Chapter 10 10

How small human beings are, but human beings have intelligence.Only this shows her greatness.Human beings are then left with only intellect—then human beings should wage an indomitable struggle against everything that destroys intellect.For it, human beings should strongly maintain everything related to it, such as the ability to recall; such as the ability to verify and compare... Humans must be particularly loyal and loving, and they must put the weight of emotion on top of their heads.Only in this way can human beings be eternal. From this, I couldn't help thinking of the legend on this plain more than 3,000 years ago—the story of Xu Fu.It turns out that the best people will find various ways, but all the ways are for one purpose, that is to preserve and maintain human intelligence.They sacrificed their lives, shed their blood, and risked terrible dangers for it.This is where human dignity lies.

Thinking of this, I couldn't help being moved for a while, filled with a feeling of happiness and fulfillment. Let me remember the understanding and enlightenment of this moment.What a moment.Bai Hui, can you think of my current state and understand what I mean? ... After a long hesitation, I finally decided to tell you about your father.Because I promised you: Tell me everything you know.It's been more than ten years, it's about time-but it's still a bit difficult to really do this and tell his daughter these things.Bai Hui, if you are still living with the violinist, I might have talked about Bai Lao earlier.But then you are alone, and you may need to think of your father in your loneliness-so I am afraid that my narration will make your heart colder.

After holding back for a long time, I hesitated.I understand that you cannot understand what I have been saying to you for so long without telling you all you have learned.Since there should not be too many scruples between us, there is no need to cover up again. You are well aware that my adoration and adoration for him at first was almost superstitious at one point.Even the way the back of his head was held and the way he held his pipe was wonderful.When I came to your house, I stepped on the oak floor and felt a strange feeling.Something holy filled the chest.What a scholar he was, with books—I didn't quite understand that word then—and a warrior.Who would believe that Mr. Bai, who is elegant and knowledgeable, would be the one who rushed through the smoke?But it is true.I remember he still liked to wear a pair of baggy old military trousers.Today I see how discordant it is, but at the time I thought it was the best.

His two-volume popular book on geology is a holy book and a classic in my eyes, and I even wrapped a layer of brown paper on the hardcover cover.One of the most exciting things is to go to your home. At that time, there is a kind of adventure-like joy and anxiety.The outside of the small red brick building was covered with green vines. After walking a few stone steps and stepping into the porch, when I rang the doorbell, my heart began to beat violently.You always come to open the door, you smile subtly and let me in.What a quaint and empty living room, with a piano in one corner.You let it slip, your mother used it.Then you didn't talk much about your mother.The figure of your father is too tall, he is the dean, the famous Mr. Bai—even though I found out later that he is not very prominent in the entire academic circle, but in the entire academy and within my field of vision at that time, he was already It is an inestimable giant.

I have noticed the way he looks at you from the sidelines.Then he smiled and looked at you with his big black pipe in his mouth.His eyes must have passed over your slightly yellow, thick and shiny hair, and then looked at your slightly upturned nose and pursed lips... He was very satisfied, and his smile deepened.The light in the room was a little dim, which softened my respectful mood.He tried to be as affable as possible, but I was more reserved.This situation has been going on for more than a year. Even later, in the year when the accident happened, I was still a little in awe of Mr. Bai.The sources of this awe are very complex, and I even think it has something to do with his thick, grizzled back.Really, I've always had a weird dread of people with back hair afterwards.

I imagined that I was his student—he didn’t actually teach me a day, and he almost never taught a course.But I still stubbornly regard him as my teacher in my heart.It was willing, it was the eagerness to find a strange amalgam of professional and psychological support.I think about the future - there will always be a future - what will I do for him?So there is a reward.And being able to repay others, what a blessing this should be! In fact, the person who helped me the most at that time was none other than "Old Master Hu". This bearded man strictly demanded me in all aspects, which made it possible for me to have a solid foundation in studies.But I didn't have such a strong feeling of gratitude to him, and I never thought of repaying him.How strange to see that today.I think the mysteries of human nature, the weaknesses it reveals in different situations, are really hard to describe.People will show a sense of snobbery unconsciously, and this kind of mood is precisely without self-respect and despicability.One has to admit it.People are always easy to exaggerate the help of those "big people" to themselves, while ignoring the most important help to them from ordinary people, especially the poor and down-and-out - I hate myself for having such despicableness.

At that time, not only was I not very grateful to Master Hu, but I also somewhat disliked him. The reason is also complicated, but one thing is for sure, that is, I can hear the old master Hu's teasing meaning to the respected old Bo.Although it was not obvious—it became more and more obvious later on, of course—I could catch it with a single stroke of extreme sensitivity.When he talked about Bai Lao's works, there was always an imperceptible smile on his lips.It's unbearable for me.Even later, when I gradually became dissatisfied with the superficiality and omissions of those two volumes, I still could not forgive Old Master Hu for his contempt.What set him apart from everyone else in the class was that he never quoted from either volume, which also somewhat irritated me.

In short, at that time, from the inside to the outside, I was full of respect and love for Bo Lao.I simply cannot allow anyone to be slighted to him. Once Mr. Bai seemed to inadvertently asked something about "father", which made my heart tremble.My ears buzzed immediately, and I didn't hear what you and Mr. Bai said afterwards.I just wanted to get away as soon as possible... I was alone under the lilac tree for a long time that night.After the lights-out bell rang, I dragged my heavy legs and walked up to the dormitory building. I've been tormented ever since.Because I feel that nothing should be hidden from you.

