I. Gold bars and books
Back then, the dormitory compound where my family lived had to be folded to build a building, so we moved to a small courtyard in a deep hutong. Just two months after we moved there, the “Cultural Revolution” began. The Red Scare swept through the capital, and all I heard was either “breaking the Four Olds” or “raiding the family”.
One day when I was returning home, it was already dark and the shadows of the trees in the hutongs were swaying in the light, so when I reached the door, I suddenly found two people standing under the shadows of the trees on both sides of the gate, which startled me. I didn’t know them, but at the look of the attire, I knew they were street rebels, I didn’t understand what they were doing standing here at this time, and I wondered, they also stared at me in the dark shadows without saying a word. I pushed the door and went in.
In the middle of the night, the door was slammed and a group of strangers broke in, swinging their “armed belts”, and without saying a word, they began to turn and smash the door. At that time, my father and mother had been locked up in the unit’s “cowshed” and could not go home, and only my grandmother was at home with us children.
We were told to stand aside and confess our guilt. We heard the belt whirring and the sound of breaking in our ears. When they broke in, I recognized two of them as the two who had been standing at the front door of our house in the evening.
They kept smashing around the house, and after a while, a few of them lay on the wall or on the floor while knocking and listening. Afterwards, I realized that they were looking for a wall or cellar. But at that time, I was very strange, I did not know what they were doing. Several houses were tossed around like this, and finally someone suddenly asked.
“Tell me! Where did you hide all the gold bars in your house?”
I was dumbfounded by this statement, which was unheard of.
From the time I entered middle school to join the league, I knew that the “problems” in my family were “ideological and political” because my father was a “rightist. rightist”. For this reason, the league organization had talked to me many times, and I had “realized” many times, all around this aspect.
But now, they suddenly mentioned something about “gold bars” to me and asked if my family had any gold bars.
This sounded so ridiculous that I couldn’t help but blurt out.
“My parents live on their salaries, where do I get gold bars?”
One of the Red Guardsmen swung his belt and shouted.
“Don’t give up honestly! How dare you resist! If it weren’t for the ‘Sixteen Articles’ that were just promulgated and Chairman Mao telling us not to beat people up, I would! I really want to beat people up! Tell me! Where did you hide the gold bars?”
“Tell me! Where is the secret cellar of your house?”
The belt whistled on the chair with a whistling wind, and the paint came off the back of the chair.
Years later I learned to fear.
Amitabha! What a great and wise Chairman Mao!
Amitabha Buddha! What an obedient little Red Guard general! This is really the Red Guards who listen to Chairman Mao the most!
While the commotion was going on, suddenly we heard someone shouting excitedly from the courtyard.
“Come on! The cellar is here!”
They rushed out in a swarm.
There was a room in a hidden corner of the courtyard, with the door tightly locked by a large iron lock, and they decided that the gold bars were hidden here, and ordered me to open the door. I told them that this courtyard is the unit dormitory, this is the public house, inside the pile is the public some miscellaneous things, I do not have the key. They didn’t believe me and drank.
“Now you are still not honest! Your family’s gold bars must be hidden here, open it quickly! If you resist to the end, you will die!”
They shouted and tried to break down the door and pick the lock. At that moment a neighbor came out and proved that I was telling the truth, that the house was public, that there were some construction materials piled up inside, all public stuff, and that the key was in the unit.
They did not listen at all and asked where he was from and what was the relationship with my house. The neighbor said he also lived in this house and was in the same unit as my father. Still no, asked him what his origin was, so the person said squarely.
“I come from a poor peasant, a veteran of the revolution, and now I am the head of the unit’s security section.”
So they stopped shouting and stopped trying to break down the door of that room.
They went back inside and rummaged further in the pile of broken and messy things. In a short time, a group photo was retrieved from the drawer of their father’s desk, and they recognized several of the national leaders on it. Then, amidst a chorus of astonished comments, I understood that they knew nothing about my family. They didn’t know my father’s name, nor what he did, where he worked, and they didn’t even know that our courtyard was a unit dormitory, and they thought the whole courtyard belonged to our family.
It was only then that I noticed the people who came to raid the house. In addition to six or seven street rebels, there were a dozen Red Guards wearing yellow uniforms and red armbands, most of whom had foreign accents.
Later, they turned over my mother’s diary, in which she wrote that she could not understand her father’s classification as a rightist, they said it was a reactionary diary, and handed it over to my mother’s unit, from which my mother never returned.
