Chapter 16 grab medicine

The Japanese soldiers went to the gate of Qihua to shoot targets.As usual, the policemen at the gate check the Chinese coming and going, because the policemen are also Chinese, and the Chinese are more thoughtful and brave in guarding against spies than against enemies, perhaps because it is actually easier and more appropriate; Do diplomacy. The buttons of Niu's cotton-padded jackets were all unbuttoned, and they were only wrapped loosely with a blue cloth bag, leaving a large piece of flesh under his neck, which made him feel tired from walking.Firstly, he walked quickly, and secondly, he was very anxious.Father's illness must be serious; more than one yuan, this medicine!My home is still ten miles away from Qihua Gate.Qihua Gate is right in front of you. If you leave the city, take a small road, and maybe you can eat the "toujian" before the sun sets over the mountains.He stepped harder, holding a medicine bag in one hand and a scroll in the other.

A lot of people were crowded in front of the door, and the patrolmen circled around.The second head ignored the excitement and walked straight towards the city gate. "Where are you going?" The city was buzzing for a long time. The second head didn't care who it was shouting to, and walked straight ahead; hum, why is it so quiet in the doorway? "Grandson! Say fuck you; come back!" Hearing this, the second ear was also grabbed by the shoulders. "Father is waiting to take his medicine!" He saw that it was a patrolman who was teasing him. "I didn't steal anyone!"

"Your grandpa has to wait a while to take the medicine!" The patrolman pushed Ertou into the group of people. The group of people all unbuttoned their clothes; the second head didn't need to bother, his buttons were not buttoned in the first place.I had time to look closely at what was going on: this group of people was divided into three classes, those who wore silk and satin stood in one group, those who wore cloth clothes without black soil on their bodies formed another group, and those who were dressed like biceps were in the third group.Although the first group also unbuttoned them, the patrolmen only touched them roughly.After touching, "Let's go!" Ertou said in his heart, "This is not far away, at most it will delay a meal; when we go out of the city, we will trot." When it was the turn of the second group, it was not so happy, and the little clothes were not fair. The right place needs to be touched twice.Touching and touching, I found a red nose in her forties.Red Nose didn’t ask to be touched: “Call your heads here!” The inspector came over: “Hey! Third Master! I didn’t see you, please go; I have an errand, there’s nothing I can do; please go!” Red Nose didn’t even smile, "Keep your eyesight; how do you say that!" Wiping his red nose, he left the city.After a long time, it was the second boys' turn. "Take it off, folks, you won't die from the cold!" the patrolman said with a smile. "Just pick up the lice for Nana, please!" said an elephant puller. "Don't talk nonsense, take off the wind!" The patrolman took off one of the cotton-padded jackets and shook them two or three times.The owner of the padded jacket smiled: "I don't forgive you, just have more dirt!" Hearing this witty remark, the patrolman threw the padded jacket on the dirt road: "Just add more weight."

When there were only a few people left, it was Ertou's turn; those who came after Ertou gathered in another place and waited. "What?" the patrolman asked, pointing to the second hand. "medicine." "That volume, I mean it." "A book, picked up in the latrine." "Bring it." The patrolman looked at the cover of the book, it was red; he handed the book to the inspector.The inspector looked at the cover, it was red; he looked at the two ends.The inspector turned over two pages, but he seemed to be missing the point, and then he was full of saliva. After turning over ten pages, he was stunned for a while, looked up at the city gate, and then at the second head: "Take him in." !” A patrolman came over.

The two heads instinctively took a step back, knowing in their hearts that it was going to be bad, although they didn't know why. "Dad is still waiting to take medicine! The book was picked up in the toilet!" "The one who is dishonest is looking for a beating, I tell you!" The patrolman grabbed the second head by the neck. "Father is waiting to take the medicine!" The two heads were anxious, but the voice was not high, as if the voice was not being used much. "Take him away!" The inspector's face turned pale, as if Ertu had a bomb on him.

It's useless to be anxious, and I can't do it if I don't leave, tears are rolling in the circles of my eyes. Enter the police station.The patrolman and the fat inspector muttered a few words.The inspector took the book and read it. The chubby inspector was quite kind: "What's your surname?" "Bull, two cows." The two sniffled. "Ah, Ertou. What village do you live in?" "Ten Mile Shop." "Ah, Shilipu; outside Qihua Gate." The inspector nodded, as if admiring his knowledge of geography. "Why did you come to the city?" The word "la" is longer than "ya".