What I'm hiding is probably of vital importance to you—you seem to have a right to know it all.But leave it in the future?On such a day... I remembered my mother's advice, and I became timid again. After hesitating like this, he finally told the story of his father.This is a fatal mistake I made.You were too surprised to say a word for a long time.I'm a little scared.So I asked again: don't tell anyone, especially your father... I still didn't understand the seriousness of the matter.I was just afraid that the venerable Mr. Bai would be somewhat disappointed with me, so I didn't think deeply or think about anything else.

I'm so stupid. The cold season has just passed, and there is still death everywhere... That morning will melt in my blood, and I still remember it like this. "The Political Work Office asked you to go." A cold voice rang in my ears.My heart was pounding, but it certainly looked dull.I immediately thought of something. ...been tossing about that for months.From their point of view, it must be like this—"Always figure things out, be responsible to the organization, and be responsible to you..." They said so. Poor father rested, still bearing a dreadful charge. "So you have such a father!" You said.

"Yes, I have such a father." "..." I am waiting for the result.I think ninety percent of them will be driven back to the mountains to wander.I thought of the long white snow in the mountains, and seemed to hear that black and thin mountain teacher calling for me again.I don't know why, but I felt a surge of joy in my heart, and my hands clenched into fists.I'm an orphan without a relative, come on, I'm waiting. It turned out not to be that bad.I just received a punishment, a disgraceful mark in the portfolio. As you said, it was Bo Lao who breathed a sigh of relief at the last moment.I should really thank him.But it was too late.Before that result came out, my heart was already frozen.That months-long toss has already hurt me.I really hated betrayal in those days, and I really knew what it was like to be betrayed. How ridiculous and trivial to see all that today.But we cannot go beyond that special time and space to understand the problem.That was the late seventies. I still remember your father's last look at me: cold, full of pitiful contempt... Later, when I met him several times, I hurriedly avoided it-in fact, it was not necessary at all, he would never look directly at me again I clicked. Except for the injury, there is nothing remarkable - nothing else is worth regretting, what is irreversible is the blazing heat in my heart. You later forgave me, but I was not moved to tears.I know how sinful I am and what a terrible consequence my dishonesty, deceit and speculation have had.But what I want to refute but find it hard to say is that our family that has been soaked in blood and tears can no longer stand the toss. Why don't people have the right to change their fathers?I have really changed my father!My father is in the mountains, although I have never seen him... You forgive me, but the criminal you have forgiven is dying and can no longer muster the courage to love you. "Goodbye." He said in his heart. After graduating, I was assigned to the 03 Institute for many years, and once I saw the old Master Hu again.Time has passed, and I saw the teacher at a glance and felt so close in my heart.We immediately found a place to drink and drank a lot.Old Master Hu recalled the past and felt disheartened.But he still talked a lot intermittently with the help of alcohol, and he was no longer as secretive as he used to be when he mentioned Bai Lao.He simply said that he was a "counterfeit" and "dirty hands". How amazed I was.Mr. Hu said that the two volumes of books were not written by Mr. Bai at all. He even set up a small team for these two volumes. There were many famous people among them, such as the old famous old professor who stuttered. .If you ask any more questions, he won't say anything... probably he's about to sober up.I asked where all the people in the small team went?He said that it was too long, and they all left one by one, and scattered... They were originally sinners, and they had already entered the farm or something. I concealed the surprise in my heart and left the old master Hu calmly. Under that impulse, I dropped everything I was doing and went to that farm in a faraway land. The farm is in the middle of a desert. The people who built the farm found such a place, which shows that they have exhausted their efforts.The farm is huge.Those people back then have already left, except for a very few who settled here, the rest are some dead souls.Rows of gray and black houses, damp and dark, really empty.Not far from these houses, there is a cemetery where those who died on the farm were buried. I tried to find out if any of the people who were dispatched here in those years stayed?their