I couldn’t find any gold bars, nor did I see anything of value, and by this time it was dawn. Some of them went to call for a truck. The others had nothing better to do and started interrogating my grandmother. They asked her what her origins were. She said she was a landlord. One of the Red Guards swung his belt and shouted.
“You old landlord, you must be very happy now that Chiang Kai-shek is shouting that he is going to counter-attack the mainland, right? You look forward to his return all day long!”
This is again too ridiculous! I couldn’t help but say again.
“My grandmother never thought of it that way.”
The man swung his belt and said.
“Don’t you dare resist! Tie her up!”
So they tied my hands from behind with a rope.
They also yelled that my grandmother would be returned to the countryside and handed over to the dictatorship of the poor peasants. A person from the street (I later learned it was the street director) said, “I’ll go call the police station!”
A while later she came back, called the Red Guard who always swung a belt out, whispered something outside, and never mentioned the repatriation again.
The big truck came and they started to carry things out, box by box, piece by piece.
Perhaps the neighbor had called his father’s unit, and the unit soon came. When they came, the first truck had already been pulled away and was being loaded with the second truck. They came into the house and looked at it and said.
“These books cannot be taken away, many of them are public here.” The intention was to protect these books.
In fact, even if they didn’t say so, the copycats wouldn’t want the books, they had already dumped them all on the floor, and only struggled to lift away the big shelves where the books were kept and several tall glass bookcases.
The big truck pulled three times, pulling away all my family’s things, leaving only a few beds, a square table, a few chairs, which were borrowed from my father’s unit, with brass plaques nailed to them with the name of the unit. There was also a floor of debris and a large pile of books.
Years later, I learned the reason for the raid.
When we moved here, we used two big trucks to carry the books alone, one big wooden box after another, and the scene was seen and remembered by some people in the street, who recognized that there were gold bars inside! So at the beginning of the Cultural Revolution, a group of Red Guards (most of them came to Beijing to join the rebellion) came to our house and raided it for gold bars.
Interestingly, they ended up taking everything from our house, including the big bookshelves and glass bookcases, but ignored the books that they thought were gold bars. That said, there were some valuable editions and some valuable paintings and calligraphy in there. Later on, people from my father’s unit took them all away, and the state bought them at a price during the late Cultural Revolution.
Later, the return of the copied belongings began, and also set up an office, when I had already gone to the countryside. When I went home to visit my family that year, I found that office, not expecting to get anything back, but just hoping to get a proper name. The people turned over half a day, and finally said that there was no your family on the list of raids, and said that all the raids we had here are recorded, and the property taken are registered, so I was shown a large table, densely packed.
So I figured out that the street office, the lowest level of government administration; and the street committee, just a mass organization. The people who raided my house were from the street committee, and I went to the committee to ask. The people who participated in the raid said they were not responsible for it, but the Red Guards of a certain school. I went to that school to ask again, said they had gone to the countryside to join the troops. As for the Red Guards who came to Beijing in tandem, it was even more impossible to find them.
I ran to the return of property office, the final answer was: this is a mass movement, to protect the revolutionary enthusiasm of the masses, we should understand this.
So, my final understanding of this raid was: if it’s raided, it’s raided, and you can pretend it never happened.
II. Bandits and Passbooks
When I was young, I loved to listen to my grandmother’s stories, not myths and legends, but all kinds of things that my grandmother personally experienced. Grandma could remember every detail and mood at that time, and told it vividly and fascinatingly. Later, my father used to say that it was a pity that she did not write novels, for she would have written them very well.
Grandma came from a famous family, but she spent most of her life in the midst of turmoil.
Grandma left home together after she married her grandfather, when she was only a teenager. First, she accompanied Grandpa to Japan to study, then returned to China to teach, moving between some universities in Beijing, Tianjin, Shanghai and Guangzhou.
One year they had to take the boat on the road again, and it was the middle of summer, with the big sun on their heads, when my father was less than a year old and was getting sick with diarrhea.
“What should we do? What a rush! Afterwards or your grandfather thought of a method, the old clothes torn into pieces, there is so a big bag, all the way to walk all the way to change, change down do not want, throw into the water.”
Grandmother slightly with some Tongcheng accent of the vivid narrative so that I listened fascinated, did not appreciate the hardships.
At the beginning of the war, my father was in his teens. At that time, my grandfather had married another man in Beijing, and my grandmother was living with my father in his hometown in Anhui. One day after the bombing by enemy planes, I heard that the largest cave was crammed with people, and the place where my father went that day was very close to the big cave, so my grandmother ran there with her feet. Grandma said.
