Novel Series (7) "A Ship Enters the Harbor" (author Liu Ling)

"Come on up!"

So, pressed under the body. His fingers brushed lightly over my back, a little tingly, too itchy.

Turn off the lights.

Use your lips to look for lips. A wild kiss.

"I won't see you for a few days. Want to die! He said.

"Me too." I responded to him. "I'm going crazy."

"You tell me, how did you survive these days?"

"Looking for you. I look for you everywhere. ”

look for......

The place to look, this no, has been searched all over. I remembered that at the Provincial Library (Archives) I wanted to borrow a book about the laogai farm. I desperately wanted the book but the staff made it difficult for me. I stood by my desk arguing with a woman in a thick tweed dress and a ponytail tied to her hair. I wear a mezzanine tank top and slacks, combed and distributed. I suddenly realized that it was actually a dream. Many years later, on a small island called D in the Zhoushan Islands, I dreamed that I was standing on the street, and the long street was empty. I lifted my chin to the second floor and looked out for a narrow corridor, as if déjà vu. Remember the collective bathhouse: a long line of naked actors roaming the streets.

I clearly saw familiar faces, stiff and gray-black.

This guy has been dead for years.

"You vomited!" I whispered to my classmates.

The attack is the same as bronchitis.

"Hey, classmate?"

The hull of the car was like a rotten boat that seemed to shake desperately.

Occasionally, the body would be like a spring installed, suddenly, bouncing up from the wooden seat, bouncing a few times, I was jumping, as if people could fly immediately. Everyone wanted to escape from this prison cart. It was probably when the prison cart left the national highway. Now, I can never recall it again. Rotten ships on desperate seas. The prison van was still driving on the shameful low-grade gravel road, winding and circling.

I think that the will is boundless, the hills are gentle, and the colors are dark. Heavy rocks are stacked on top of each other, and the shadows are extremely oppressive. Distant staggered peaks, vast and vast. The prison cart drives in a dreary, lonely mountainous area. Grass and trees. Canoe. Lonely Forest. Patches of golden lotus blossom on the edge of a broad-leaved forest near the summit of the mountain. One piece to the east and one to the west, it grows on top of an alpine meadow, and the petals are twisted into wisps, pinkish purple, and appear fringed. Also saw large chunks of wild leeks. The small puddle next to it was shining brightly. Few people will deliberately turn their heads and look.

Silent, I pretended to take a nap. The same beautiful landscape that makes people bored (aesthetic fatigue). The car continued to jolt and still shake. It didn't rain. The wheels bounced up, but the man was soon pulled back by a mysterious force. Surely it can't be thrown out, even if it becomes a stone, [Newtonian mechanics] someone tied it with a rope, and I think of the experimental game on the spot: the stone is tied to the other side of the rope, and this end is caught in the hands of a man. (In physics class) people look giddy, neck iron stiff stiff can not come. But our brain nerve cells are unusually active. On the gentle slope, the grass is overgrown, and a group of black goats are eating grass in peace. What kind of tree is that? Large sheets of tin eucalyptus trees, hard wood, straight, smooth trunks. Gives the impression of loneliness. Exudes bone texture. Tough skin. It's like the leaves of a holly tree coated with a layer of wax, cold, hard-bound, and cast in pig iron. What animals discard the skeleton of the roadside. There is a cypress tree towering into the clouds. On the side of the road, there are several chicken claw maple and camphor trees. Oh, now it's finally sent to the place (my own land). I blinked my eyes laboriously and stared at the searchlight with half-death. The verb I could remember on the spot was clearly not "hanging." Who's going to climb up and hang up! Yes, it seems that it will appear in that strange place, after many years of wind and frost, rain and snow, it is directly "stranded" in that place. My God, its quiet appearance fascinates people. (That awaits us!) ）

"Yes, it's been waiting for everyone."