whereabouts?After asking for a long time, they all said they didn't know.My hopes were dashed.Now those who barely stay here are some strange people. They are idle, stretching their necks and looking at the outside world, and they have long lost interest in their own farms.Most of them spend energy in some inexplicable places, and some even refuse to go to work, and only like to be active at night.They don't know the history of this farm, and they don't want to know its past. When they talk about it, they almost curse: "Dog place." Why a farm was built here, and what happened from the past to the present , none of them made it clear.they said: "Who knows, they can do whatever they want anyway. It's none of our business, only the son of a bitch." People these days are surprisingly indifferent.They forget everything.Memories are really tiring for people, as if you can see desperately getting rid of memories everywhere. An old man in his sixties was playing with a row of birdcages in a small yard.I asked him about things back then, and when I mentioned a person, his hand shaking the birdcage—I could see it clearly.When he continued to ask, he sighed and said that he was a "person without ambition", so he was "alive" so far-"I am still alive, and those who are useless now survive smoothly. They are really capable and a little The ambitious people have long since died..." There was astonishing frustration and disappointment in his tone, and he smoked one puff after another, spitting out forcefully. When I asked the old professor about his stuttering, he was silent.Asked again, he stood up, looked northwest, stretched out his pipe for a long time and stroked it, "He went..." He walked ahead, and I followed closely.At this time, the sunset glow fell on the ridge of the field, and the land was fiery red.We walked along a dilapidated stone canal that was dry without a drop of water.After turning a few turns, we stepped onto a thatched field, where there are those pointed, pitifully small grave mounds.We stood together in front of a recently repaired grave, silent.I guess this is the resting place of the stuttering old professor. I am too late.I regret that I was not born a few years earlier, and that I did not meet this truly knowledgeable old man on the road of life.The old man stutters, but his reputation is terrifying, and he has an unquestionable status in the academic world.He was one of the leading specialists at the academy at the time, and was later one of the first to be sent to the farm.At the same time, Bai Lao has reached the pinnacle of his life.He was at the time the most powerful figure in the Academy's "triumvirate", which held all power for a long time. The difference between Mr. Bai and others is that he pays special attention to making use of his "skills". For example, the old professor who stutters and others are absorbed into a group without losing the opportunity.At that time, the team formed was very small, only three or four people, and later it became more than ten people.The team completed several topics planned by Mr. Bai, all of which were popular reading materials on geology, including several practical booklets on digging wells to find water-of course, this is also meaningful, but these topics are organized by It is more convenient and suitable for some lecturers in the college to lead students to do it; in turn, it is much more difficult for old stuttering professors to do it by themselves.He was constantly teased in the team, and those leaders laughed at him as "a bamboo shoot in the mountains, with a sharp mouth, thick skin and hollow belly".The old man was very serious and endured it at first, but later he decided to go back to the farm.Bo Lao's people sent him to build canals and plow the fields again, and he and his friends were not allowed to touch any written books.It was very lonely for such an old man.This is tantamount to a kind of "hunger therapy". About half a year later, someone once again asked the old professor to join a small group, and the old man agreed.This time there were not many people, and the old man became the main writer.They completed two volumes of work, then disbanded and returned to the farm.The manuscript of the book has been "revised" by Bai Lao for more than a year, and the author's name is only Bai Lao when it is published.No one on the farm said a word, and the stuttering old professor was also silent. None of the people who participated in that incident had left the farm, and they all knew that Bo Lao would not let them return to the academic world.On the farm, they looked so clumsy when using all kinds of farm tools, and the supervisors yelled at them at will, and no one sympathized with them—who would sympathize with these yellow and emaciated people who could not carry a basket or shoulder a load?The supervisors were armed at the time, and they