“I was so scared, my feet got weak! I stumbled and ran there, and from afar, there was a mass of people crying ……, poor thing!”
That day, my father was not in the cave, but he saw the enemy aircraft dropped incendiary bombs fell on the area where they rented apartments, and as soon as the alarm was lifted he ran desperately to home, also in a hurry. Because of the air raid sirens in the past, Grandma often did not go out and just hid under the big, thick square table in the house.
When she told this story, she still wore that frightened look and kept clapping her hands on her chest, saying.
“I was scared out of my mind that day!”
This story was told until they finally found each other. I waited for a while, and when she stopped talking, I asked anxiously.
“What about the house, was the house you lived in bombed?”
“Yes, that area was blown flat, there is nothing left.”
“What will you do, where will you live?”
Grandma thought for a moment and said gently.
“I don’t remember, I probably stayed with relatives, there were still a few relatives in Guilin who had fled.”
Then Grandma said.
“It was too hard to flee the refugee. You didn’t go through it, so you wouldn’t know how hard it was! Now we can finally live together in peace and security!”
But my grandmother was wrong. During the Cultural Revolution, my family was destroyed and scattered.
After the raid, my home was full of broken eyes and a mess, just like the ruins after the bombing by Japanese planes, except that the house was still there.
I remember when the raiders had just left the house, my grandmother, who had been forced to stand with her head down all night, couldn’t wait to point under the bed and ask me to climb in. Thinking my grandmother’s nerves were out of whack, I looked at her in horror and said.
“Grandma, what are you doing?” .
Grandma always loved tidiness, and her old clothes were spotless and clean on her body. Even when she was sick in bed, she had to comb her hair at all times to keep it untouched. But now, my grandmother’s hair was a bit disheveled, and the look on her face scared me.
Seeing me staring, my grandmother became more anxious, pointing her finger under the bed and lowering her voice to say.
“Quick! My pillow is under the bed, find it quickly!”
I was so scared that without saying a word, I went under the bed and pulled out my grandmother’s pillow. There was only one pillow insert left, which was made of old satin sewn in lake green. Grandma asked me to find scissors again, where to find ah, even the drawer is no longer.
“Grandma! What are you doing?”
Grandma whispered urgently, “Hurry up! Hurry up and tear this pillow apart!”
I picked up a piece of broken magnetic sheet from the floor, a scratch, tearing a large slit, Grandma reached in and felt something, then sighed with relief and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Grandma pulled her hand out of the pillow insert, holding a small blue bankbook in her hand, and handed it to me, saying.
“When the people on the street (referring to the street rebels who came to raid the house) are gone, you quickly go to the bank to take out this money, must be fast!
And he said, “There are more than 300 yuan in this fold, nowadays, this is all we have, this is our living money.”
A few days ago, a family in the next hutong was raided, and then their bank account was closed, which is what Grandma heard when the activists in the courtyard were talking about it. When I went out to get the money, my grandmother repeatedly told me to be careful not to let the “people on the street” see me, and that I should not be afraid to panic and be seen.
Grandma told us that when we were robbed on the way to escape from the war, we were lucky to have listened to a relative’s advice and sewed the money into the pillowcase beforehand, so only some money and a few pieces of jewelry were taken from the package. “When the Cultural Revolution began, my father was imprisoned and my mother was often unable to return home, so my grandmother knew that chaos was coming again and sewed her only bankbook into the pillowcase. When the house was raided, the street director came in and looked around for a while, then came straight to the grandmother’s bed and grabbed the grandmother’s pillow. She pulled out the pillow insert and touched it, and shook the pillowcase hard. Grandma said: my heart was in my throat!
The street director saw that there was nothing in the pillow and threw it on the floor, so Grandma slowly moved over and kicked the pillow insert under the bed, little by little, when no one was looking.
Grandma took us kids and relied on this money to get through the hardest part of our lives. Without this money, I really don’t know what we would have been like.
Later, when the families were going to dry school, I picked up this pillow when I was packing, and the pillow insert had a long line sewn diagonally with thread. Grandma looked at the pillow and once again said with palpitations in her heart.
“That street director is better than those bandits! Those bandits only know how to go through the bag, how can they think that the pillow can hide money, the street director must know, she entered the door and came straight to go through the pillow! Luckily, I hid the bankbook in the middle of the pillow, so she didn’t touch it. I can’t put my bankbook in the pillowcase anymore.”
