Chapter 4 In the third section, I want to put my heart on Yaoqin, but there are few bosom friends, who will listen to the broken strings.

Before the war, Ergou thought it necessary to tell a story that Ergou had heard when he was a child.This is a true story that happened in the early 1940s.The protagonist of this story, said to be surnamed Huang, lives in the western suburbs of our city.In the 1940s, our city was naturally the sphere of influence of the Puppet Manchukuo, and the status of Chinese people was generally low, and the Japanese were first-class citizens.However, the number of Japanese residents entrenched in our city was not very large, and most of the few Japanese residents were soldiers or military family members. Although they don’t like to show off their power very much at ordinary times, the Chinese people hurriedly bowed their heads and walked away when they saw the Japanese. , No way, who made us "second class" at that time?

It is said that decades ago the most prosperous street in our city was the road behind the current Shi No. 1 Middle School. At that time, there were markets every now and then, selling everything, and it was very lively.Some ordinary people even came from hundreds of miles away just to catch this event.But, for a while, there were more Japanese people on this street, and he would go to the market basically.This Japanese is not yet 30 years old, holding a civilized stick, wearing a suit, with a mustache, walking three times, very stylish.Wherever there are many people, he will go wherever there are many people. When he walks, his eyes will look at the unique blue sky in the Northeast, and at the snow-white clouds that are unique to the Northeast. Maybe he will also look at the little sparrows flying happily in the sky, but he never Don't look at people.At that time, who in our country dared to offend the Japanese? Seeing ordinary Japanese people would walk around, let alone seeing such a stylish Japanese. Our common people would hide from him when they saw him, and the timid women held down their children. mouth, afraid that the child's voice would disturb the Japanese and cause trouble.

This Japanese has been arrogant on this street for three or four months. He doesn't grab things, and he doesn't disturb the people too much.Everyone also wondered why the Japanese dressed up like this all day long and wandered around the busy market, but whoever dared to ask, could only watch and hide.But as the saying goes, there is no flower in a hundred days, after the Japanese has been domineering on this street for about 100 days, something happened finally. That day, the Japanese also wore a new pair of glasses, and walked down the street with a serious face.Since he only looked at the sky and clouds, he didn't pay much attention to some things under his feet, so he accidentally stepped on a stall selling rat medicine while walking, and kicked over a few bags on the stall. rat poison.

"...Hmph." The young man squatting on the ground selling rat medicine was a little dissatisfied but he didn't dare to make mistakes, so he snorted casually. "Baka!" The Japanese was obviously upset, and cursed with sideways eyes. "...don't even look at me when I'm walking!" After the Japanese took a few steps, the rat-poison boy muttered again. "Bagayalu!" The little Japanese had such good ears that he even heard the young man mumbling. This young man squatted on the ground and looked at the Japanese with his eyes sideways, obviously dissatisfied.

Seeing that the Japanese was furious, he turned around a few steps and walked to the young man, swung his civilized stick and slapped the young man heavily on the back. "Bagayalu!" the Japanese yelled again. The young man who sold rat medicine rubbed his back resentfully, and dared not speak any more. Usually, after the Japanese have scolded "Bagayalu" in China, they will add another sentence of "bastard" for fear that the Chinese will not understand.But the Japanese cursed this sentence brought him infinite disaster... It is said that after he finished cursing "Bagaya Road", he paused for about two seconds, and then gritted his teeth and cursed viciously, "Bastard!"

After the Japanese said the word "bastard", the people watching the excitement in the whole street were stunned. Why were they stunned?Because, the phrase bastard is a typical Northeast dialect in the middle of the last century, an absolute market language, and the Japanese will definitely not speak it.Moreover, the Japanese's northeast dialect is too formal, too northeast, and too authentic.Not only the voice and accent are authentic, but even the facial expressions and gestures are so authentic. How can this be Japanese!This is obviously from the Northeast!The guy who sold rat medicine was stunned and then he figured it out: "You bastard! Pretending to be Japanese?!"

"I... Eight Karma..." Any explanation is futile, all pale, and so powerless... No matter how "eight Karma" is, it's useless, because he's an "asshole".It is said that this person was beaten up by the vendors in the whole street, his glasses flew off, his civilized staff was thrown away, and he rolled like a donkey. His mustache was stained with a mixture of nosebleeds and dirt. "where are you from?!" "I... from the west, across the river is my home." "What's your last name?" "yellow……" "Why pretend to be Japanese?"