yelled after drinking: "What use are these waste products other than wasting food? The relevant leaders have approved a word, just kill them..." The crops on the farm have been harvested one after another, and the land is constantly bearing grains and has become exhausted.People are almost crazy, glaring at some people. They stubbornly believe that this group is not worthy of food, but should chew grass like cattle and sheep.The autumn wind is blowing, winter is coming, and the grass will be gone in winter. That part of the population is doomed to doom in winter.A group of people who came with the stuttering old professor were taken to a special area to work and lived in special blue brick houses. Their food was rationed and crude and unpalatable.The daily work was horribly heavy: digging into underground ditches to dig out silt, digging wells on the crisp soil... People were injured more than once, and some never returned to the green brick house at all. The people around Bai Lao kept inspecting the farm, and they were particularly concerned about the stuttering old professor and his group.The daily life, speech and even expression of this group of people must be recorded truthfully.It was this winter that someone proved that he had heard the stuttering old professor slandering Bo Lao, insinuating and even publicly claiming that he and his friends worked hard on the two volumes of the work... The old professor was quickly isolated.They interrogated in different ways, and he replied: what he has always felt guilty of was not making good use of that opportunity-maybe that opportunity was lost forever; he and his friends should make full use of the sinister and vanity of some people , to complete a really good book.He was now sad that such a shallow book had been written by himself and his friends.This is what he can't forgive himself. These words stunned the interrogators.It took them a long time to wake up, so they hurriedly sorted out the written materials.It is really rare for the stuttering old professor to be a typical example of a crazy "reversal attack".They desperately wanted to make the case bigger and more compelling.In less than a month, dozens of farm personnel were interrogated and quarantined.Those who participated in that team back then were all focused on attacking, threatening and seducing, and were not given a little time to breathe.But everyone cleverly praised Bai Lao's erudition and loyalty, and said they didn't know anything else about the book: I only had to study and understand its profound spiritual connotation all my life, and so on... These people were finally released back to the farm, which made people feel somewhat relieved and regretful. The stuttering old professor was sent to a labor camp more than ten kilometers away from the farm, and later transferred to a more remote place on the outskirts of the small town. No one can name that place so far.From the time he was imprisoned until his deathbed for more than three years, he stayed there all the time, cutting off all contact with the outside world. During this period, the case of the stuttering old professor has already alarmed higher-level figures, and it is said that someone has made very severe instructions.His fate is no longer within the control of people like Bai Lao.At this time, Bai Lao, like the stuttering old professor, has only become a symbol at the mercy of others.Some people need people like Bai Lao and old professors who stutter. In a sense, their use values ​​are equal. Where did the old man spend his last years? The people on the farm who showed me the way couldn't figure it out either.After much trouble, we found an adobe house on the outskirts of the city—it was a corner of a large boiler room.Here to provide hot water and steam for a place, never stop throughout the year. At the corner of the corner hut, a tall chimney jutting high into the air filled a quarter of the small room.Speaking of which, the evil wisdom of the detainees is astonishing: they chose here as the place where the old professor of the School of Oral Medicine was detained for the last summer. At that time, the old man was paralyzed and naked on the bed.For the last part of his life, he was delirious and screaming all the time.The guard was so noisy that he couldn't sleep, so he tortured himself to death... The unbearable sweltering heat caused the old man's skin to fester, and he scratched his whole body. The last days are unbearable to tell... If you have a chance, take a look at the small space where the elderly are held. It is narrow about six square meters, and the plastered walls are filthy.Black and purple blotches all over the place, I think it's the dried blood of the unfortunate... The old man on the farm who showed me kept crying, but I couldn't cry. The old man said: He was also a person around the old professor who stuttered