Chapter 28 Chapter 27 Some Question Marks on the Lie Puzzle Board

When did Wang Xunru write this book?A basic question.I flipped through the butterfly page on the back cover of this book, and there were a few lines of information written on it - Publisher: Gexin Publishing House / Publisher: Han Xunru / Company Address: No. 108-2, Yonghe Xiulang Road, Taipei / Office: No. 34, Luzhuang 2nd Village, Heping East Road, Taipei City / Ministry of the Interior Registration Certificate No. 304, Jingtaiyezi / The first edition of Taiwan in the 55th year of the Republic of China. In 1992, on June 6, 1981, Gao Yang passed away.On July 13th, I finished reading Wang Xunru's works.I guess Gao Yang's archaeological craftsman's petty curiosity is fermented in me; I have the uneasiness and suspicion in my throat about the publication date of Wang's works.

To put it bluntly: In terms of Wang Xunru citing facts as evidence, and trying to expose Tiandi’s motives for undermining social order and causing public disturbance, why did he only write about a suspected case of jumping from a building, a case of eyewitness, a case of plane crash, and An unspecified assassination case; and the fire at the Xinsheng Theater? What's more, the words "I'm waiting for an old man in exile" seem to be similar to what Sun Xiaoliu remembered when he was young, that is, the number of "sometimes one or two" and "sometimes five or six" seems to be the same as that of "sometimes five or six". I wait" (rather than "I") coincides.Sun Xiaoliu was born in mid-August of the fifty-fourth year of the Republic of China. On January 19 of the following year, the Xinsheng Theater caught fire.Assuming that Sun Xiaoliu "lived" twice at the age of two and seven

The experience in the Xinsheng Theater is also true, and Wang Xunru once taught him a set of medical formulas from the "Lu Shi Bronze Figure Book" when he was still a child, which must have happened in the 56th or 7th years of the Republic of China.After that, Sun Xiaoliu never saw Wang Xunru again.Judging from these scattered facts, the most reasonable conjecture is that in August 1954, after the incident of "Mr. Medicine and Medicine".At least before the publication of this book (January 55), Wang Xunru had never encountered, nor could he have foreseen that a fire would break out in the Xinsheng Theater. book text.on the other hand,.Perhaps it is precisely because Wang Xunru wrote this book and sold it openly in the market. After reading it, no matter whether it is from the content or editing and printing—that is, the channel of publishing and marketing—then found Wang Xunru and other old people in Ximending along the line. It is possible for the Xinsheng Theater to locate the hidden traces, and then hire an arson expert to deal with it.

Gao Yang told me more than once: No matter what kind of book it is, what virtue it is bound in, what content it contains, and what ideas it advocates, there is only "one ghost Cambodian West" that cannot be changed at all, that is, its publication date.The date a book is printed declares that the book "has no other possibility"; in other words: the date of publication is the most certain and only certain content of a book.In addition, any content in a book is "different people have different opinions, and everyone has different opinions".And the date of publication can tell us a lot of things that we mistakenly think are meaningless, but are also unexpected because of it.

With this thought in mind, I walked slowly through the rain, and when I got home, I took out the other six books from the torn package and read them carefully.I suddenly found that there was no publishing unit or date at the end of the book except "Fang Fengwu, a wonderful painting of a genius doctor", but only "author's self-published" and "general distribution: Humanities Bookstore / Address: No. 19, Ziyou Road, Taichung City" In addition to the words, the other five books were published successively after November of the 54th year of the Republic of China: until the 66th year of the Republic of China.Among them, "Food Virtue and Painting" was published in November of the 54th year of the Republic of China, "Study on the History of the Shanghai Small Knife Society and the Secret Version of the Hongmen" was published in January of the 56th year of the Republic of China, and "Secret Society Since the Early Republic of China" "Score" was published in January 1961, "Thunder in the Seven Seas" and "Summary of Qimen Dunjia" were published in January and July 1966 respectively.There are a few small, imaginative joints here: first, "The Miraculous Doctor Fang Fengwu" should have been written before August 54 of the Republic of China—because the author Wan Yanfang died in the year and month.But on the back cover of the book that Gao Yang gave me, there is another line of small characters printed in ink: "Fifty-four years: Humanities self-sold in January".The meaning of this line of small characters is very clear: at least the book "The Wonderful Painting of Fang Fengwu" in this book was only sold by the humanities bookstore three to four months after the author's death.In this way; what is marked in the small print is not just that-just imagine: the general distribution unit sells its books in the store itself, rather than through the system of intermediate dealers and bookstores, which means that this book should not be; this old book- ——or "Return Book", "Wind Stain Book"—this mark is for the general distributor to distinguish it from those who sell through normal distribution channels. It may be cheaper, but it does not mean that the quality is not good; The sale is also to clearly limit that such books should not appear in ordinary bookstores.