"Grab the medicine, Dad is sick!" Tears were about to fall from the two heads. "Whose father? Tell me clearly. Fortunately, I don't care too much. Come, let me ask you, tell me well, don't lie. Who gave you this book?" "I picked it up in the toilet." "If you don't tell the truth, I'm going to come here!" The fat inspector looked a little fatter, or he was angry. "Young man, don't be so aggressive; you've told the truth, it's none of your business, what we want is the person who gave you this book, do you understand?"

"I swear, I really picked it up! I don't want the book, let me go!" "Then you can't go!" The fat inspector looked at the book again, and then seemed to have decided not to let Ertou go. "Master," Ertou said in a hurry, "Dad is waiting to take the medicine!" "There is no medicine store outside the city, so I have to go into the city to get medicine? Is there an accident!" The inspector wanted to laugh but refused to laugh, very satisfied with himself wisdom. "The doctor ordered to go to Huaidetang to catch it. The medicinal materials are authentic. Master, I said master, let me go; I don't want that book, why not?!"

"But it can't!" That night, Ertou was escorted to the Public Security Bureau. The creator "Ru Yin" and the critic "Qing Yan" are enemies, although they have never met.Ru Yin earns a living by writing novels, while Qing Yan makes a living out of criticism.In magazines and newspapers, Ru Yin always walks ahead, and Qing Yan follows closely.No matter what Ru Yin writes, Qing Yan always gives him a headshot—the consciousness is not correct.Although Ru Yin's works did not sell less because of this, he felt that the victory of the spirit belonged to Qingyan after all.He doesn't know whether the people who bought his books would smile extraordinarily sympathetically when they put out a few cents, and say in their hearts: "Whether his consciousness is correct or not, it's true to relieve boredom first!" I hope this is the real situation, but "Maybe there are people who really admire me?" The old man is a self-sufficient businessman. When he receives some manuscript fees or royalties, he always feels that Qingyan is snickering at him: "Ha, Some more money? That’s what my criticism slipped through! Wait, I’m not over with you yet!” He seemed to hear the critic say so.

It happened that once, their photos were published in a magazine, next to each other.Ru Yin's imagination is richer.Qingyan in the photo has a big head, long hair, dragon eyes and fish eyes, and a pug nose; at best, she looks like Socrates.This Socrates often visits Ru Yinlai silently. Naturally, Ru Yin sometimes thought maliciously: Judging by the pseudonym "Qingyan", she is probably just a pawn of the Butterfly and Mandarin Duck School.Now I have changed my way of doing things, and only say "the consciousness is not correct".Don't bother him.But passive masturbation is no better than active offense; the shells of incorrect consciousness are still flying above his head.

