the situation at the scene, it is not difficult to infer that the woman must have her back against the furnace wall, struggling to raise her legs - this is indeed Michelangelo's famous statue "Night".And that man can only take the posture of one leg bent and one leg stretched, which is commonly known as dog peeing.And the outstretched leg didn't dare to stretch too far, otherwise it would touch wild shit.I think it's downright pathetic - if you don't agree, at least agree that there's no point in doing it in an environment like this.When the college student surnamed Hue and I tried to do this, the incident in the furnace came to mind.At that time, I hugged her shoulders (her shoulders are very thick), pressed my face against her full chest, and suddenly felt that there was a stove behind her.A sense of misery welled up in my heart, and I lost control.This is technically called premature ejaculation.One more thing has to be mentioned that the college student with the last name of color is a virgin, which also adds to the difficulty.Anyway, I was very disappointed by this incident, and it also exposed that I was a wet quilt cover.But the college student surnamed Hue laughed and said: You have made me dirty!Then he said: I will follow myself.Do you want to see it? On that night in the spring of 1968, I admired the college students with the surname color very much, but this admiration did not start at that time, at least it can be traced back to the autumn of 1967.At that time, the two of us went to Haidian Town to buy pancakes, lifted the gutter cover in the middle of the road in broad daylight, and got out of the ground.No matter in what period, it is always a very abnormal phenomenon for a beautiful girl to appear in front of people in this way.And after drilling the sewer for such a long time, she still has a way to get out of the mud without getting dirty, so it attracted crowds of onlookers.And she walked into the small restaurant like no one else was around, bought pancakes out of her bra, and then went back into the gutter like no one else was around.Sometimes she had neither money nor food stamps, so she would chat with people on the street in a serious manner, telling them that dozens of us were trapped in the building and had no money to eat.When I got the money, I smiled sweetly at him and said: Thank you.You are so kind to us.Among the beggars I know, she is the most respectable. Later, the college student surnamed Color asked me to stand guard for her outside the bush, and then I came with myself.At this time, it was almost dark, and only a vague white shadow could be seen outside the bushes, but I could hear everything and smell the strong sour fragrance of flowers.I feel like the world is turning around.When the college student with the surname color was lying down in the bushes, his body was as white as snow, and his outlines looked a little blurry.Before going home that evening, she asked me to help her put the four-button bra on.It was made of white cloth, and it was threaded so many times that it looked like a sock-bottom to me.She has several of these things, and they all look like this.Some are too small, as if wearing a hat that is too small, wobbly, and some are too big, crumpled when worn.Her panties are like dough pockets.All in all, these things are so bad that they should be put on instead of put on.Taking it off cannot be called taking it off, it should be said that it slipped off her body.If anything could rise out of the muck and remain unstained in the stinky days, she would be one. When I lay on the body of the college student surnamed Hue, I felt that she was like a bunch of fresh petals, chilly, with a sour fragrance.Her breasts are beautiful and her body is strong. If she lies on the ground for a long time, she will stain the firewood on the ground.Looking back after so many years, I think her body is like a big piece of cheese, very compact and dense, and if it is pressed tightly, it has a kind of adhesion.Therefore, it should not be touched lightly, but should be firmly attached to it.I did the right thing back then.She taught me what a woman is.Women are not the only miracle in the world, but if you don't even know this, then your life will be in vain. Then she ran out of the bushes and said, "Go, go home."Also hugs my head.At this point I feel depressed, like a cock who has lost a fight, and feel like a bulldog to her.It was good for me to suffer this setback, because I am very arrogant by nature.Later, I remembered that no matter when, don't forget that you are a bulldog and a wet quilt cover, and the problem of arrogance will be cured. Later, college students surnamed Hue went to the countryside to exercise, returned to the city, got married, and had children.When doing these things, it's like getting out of the gutter, and you won't be surprised when there is chaos.She always remembered this little bulldog-like boy in her heart.This is a female story, which has nothing to do with me, although I can understand it when written.But I am a male, and my mind is full of concepts such as firepower warfare, hand-to-hand combat, charge, and fortification.Although I was very excited when I got close to her, I was still tired of being a human being.It's like having hepatitis and not being able to eat fatty meat.Revolutionary times affect libido as much as hepatitis affects appetite.