At that time, I thought, “Grandma must be old and confused, how could she compare the street director who responded to the call for active revolution with a bandit?
And, “later”? I hope this time Grandma is wrong again, and I hope there will be no more “later”.
Three, small cotton jacket and Zhongshan suit
I once had a very nice little Chinese cotton jacket that wasn’t mine, and I wore it for less than a month before replacing it with another one ……, but let me start at the beginning.
“Soon after the Cultural Revolution began, my house was raided. It was summer when the raid took place, and we wore single clothes, a cool mat on the bed, and a few towel quilts, and that was all. All the thicker clothes and bedding were put away in boxes, and all the boxes were carried away. It was impossible to live in autumn, not to mention winter, so what should we do? However, this was what my grandmother was thinking about at the time, and I didn’t even think about it.
One day Grandma said she wanted to write to her aunt and some other relatives. Grandma was already in her seventies, her eyes were a little blurry and her hands were a little shaky, so I had to write a text message to check in with her relatives or to tell them they were safe. I asked what to write. Grandma said to ask them if they had any extra clothes or covers, and to ask them for some. What! Asking relatives? That’s too hard to say, I won’t write! Grandma said, “I know you don’t know how to do it, but someone has to do it, and when it gets cold, what will you guys wear? What about winter? I’ll take care of this face, I’ll ask for it.
So Grandma asked me to get a pen. My grandmother’s brush writing is very good, because she grew up with the Wei tablet. “Before the Cultural Revolution, there were still some poetry drafts written by my grandmother when she was young, and on a simple and elegant poetry paper, there were a few lines, which were well spaced, and the brush writing, which was not much larger than the pen writing, was like a scattering of flowers. If someone complimented her on her good writing, she would say, “Oh, I’m not good at this, I just know how to write a few words.
“Before the Cultural Revolution, my grandmother had to study ink to write letters, and I often volunteered to help, but I couldn’t do it for a while and got tired of it, so I encouraged her to use ink. My grandmother flatly refused with a look of disdain, lamenting that my writing was so unlike anything else, and lamenting that today’s schools don’t even teach brush writing seriously, and so on.
My grandmother never used a fountain pen before, she couldn’t use it. It seemed unbelievable to me that someone couldn’t use a fountain pen. But now my grandmother has to use a fountain pen. The brushes and inkstones were broken and taken away, and there was nothing left.
I brought my pen and notebook, and Grandma held the pen and slowly, stroke by stroke, began to write. I read a few letters, all written to relatives outside of the country, first greetings, and then is.
“The family has suffered a change, none of the clothes and belongings remain, autumn and winter is approaching, the jacket, cotton clothing is not yet available. If there are any extra clothes in the house, I hope to give one or two. I won’t talk too much about it, but I will thank you later.
Then, Grandma planned to visit her friends and relatives who lived in the city. This is not easy to do, thinking that those families are likely to suffer the same as my family, even if not raided, the situation must be very dangerous, with our current status rashly to the door for help, afraid to bring disaster to others. Finally, it was difficult to determine a few families, I accompanied my grandmother to go. All were very far away and had to change cars on the way.
One time, it was difficult to find a transfer station, just shortly after boarding, someone to see the grandmother full of white hair, let the seat, I said thank you, just to help grandmother sit down, suddenly out of nowhere a female Red Guard with a red armband, sternly said.
“Do not sit down! First, what is your origin?”
Grandma bowed her head and said honestly: “Landlord.”
“You old landlord! Before liberation, you rode on the heads of our working people and made a fool of yourself! You didn’t go out on foot, but in sedan chairs carried by us working people! Now that you are liberated, you still want to ride in a car driven by us working people. It’s not bad enough to let you get in the car, but you still want to sit in it! Do you want to ride on the heads of the working people? Listen, only be honest and don’t talk and move around! You are not allowed to sit!”
For a while everyone was frozen in place, no one dared to move. As the car rumbled on, the seat was left empty, and the Red Guards pointed at the man who had given up his seat and said.
“You sit down!”
That person hurriedly said: “I’ll just get off, just get off”, and squeezed toward the door.
After a few stops, this Red Guard went down, and I was relieved. I was really afraid that she would blow us off the bus, how could grandma walk on such a long road! From then on, when someone gave up their seat on the bus, we said we would get off immediately, and even if there were empty seats, we didn’t dare to sit down.