"When I was in Fengtian, I met a few Japanese people and felt..." It seems that the people who look down on the Chinese the most are the Chinese themselves. In the decades since then, although there are still occasional legends about this Brother Huang in the Jianghu, this Brother Huang is obviously no longer in the Jianghu. He no longer dares to go out on the streets, and no one has seen him again. It was not until New Year's Day in 1982 that another brother Huang from the western suburbs walked across the frozen river and came to the urban area. This opened a new chapter for Brother Huang in our city.Otherwise, Huang Ge, the "asshole" who once made a scene on the street for 100 days more than 40 years ago, may have been forgotten by the public.As the grandson of Brother Huang, the "bastard boy", the new generation of Brother Huang accurately interprets the true meaning of the saying "Ice is made of water, but colder than water."

His surname is Huang, and his name is Huang Zhonghua. Although he was later called Weasel, Huang Laoxie, Huang Laopoxie, etc. in different time periods, there is only one name on his ID card: Huang Zhonghua, Huang of the Yellow Emperor, and Zhonghua of Zhonghua. , the Hua of China.He did not graduate from elementary school, liked Chinese classical literature, and longed for romantic love. He often laments life when he sees the withered vegetation, and often feels human nature when he sees some joys and sorrows.Life and humanity are the two major themes that he tortured all his life, even though he has not understood it until today.

Let’s say that he rode a bicycle 10 kilometers from the western suburbs to the city center in the cold weather because he heard from his cousin in the urban area that there was a group of people who liked poetry like him communicating in Hongqi Park this afternoon. The first poetry meeting in our city after the Cultural Revolution.How could Huang Zhonghua, who has always regarded himself as a literati and poet, not participate in such a big event? Their family has the blood of watching the excitement. Does his grandfather love to go to the market? At that time, Hongqi Park in our city was not an open park, with a large area. There were lakes, mountains, and pavilions inside, and the outside was surrounded by brick walls. Although the north and south gates of the park were downtown areas, the park It is indeed a bit of a quiet place, so it has become a holy place for literary youths to gather.