at that time, and was once his favorite student; he was one of the participants in that activity.But out of fear, he did not tell the truth like his teacher did. An era has passed.It is another misfortune that the survivor loses his chance forever.The old man in front of me burst into tears, saying that he did not die by the teacher's side back then, and the rest was just to live—to live is another kind of death, the death of the heart. Then, he said, the fashion changed, and those who had come to the farm were called back to their old jobs or transferred to other places.Anyway, they can do something that is consistent with their identities - this day is really hard to come, and I really look forward to it.When it was time to leave the farm, many people cried like children.He said he offered not to leave the farm. "Are you crazy?" someone asked.He replied: "Been crazy before..." And so he stayed.At the moment when everyone left one after another, he suddenly felt that there should be someone on the farm to accompany the teacher... Bai Hui, this is another ashamed old man I have met.The strange thing is that now I don't meet anyone who feels ashamed, and occasionally I meet someone who is often an old man, very old.Middle-aged people have no sense of shame, and young people can't count on it at all. I especially value those who have feelings of shame.This feeling is often the result of awareness.When a person walks on the road of life and suddenly looks back and finds irreparable grief, he will bend down in pain.It is not difficult to do what the gods have revealed to people, but it is often impossible for a person to do it.But the opportunity is over, lost, and never returned; there is only so much time left for one person.A person with somewhat self-respect, a person who is not so filthy, what is left in the end?There is only a little bit of shame left... I stayed with the old man for a while, and walked with him for a long time in this barren, abandoned land.We didn't even have much to say.What a flat piece of land, who would have thought that it was still rolling sand dunes so many years ago?When the wind blows, the sand is thrown high into the air, and the dunes move beyond recognition in a season. Who dug out the black soil, flattened the hills, planted poplars, and dug out the criss-cross ditches?A group of "sinners" in livery. Among these people was an old professor who stuttered.Most of the experts and scholars who accompanied him were the most famous figures at that time.Where are they now? They were once hated for their brooding minds: and today, the limbs left desolate the land...   Who will answer?The earth was silent, waiting for an answer. ... That's about all the stories I'm going to tell.But Master Hu told me something new.His words had to prompt me to look at Bo Lao with another look. I used to think of him only as a fluke impostor, a philistine who has snatched fame and status and pampered him.Now it seems that this is too simple. I recalled the image with the back of the hair and the black pipe, and the look he looked at his daughter with a little surprise.Only now do I understand how much resentment and unhappiness he concealed, and even the pain that was difficult to resolve... I don't know if he revealed all this to you? He felt that it was a big misunderstanding that he entered the academic world.He is enduring grievances that ordinary people cannot bear.He often thinks back on the cause of the incident and every joint of development, and often feels sorry for the mistakes and misunderstood behaviors again and again!Yes, his ambitions and aspirations have never been low, and he doesn't want to write any books and become a scholar or dean at all.He likes to do something more bluntly and directly, such as living a life of real swords and guns... It's a mistake to get to this point, it's called "another front"... Bo Lao made strong resistance at the beginning.But with little success. "You have to!" "Are you a fighter?" "I'm a...soldier." Bai Lao replied reluctantly.This answer is fatal. He hated his right hand the most.If this hand had been bound earlier, maybe there would be no strange things later.It didn’t know why it learned to write a few small articles, and it got a little bit involved—it didn’t know whether it was geography, soil science or geology, anyway, it was discovered by an important person right away.This person is enough to decide his fate, he was sent to study with a single order, and he was sent to a famous academy before the period of study was over. "We are waiting for someone to use it!" The following stories are logical, and he became "Bo Lao". But the earth resented him for this, and hated the one who gave the order rashly.When he recalled all this, he still thought of himself as a "warrior" who had just been placed in a position that he particularly hated.Years