To be honest, I was not qualified to participate in the Red Guards’ big cohort. I was a “son of a bitch”.
I do not belong to the kind of people who are listed in the “other register” at birth, such as the children of the rich. My father joined the revolution in his early years, but somehow the storm of 1957 caught him up in it and he became the fifth oldest of the “rich, rich, bad and right-wing”. However, at that time, my family asked themselves, he did not have “anti-Party and anti-socialist” ideas, my family fell into the fight, it was purely “wrong”.
So this “wronged” complex made me feel slightly more “superior” than the previous four types of children. It was this “Q” type of “superiority” that made me, at the beginning of the “unprecedented” era, not admit that I was a “son of a bitch “I even dared to tear down the big-character poster posted at the front door of my house. So, it was inevitable that you would receive a severe beating from the “authentic” Red Guards and the Red Five: who made you feel good about yourself – and no one else recognized your “superiority”.
One night at the end of October 1966, in a wooden building facing West Lake at the foot of Lushan, I was curled up alone in bed reading a book. The books I was reading were all broken books picked up from the ground – my house was “Red Guard juniors” after the frequent destructive raids, even a hot water bottle was not spared, the torn pages were spread on the floor half a foot thick, they did not bother to send the paper mill back to the furnace, I did not bother to I just pick up a tattered book from the floor every now and then and flip through it to relieve my boredom – it’s miserable to be alone at night, and I don’t expect anyone to visit me on such days.
“Duk Duk.” Suddenly, two knocks sounded on the window facing the road.
My heart suddenly tightened: my mother died early, my father was locked up in the cowshed, what kind of person would come to see me so late at night? I was a girl in her early 20s!
“Li Qirong.”
I was relieved that this was the voice of a boy in my class, whose family composition was “small business owners” and he belonged to the “educable” category. “Li Qirong, meet at the train station tomorrow morning to go to the crosstalk.”
“We are eligible to crosstalk?” I asked instinctively.
“The Red Guards and the Red Five are on parade in Beijing, we are not going to Beijing. Besides, the big cascade is the call of the chairman, no one can blame us. We can go wherever we can!”
Hangzhou station square is very different from the past, the ground is black with people sitting waiting for trains. All different accents, all different dresses, but all young people. At a glance, there are not many people from the big city, most of them are students from the countryside, with the light of excitement in their eyes. Look at this country boy in front of me, dark and short, looking at most only 12 or 13 years old, although wearing an old clothes, but the green cloth sewn into the imitation of the military schoolbag is a new, with bright red silk thread carefully embroidered with “for the people” five Maoist words.
“Where is it from?”
“Jiangxi.” He then added smugly, “The old base.”
“Tired on the road?” I couldn’t help but ask again.
“Tired of what? Chairman Mao called on us to join together in a big group, we are not afraid of any hardship! We also took a car and a train!”
“Is this your first time on a train?” I felt a little pity.
“Well, my father said, I am still the first in our village to ride the train, if not Chairman Mao his old man ……”
I felt for a moment that this little boy with big eyes and a strong native accent was particularly interesting, so I got excited and intended to draw a sketch of him.
He immediately stood up, solemnly straightened his oversized military cap, tied his tight belt, and held the little red book in his right hand, with a pious look in his eyes.
“Classmate, you just draw it like this.” He instructed me and got ready for the photo.
Since I was a child, with my parents’ work transfer to travel north and south, the train also took a few times, but this time the train was a shock to me: the luggage rack, under the seats are lying people, standing people are also face to face, feet touching feet together, but really reminded me of the Soviet novel described “like sardines in a can”, although what sardines are like so far I have not seen.
When we arrived at the Shanghai station, I was even more discouraged. Originally we planned to transfer to the north at the station, but look at the strength of the people on the train, not me as a weak girl can not reach. The most common way to get in through the door is to brace your hands on the window and then go through the narrow window like a barbed wire fence – this is mostly a solution for the boys, the girls can be like a burden, people holding their buttocks and feet into the window.
I dared not imagine that I would be in such a mess, and I dared not imagine jumping down from such a high car window – you know, I was only a barely a three-point student in sports in school.
In Shanghai, I only spent two days at my relatives’ house, and then I went home, carrying three or four pounds of glutinous rice cakes that my relatives had shoved into my hand.
The train back to Hangzhou was not so crowded, and I did not have to climb through the window, because we students going to Hangzhou were allowed to sit in the “boring tank car”, also known as the “pig car” kind, no seats, but also do not have to stand, each person has a small place to sit.
