Chapter 4 Section 3 Reality can't bear the dream

After getting along with these mysterious people day and night for a long time, I felt the strange atmosphere of the village in the city.If it wasn't for a chance, if it wasn't for my professional relationship, I wouldn't know the secrets hidden here.Residents of many urban villages have lived in these villages for several years, and would never have imagined that just a short distance away is a bustling counterfeit cigarette factory. One day in the spring of that year, I bought two boxes of yellow and red plums in a small shop at the entrance of the village, and went to the painter's room, one package for each person.The painter was not yet famous at that time, he was poor, but he was addicted to cigarettes. When there was no cigarette, he often came to my room with a smile on his face to smoke and eat.Later, when he became famous, he stopped smoking and eating, but started drinking again. He is like a dog's skin plaster, sticking to you, and you can't take it off even if you want to.

The painter opened the cigarette, lit it, took two puffs, and said, "This cigarette is fake." I said: "If you think mine is a fake cigarette, you should stop smoking it, and you will still make sarcastic remarks when you smoke for nothing." The painter said solemnly: "It's really a fake cigarette." He took out another cigarette and said, "Look at this shredded tobacco, it's not yellow at all, and the thickness is uneven." I lit it and took a sip, and was coughed by the smoke, almost tears came out.This is not the smell of cigarettes, it is simply the smell of the kang holes in the northern winter.

At that time, I didn't know that this urban village had become a den of counterfeit cigarettes. I thought it was my bad luck that I bought two boxes of counterfeit cigarettes.Since you bought it, smoke it, anyway, it's better than no cigarettes. Two days later, the cigarettes ran out, and the painter also went to buy a box of yellow and red plums, which he bought in another store.This time, when I smoked, it was still a fake cigarette.Why is our luck so bad?This time I couldn't let go of it with them, so the painter called me and went to the shop selling fake cigarettes together.

The painter, tall and thin like a bamboo pole, deliberately showed a vicious expression on his face, and deliberately bit his cheeks into angular shapes. Like a drake inspecting a flock.I put a wooden stick in the waistband of my trousers to embolden myself. We walked towards the small shop at the entrance of the village, and felt the air was filled with the atmosphere of death. The wind was blowing hard, making our old clothes flutter.Our eyes on passers-by are also very hard, like rusty knives, sawing him to death one by one.We walked towards the small shop step by step like deadly martial arts masters.The difference is that people hold knives and swords in their hands, but we hold a pack of fake cigarettes in our hands.

The painter has the height of a legendary martial arts master, but does not have the spirit of a martial arts master.He strenuously walked into the small shop at the entrance of the village, followed by me who was equally strenuous, and we were all ready for a big fight today, killing him without leaving a single piece of armor, and killing him with blood flowing into rivers.Let everyone see how the two heroes of the village in the city were born in a pool of blood, and see who will dare to sell us fake cigarettes in the future? The painter just walked with his head held high, but he stumbled on the steps and almost fell to the ground.I went up to support the painter, but the painter pushed me away. He turned his head like the revolutionary hero Hong Changqing or Jiang Jie in the movie, and the long hair scattered on his forehead was thrown behind his head. His face was solemn, Almost a layer of iron filings can be scraped out.

The painter stood in front of the counter, holding his breath, and finally shouted: "Boss, I want to talk to you about something." The boss is sitting on a chair behind the counter, watching TV with great interest, with a smile on his face.He was fat, and the flesh on his face was so thick that his eyes were squeezed into a slit.His belly is so protruding that if he stands up, he can never see his toes.He glanced at the painter casually, then continued to watch his TV, and said, "What's the matter? Tell me." The painter held back for a long time, and finally said the second sentence with a blushing face: "It's very important, can you stop watching TV for now."

The boss still said the same thing: "You said, what's the matter?" He didn't even turn his head.The painter was full of anger and didn't know how to vent it; the boss downplayed it, and he only had the TV in his eyes. The painter said: "Why did you sell me a pack of fake cigarettes?" His voice was thin and sharp because of fear. The boss heard it. He stood up with the arm of the chair, and the chair creaked painfully.The boss walked up to the painter and asked, "Who sold it to you?" The painter poked his neck and said, "A woman, it must be someone like you." He probably felt that his words were as soft as noodles, and he should be tougher, so he added, "What's the matter?"

