Chapter 16 Section Two

I waited for three days under the eaves of the train station square, and the blood head finally appeared. In fact, before talking to Bloodhead, I already found him suspicious.He would appear in front of me several times a day, coming and going, pretending to look at me casually, and whenever our eyes met, he would quickly move away, pretending to be looking into the distance nonchalantly.He was dressed in ordinary clothes, jacket, black trousers, black leather shoes, and cropped. I had no way of knowing his occupation, but judging from his behavior, he was definitely a suspicious person. He didn't look for me, so I kept pretending that I didn't find him.

For two days, we seemed to be testing each other's patience, to see who was the first to fail.On the third morning, he finally couldn't take it anymore. He squatted beside me and asked me for a lighter to light a cigarette.After I lit a cigarette for him, he let out a long puff and asked me why I slept at the train station.I lied that I came here to work in a fellow villager, but the fellow villager has never been in touch. He asked me where I was from, and I said I was from Henan.Henan people are Chinese gypsies, they are hard-working and have traveled all over the country.In the small mountain village where I was born, there were several craftsmen from Henan. They became son-in-laws in the village, and I also learned Henan dialect from them.

I went on to say that I have been in the south for several days, and my money is almost exhausted. I don't know what to do in the future?Now I want to buy a ticket, but I don't have enough money.He said, "I'll introduce you to a job, do you want to do it?" I pretended to be pleasantly surprised and said, "Of course I would. Oh, brother, you are really my bread and butter." He said that he opened a factory in a county town hundreds of miles away from the railway station, and the work was very easy, "almost just sitting and collecting money." "Brother, you mean to be an accountant?" I pretended to be puzzled and asked, "I don't know how to settle accounts."

He smiled and said, "It's similar to an accountant, but you don't need to settle the accounts, you'll know when you get there." After smoking that cigarette, he got up and left.I was carrying a snakeskin bag and followed him unsteadily. I didn't know where he would take me, and I didn't know what was waiting for me ahead.I vaguely felt that he might be the legendary bloodhead. The long-distance bus drove for more than four hours. The terrain in the south is flat, which is completely different from the roads in the north. The long-distance bus driving in the southern wilderness is like a small boat driving on the vast expanse of blue water, brisk and steady.Through the car window, I looked at the scenery outside the window and felt that the south is indeed rich.The villages in the north are all low-rise houses, while the villages in the south are buildings rising from the ground; the country roads in the north are filled with ox carts and horse-drawn carts, while the cars in the south are passing by quickly; In the sky is the curling smoke, while in the south is the smoke from industrial chimneys; in the wheat fields in the north are the sweaty backs of farmers wielding sickles, and in the rice fields in the south there are combine harvesters rushing.

Four hours later, we came to a village surrounded by mountains and rivers.I later learned that this village belongs to a completely different area from the provincial capital, and it is more than 200 kilometers away from the provincial capital. The man leading me stood in front of a building, yelled something, and a man about 50 years old came out from inside. He had a short black and white mustache, and led me into this three-story building. . I am going to start a completely strange life of myself in this completely strange building. When I walked into the building, I was suddenly terrified. Three tall, majestic vicious dogs were tied to the corridor on the first floor. Each vicious dog was as big as a calf.They spit out their blood-red tongues and stared at me with round eyes. The saliva from their tongues dripped onto the ground.They were hunched forward, the straps around their necks almost snapping.There was a low, threatening growl from their mouths, and the sound echoed in the building like muffled thunder.I lived in the countryside when I was a child, and I knew a little about dogs. Those dogs that neighed for a long time were often fierce, and this kind of muffled dogs were the most powerful. Like wolves, they bit their throats with the first bite.I don't know why there are so many vicious dogs in this building. Could it be that there are secrets hidden upstairs that people don't want to know?Many days later, I heard from a blood slave that these dogs do not have enough to eat every day, in order to maintain their murderous and aggressive desires at all times.

The short black and white mustache yelled something, and the three vicious dogs backed away, making way for the aisle in the middle.Trembling through, I followed Mustache up the stairs.The doors of several rooms on the second floor were open, and in each room were seven or eight listless men. Some of them were lying on double-layer wooden canopy beds, some were sitting lazily on the ground and yawning, and some were sitting around. Playing poker in a pile.I followed the short mustache to the third floor. There were fewer people on the third floor, but everyone looked tired, as if they hadn't woken up yet.Mustache took me into a room, pointed to a wooden bed and said, "You will live here from now on." Then, he left alone.

There was another boy in the room. He was sitting on the bed and looking out the window. When he saw me walking in, he just glanced at it silently, and then looked back into the distance.There are green mountains, green water, blue sky and white clouds in the distance. However, the windows of this house are nailed with thick iron bars, just like a prison. The teenager can only wander in the distant scenery through the iron bars. The boy's eyes are very melancholy? What is this place?What do these people do?Is this the headquarters of MLM?I wanted to ask the boy, but when I saw the boy's sad expression, I stopped talking again.Probably, he doesn't know more than I do.