I told the doctor out loud. lunatic. lunatic. Haha, who the (unless he's crazy) would spend the effort to build a staircase to hang on? Hang up the life lamp, just hang it in mid-air, laborious and unflattering. I often say it to people later. And the man who stood up with his hands up and hung the lamp must have no feet, and I remembered the station and that famous dream. Russian writers once dreamed of a ghost waiting for a train or wandering around a station in the rain and snow. The undead have no legs, as if they had no feet. Now, who is wandering around the station. Everyone is waiting for the bus. I was ashamed and hanging out. I fantasized about a sudden sleet in the sky.

At that moment, I raised my chin stiffly, squinted my small eyes, and saw a blurry humanoid object floating in the idyllic air, like a paper cutter, floating towards me from a distance. Quickly pounce on those of us who want to dock. It can't walk around on muddy roads (only the upper body or the huge head, not even the face), but it will gently drift in the air and sink up and down. Teeth and claws, rise and fall, rise and fall, wandering and lounging. Just like Mei Chaofeng will use the evil kung fu of the Nine Yin White Bone Claw to suddenly emerge from behind the deep dark curtain. It was about to burst through the top of my head and tear open my throat. I really had a dream about napping in a prison cart. I didn't sleep for half my life, and in the quadrangle, I was sleepwalking.

Everyone is an interloper in an unfamiliar territory. For us, the searchlights on the turrets were menacing. Standing on the opposite side, a large blood-colored glow was lonely in the air. The shameful, bizarre spots danced. The light shook desperately. The paper cutter who wanted to cry without tears hid in the deep black waters in a blink of an eye. Floating on the sea of despair. The water mist is majestic, and the tide is gushing. Suddenly, wrap the person tightly. Even after we get used to it in labor camps, we show off to people in the same way. It was as if the sun lights were condescending at the time, as if they were pregnant with ghost fetuses for everyone. The light is orange-red, eerie, with a sinister intent and a light purple edge embedded in it. The dry air solidifies. I will experience this kind of situation many times in the years to come, solidifying and clumping into lumps.

It stays with me all my life, whether I'm awake or about to fall asleep. I understand it myself, I say, don't equate the story with reality. I once told the doctor at the "nursing home" that I knew that the fog (gray) was not really flowing around the prison cart and the brothers who had fallen into distress, turning like a bubble and encircling the searchlights like a large spider's web.

"At this time, it also wraps us tighter and tighter."

I was a bit suffocated.

Metaphors really don't make sense, let alone have any special insights I can have. For example, although the days are far away, it is not an indefinite sentence, and one day in the future, we do not want to understand and confirm. What are you sure about? Ah, the sense of direction! You are originally a kind person, and with trustworthiness, you are even more perfect. This is far from enough, and people who seem particularly kind on the surface tend to be more deceptive. That has nothing to do with kindness, and it is insidious in the final analysis.

"Is kindness a virtue?"

Maybe in the farm, this two-labor unit is full of such sinister and cunning villains inside and out. "Don't do that!"

"I didn't think so at all."

The stranger immediately said to me.

"That's exactly what you're calculating."

Not only insidious, but also a little cruel. In the dream, the prey falls into the pit. I looked up at him and smiled. smoke. A large cloud of green smoke seemed to be rising above the heads of my fellow inmates. I will take on the challenge of all strangers.

But soon the stranger's eyelids blinked a few times, and I lowered my haughty head. [I was wrong] actually they didn't move at all.

"Never dare to cross the line!"

What does it refer to? ourselves? Or a ghost!

Undead.

"Don't apologize."

I remembered my cellmate J sticking out his tongue, and he replied, "You're so cultured." ”

"In fact, you are my savior!" I said to J once in the middle of the night.

A man I will never forget. An important person. (I'm actually not that kind.) I know, purely out of necessity, just as plants need sunlight, just as fish need water. We are so eager. "The Hunger and Thirst of Love", the madman written by the caesarean man. Etsuko Sugimoto kills the stout gardener Saburo with a hoe. "If you don't get understood, you're really tired." "Not everyone is waiting for you after you regret it."