I thought, the big battle must be on the verge of breaking out, I secretly reached out to the wooden stick in my trouser waist, if he dared to attack the painter, I would hit his huge head with a stick, and then drag the painter away from the scene. I felt the air of that moment so tense that a match could light it. The boss was touching something from the counter. I thought it must be a knife. I stared at him nervously, in case he jumped the wall in a hurry and attacked suddenly.The painter also stared at him nervously, took a step back, his face was pale, and he was ready to run away. The boss's hand stretched out from behind the counter, holding a pack of cigarettes in his hand. He threw it to the painter and said, "In the future, if you explain clearly that you live in the village, you won't be able to buy fake cigarettes."

The painter installed the cigarette and let out a sigh of relief.We wiped the sweat from our brows and left sadly. It turns out that there are unspoken rules for buying cigarettes. Since then we have never bought fake cigarettes again. The owners of these cigarette stalls are very clever. They look stupid on the outside, but their brains are rounder than a potter's wheel, and their minds are faster than a fox.They have amazing memories and keen eyesight, and they can determine the identity and place of residence of the cigarette buyer in a few words.People in villages in the city buy cigarettes here, and government officials buy cigarettes here, and they buy real cigarettes under the glass plate; while passers-by buy cigarettes and migrant workers buy cigarettes, they buy absolutely fake cigarettes.The counterfeit cigarettes were hidden behind the counter instead of under the glass.

So, where do these fake cigarettes come from?What raw materials are used to make it?Is it also like a regular tobacco factory, using machines worth tens of millions of dollars?Where is such a large machine installed?It must be in the basement, right?Otherwise, how can such a loud roar be covered up? One night, I chatted with the painter Hai until midnight, and when I was hungry, the painter proposed to go downstairs to eat hot and sour noodles.There is a Chongqing hot and sour noodle shop in the alley, a small shop, two greasy tables, and a very beautiful Chongqing beauty.We often go to this hot and sour noodle shop. A bowl of noodle costs three yuan, which makes us sweat profusely and feel comfortable all over.That Chongqing girl also has a boyfriend, who is short and thin, with a sharp mouth and monkey cheeks, who occasionally helps out at the hot and sour noodle shop.Every time we see this man, we two bachelors will have a series of emotions like flowers and cow dung.