If this conjecture is true, the order in which these seven books were listed is unexpectedly the order in which I browsed them in Sanmin Bookstore many years ago. I dare not say what is the significance of this.However, when looking at the publication dates of these seven books, I found another clue worthy of attention. The general distribution of these seven books is the same one: Humanities Bookstore. In addition—I don’t know whether it is due to my subjective attachment—because the three years of the 56th, 61st, and 66th years of the Republic of China were separated by five years, I kept thinking: What is the matter? Happens every five years?And under what circumstances would the last four of these seven books be published every five years:?This is an inconspicuous little problem, but it also secretly tickles me like a metaphor I often call "itching under the skin": five years.Happens every five years.Five years a book...

So I simply listed the titles, authors, and publication dates of these seven books in a table, and copied them on the book card: "Food Virtue and Painting" Wei Yizheng 54, 11 "Miracle Doctor Fang Fengwu" Wan Yanfang 54, 12 (the author died when it was listed) "Tiandihui Medical Skills, Medicine and Medical Way" Wang Xunru 55, 1 "The History of the Small Knife Society of Shanghai and the Research on the Secret Books of Hongmen", Chen Xiumei (suspected to be Qian Jingnong's pseudonym) 56, 1 "Synopsis of Secret Society Since the Early Republic of China" Tao Daiwen (that is, Li Shouwu's pseudonym) 61, 1

"Thunder in the Seven Seas" Floating Flowers Commander 66, 1 "Summary of Qimen Dunjia Art" Zhao Taichu 66, 7 After that, I wrote Dou University's "Humanities Bookstore" on the top of the book card, and attached the address of the bookstore: "No. 19, Ziyou Road, Taichung City". As I read this card over and over again, instead of becoming clearer, my thoughts became more and more confused.The rain outside the window poured down like a sea, and the sky became darker unconsciously—and I, perhaps because I have been slowly sinking into the darkness, did not feel any discomfort—— It wasn't until there was a "click" and the lights in the room came on, that I shivered as if waking up from a dream, and found my father who had just woken up from a nap standing at the passage between the bedroom and the living room. With only tea dregs left in the tea, he asked, "Why don't you turn on the light while reading?"

I said I didn't read the book, I was looking at the card.He said what is the difference?Then he took a step to flush the tea.Then I suddenly thought: this old man has retired from the Ministry of Defense for several years, his daily life is to get up early to read the newspaper, cut and paste (if there is any) the articles I published in the supplement, bind them into a book, and wait for the postman to arrive Receive registered mail (if there is one), go to the post office, deposit money orders, and the next big thing is to have lunch. After the meal, he will play a ball on a sunny day, take a nap on a rainy day, and hold a racket when it is cloudy. Should he play ball or sleep? There are no big decisions in life anymore - he has completely retreated from the battlefield of the ancients.

When my father was making his cup of tea, which could not get much color, I casually threw the card I had copied out on the table, and was so disturbed by a thought: I still can't leave here.But my father sat down very troubled, and asked, "Why does it smell like urine?" At about the same time when he was sniffing around with his nose, he accidentally caught a glimpse of the book card on the small table. He didn't look at it carefully at first glance, but something seemed wrong when he thought about it. One of the most commonly used modal particles in Shandong—with all kinds of expressions of shock, doubt, or even dissatisfaction—is: "Huh—huh?" The pronunciation of this modal particle should be like "Master?"