passed, and he tried his best to suppress the disgust in his heart-because it was dangerous to express such emotions.He wore his hair back, smoked his pipe, and looked serious.He attends all academic conferences, sits on the rostrum, does not speak a word other than reading manuscripts, and especially does not get involved in academic disputes.As time goes by, people are used to seeing that familiar image - the enigmatic Mr. Bai.As if the absence of such an image, it would not be a decent academic activity. He is a symbol of great scholars and great experts. This image is vivid and easy to understand. In those years, if someone invited the old stuttering professor to replace Bo Lao on the rostrum, it would definitely cause a burst of laughter.How could that shriveled old man be a famous scholar when he walked with his waist bowed, coughed constantly, and stammered when he spoke?Looking at his hair again, it is sparse and short, indistinguishable from the old handyman in charge of sanitation. Only Bo Lao sat there steadily, smoking a black bakelite pipe, looking at everyone with kind but sharp eyes... No one knew the grievances in his heart, his regrets.He considered himself the most unlucky member of the family to which he belonged. Old Master Hu watched Bo Lao from afar.He looked at the man who was getting older, his eyes were full of sympathy.Apart from the old master Hu, how many people understand this?Time flies by, and time can corrode the strings of memory like sulfuric acid. People are forgetting, forgetting history, forgetting yesterday.Speaking of the stuttering old professor, even the elderly who have worked with him have to think about it, and it takes a long time to answer: "It seems that there is such a thing... It seems that there is, um, this person..." In front of him is a man as hard as iron, Bai Lao, standing there truly, neither negligible nor insurmountable.He even stands between you and me... Bai Hui, I have almost finished telling the story of your father. Of all the long talks, this was the hardest.I had to choose my words very hard, both to be authentic and to remember that I was talking about your father - the one who gave you life.I can't forget this fact no matter what. And so I often think of another person, whom you seldom mention and whom I know nothing about, and she is your mother.How I wish you were like her through and through—love your mother!You love her deeply... Bai Hui! ＊＊＊ Last time I concealed a plot, not because I forgot it, but because I avoided it on purpose... But after thinking about it, I just couldn't help but tell it. As I said, I spent a long time in the hot adobe house where the old professor spent his last years, touching the blood-stained walls with my own hands.But I didn't say that there was a young woman's blood on it... The thing is this: after the old man was bedridden, those vicious guys tricked the daughter-in-law who went back to her hometown to visit relatives—she just came to see her father-in-law who was unwell, but she didn't expect the old man in front of her to be in a terrible situation.Without any hesitation, she resolutely took on the responsibility of caring for this venerable old man. I will live my life with a deep gratitude to her, and at least because of this gratitude, I will add these few strokes. This daughter-in-law is very small, and she is probably a petite woman in the eyes of southerners.No one can understand why there is so much courage and energy hidden in her small body.That hot summer-let's remember that summer firmly! They deliberately locked the old man and her in the small house near the chimney of the boiler, and let the sweltering heat strip the two of them to only thin clothes. In the end, the delirious stuttering old man couldn't wear anything, and his skin began to grow large. fester.The guards watched the suffering of these two people from the observation hole. She begged for medicine, but got no response.She even lost her freedom like her father-in-law.In the middle of the night, someone was about to be interrogated suddenly, and one or a group rushed into the hut and ravaged her with the smell of alcohol... She was powerless to resist and could not leave, so she could only swallow everything, gritted her teeth and served the old man with all her strength.She knew it was the last moment.She scrubs and feeds him. In the sweltering midnight of that summer, the old professor finally passed away. She knelt down to bid farewell to the old man, and then also ended her own life. I don't think Bai Lao directed that terrible tragedy, he is just a kind of character, a collaborator with luck and grievance.But we cannot lose our hatred because of this understanding—hatred is necessary.He is a man to be hated. That is why I have said so much to you. There are many responsibilities in the world to be borne by people. You, me, all