We don't understand why such a beautiful woman from Chongqing found such a wretched man?What is the charm of this man? That night, we were walking on the main road of the village in the city, and we were suddenly speechless in shock.I haven't gone out in the middle of the night for a long time, but this time I suddenly found that the midnight in the urban village "changed the world".High-end cars are lined up in the village in the city. German cars such as Mercedes-Benz, BMW, and Audi are dizzying;All kinds of cars crowded together, but everyone seemed to have discussed it in advance, and no driver honked his horn to urge him.The car is moving slowly, like a slowly flowing river... What happened tonight? We came to the hot and sour noodle shop in Chongqing, and the girl was about to close the shop.We sat at the table, and the girl cut leeks and cooked vermicelli quickly with both hands and feet. After a while, two steaming bowls of hot and sour noodles were served. There was a layer of red chili oil floating on the bowls, and there was a sour smell in the small restaurant. Sweet and sour aroma. We ate soup and water, mouth full of saliva, the girl stood aside with her arms crossed, looking at us with a smile.Her lips are red and her teeth are white, her face is like a peach blossom, her skin is taut and elastic like a taut drumhead.She is tall, 1.7 meters tall, wearing cropped trousers, and her calves under the trousers are round and strong. I asked, "What holiday is it today? Why are there so many high-end cars in the village?" The girl said, "It's like this every night." I asked, "What are these high-end cars doing in the village?" The girl said, "I don't know either, anyway, it's like this every day from midnight to dawn." This is really strange, we only know to hide in the room at night, reading and chatting, not knowing that the village has undergone such earth-shaking changes when spring comes. After eating hot and sour noodles, we bought a few more bottles of beer and walked on the way home.We opened our clothes like poets, swayed, let the wind blow our long hair, gesticulated, triumphant, and felt that we were Bei Dao or Haizi.We stared at all directions and looked at all directions, a feeling that even a mayor would not change. However, when we walk through every store that is open, we will be questioned and explored.Sometimes, people in the shop were talking, and when they saw us, they swallowed the remaining half of the sentence and looked at us vigilantly, like a dog crouching at the door, ready to attack at any time.Sometimes, the car on the side of the road was hurriedly closed, and the driver stood beside the car and looked at us with hostile eyes, as if worried that we would steal the car under their noses. I don't know why they are like this, my vision is like a fixation spell, wherever my eyes see, people there will be frozen.I don't know what they were doing or what they were doing just now, but they were extremely defensive towards me and the painter, and they didn't want us to know what they were doing and what they were doing just now. When we got home that night, we finished our beers and were almost drunk.We lay on the floor of my room, smoking a four-yuan pack of yellow and red plums, and started discussing art again.The painter talks about Gauguin and Van Gogh, two of his favorite painters. I talked about literature, about John Christopher, which is one of my favorite novels to read. Books let me, a country boy, spend my lonely and loveless college time.In this way, we chatted excitedly, smoked, and the room was full of smoke, and we didn't care about it at all.Suddenly, the painter said that he remembered a poem called, and he could only remember the first two lines: I walked through Jiangnan The face waiting in the seasons is like the blooming and falling of a lotus I have not heard this poem, nor do I know the author of this poem.I have a collection of modern poetry, and when I opened it, I actually saw this poem: I walked through Jiangnan The face waiting in the seasons is like the blooming and falling of a lotus If the east wind does not come, the catkins in March will not fly Your heart is like a small lonely city Just as if the bluestone streets are in the evening, the sound of the crocodile does not make a sound, The curtain of spring in March will not be lifted Your heart is a small casement closed tightly My Dada's horseshoe is a beautiful mistake I am not a person is a passerby The book explains that this is a boudoir poem written by Zheng Chouyu, a Taiwanese poet. It's been a long time, we have erased the imprint on poetry, and in this materialistic era, poetry has died. Our hearts have become hard, and the soft light of poetry cannot penetrate our souls. When poets disappear, change careers, or die, they also take away our tender memories of poetry.Now, who is still reading poetry?Who is still writing poetry?Poetry has disappeared, poets have disappeared, what else can bring us shock and enlightenment?Can it bring us happiness and longing? Is it money? The painter said that he has always liked this poem by Zheng Chouyu very much, and he wanted to draw an oil painting with reference to the artistic conception of this poem. Later, the oil painting was completed, and the painter also had his first considerable income.The painter stepped on the first step leading to the palace of art. Sometimes, when the weather is fine, the artist and I will ride bicycles to the edge of the city.The edge of the city is the boundless sea, and the sea is an endless grassland, which is full of flowers, colorful and trembling in the wind.The painter threw himself on the grass, whimpering and crying, like a wronged homeless dog.The painter's life is also very heavy. The sea washes the sand, and the sun shines on the grass.The painter set up a drawing board and painted the landscape of the sea and the sky; I was lying on the grass, reading the newly bought literature books.I don't know how many people in the city at that time, like us, were moving forward tragically on the unpredictable and rugged ideal road. The artist's oil painting, which takes Zheng Chouyu's poems as the artistic conception, is in the background of the grass by the sea. On the grass, sitting sideways is a beautiful young girl with long hair like the wind and a skirt like the clouds... Looking back now, I think we had a very fulfilling life at that time, we were very poor, and we often only had tinkling steel coins in our pockets, and we had to think twice before we spent every penny. However, we really do not feel that we are suffering, that we are not poor, but that we are rich, because art, literature, and painting make us feel that we are outstanding, and that we will always have a moment of soaring to the sky.Often, when we walk in a narrow, cramped, garbage-strewn urban village, our hearts are filled with holiness and nobility, and we are also filled with the belief that we must win. It feels like Chairman Mao went to Anyuan... Many years later, famous painters also often visit the village in the city.As soon as he entered the village in the city, he bent his back that stood tall in front of those tycoons and bosses. He walked up and down the village in the city with his hands behind his back and his steps were slow, his eyes full of old-fashioned expressions. He said: "This is my feng shui treasure." This is also my feng shui treasure land. Because there is a hidden den of fake cigarettes here, and I started writing about this den of fake cigarettes in this well-known newspaper group in the country.