I made the bed and handed the boy a cigarette.The boy took it with both hands, then took a deep breath, raised his head, squinted his eyes, with an intoxicated look on his face.Smoke spewed out of his nostrils one by one, he spread his limbs happily, and his Adam's apple rolled up and down.Unexpectedly, this young man is actually a senior smoker. The boy said that he also just came here today, only a few hours earlier than me.He doesn't know what it's for here.He was brought here by two men on his way to pick up trash. There must be some dark secret hidden in this building. I tried to close the doors, only to find that these rooms had no doors at all.

Now that we are here, we don't care about so much, these secrets will be revealed slowly in the future.I looked out the window and saw a few houses near the building, and a village in the distance.At this moment, there are still vague figures and cars passing by on the village road.The sun shines on an unknown big tree outside the window, casting mottled tree shadows on the overgrown ground. Several birds are hiding among the branches and leaves, and they are competing to sing, their voices are crisp and sweet.It is different from the inspection well where the beggar gang leader I visited unannounced. There is sunlight here, and the place is densely populated. Presumably they would not kill so many people, and they have no reason to deprive us of life.

However, it's just as eerie here. I lay on the bed and took out Borges’ novels from my backpack to read. The novels written by the director of the Argentine National Library are really a challenge and test to our intelligence. You can only read it word by word like chewing an olive, and you can read the charm of it, and every time you read it, you will gain something, and each time you gain something different.Reading his book is like holding a magic box. Every time you open a layer, you will find something new; if you open it again, you will find new ones; you will never know what is the core of it, what is the treasure.Some people say that writers' books are for readers, while Borges' books are for writers.Borges was the writer's teacher.