those who come and go will inevitably have to bear their own share.This is the mysterious fate. And it's unbelievable that Bo Lao is your father.One does not choose one's father, who gives life to another person and defines a part of his or her nature at that moment. Today, a long time later, when I stand on this perilous plain and think about it at midnight when the tide rises, what a solemn emotion fills my heart.When I further confirmed the concepts of love, family affection, family..., I became cautious and amazed.Their solid texture is fascinating; they exist unmistakably, shimmering with inherent brilliance. The difficulty of emotion is that it simultaneously approaches and recognizes separate worlds, which sometimes reject each other. my good mother!She did such an incredible thing in the desperate age-supporting me to choose a father again.As a result, I fled out of special fear, and the unknown father was as mysterious and silent as the vast mountains and plains.Later, when I grew up, when I knew how to call him, he didn't respond. This is one way of answering my betrayal and my escape. From then on, I finally understood and will never forget: a person can only have one father; no matter how hard he tries to change his father, the result can only be in vain.Such recognition is brutal, but also blissful—a bliss that has been recognized. Bai Lao, who is your father, hastily and angrily announced his rejection and hostility after smelling a little "heterogeneous" smell on me.It is inevitable today.But I'm growing more and more proud that my father, the family I belong to, started that long run of rejection long ago.I should be a latecomer, I was just further reminded by an aggressive Bo Lao. From then on, I became more aware that no matter how different families came together, no matter what kind of opportunity they came together, they still had to part ways in the end.Good and evil are two kinds of blood relationship, and the issue of blood relationship has always been the most important identification in ethnology, and it is also the last identification. From ancient times to the present, there are many cumbersome propositions, and the world full of philosophy and academics has no room for newborns.But Bai Hui, you, a woman with a pair of bright and dark eyes, can you see through it at a glance—all the chaos can actually be reduced to a simple sentence, that is, does a person have the courage to endure poverty for passionate ideals and principles?Also, people often speak of the courage to give up one's life—yes, that is also a radical answer, the final answer; but not as close as everyday existence—the closest is often the hardest, and sometimes persists even harder. It takes courage.What I mean by "enduring poverty" here is persistence. Bai Hui, I have been measuring with both feet for a long time on this motherly plain known for its magnificence.I heard it, I saw it, I knew who was going through what kind of hardship right now.This made me finally understand another simple theorem: to be kind is to stand on the side of the poor. Someone will ask inscrutablely: "Is this your morality? Don't you think it is crude?" I will go away with great contempt.I don't bother to answer this kind of person.But in my heart I have to answer: Yes, this is my morality and my standpoint, the root of my pursuit of goodness. People are seeking truth in different ways, seeking help from their own intellect.Such people are always simple and never aggressive.在竞争的时世上，从根本上讲，追求真实的努力会造成贫穷，因为朴素和无侵犯会导致贫穷。从这样的判断做起，我才确认了自己的道德和家族。 所以我的自豪是有理由的，我的憎恨也是有理由的。 人不能追求贫困，因为这样做同样也是一种矫情和虚荣。 贫困只是一种朴素，是自然的状态。人只要做到不害怕贫困就行了，只要做到这一点，就会勇敢地走进道德。 守住这些信念需要多少精力，多少敏感！但我要守住。我希望你能理解和尊重我的坚守，并且能够明白：十余年前的那场分别就源于这样的坚守。我固执地认为，你的背叛、那长达几个月的调查与追问，使母亲般的平原受到了伤害，土地，父亲，我所代表和维护的、给了我血液生命的穷人受到了伤害。从一个被侮辱与被损害的家族中走出的儿子，最初的反应就是那样。他不得不背弃所爱，走回他的来路：孤零零的、无援无伴的一个人…… 一场分别，无数的倾诉。 因为爱，因为致命的爱，和致命的创伤交织在了一起。 柏慧，我不得不一次次地回忆"父亲"，我们的不同的"父亲"……你现在一个人，远离了父亲和男人，住在你自己的小屋里。我知道这一来倾诉的时间到了，人活着就是为了倾诉——在这场倾诉之后，人的一生也就圆满了。这儿还有爱的圆满，友谊的圆满，我与你的圆满。 午夜的海潮啊，漫漫无边，细碎地涌动、涨起，渐渐漫过了高空的星辰。你近在咫尺，伸手即可触到你滑滑的、丁香味四溢的漆发。你的眸子是我眼前最大的一颗星星。 但愿你能安睡，不受失眠的折磨…… 我们知道了那个危险的小车司机的下落——听说他在一个黄昏又一次坐在那个园艺场的石头台阶上与一伙人打牌。 这个消息使我愣了一下，还没等醒过神来，四哥已经抓起那杆黑乎乎的枪走了。我随后跟上。 赶到园艺场时天更黑了，这样的光色打牌当然不可能。果然，长长的石头台阶上空无一人。问了问，有人说那个小车司机的确来过，但已是许多天以前的事了。那次这个刁钻狡狯的家伙一会儿就赢走了上千元钱……我们失望地归来了。 进园门时，鼓额正和斑虎一起张望。我们没有告诉她这一次是去追赶那个人，但她好像什么都明白，定定地望着我们。四哥的大手抚摸了一下她的头发，她立刻把那只粗粗的手抱住了，把脸贴在上面。我从侧面隐约看到了一溜长长的睫毛。 鼓额的父亲和母亲偶尔来看女儿，可他们无论如何不进茅屋，更不用说留下来吃饭了。几十华里的路程，两个老人都是徒步走来。他们往往只是站在篱笆墙下与女儿说一会儿话，当看到园子里的人时，就主动地回避。他们腋下夹了一个小包裹，里面大概是几件换洗的衣服、一点好吃的东西，交给女儿的时候总要推让几次。鼓额这时掏出一个小手帕，里面包着一个月的工资，交给母亲。她自己几乎不怎么留零用钱，都如数交给家里……母亲小声哭着，擤着鼻子——这就是分手的时候了。鼓额低着头，不时地抬头张望。 她发现我走过去，立刻慌张地躲开，还伸手推一下父亲母亲。我喊了一声，两位老人却钻到了树丛下，逃一般离开了。 我站在离鼓额几步远的地方，不知该说什么才好。 "他们急着回哩，他们怕麻烦这儿的人哩……妈说太麻烦了。" 我当然不能同意这样的解释。一个葡萄园不能挽留一对贫困的农民夫妇，当然是葡萄园的耻辱。我不得不压抑着心中的气愤，一连问了几句： "为什么？为什么？！" 我的目光有些尖锐，也许刺伤了她。她牙齿磕碰着回答不出。她的头深深地埋在胸部，后来连脖颈都变得赤红。