The sky is getting dark, a heavy car door closed, it is only to see the dark shadows, although not so dark that “can not see five fingers” point of view.
With the monotonous “rumble, rumble” sound of wheels turning, people began to chat with their companions. Because our group was scattered when we arrived in Shanghai, I was the only one who returned to Hangzhou this day, so I had to lie on the basket of rice cakes in my arms alone, in the corner of the carriage and think about my thoughts.
I don’t know who hummed the song first, it was the more popular “We are Chairman Mao’s Red Guards”. The song was infectious, and soon the young voices of the entire carriage were humming along with it. Like an addiction, we all sing one after another, one after another: “Chairman Mao’s light” “Beijing’s Gold Mountain” “we come from the four corners of the world” “the procession to drink a bowl of wine” …… revolutionary songs and model plays, in turn, addictive, but also very boring. Voice also from low hum to sing, and even to roar.
Interestingly, the revolutionary songs, we are not as fond of the language song as the national flavor of the song, about the composer’s hasty response to the work is always less catchy, always some like reciting scriptures to read a mantra and so on, while the local folk songs are so beautiful, with an indescribable thousand styles.
When it came to the “colorful clouds”, everyone sang more vigorously, but when it came to the line “Soma flowers a dozen”, I heard the whole carriage was just my own voice.
This song, in the end, was sung by me alone. It’s been a long time since I’ve lyrically expressed my voice, I really forgot. No wonder, for the past six months, I, the school’s “best soprano”, was not allowed to “talk and move”, which still dare to sing? Besides, people who can sing are like people who can play ball and have itchy feet when they see the ball, and their throats will itch when they hear the tune.
After the singing, the silence was over. All at once, a burst of applause.
“One more!” “One more!” It was a warm invitation from the young people.
In the dimness, I felt my face burn. The excitement was no less than the feeling one gets when taking a curtain call on stage.
“So crazy? If you sing again, what if people recognize you?” A voice warned in my mind. “It’s okay, we all come from the ‘four corners of the world’ anyway, who knows who? Besides, it’s dark around, no one can see me.” Another voice retorted in my mind.
The vanity of being in the limelight finally overcame the cautious motto of the world, and I poured out everything I could (not foreign songs or love songs, of course) without a second thought.
The car stopped. “What, it’s here? That was fast!”
“Temporary stop. Red Guard juniors, you can come out and take a piss!”
Regardless of men and women, everyone jumped out of the car to find their own convenience. Fortunately, there is no star and moon in the sky, and people have “three emergencies”, in addition to birth, eating, shitting and urinating is also considered “an emergency”, so we do not care what embarrassment, a group of men, a group of women to vent the pain to go.
When the car door, suddenly, there are two torch light to us a few girls shine: “Hey, which one of you is the singing nightingale?”
After all, my vanity has not yet swelled to the extent of the promise, besides, this is also a few junior high school hairy boys, silly, no meaning to befriend, I also shrink a neck on the carriage has been lit dim electric lights.
“Hey, isn’t this Commissar Su?” A young man holding a torch finally found an acquaintance.
I certainly don’t think there’s a “political commissar” with a mustache in his forties or fifties getting into our carriage.
“Hey, how do you recognize me? What school are you from?” This is a girl’s shrill voice, why, but also familiar?
“Who does not know Su Revolutionary Su Political Commissar of the Red One Division? I’m not from your Hang Four Middle School, but I’m also from the Red One Division.”
My scalp was about to explode: Oh my God, the mountain never turns, how did I meet this famous “Su Revolutionary” here! I just sang so loudly that she recognized how to do?
She was not called “Su Revolution”, but had a rather girly name “Su Xiaoli”. When she was in elementary school, she was also quite girly and liked to watch Soviet ballet and collect pictures of beautiful women. She was one grade younger than me and was a military child transferred from Beijing. When she knew that I was good at drawing princesses, fairies and other beautiful women, she asked me to draw a set of “Cinderella” characters for her, and she had to color them.
I haven’t seen her since I graduated from elementary school, but I heard a lot about her in the summer of 1966. It was not “hearsay”, because my classroom wall had posted a “Red One Division” tabloid or the like, on which the “Political Commissar Su” statement was reproduced. In the speech, she denounced her name with the heavy air of “feudalism”, so she wanted to break with this name, she was determined to revolutionize to the end, from now on called “Su revolution”.