How can consciousness be correct?He couldn't find the answer from Qingyan's criticism.Qingyan is no longer like Socrates here.Socrates asked questions and was ready to answer; he could turn around, but sometimes he turned himself inside.Qingyan would only grab her legs and beat her mouth slowly at the end of the 100 meters.Ru Yin had to think of another idea.He carefully read some of the works that used to be called correct consciousness - some have been banned for sale.This disappointed him, because those works were just anemic romances.He knew he could do something much better than this himself. He started writing novels like this.After publishing one or two articles, he waited for Qingyan's criticism every day, and the criticism came: the consciousness is not correct! He carefully compared his own with those so-called authentic works, and he could see that his language was different from theirs, his language was in Chinese, while theirs was in foreign language.His stories are also different from theirs. He expresses the observed light and shadow, enthusiasm and despicableness, ideals and feelings; theirs is just a comedy with "blood" and "death" as the main rhetoric. However, he still has a wrong consciousness! He was going to make a joke, just to gag Qingyan's mouth.He copied cats and tigers, also used foreignized characters, and made up some stories that were sound but not close to the truth, and sent them to some publications. The strange thing is that these articles were all returned soon; there was a very polite letter attached to the editor: "In the period when speech is not free, red, yellow, blue, white and black always contain words that will make us unable to see tomorrow. , the words you used this time are almost all of this kind..." Ru Yin laughed so hard that she couldn't even keep her mouth shut.I see!Words can really be deceiving.Writers, readers, critics, and censors are all drawn from the same temple! He also understood by the way, why Qingyan only let go of the gun with incorrect consciousness, and didn't say anything else, it turned out that he was "afraid".This is too fair.He is going to tease Qingyan.He had printed a small volume at his own expense, containing all the things that had been rejected.He gave Qingyan a copy, knowing that the editorial department of a certain publication would definitely be accepted.In this way, although I spent a few dollars, I was very happy in my heart: "I dare to print these things, let's see if he dares to criticize with the meaning of support!" Qingyan went to the editorial department of BB magazine to see if there was any "talk".There were three letters and a paper packet on his desk.After reading the letter, I opened the paper bag, and found a red book——Ru Yin.he laughed.He felt sorry for Ru Yin.Writers are more or less pitiful--get through the difficulties of the editorial department, and then have to suffer from the critics.But critics cannot, absolutely must not, lose their status for pity.Deliberate unfairness is embarrassing, he knows; but sincere fairness is even more embarrassing: ethos, what is not harsh is not criticism!Qingyan is a person who would not even hurt a fly.But he takes criticism as a career, and most of the executioners do it for food.He understands everything, but he has to pretend to be confused.He knew which publications didn't like which writers, and he focused on this when he criticized, which made him more stable.It can also be said that he is a man without ideals; but when the situation is understood, he can be forgiven.To be honest, he didn't intend to oppose Ru Yin.He doesn't want to be against anyone, but criticism is criticism.If he had found a more original phrase than "incorrect consciousness," he would have used it long ago; he did not like the word.However, since you can't get more fresh and powerful ones, you can only use this one as it is, what can you do? He really wanted to meet Ru Yin, have a heart-to-heart talk, and maybe become a good friend.Yes, even if you don’t go to see him, you should write a letter to persuade him—it’s dangerous to take back this little red book early.If you really plan to do something, smoking a cigarette and pondering "Zhihu Zheye" is the most useless, then you should make another idea.Creation and criticism, no matter what, they can't escape after all.Mutual support and mutual hostility are just a waste of ink and paper, and no one will create a new page or two for history.The history of literature and criticism are still in their own right; without them, the library would not seem so empty. Qingyan snorted with her nose up.He rolled up the book, held it in his hand, and left the editorial office. When he walked to the south of Dongsi Pailou, he wanted to show his respect.Put the book on the soil platform, so that it is easy to hug the cotton robe.He was standing blocking the door of the toilet when another person came outside.Eager to give way, he pulled up his clothes, held his breath, and walked out. After walking a long way, he remembered the book.But I don't want to go back and look for it.He can criticize without books, but fortunately he memorizes the titles and authors of the books. Ertou has been imprisoned for two days.He was baffled, what was in that book?Just remember, the red skin is thin; he can't read.He hated that little book, and cared more about his father's illness. This rambling book will kill his father!They interrogated him; "I picked it up in the latrine," he still said.He couldn't even imagine that the book was written by a human; why not just write a book?He picked it up; he picks up dung when he has nothing to do in winter; why shouldn't he pick up books? "Who gave it to you?" They asked one after another. Ertou has lived for twenty years, and no one has given him a book; what does a book have to do with Ertou?He can't create a rumor, saying: Ergou from the Zhang family, or Heizi from the Li family gave it to him.He didn't want to be so dirty-minded and falsely accuse a good person.As for the name that resembles a name, only Meng Zhanyuan, the leader of the village, is the only one.Only this name seems to be somewhat similar to "Huang Tianba" and "Zhao Zilong", both of which are in the book.But he couldn't turn the head on.If there is no meeting, who can guarantee that the "five tiger sticks" in the village will not be suppressed by the big locust tree when they go to Miaofeng Mountain to offer incense in early April? !But when he thought of his father's illness, he couldn't think about these anymore.He wished he could immediately turn into green smoke and escape through the crack of the door!that book!that book!Is it the ecstasy prescription of "Pat Hanako"? Another day has