At that time, no one’s family is too rich, but one after another, my family still have some clothes, big and small, fat and thin, and some people gave some cotton tickets, cloth tickets, and a half new thin quilt and a blanket. One day, a parcel list came in the mail, grandma took a look at the word and said, is your great aunt sent clothes. When I took it and opened it, it was a package of clothes. One of them immediately caught our eyes. That is a Chinese satin small cotton jacket, silver white background, light smoke, if any silver-red sprinkled flowers, flower color coincidentally. Delicate and beautiful plate flower bead button until the collar, the collar is not too high, not too short, elegant lines. The cotton jacket is a thin layer of silk cotton, feel in the hand warm and soft.
The grandmother was a bit frightened and looked at the jacket in her hands, and quickly pulled a corner of the towel quilt to cover it.
It was not until the door was closed at night and the curtains were drawn that my grandmother let me try it on. The jacket was the right size for me, warm and not too bulky. But my grandmother kept whispering distractedly, “How can you send such a piece of clothing? There were some satin clothes at Grandma Xu’s house, but the Red Guards had taken them and cut them up. How can you wear it?”
I heard from my grandmother that my great aunt wore very modern clothes, and that she always asked people to buy her clothes from Shanghai or Hong Kong. This time, my grandmother had already told her in her letter not to send those modern clothes, just send something very ordinary, but she still sent this cotton jacket, which seemed to be the most ordinary clothes she had. The other sweaters and knitted garments were half new and not old, and the styles and colors were not available here, so it didn’t matter if she wore them. But what about this cotton jacket? Wearing it on the body, the edges and corners will always show a little.
She didn’t want me to wear it, but it was the only one I could wear. Finally, she found some blue cloth and wrapped up the cuffs, collar, and hem of the little jacket tightly. At that time, my outside coverall was a men’s blue Zhongshan suit, because it was too long and too big, I folded its sleeves and hem inside and sewed it with thread, which I sewed myself, and the stitches were not much smaller than those of a quilt.
Even so, every day I go out, grandmother at home is still fearful. It was easy to magnify imaginary fears several times when one is locked up at home, plus the incident on the bus that day scared Grandma, and she was always afraid that I would be stopped by the Red Guards on the street to lift my coat. I told my grandmother it wasn’t that scary, but to no avail. In her eyes, the little cotton jacket became a symbol of bad luck and disaster.
Shortly afterwards, another half-used jacket in aqua green and teal striped fabric came in the mail, and my grandmother immediately asked me to change out of the one I was wearing and put this one on.
When the weather was warm and I was ready to put the cotton clothes away, I remembered the silver and white jacket. I heard the grandmother say that the small cotton jacket sold for 80 cents. In this way, we wore the clothes given by friends and relatives for many years. I wore it to join the army and wore it home to visit my family. One night, when the street people came to check the account, a room full of people came in, and they pointed and talked about me to my face, saying, “This child is strict with herself and can draw a clear line with her family, and look how plain she is dressed.”
I was stunned, so there were people who saw things that way.
So for the first time I secretly took a look at myself: winter and summer, a blue Zhongshan suit with half-inch-long black stitches sewn on the hem, because there was no blue thread at home, and I didn’t see anything wrong with black thread. A pair of gray pants, slightly short.
Oh, so this kind of clothes is called plain? So wearing such clothes is called being strict with yourself? So it’s only when my home is ransacked by them and I have no choice but to wear clothes given to me by others that it’s called “separating myself from my family”? That is, when I am knocked to the ground and put on one foot, that is my place in the world?
Of course, these specific thoughts came later, but at that time it was just a feeling.
Suddenly I thought again: when my grandmother did not allow me to wear that little cotton jacket, it was really right, otherwise, in case they accidentally saw, I do not know what disaster will attract. I still think my grandmother is making a big deal out of it.
The striped fabric jacket, I took out from the bottom of the box last year when I was cleaning out my clothes, and after thinking about it, I put it back, and I was going to turn it into a chair cushion.
I thought I had long forgotten about the silver and white cotton jacket, but last year, around the Spring Festival, I saw men and women wearing beautiful Tang costumes everywhere in the streets, silk, satin, dragon, flowers, all sorts of things, competing for attention. I also wanted to buy one, so I went to the stores. When I entered the door, I asked if they had any silver and white ones. I was shown one, but it was not right; I was shown another, but it was still not right; I was not satisfied with the color of the flower alone, either the color of the flower was too red, or the overall color was too dark, in short, not the kind I wanted.