Huang Zhonghua went a little late, and when he entered the park, he found that the gazebo by the lake was densely packed with people.Huang Zhonghua was a little excited, he liked a lot of people. When Huang Zhonghua approached the crowd, he suddenly realized something was wrong: Didn't my cousin say it was a poetry competition?Isn't this a grand gathering for literary youth?Why does this now look like a group of young Red Guard generals gathering for civil attack and military defense!These young men and women in gray and blue khaki clothes stood in the fierce cold wind. Although they were shivering from the cold, their expressions were solemn and solemn. What is this for? !Huang Zhonghua was puzzled and hurried into the crowd. At this moment, Huang Zhonghua found that many people were holding a book in their hands. Obviously not the Little Red Book.Huang Zhonghua looked at the book in the hand of a girl with big eyes who looked like a student with two braids. There were several English letters on the book: TODAY, what does this mean in English?Of course Huang Zhonghua couldn't read it, but he understood the two Chinese characters written vertically next to it: "Today". "Sister, what does this mean?" Huang Zhonghua pointed to the name of the publication. "...a literary magazine." The little girl answered with a bit of a smile. "What? Can you show me?" "..." The little girl stopped talking and looked ahead, apparently unwilling to borrow. At this time, a young man walked into the middle of the gazebo.Although this young man is very handsome with sword eyebrows and star eyes, he is a little rough. Not only is his hair messy, but he also has stubble on his face. As soon as this person appeared on the stage, the crowd applauded thunderously.But this person looked dignified, unsmiling, with the posture of a May Fourth youth.Although the people around him welcomed his appearance so much, he was not moved at all. "Who is he?" Huang Zhonghua asked the little girl next to him. "His surname is Feng. Like us, he is a writer of obscure poems. He has participated in the youth poetry meeting, and I heard that "Poetry Magazine" will publish his poems." "What kind of poetry do you write?" "Obscure poetry!" "What?!" "..." The young man didn't want to talk to Huang Zhonghua any more, and looked into the middle of the gazebo. The vague poet surnamed Feng said: "Today, I want to recite a poem I wrote. This poem was written by me last night. The name of the poem is "I Cried That Day." He said this His expression is a bit like the oath of the underground party rally before liberation. He speaks very slowly and in a deep voice. The applause stopped below, and the more than 50 young men and women standing on the snow regained their solemn expressions, listening intently to the recitation of the vague poet surnamed Feng. "Golden millet spilled into my eyes, so I, started to cry, and golden tears fell on my mother's chapped hands." "The gray newspaper came into my eyes, so I continued to cry, and the gray and black tears dripped into this vicissitudes of the land." "The pure white snowflakes drifted past my sight, so I, still crying, the pure white tears and snowflakes scattered in the ancient wind together." After reading this, the voice of the poet surnamed Feng was a little choked up, and the audience was also a little sad.Huang Zhonghua was the only one who couldn't help but want to laugh, he thought: Why is this buddy crying all the time?A big old man cries at every turn, it's not shameful to be ashamed!Besides, what is this poetry?What is it? This is it.Huang Zhonghua turned to look at the girl beside him, and found that she was also very moved.Huang Zhonghua was even more puzzled: what happened to these people? "I kept crying that day. I love the people on this land, I love their five thousand years of kindness, and I love their eternal longing and hope." "So I kept crying. Because I saw the light in the dark. I was so happy that I wanted to sing for them. That day I kept crying, crying all the time." "Hahahahahahaha." Huang Zhonghua couldn't bear it any longer and burst out laughing.The laughter was particularly harsh in this solemn atmosphere, and almost everyone's eyes were fixed on Huang Zhonghua's somewhat wretched face. "What are you laughing at?!" The poet surnamed Feng, who was reciting to the moment of grief and anger, was furious. "Did I laugh? I didn't!" Although Huang Zhonghua refused to admit it, there was still a mean smile on his face. "I ask you, what are you laughing at!" The poet surnamed Feng's eyes were full of anger. "Cough, cough..." Huang Zhonghua was really angry, he turned his cheap smile into a smile, but didn't answer directly. "What the hell do you mean?! Don't understand, get out!" The poet surnamed Feng refused to let go. "Get out! Yes! Get out!" The crowd expressed that Huang Zhonghua should get out.It is indeed fierce to the folk customs of our city, even the poet is so fierce. These people obviously don't understand Huang Zhonghua's drive to "go ahead despite tens of thousands of people" in order to pretend to be coercive, and think that Huang Zhonghua can be scolded away with just a few words.They all underestimated him. "Hehe, what you read just now is also called poetry?!" Huang Zhonghua continued to smile.He usually lives in the suburbs, and has studied in primary school for 2 or 3 years. How can he know modern poetry!I don't even know what "obscure poetry" is. "Then what do you call poetry?" "Anyway, you are not called poetry. Which poet do you think writes poetry like you?" "Bei Dao, Gu Cheng." "I don't know who they are. I just know Li Bai. Li Bai's poems must be much better than what you said." "Get out of here, this is not where you came from!" The crowd was excited. A group of literary youths were disturbed by such a wretched man like Huang Zhonghua in this glamorous snowy afternoon. Could these literary youths not be angry? The little girl with the "Today" in her hand said: "Can