Go to chaos

When I first saw Wang Meng, he seemed to lose weight again, which made his body, which was like a bamboo pole, become more slender.

When I first saw Wang Meng, he seemed to lose weight again, which made his body, which was like a bamboo pole, become more slender. Classified as a rightist, he turned over the pancake several times: crossed it, overturned it; overturned it, crossed it again. After several rounds of repetition, mental torture can be imagined. During the Anti-Rightist Movement, the only time I met him was at a meeting to criticize Liu Shaotang. At that time, he was still playing the role of a positive figure. However, the good times did not last long, and bad luck soon befell him. How's it going, brother? I didn't expect to meet him in this ravine. Just like you. He said, "How else could we come here for a party?" "Do you still write?" "I don't do that anymore.". After delimiting right, I hit a report to ask to seek a living on one's own, sell ice-sugar gourds on the street for instance of what, but the family does not approve! I thought he was telling a joke and laughed. He didn't laugh. Occupational disease is very difficult to cure, and I still have the impulse to create. I say Forget it! Don't flatter yourself. I don't have the heart! I just want to be a good earth repairman! To be honest,14 tube fitting, I didn't think Wang Meng's answer was sincere at that time, but I understood it. After the anti-Rightist struggle, many people were instinctively covered with a strange protective color. Just as the cunning hair is almost as yellow as the withered grass, the cicada's skin is the same color as the brown bark. I was no exception. When I handed in the year-end summary of ideological reform to the newspaper, I wrote a paper full of flattery about the Great Leap Forward. The real me was wrapped in a thick coat, and the shadow, even worse than the shadow,brass tube fitting, was shown to the people who managed us. Nevertheless, I still felt that Wang Meng was more tightly wrapped than me, as if he was unsmiling, and he really came to this mountain to have a thorough understanding and become a Buddha. Only in the evening did he reveal a little of his true feelings. I once slept next to him on the floor, and when he got into the cold bed, he often took out two or two flat wine bottles and handed them to me, whispering to him: "Hello!"! Have a mouthful to drive away the cold! Sometimes I politely declined, but sometimes I unceremoniously took the bottle and muttered two mouthfuls to its mouth. It seemed that he did not care about hygiene. He wiped the mouth of the bottle twice with his hand and drank up the flat bottle of wine in one breath. Sometimes I bought a bottle of wine to keep out the cold and drown my sorrows in this way. I remember that it was the night when the first heavy snow fell in the valley. I took out a large bottle of Huzhou Erqu and filled my stomach. After the hot wine strengthened my stomach, I said: "Mr. Lu Xun has a few poems, do you remember?" "The wet (poem) has become dry, and perhaps it can be remembered." I recited: ".." The old hat covers the face through the busy city, and the broken boat carries the wine in the middle of the stream. He did not pick up my words, he said: "I also need to tell you a few words, hydraulic fitting supplier ,stainless steel tube fitting, brother: the woods are big, there are all kinds of birds!" " At the end of the riddle, he turned his head and went to sleep. This is a spiritual portrait of Wang Meng on the right. He seemed to know everything, and he seemed to know nothing; he seemed to be sleeping with his eyes closed, but he was looking around with his eyes open, and he was not so much showing inhuman coldness as being quite alert to the cold world. The implication of his words seemed to warn me to recognize the objective environment. Perhaps he had discovered some tragic omen lurking in me at that time! Forty years later, Wang Meng told me that one New Year's Day after the publication of Towards Chaos, his son Wang Shan asked him: "Dad, were you like what was written in Chaos?" Wang Meng's family was having the New Year's Eve dinner at that time. While drinking, he answered his son: "Yes, just like what Weixi wrote." What else did the son want to ask him? Seeing his tears, he dared not ask any more. There are not only dozens of Rightists here, but also cadres of various systems of the Municipal Party Committee who come to work in turn. Countless eyes are looking at us. One day is twenty years! "Not to surpass the hearts of Britain and the United States!" Such eye-catching slogans are posted on the rocks. From time to time, loudspeakers sing very beautiful and absolutely romantic songs: Light the lamp without oil. No cattle are needed for ploughing Walk carelessly The apple hits the swollen head Under the sweeping tide of the Great Leap Forward, this remote valley is often like a busy city. The sound of drilling, the sound of oil hammers breaking rocks, and the rumbling sound of explosions are heard every day. The stone for building the house was taken from the mountain, the lime for pointing the seam was burned by himself, and the basket for carrying the stone up the mountain was woven by himself. In addition to the construction of the official halls in the mountains, the Rightists and the cadres who took turns to work also undertook the task of planting fruit trees on the surrounding terraces. It is common to burn the midnight oil. At first, I was assigned to the infrastructure construction team, and the work I did at night was to pick up river pebbles from the bottom of the ditch with Liang Xianghan (a member of the Beijing Discipline Inspection Commission of the Communist Party of China in the 1980s), carry them up the hillside with baskets, and pile them up in the area where the house was built, so as to fill the ditch with these pebbles after dawn the next day. There is no need to describe the hardship of this kind of labor. Because the empty-handed climbing has to be breathless, carrying hundreds of pounds of a basket of pebbles, a trip to the stone covered with sweat, it is no exaggeration. In the middle of the night, he wore sweaty clothes and trousers, got into the cold bed, and closed his eyes until dawn. Except for cadres sent down to lower levels and female Rightists, all of them live in cotton tents. The bed was half a foot above the ground, and the bed was cold and damp. Every morning when I woke up, the top of the tent was covered with a thin layer of white frost, which was the condensation of the breath of the old Rightists. There was no fire, no moisture-proof equipment, and the ice pick hanging on the tent was half a foot long for 39 days in the middle of winter, as if we were lying in an ice nest. So when we sleep, we almost always wear hats. What's more, they wear towels around their necks and masks around their noses. Intellectuals in China really have the tenacity of an old ox tendon. Zhang Yongjing (later director of the Beijing Broadcasting Bureau), who came here to discover that he was a literary genius, actually compiled a song called "Song of Yidan Shigou". The first paragraph of the lyrics reads as follows: There are many stones in a stone ditch. The hillside is full of rocks and ditches. The Rapids beat the rocks and the spring water is good. Battle Song of the Stone Path into the Cloud Someone immediately set it to music, so the song was often sung before the Rightists held meetings or when they got together with the cadres who had been sent down to lower levels. You sing,stainless steel hydraulic fitting, he sings, I sing.. Later, it became a popular song of the old right. chinaroke.com

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