我看到太阳照亮了她发际的一层细小的绒毛，这让我突然想到了那些健康而幼小的动物，心中一阵怜惜。我叹了一声。 "你该让爸爸妈妈在园里做客。他们赶这么远的路，连水都没有喝一口……""他们不愿意。" "why?" "反正……不愿意。" 这样的谈话对我有特别的触动，它仿佛敲击在一个非常敏感的部位。我带着稍稍的迷惑忍受着，回忆着类似的场景。 我发现两位老人为了进葡萄园都特意打扮过，尽可能穿上整齐一点的衣服，但仍然显得寒酸。他们的脸已经被风和阳光弄得没有了一点光泽，差不多全是焦干的皱褶；手足都是苍黑的老皮。那双眼睛除了无可怀疑的慈祥，再就是无法祛除的深深的惊慌——一双无法安定的劳动者的眼睛。我从他们身上又一次明白了，我们走进了惊扰劳动者的特殊时代，这大概是显而易见的。除了这些之外，还有什么？我思虑着，久久地揣摩，终于懂得了一点点。 ——他们还有着无法祛除的羞愧感！是的，不仅是他们，还有鼓额，也是这样！ 是的，正是这后一种可怕的羞愧感，阻止了他们落落大方地走入我们的葡萄园。 明白了这个，我一时什么也说不出了。他们竟然在为自己而羞愧，这多么令人难过。除了不停地劳作，剩下的就是羞愧。我该怎样告诉他们，羞愧应该远远地离开劳动者呢？ 我去过那个村庄，还有无数个村庄，田野上的人差不多个个一样。太阳甚至泥土都在烘烤他们，他们都有类似的衣衫、皮肤和神情。他们见了行人，特别是那些外地人，几乎无一例外地泛起了孩子般的羞愧……这种费解的神情刺伤了我，使我变得难以容忍。 我回忆着这种似曾相识的神情，终于记起我和我的朋友们，还有我的老师、我所敬仰的知识前辈，他们都常常泛起这种神情！我为自己这个不大不小的发现而惊讶……羞愧——为何而羞愧？这羞愧有时简直是没有来由，可它死死地缠住了这儿的一大群人……羞愧的神情无法遮掩，它竟成为一类人共同的特征。 我想起了自己的童年，那长长的流浪以及后来进入那所著名的学院、那座城市，所有的生活波折——我还能记得莫名其妙的、不期而至的羞涩怎样一次次地阻碍了我。它是从生命的深层滋生出的，它有时甚至因为太多太浓烈而不得不化为强大的勇敢和愤怒表现出来。多么奇妙的转化啊，我的、我们的羞涩、愧疚！ ……由此我又一次找到了同类。我深信我们在本质上是何等地相似啊。这种区别的方法才是重要的，有意义的。我想起自己走上田野，每逢看到那一张张被晒糙了的脸就有一阵揪心的疼痛——我可以迅速联想到关于他们的一连串沉重的故事。我知道这种痛苦是为了我们自己。 我曾跟随鼓额的父母到田地里去过，仔细地观察过他们、他们的乡邻伏在地上劳作的情景。那时他们整个的人变得何等专注，目光盯住禾苗，那神色就像面对一个幼小的、拥有未来的孩子；目光盯住杂草，就有一种轻藐和厌烦。他们用锄子松土，一下一下做得有力而细致。有时蹲下来，干脆用手掌去抓去拍打，一遍遍抚摸热乎乎的土地。这就是通向收获之路，从泥土、种籽、再到成熟，到田野上万千生命与四季与时光的奇特关系。他们的劳动就是关于这些淳朴而巨大的命题的探索追究，是人类寻求真实的又一种、也是最基本的方式。 用力地、不倦地、一代一代从土地上开掘出支持生命的食物，这就是人类所追求的最大真实。这正是在求救于自己的知性。 我说过，因为人类走入了剧烈竞争的时代，所以朴素的追求真实、求救于知性的人必然走入贫困。 这就是鼓额一家，还有这个珍贵的母亲一样的平原上的大多数人贫穷的原因，也是我把他们引为同类的原因。 我们的羞愧不是因为贫困，而是因为面对无休无止的自然，痛感到自己渺小的结果。 无可奈何常常取代顽强，等待常常取代追求，正是这些与生俱来的弱点和伤痕使我们自卑。我们感到了它，正像不断地感到了自己的渺小一样。羞愧是自然而然的，羞愧本身并非是一种渺小。从这点上讲，不懂得羞愧的人永远也无法走向伟大的人格。 你如果熟悉鼓额就好了，你会发现她由于难以掩饰的羞惭而变得脸色更加红润。她有时极像一个微黑的、粉红色的小孩子。她站在夕阳下的剪影是真正美丽的——有好几次我想能画下来就好了。她望着别人的神态，让人想起一只无辜的、将来必遭不幸的羔羊。是的，这种感觉是对的。不过它眼下还没有迷途，它正在一片有篱笆的草地上吃草。 ［古歌片断］…… 他是蛮荒之地巨人，他是狄戎之王。 殷纣比起他之强暴，不过是九牛一毛…… 取名嬴政，目如鹰隼，扫六国兮如狂风驱叶，吮尽了江河脂膏。 嬴政王身背之剑为卢鹿，斩削闪电兮截断五岳山伴…… 咸阳城是旷世之都，阿房宫是神殿之隔。 更有粉黛万千兮，陪伴在嬴政王之左右。 卢鹿指向西，长城起嘉峪，卢鹿指向东，瞬忽堕临淄…… 大内赵高，丞相李斯，文官武将兮虎啸狼啼。 鹰目烁烁兮，百鸟无声；狼嗥千里兮，四野寂静。 大王最恨自然天赖，禁绝水流与风鸣。 喝今收尽典籍简册，捉尽天下名士儒生。 焚典册于长街，埋俊彦于深坑。 诱天下学人入峡谷兮，滚木火雷葬生山岭…… 浩浩车队兮流出咸阳，巍巍大王兮远巡东疆。 过临淄，入莱夷，海茫茫兮神渺一方…… 登琅琊又去成山头，叩天威兮临汪洋。 登州海角有莱山，月主祠兮金碧辉煌。 拜月主入黄县，嬴政王兮三询徐乡…… 徐乡之北有座乾山，方士登临兮祭祀求仙。 言说云雾缥缈处，隐下了天外之天…… 黄县境内异士云集兮，乾山之下祭火不断。 大内赵高传下大王旨意： 寻求长生不老之丹丸，遍访东海神仙术， 宣方士齐人徐芾前来拜见。 徐芾登莱山，月主祠拜见赫赫始皇。 狄戎之王端坐于上，双目滚滚兮放射寒光。 手持之卢鹿染尽六国血色，恃蛮武践踏莱夷之英邦。 "臣拜见始皇帝，祝皇上万寿无疆！ 臣见东海有三神山，名曰蓬莱、瀛洲、方丈……" 徐芾即时上书兮，巧言说神采飞扬。 嬴政王赐予美酒玉泉，曰：归来日重加犒赏。 莱山下徘徊三日兮，车队浩荡征尘蔽阳。 昏昏千里如雾似云兮，东方一线不见晖光。 君不见三载倏忽黑旌复摇，琅琊台下血浪滔滔…… ……这越来越像是一场守望，面向一片苍茫。葡萄园是一座孤岛般美丽的凸起，是大陆架上最后的一片绿洲。你会反驳"最后"这个说法；是的，但我自信这样的葡萄园不会再多出一片了。我为此既自豪又悲凉，为了我特别的守望，我母亲般的平原。在这守望中，我一遍遍翻动着关于登州海角这些陈旧而新鲜的文字，特别是这断断续续的古歌，心情常常不能自抑地感动。几千年前的徐芾他们也进入了一场守望，而他们的先人曾经成功地坚持了；到了他这一代，却即将迎来另一种结局。 这些古歌流传于民间，尽管有时呈现支离破碎的形态，却往往比煌煌正史更有力地战胜了遗忘。遗忘通向卑劣，我们最终要摆脱卑劣，也只有求助于某种战胜遗忘的方式。 我多次去徐乡城遗址，它位于黄县新城西北十五华里；所谓的大名鼎鼎的乾山就在这儿，今天看只不过是个小土堆。我想这是因为莱山落水携带大量泥砂淤积的结果；它在两千多年前一定是一座可观的土山。古籍中没有高度记载，只有求仙盛况的描叙。近年来乾山遗址已经发掘了十二座古墓，出土了一百三十七件秦汉时期文物，那一大批青铜器和陶器看得人心里发酸。 ……守望中，一种从未出现过的紧迫感逼近了。我相信它逐渐会走到葡萄园中每一个人的面前，甚至连护园狗斑虎也不例外。如果地下海水倒灌的趋向不能扼制，那么几年之内我们葡萄园的灌溉和饮水都会成问题。现在离海边二华里左右的乔灌木都开始了大片死亡，只有依赖地表水的莎草才活得下来，只有盐碱地植物如刺蓬、盐角草等才生机盎然…… 园艺场正准备搞一个引水工程，求助于芦青河，可近来这个计划也不得不停止实施——一方面没有资金，另一方面他们的热情已经投放到与外资合作办厂上来；更重要的是芦青河的污染正在变得无法收拾，河水开始变黑。平原上，所有引芦青河水的工程都在考虑下马，因为这样做已经没有意义……芦青河是小平原上最重要的一条河流，它的毁灭也许最终会导致小平原的毁灭。 谁来救救我的平原我的河流？ 毁灭真的是唯一的选择吗？ 我在这沉默和无法沉默的长夜里呼唤着自己生存的勇气和力量——哪怕它剩下了最后的一分一绺。它存在，既然存在，就让我紧紧地抓住它吧。 似乎一切都在与我们对峙。四哥老婆响铃在最需要人手的秋天里病倒了。她往日里简直是健康的象征，粗壮和蔼，对一切困苦都笑脸相迎。她胖胖的身躯以前像母亲那样抵挡着风寒，为小鼓额也为所有人操劳，这会儿却蜷在土炕上喘息。 她没有食欲，焦渴而烦闷，嘴唇烧起了白皮。几次请医生来诊治，都不见效果。她渐渐说起了呓语，躺在那儿，不断地呼叫四哥，又呼叫斑虎——她好像在提醒自己原来的那一段生活，数念着那个家庭的成员……我与四哥商量送她住进医院，他正犹豫时，响铃开始好转。两天之后，她已经能下炕走动了。 这使我们长长地松了一口气。 响铃后来彻底地恢复了。她对鼓额说："好孩儿，你也得过病，是不是这样——睡大觉似的，睡梦里你不高兴，还有人领着你逛呀逛呀，走不完的山路野地，累死了累死了；你最后拉下脸来，说一声：累哩，不走哩，俺回哩！那人一撒手，你的病也就好哩——对啵？"鼓额拍着手说："对也对也！" 她的病好了，对于我们葡萄园至为重要的那个酒厂工程师却病入膏肓。他与爱人的离异成为定局，已经难以挽回。这件事对他的打击太大了，他很快神志不清，思维错乱，厂里不得不考虑让他住进精神病院了。这个事件引起四哥夫妇一阵叹息。多么好的一个人，仪表堂堂，而且是一个酿酒天才，在别人看来是多么值得爱的一个男人。可他的女人却转而去爱一些毛头小子、没有立场也没有才华的下三滥。 我们的这位朋友太浪漫了。在时下这么一个世俗物利的年头，浪漫是危险的。可是他的那位爱人在我们眼中更为浪漫。看来这个时代无论如何还是愿意接纳浪漫的女人——她的处境比我的朋友好多了，简直是人人喜爱，成为大众心中理所当然的宝物。惟有我们葡萄园里的人个个都想恨她；但后来试了试，发现恨不起来。 她太美丽了。 ……再三踌躇。还是得告诉你。这个消息太可怕了…… 这无论如何是个沉重的打击，对我，对所有人……我简直没有力量和勇气向你从头叙说…… 鼓额遭到了不幸。是在探家归来的路上。 本来有了上次的经验，这是不该发生的。可是……怎么说呢？她父亲送了她一路，眼看快到我们园子了，她就让父亲回去。事情就是在从那片灌木丛到我们园口不到一华里的小路上发生的。 斑虎最早听到了声音。它扑出去，接着都追上去了。 可是太晚了。暴徒已经逃离，鼓额身上血迹斑斑，头发蓬乱，脸上手上沾了好多血、粘了沙土……她在搏斗中已经使尽了最后一点力气。我们一声声呼唤，她一直闭着眼睛。她蜷在一团树叶茅草中，显得那么小。响铃把她紧紧抱在怀里。 响铃全身都抖。 四哥气喘声大得可怕，猫下腰四处看，又领上斑虎奔跑起来……晚了，那个恶棍早已无影无踪。我们都认为这与上次出现的是同一只狼——一只恶毒的、锲而不舍的狼。他的目的达到了。 他所要做的一切只是为了满足一份贪婪，他毁掉了一个贫穷无告的少女…… 我怎么指责鼓额呢？她竟然对我的一次次叮嘱充耳不闻，非要把父亲拒于葡萄园之外……一个老人来送女儿，走了那么远的路，却不能到女儿打工的地方坐一会儿……这真是一个悲惨的故事。我也不知道自己该在这个故事中承担什么责任——但我的责任显而易见是重大的。我被这个事故击懵了，一想起面对两位老人的那一刻，就有些惶恐…… 他和女儿仍然是因为那个"羞愧"才没有一起走到葡萄园里。多么不可思议的一种情感啊，它的名字叫做"羞愧"——莫名其妙的"羞愧"，它把好端端的孩子给毁了……"羞愧" 的人不幸地遭逢了一个肆无忌惮的时代，这就是问题的全部！ 响铃已经流干了眼泪。四哥一声不吭地攥紧了手中的枪。 我仿佛听到火药在枪膛滋滋锐叫的声音。响铃不停地规劝、哄着鼓额，用手指梳理着她的头发…… 鼓额躺在那儿，她太累了……我让大家都离开。 他们都呆在我屋里。No one spoke.呆了一会儿，响铃不放心，出去看了看。一会儿传来她的哭叫声。我们立刻跑过去。 响铃喊着——鼓额正愤怒地剪着自己的头发，那些长长的乌黑乌黑的头发被无情地胡乱剪下，扔了一地；她还在发疯地剪…… "我的好孩儿呀，你怎么能，你这样……"响铃去夺她的剪刀，怎么也夺不下。 我和四哥定定地望着她、一地的乌发……