you understand what he just said?" The girl was obviously very excited. "Hehe, cry, just cry, who doesn't understand." "Bah! It's called obscurity poetry. I guess you can't understand it. The poem just now means that the current policy of the country has given our kind and simple people a bright future. Xiao Feng was very excited and excited when he saw this, so I want to cry. His whole poem expresses fraternity, do you understand?" "Why don't I understand!" In fact, Huang Zhonghua really didn't understand. "Then what are you laughing at?" "I want to write one, it must be better than his!" Huang Zhonghua's face was filled with an eternal and confident smile. No one dared to speak: dare to love this is a master!No wonder he laughed out loud. Poet Feng of the Obscure School said: "Either you write one too and let everyone comment." "Write one and write one. Doesn't it mean that the new policy has brought light to our common people? Mine is definitely better than yours!" "Okay! You come!" Huang Zhonghua took small square steps and walked to the middle of the gazebo.According to the onlookers who didn't know the truth, when this wretched man took these few steps, everyone became calm, because these few steps were so full of Wei and Jin literati style!Huang Zhonghua's image suddenly became taller in everyone's minds.Everyone was even ashamed to urge him to write poetry quickly. Huang Zhonghua, who was in the middle of the gazebo, pondered for a moment, looked up at the goose feather snow in the sky at a 45-degree angle, and said easily: The Third Plenary Session is really good Everyone was stunned, what genre of hazy poetry is this? Before everyone can figure it out, Huang Zhonghua's second sentence has already blurted out: The people are highly motivated. Everyone seems to understand that this guy is not a writer of obscure poems, but a writer of "Seven Rhythms". "Five lectures, four beauties and three loves!" Huang Zhonghua couldn't wait to recite the third sentence. The crowd began to commotion: We are holding a recital of misty poems here, can you come up with the seven rhythms of the main theme?Your brain was just squeezed by the door? Huang Zhonghua also noticed that the crowd had begun to commotion, he was a little less confident, his usual confident eyes were a little flustered, and Xiao Fangbu's steps were a little out of order.Huang Zhonghua is generally not timid, but he only heard so much about the new policy from the radio, and he has already written it all in the first three sentences. How should the fourth sentence end? !Everyone is waiting! It's over, the fourth sentence is difficult to deliver.On a very cold day, Huang Zhonghua broke into a cold sweat. "... Make it up! Continue to make it up!" Someone booed. Huang Zhonghua turned his head and saw that Poet Feng and the little girl were both looking at him and sneering. Huang Zhonghua, who was sweating all over his head, suddenly had a flash of inspiration in his desperation, but he said in a loud voice: "Every family raises giant pandas!" With a sound of "coax", the crowd burst into laughter. Huang Zhonghua didn't know what everyone was laughing at, so he also looked at Poet Feng with a smile.Huang Zhonghua is very confident. His seven-step poem is already his pinnacle work in the past 20 years, and he is confident that he will be appreciated by everyone. "Do you call this stuff poetry?" "WTF!" "Every family raises giant pandas? Pandas are national treasures, you can raise them if you want?!" The masses of the people obviously don't approve of Huang Zhonghua's Qilu. "When the time comes, our country will be rich and powerful, and the common people will be rich. What's the matter if each family raises a giant panda?" Huang Zhonghua argued. "You think that's raising pigs?!" "What's wrong with raising pigs, what do you think is wrong with my poem?!" "Go away! Go!" "Why should I go? The one you recited just now is also called poetry?" "Why isn't it called poetry?" "What is that called a few poems!? What kind of poems did that one called Beicheng City write?! Stop talking nonsense here!" "Speak more cleanly!" "What the hell are you writing about! Nonsense! . . . Oh, whoever hits me, fuck me!" Someone hit Huang Zhonghua with his hands, and Huang Zhonghua slapped him backhand. The effect of Huang Zhonghua's slap was the same as that of his grandfather's "bastard".It is said that almost all the young men present at the scene that day went up, at least 30 or 40 of them, and each of them kicked at least one foot.Beat Huang Zhonghua from the gazebo to the gate of Hongqi Park.Although Huang Zhonghua was beaten to the point of rolling and crawling, his words were still very hard. While being beaten, he said, "It's still Li Bai bullshit, stop talking nonsense." Huang Zhonghua may be the first person in our city to be beaten by 30 or 40 people.After Huang Zhonghua was beaten to the park gate, he lay down on the snow for about 5 minutes, and was helped up by the girl with two braids holding a copy of "Today". "You won't die!" "No!" Huang Zhonghua, whose face was covered in blood, still wanted to smile, but couldn't do it anymore. "I'll take you to the hospital!" "No need to!" Huang Zhonghua walked away tremblingly, and even looked back at the girl who wrote the vague poem. Four hours later, Huang Zhonghua, who already had a cast on his left arm, stood at the entrance of the hospital.Looking at the vast white land and the gloomy sky, Huang Zhonghua and his wife burst into tears. The reason for his tears was not because he was beaten.Because although he was beaten, as long as he goes back and entangles his fellow countrymen in the western suburbs, he will definitely be able to gather these hazy poets. The real reason for his tears is: he did not find artistic sympathy, and he did not find a bosom friend in poetry. If you want to put your heart on Yaoqin, but there are few bosom friends, who will listen to the broken strings? !A broken arm and no one listens...