passed!He thought, Dad must be dead!The medicine was not caught, and the son disappeared, and the old man died in such a hurry!Dad must be dead, two heads hugging their heads and weeping, and slowly weeping involuntarily. After crying for a while, he decided to tell the policemen that the book was given to him by Meng Zhanyuan, and only these three characters sound bookish: "Ergou", "Heizi", and even "Seventy Children" are not like holding a book. Give people material. Then I thought about it, I can't do this, I am bent!That book "was" picked up.Besides, since it was picked up in the city, how could it be given to him by Meng Zhanyuan?Not right!I had no choice but to think that my father must be dead.Everyone in the family is wearing filial piety clothes, but there are no two heads!It's so frightening! At night, another man came—a young man, neatly dressed, but with fetters on his feet.Ertou's curiosity made him temporarily forget his anxiety.Besides, looking at this literary man with his ankles in shackles, he didn't seem to be in a hurry, and he couldn't help but feel a little more relaxed. The latter spoke first: "What case, old folks?" "I picked up a book, my ancestor who fucked the book!" Ertou let out a bad breath. "What book?" The young man's eyes darkened. "Red-skinned!" Ertou only remembered this, "I don't know how to read!" "Ouch!" The young man nodded. No more words.After staying for a long time, the two heads asked in a friendly manner, "You, what are you—the case?" "I wrote a book," the teenager smiled. "Ah, that rogue book you wrote, you?" Ertou couldn't remember a person who just knew how to write a book. Since this person could write a book, of course he was the one who wrote the red book.He can't decide what to do.He wanted to slap the writer of the book a few times, but he knew that there were a lot of patrolmen here; he had already been sued, so don't add to the trouble.Don't hit him, I can't vent my anger. "It's okay, my hands are itching to be idle, and I'm writing a fucking book!" He stared at the man and gritted his teeth. "It was written for you," the young man smiled mischievously. Ertou couldn't hold back his anger: "Smack you bastard!" But he didn't want to do it yet.He didn't know why he was a little afraid of this young man, or because his appearance, behavior, age, and attire were too incompatible with those shackles.This young man doesn't have much color on his face, but his skin is very smooth.His eyes are dull, and there is always an unpopular smile on his mouth.The body is not fat, and those iron shackles are tripping over the thin legs and wrists!Ertou couldn't figure out what he was doing, so he was a little scared. The boy himself smiled for a long time before he glanced at the second head. "You don't know how to read?" The second head was stunned for a while, and wanted not to answer, but finally snorted. "Where did you pick up that book?" "In the latrine; what's the matter?" "What did they ask you?" "You care—" Er Tou swallowed back the second half of the sentence, he was very suspicious, but also a little afraid of this young man. "Tell me, I'll give you a good idea." The young man smiled more seriously, but he said in his heart, "You don't know the profane books written for you, so why don't you help me?" "They asked, who For me, I can't tell." "For example, if I told them that I left it in the hut, wouldn't it be your fault?" The young man's smile became a little boring again. "Let's be brave!" Er Duo hadn't smiled for three days, and pursed his lips for the first time. "Shall we go now?" "Not now, until tomorrow when they ask me." "Father's illness! He's probably dead!" "Tell me first, where did you pick it up?" "To the south of the Dongsi Pailou, the goddamn pisser!" Ertou suddenly felt an indescribable sadness.He couldn't think of a suitable word to describe it, and he just felt dazed, just like the scene when he watched the locusts eat up all the millet that year. "You're wearing this? What are you holding?" "This body; I'm holding a medicine bag in my hand." When the second head said this, he thought of his father again. Qingyan returned to her room, feeling very uneasy, he still hasn't forgotten Ru Yin.After walking around the room a few times, he laughed; he still had to criticize.Can only write a short paragraph because I lost the book.Criticism is used to, and the scope will naturally expand, such as book binding and cover; critics are free to express aesthetic opinions: "If the red book cover can represent the content of the story, Ru Yinjun's trick this time is very impressive. Disappointed. He only used a piece of red paper, thick and smooth red paper, and the content, content, still has no proper sense!" He wrote on.I didn't expect to scrape together seven or eight hundred words, and each sentence, in terms of rhetoric, has some power to express authority.Criticism has to become literature and art.He was very satisfied that what he had written was quite accurate—what he wrote was stricter than he thought, and the writing ensured his status.He felt very sorry for Ru Yin, but he had no choice but to apologize.One day, he will meet Ru Yin, who can explain everything in a few words.If the writer is happy with the imaginary characters, the critics are happy with the writer, there is no way!He deleted and changed a few words in the manuscript and sent it out. After two days, his manuscript was published.Two days later, he heard the news that Ru Yin had been arrested. Qingyan doesn't worry about that criticism at all: the writer's arrest is not necessarily because of the correct consciousness.Even if it were so this time, it wouldn't matter much, except for a few students who read novels who care about such shit, how many people in the society know that there are such people-critics?Generally speaking, the writing business is not a lot of nonsense?He was really moved by Ru Yin.He remembered something.This meaning is not fully clear, he can only describe it negatively.That is to say, it stands opposite the correctness or incorrectness of consciousness.True meaning does not stand together with nonsense.Just like describing a soldier, it means being a soldier.He suddenly figured it out, the positive side of that meaning was to create a page or two of new history, not to write a few articles.He had thought so before, and believed it even more now.However, he wants to rescue Ru Yin, although this is not in that "meaning". A few days later, Ertou said "goodbye" to Ru Yin. When Er Tou returned home, his father had already been buried two days ago.Ertou made an oath that he would never go to the city to grab medicine again! In the first issue of the fifth volume of "Modern Times" in May 1934