“Hehehe, wouldn’t it be better to call it ‘Su Revolt’?” At that time, some people in our class made fun of it privately. Of course, we were not the ones who made fun of her, but we dared not!
Later on, news about her came to me one after another, shaving the teacher’s yin and yang head, beating the “son of a bitch”. …… Anyway, I heard all kinds of actions about her, I can’t match the girl with beautiful features, asking me for a beautiful painting, but I believe that superstitious fanaticism will change people’s temperament.
“Commissar Su, where are you from?” Lengtang Boy asked.
“Beijing, how about you guys?”
“Beijing, too. Originally, we were going to join the Beijing link-up, but they wouldn’t take us.”
“Why?”
“Because, because they said our dads weren’t high enough in rank to be part of the central high command. In fact, my father is the director, grade 12!”
“Hum, really underestimate people, then you come back and do a good job!”
“Really, we raided homes, beat the son of a bitch, which did not do a good job? One of our school teacher’s nannies was found to be the wife of a reactionary officer, and we gave her soapy water to drink. Hahahaha!”
“Did you really do that?”
“No, ‘I’m a reactionary son of a bitch’! For counter-revolutionaries and sons of bitches, we have to take real action, no mercy!”
I just felt a chill down my back, and the springtime complacency I had just felt had long since been thrown into “Java”. How could I meet these fierce gods? And this “Soviet Revolution” comrade. I really regret what just out of the limelight, in case they recognize me, see the “son of a bitch” mixed in the “big tandem” of the team, will not be sharp to push me off the train is strange! I couldn’t help but shrink back into the corner, using the “Li Tie Mei” style scarf to wrap my face so that only two eyes were left, although the 15-watt bulb waving brought only a chaotic yellow light to the carriage.
“Rumble, rumble, rumble”, the sound of the wheels is still monotonous, this monotony now gives me a feeling that the wheels are turning out to be surprisingly slow, as if they will never turn the head.
The mind is also a blank, and do not know what they are thinking, and do not care to listen carefully to the lights “red grandfather” “red grandmother” Kan some what, occasionally, only one or two words floating to my ears.
“I have long seen that school is a breeding ground for the seedlings of revisionism, so my academic results are all two points.” The floundering boy said.
“I can all be five points!” It was Su Xiaoli’s rather self-satisfied voice.
I really don’t know how long it took, “boom”, the train stopped. Good! Now we’re really there! I was relieved and glad that Su Xiaoli didn’t recognize me along the way. I hurriedly grabbed the basket of rice cakes and squeezed towards the carriage door with the light on my back. Luckily, they were packing up their things and didn’t see me.
I rushed out of the station door and headed for the seventh bus station. Luckily, they were pulled far away from me and didn’t have a chance to touch me.
“Li Qirong!” A fierce shout.
It was Su Xiaoli’s voice! But my footsteps did not stop, and did not answer, pretending to be deaf and dumb!
“Li Qirong!” Even louder than the previous time, with another burst of footsteps, I could no longer pretend, but had to stop and wait to be sent down.
But there was a smiling face.
“Look how fast you’re going, I almost couldn’t catch up!”
My heart can be muttered: Su Xiaoli smiling at me, what does it mean?
“Li Qirong, look at your basket is quite heavy, let’s carry it to the station together!”
“No, no,” I said, “I can carry it, I can carry it.”
“Don’t be a hero, don’t you take the number seven bus? Let’s go together!”
“No, no. I’ll take the tram, I’ll go alone.” –I bet she didn’t know my father was a rightist, that’s why she was so enthusiastic about me. I’d better hide, because if I reveal myself, I’ll be in trouble!
I ran like hell to the tram stop, which is really “the opposite”.
I left her standing dazed and confused.
In the early 1980s, I ran into Su Xiaoli again in the reference room of Zhejiang Academy of Fine Arts, and by then she was the wife of an associate professor at the Central Academy of Fine Arts, accompanying her husband to look for materials.
When we met, of course, we had a lot of emotions – the years of more than ten years had carved marks on each other’s faces. Later, she also said that she had kept the beautiful women I had drawn in elementary school for a long time, until the Cultural Revolution ……
The actual fact is that you can find a lot of people who have been in the business for a long time, but you can’t be sure that you’re going to be able to get a good deal on this.
“Yes, I always knew.”
I was silent. It seems that, at that unprecedented time, class love has not completely replaced human love.
(From Liu Tao, edited by The Great Conspiracy, published by Knowledge Press in 1993)
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