So I realized that I had the shadow of the silver jacket in my head all along. I remember when I first saw the jacket, in a gray-blue clothes, only to feel that it emitted a pale light, like a bright moon. Since then, in my memory, this silver glow has been around the clothes. With such a silver moonlight shine, and which clothes can be compared to it?
In fact, I also know that it is just an ordinary and beautiful dress.
However, there are some things in life that are lost, just lost, and will never come back.
IV. History, Fiction and Reality
The first time I read “Dream of the Red Chamber”, I was still in junior high school. The things that happened between Bao, Dai and Hairpin were confusing to watch. But I had an impression that the Jia family was raided, and I felt that it was terrible and the people of the Jia family were very unfortunate.
“The more you look at it, the more you feel that the people of the House of Jia are not so unfortunate.
When the raiding officials burst into the house, they were so shocked that they ran in all directions, while shouting.
“Not good, not good, how many robbers in boots and hats broke in!”
Just this one sentence, all the fear and panic of the copied family, not personal experience, is absolutely impossible to say. Perhaps this is not the personal experience of the author of the novel, but the circumstances of the tragic family raid, certainly through the narrative, in the family history, such details, is not made up. “Wearing boots and hats” is the official dress, representing the authority of the government. Usually they just can not enter the Jia House, even if ordered to go in to do something, is also respectful, do not dare to take big steps, let alone into the inner house. Now they are suddenly fierce and vicious straight into the house, and rummaging through boxes, and smash and grab, a group of robbers. But still wearing boots and hats, still represents the authority of the government. Therefore, the name “robbers with boots and hats” could not be more appropriate.
The people of the Jia Mansion did not dare to call them robbers just because they “wore boots and hats” and represented the government, but they blurted out the phrase “robbers wearing boots and hats” without any obstruction in their consciousness. The association of “boots and hats” with “robbers” was absolutely not found in their previous context.
This is also the point that they are not considered unfortunate. As a person, at the moment of disaster, they can follow their instinct to protect themselves unambiguously: no matter who you are, as long as you come to rob my home, you are a robber. In fact, this is the minimum authority for people, even the animals know how to protect their nests from the enemy, let alone people.
We woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of the door slamming, and watched those strange people wearing red armbands barging into the house; we watched our mother’s beloved vases and magnets being grabbed one by one and slammed to the ground; we watched our father’s treasured giclée records being crushed by them; we watched our home being destroyed and the last box of clothes being carried away by them; we were not angry, we did not resist, and we did not think this was an act of robbery.
At that time, I could protest about some small things, such as the fact that there were no gold bars in the house, or the fact that my grandmother had no intention to welcome Chiang Kai-shek back. However, I did not have the slightest doubt about the justice of their raid, even though so many absurdities and suspicions were revealed later.
As a human being, what was it, at that time, that made me not even dare to protect my own home? What was it that made me lose this minimal instinct of self-protection?
In the midst of the Stalinist purges, those famous founding fathers who had fought and died for the Soviet regime “confessed” in court in front of journalists from all over the world to all kinds of false accusations of “murdering Stalin” and “overthrowing the Soviet regime. “They were willing to accept the sentence of capital punishment. This was not the result of severe torture, but of their loyalty and admiration for their leader. Their interrogators finally convinced them that it was necessary for the revolution to confess their mortal sin and to be sentenced to death.
What was it about being a human being, at that time, that made them afraid to protect even their own lives? What was it that made them finally believe that they did not even have the right to their own lives themselves?
A group of street residents, together with a group of high school students, went to raid a house just because they suspected that it had gold bars, and also because it was a new “outsider” family, and they were unfamiliar with the place – something I realized when I got to know more about human nature. I went to copy this family. The unwarranted suspicion and deceitfulness in the marketplace, the childish ignorance and blind enthusiasm of the youth, have existed at all times, including now. So what was it that made such people converge and swell up to savagely destroy a family they did not know and had no grudge against at that time?
In The Japanese movie “Manhunt,” the “patients” in that horrible hospital, who were once strong-willed and outstanding people, were completely changed when they entered the hospital. When he was ordered to pierce his hand with an awl, he did it with a smile; when he was told to jump from a high building, he did it happily and without hesitation. It turned out that they were forced to take a “nerve blocking” agent, their great annoyance was ransacked, completely lost their own consciousness and will, all at the behest of others.
I know that is the fiction of the movie, in fact, that drug and that situation are not. But after thinking about it before and after, I was a little unsure, it was 100% fiction?
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