Just as this sound came out suddenly, the teacup in his hand fell to the ground, smashing his body to pieces, and even my mother shouted from the backyard: "What's the matter?" I picked up the book card with my lower hand, looked at it carefully, then took a deep breath, turned to me and said, "This is your handwriting!" My mother had already entered the house at this time, and while wiping the raindrops from her hair, she complained that no one with long eyes could sweep the cup when it was hit, and then went to look for a broom. "Well, why do you read these books?" My father shook the book card, as if he was about to return it to me——suddenly retracted as if regretting it, and looked at it for a while. "Gao Yang gave it to me, it's his relic." I never lied to him, so I picked out unimportant and untrue parts to tell him.My father nodded and said, "It has nothing to do with your big brother?" "How many years have I not seen him?" I said, and my mind turned suddenly, and somehow I immediately thought of Honglian-if I were to trace the vines and find out the reason-it should be said that I first learned from Big Brother and Wanwan. Defu showed me that erotic poem nearly ten years ago, remembering, didn’t I not see them again for many years?Thinking of that obscenity, I naturally thought of the woman who had carnal pleasures with my fellow practitioners from time to time in the past ten years.In the middle, my father asked me something again, but I didn't hear it.He became anxious, gritted his teeth and shouted, "Say it!" "What are you talking about?" I struggled from between Honglian's plump breasts and slender white legs, feeling hot all over. "Have you ever been to this "Humanities Bookstore"?" He pointed to the four big characters I copied on the blank space of the book card. "Why am I going there?" I asked back pretending to be relaxed, and at the same time got up suddenly, looked at his trembling hand, and snatched back the book card.I thought to myself: You are so nervous, it's strange if I don't go to the humanities bookstore! At this time, my father seemed to have seen my intentions. He raised his hand to adjust his glasses, wiped his face, and scratched the back of his head. After a long time, he said to me in a low voice: "Don't provoke these people. If you don't make it right, any kind of stinky thing will be with you forever!" His words, Honglian's words, and Sun Xiaoliu's words are all in different terms, but the meanings are clearly the same.It seems that the old guy who wrote these books is really the kind of ghost that can't go away and can't be driven away.However, the more terrifying it is, the more it arouses my infinite interest.It's just that I'm already in my thirties at this moment, and I've been able to deal with it skillfully, and even manipulate my own father.So I spread my palms to the chair like a mature man his age: "Sit, Dad." He—can be described as "obediently" sinking his butt into the cushion, and said with emotion: "You—oh! Don't let us worry about it anymore." When my mother heard this, she didn't want to stop even for a second, and immediately continued: "It's like farting for you to talk to him, the old man is still a lonely ghost - Xiao Wu, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" What year and month do you want to wait? Don't worry about it? Damn him!" When I encounter this kind of blame, my usual reaction is to rush back to the room with "stacks of books, and decide whether to lock the door according to the seriousness of the situation, or simply run out of the house and find some quiet place to read it." A few hours. However, on this day, before I could react, my father turned around and said to my mother with a fierce attitude that I had never seen before: "Shut your crap! " My mother has lived for more than seventy years, so it is said that she has never responded to this battle.Her black and white eyeballs became rounder and rounder, until they were almost as round as the three silver balls Master Peng used to play with.I guess she wasn't angry, but mainly surprised - Man said that she couldn't believe that one day my father would talk like this, and the object was her.Even I was taken aback—my mother just stared at him like that, and it took about ten seconds before she seemed to come back to her senses. The broom and dustpan in her hands fell off the ground, and people were already heading towards the back of the house. walk in the small yard. What was my father thinking at that time?I don't know, but he seems to have forgotten in the next moment that there was an unprecedented serious quarrel between him and my mother, but he stretched out his right index finger, nodded at me from the air, and said: " Let me tell you: No matter whether these books are high or low, or whether they are relics or national treasures; in short, you are not allowed to read any more! Put them all down. I will also open my mouth and tell you: I will burn them all. Yes." As he spoke, he flipped his hand, palm facing up, and the meaning couldn't be more clear: hand it over. Of course I refused, but I pretended to nod, raised three book bags, put all the books in them at once—and conveniently stuffed a large pile of manuscripts written by Gao Yang himself at the bottom—asked Said: "Do you burn it or I burn it? Do you burn it with the bun? Or do you burn it without the bun?" Maybe my father didn't expect me to agree so readily, but hesitated instead. He "huh" for a long time before saying: "It's okay, anyway, it's burned." "I have to know why?" I secretly glanced at the distance between myself and the door, thinking distractedly: I should move to the other side of the long coffee table before jumping across and unlocking the door. "I can tell you." My father replied in a low voice. This was a reply that surprised me. For a moment, I even forgot my plan to escape.However, he only paused for a second, and then continued: "But you have to tell me first, how did you get into this kind of person and job?" It was a subconscious movement that came to light—and then came out a sentence that seemed to be held back for a long time, and finally couldn't hold it back: "Don't think that I don't know about the ghosts and snakes that you provoked the security headquarters!" I did think about it for a long time before I got a vague impression! ——Could he be talking about breaking into my dormitory ten years ago to rummage through boxes and cabinets, and then being beaten by Sun Xiaoliu as the four pigs and eight quits? "That's right!" My father sighed, and said, "I was taught that a hooligan who didn't know the origin was beaten up - two were injured, and one was disabled; you think the matter is over and forget it." ? Do you think this is the little Taibao in the village getting angry, and he passed by with his head holding hands? Do you think that the whole world is full of a group of children like you who are making jokes at Ba Yazi's house? Do you think that after reading two books, Write a few articles and become a fucking hero? Do you think that you are wandering around outside and have nothing to do with your family? Li also let me go, did you let your mother go?" He has never spoken to me (or anyone) in such a tone, and I feel very unaccustomed to it. This feeling of being unaccustomed is more useless than being scolded; to be frank: it was at this moment that I suddenly did not know The haggard but resolute old man sank into the chair.I don't know how many years I haven't been reprimanded or reprimanded by him, and I simply forgot that he still has the ability to reprimand and reprimand—and his status.This is probably the first time in many years that I have re-experienced the fear of my father.So I stammered and admitted the big brother injured to the hospital, Wan Defu and the big brother asked me the Tibetan word riddle of "Bodhisattva Man", the four pigs came to the dormitory, and the few clips of Sun Xiaoliu's helping fist ; only did not mention red lotus, I think that can be irrelevant - at least on the puzzle board that I have not figured out, red lotus is just a piece that I have never wanted to have further in the past ten years, or take a step back and give up sexual partner.Our relationship, where we take off our clothes when we meet and say goodbye after finishing our work, is a relationship that my father would not be able to understand or understand even if he lived another thousand years;So I omitted this part, thinking that to my father, this part should be like the infinite mysteries of the universe to ordinary people, and it is definitely a question mark that can be passed by. But I was wrong.After listening to my father, he slowly opened his eyelids. A pair of eyes that were slightly out of orbit due to long-term diabetes and seemed to be unable to focus on staring quickly blinked a few times behind the thousand-degree myopia lenses. Shen Chen asked: "Then what happened to Ouyang Kunlun's daughter?"