After reading two pages, there was a sudden shout from downstairs: "Dinner is ready." Immediately, there was the sound of chaotic footsteps in the stairwell, as well as excited shouts.The boy and I also walked out of the house and went to the second floor, only to find that the corridor on the second floor was full of people, consciously lined up in two rows, leaving an aisle in the middle.They all held bowls and chopsticks in their hands, only the hands of me and the boy were empty. The innermost room on the second floor is the kitchen. There was a lot of noise, talking, and cursing in the crowd, as if a pot of sticky porridge was boiling, or as if the birdcage had just been opened. Suddenly, a majestic cough came from a room, and the crowd immediately became quiet. Everyone shut their mouths. A bald head appeared in the corridor, the scalp was shiny and black, like cast iron.The bald head is very muscular, and even his face is full of muscles.It was still spring at that time, the weather was not very hot yet, and the bald head was wearing a vest with his shoulders exposed, shorts underneath, and the hair on his calves was messy.The bald man had probably just woken up. He yawned as he walked, stretched his waist, and swung his arms upwards. The biceps on his arms were twitching like little mice.This kind of image reminds me of Zhen Guanxi and Rogue Niu II in the movie. The bald head passed through the corridor, passed through everyone's awe-inspiring eyes, and walked into the kitchen.I quietly followed behind him and saw him take out a large enamel pot from the cupboard, pick up the frying spoon, pick and choose in the rice pot, put the food he likes in the enamel pot, and serve it and left. Until he walked into his room and closed the door (the only room in this building with a door).When the rest of the people saw him entering the room, they rushed forward, scrambling to hold out the rice bowl in their hands.The chef picked up the rice spoon and filled each rice bowl with food.Some people thought it was too little and didn't want to leave, so the chef hit his rice bowl hard with a spoon, and he could only leave with his mouth pouted and his head bowed. Among these people, the oldest is 50 years old, while the youngest is only in his teens. The boy and I have no rice bowls to eat, so we can only watch others swallow with rice bowls.Finally, there was no one in the dining hall. I went in and asked the chef. The chef took out two enamel bowls from under the chopping board. There were rice residues of unknown age in the bowls, which had turned green.We rinsed the enamel bowl, scraped out the rest of the meal, put it into the enamel bowl, a few shreds of carrots, a few pickles, a few slices of cabbage, and a small spoonful of rice. I can't eat any more, the pile of green stuff like poop in my rice bowl keeps appearing in front of my eyes, what is that?Who is that left behind?Does this person have liver disease or other infectious diseases?I was terrified.And that boy has been eating deliciously. A few minutes later, a man in his 20s walked in from the door, with slippers on his feet, swaying as he walked, like a duck walking by the rice field looking for bugs.He walked into the room, without looking at us, and sat on the bed with his legs spread apart.Then, he asked us in an old Jianghu tone: "Hey, come here, where are they from?" He spoke with a strong Henan accent. I laughed and offered a cigarette in a hurry.He pinched it between two fingers, looked at the cigarette brand, and pinned it to his ear.Before coming here, in order to pretend to be from Henan, I specially bought a box of Hongqiqu cigarettes produced in Henan for 4 yuan and 50 cents, and put it in my pocket to prepare for all kinds of "immortals". I said, "I'm from Luoyang, Henan." He looked at me seriously, and said in the tone of a gangster: "There are many Henan people here who listen to me. You can follow me in the future." I asked cautiously, "What's going on here?" He looked at me mockingly: "What are you doing? Selling blood. I don't do anything after eating every day, just wait for the boss to greet me, and go outside by car every few days to sell blood for cents." He said it lightly, and I was thrilled to hear it.In this world, there really are such a group of people who eat and drink every day to nourish their energy, and then sell blood; the money they get from selling blood is used to buy food, eat and drink again, and sell blood again.It goes on and on like this, treating itself as a blood-producing machine, living and selling blood.However, can the essence and blood of the human body withstand such tossing? As I was thinking, another person walked in outside the door, a bald man. The man who was sitting on the bed with his legs stretched apart just now stood up quickly when he saw the bald head. Every wrinkle on his face squeezed out a smile, and he took the cigarette I offered him from his ear Take it down, and hold it in both hands to respect the bald head.The bald head didn't even look at it, he opened his hand, the cigarette fell on the ground, he didn't dare to pick it up, he looked at me awkwardly, the expression on his face didn't know whether it was crying or laughing. The bald head said: "Who the hell made you run around, I will screw your head off." He bowed again and again in fright, and apologized and said: "Don't dare again, never dare again." Then he fled out in panic. Seeing this scene, I felt very funny. Just now, the "big brother" who had been claiming to be the boss and asked me to hang out with him, was frightened into a mouse in front of a muscular man. A few days later, I realized that this bald head was a bloody head.And the blood head can only be regarded as a young man in the blood slave community at best, and there are people above the blood head. The Henan native who claimed to be the boss was named Du Bin.He is right, he is the boss, because there are many "gang organizations" in this blood selling community, all of which are divided by fellow villagers, such as the Jiangxi Gang, Anhui Gang, Hubei Gang, etc., and only those from Henan He alone, he is naturally the boss of the Henan Gang. That night, I lay in bed and couldn't sleep.I didn't know what was going to happen next, what danger I was in, what kind of situation I was going to be in.Outside the window, crickets rang out one after another, one after another, the sounds were connected, and occasionally there were muddy and loud calls of frogs, which hit me like waves, and I was a boat floating in the waves, being hit and engulfed, I don’t know Will it be washed up in the shallows, or hit the rocks. After an unknown amount of time, the sound of two men arguing suddenly sounded outside the door.One voice is high-pitched, the other thick; one voice is as flexible as a bamboo pole, and the other is as solid as a tree stump.They were all speaking in a dialect that I couldn't understand.Then, there was another shout of applause from outside the door, and the sound of chaotic and brisk footsteps rushed over, and many different voices shouted: "Hit it, hit it fast!" The voices were full of anxiety and gloating. Then, there was the sound of palms and faces colliding, clear and loud, the crowd applauded loudly, and some people applauded excitedly.There was another sound of a palm being hit on the face, muddy and dull, probably the victim was fighting back.More people cheered in unison.Then, the sound of panting, yelling for pain, shouting angrily, body bumping against the bed board, and cheers from the crowd came from outside the door.I wanted to get out of bed and have a look, but I didn't dare to go. I knew that the corridor outside the door must be surrounded by water. I couldn't figure out who these people were, and why these boring people enjoyed fighting and watching people fight. .And the bald head never showed up, he didn't let people run around, why didn't he stop the fight? The fighting outside the door was still going on, but the rhythm slowed down significantly. There were only the sound of panting, out of breath shouting and cursing, and the occasional sound of punches and kicks colliding with the flesh, but the sound was weak and soft. powerless.In such a short period of time, both of them were out of breath, and both sides were injured. I guess the fight outside the door should be two old people in their 50s. It is really a sin to be so angry at such an age.I climbed up curiously and walked outside the door. With the moonlight shining into the corridor, I saw two people fighting, and they were actually young people in their 20s.They are like old cows pulling a cart uphill, stretching their necks and panting, their chests heaving violently like a bellows, their faces pale, twisting each other, unable to knock each other down, and then they all let go of their hands together, Sit on the ground and recuperate. I thought of the two blood slaves I saw when I accompanied my father to the hospital. They said that selling blood had emptied their bodies, and they couldn't even lift a bucket of water.Now it seems that if this is the case, selling blood is very harmful to the body. Two 20-year-old youths, like two 50-year-old old men, fight slowly, lacking strength and "beauty". Later, I found out that the two people who fought that night were the leaders of the Anhui Gang and the Jiangxi Gang.They have seven or eight people under each other, and each wants to annex the other, but these two sick men who are physically deficient, mentally handicapped, and slow-moving will lose each other every time. If the leader's body is so weak, then one can imagine the bodies of those disciples and grandchildren.