No one understands! I recall J shrugging at me. Pretended to see him show a row of snow-white teeth.

"Do you say that the gambling spell will work?"

"A superstition!"

"I thought it was interesting."

"It's hard for me to find someone as sincere as you."

(We quickly fell asleep in peace.) You close your eyes! ）

"Exaggeration." I smiled and replied, "It's in your own favor that I help you." I was immediately fascinated. Subjectively find a breathable hole. ”

Find a way out: although, the sun shines for its own survival. But objectively it has become the mother of all life.

"The metaphor is quite appropriate."

"We both sound pretty much like two big idiots."

"Don't you think? God is always fair. ”

"I write from start to finish!"

I laughed. However, it does not meet the identity of those people in Marang Street. It seems that only one feeling can be relied upon. My magical perception. All kinds of knowledge learned. I can also touch (if my fingers are really conscious), and if I can reach out (blocked by dirty glass). At this moment, I am making some kind of tacit agreement with a hellish demon. It's a kind of deal! My mind was blurred and my vision was cloudy. I shouted at him: Everyone can't escape by themselves. It is attractive in its own right. "It's better to say that you can't help yourself." Some people think it's a drag force.

The doctor shook his head desperately at me. Thirty years have passed, and I can't help but be schizophrenic again. And this statement may be more accurate, as if there is a real brute force. I just think that the power hiding behind the fog is too evil, the thief is too evil, and it is possible to directly drag people into the darkness. ××。 The cave was unfathomable — like the poisonous sun after a storm that spread us out in the sun and my head hurt — and I felt the hostility I felt, I told my fellow roommates. Any undead guy would think this: ambiguity and burning. It was late in the middle of the night in May 1984, when the night was quiet.

I saw a man sticking to a canvas.

The background is pitch black.

It was as if all year round (three hundred and sixty-five days) he stood in the old place waiting for the prison cart to come, and it would be very uncomfortable if he could not see him. Stop lying to yourself! In fact, people can be generalized within a certain religious context. And most likely ignited in the blazing flame of religion, reduced to ashes. Even people who love money actually regard wealth as a religion. How could the things I recall be shrouded in white light? How could it be! Something strange happened, how it shouldn't be a moon. I have a little moon boat above my head. Silver light is witty and changeable. The moon is bright. I strive to write the novel's black and white mood of "distant shadows".

A clean and sharp old look. At this time, a strong wind immediately blew on the execution ground. There's always a little bit of blood. Emulsions and ×. Original, hazy. A breath of wilderness. I told the doctor that quiet was stuck on that pier, and that irritability was also stuck in the old place, yes, it was exactly like an old pier. The air stirred across from us. Suddenly, I smelled a strange human smell coming from my face. The scene is confusing. Spots of light jumped at all of us. The ship had docked. I was surrounded by strange halos one after another, large and small, not so round, not too smooth, as if pimples, like a lumpy skin disease patient. It is more unlikely to be in a bunch, scattered, for example, if I just walk in the open space between the eucalyptus forests, the aperture will be like a lot of glass beads, hail, water beads, like a metallic luster. It is clear that the ghost is confused. I saw the floral scents take on an irregular shape, constantly flying in the cracks of the dense branches.

"Like an insect, it's still alive."

We do live.

I asked the people next to me, is it true that light has life.

Smell is also alive? Cellmate J was dazed at this question. Classmates were listening to their new friends say what he saw and felt during his escort. The man was very good at storytelling and had a good grasp of the details.

That is to say, some facts have been artistically processed. For example, the halo and the color, the wave peak and the foam, will change between turns, dazzling the face. I've thought for years that maybe a little elf might be hiding in the halo. ghost. Undead. I'm afraid it's really not. But I realized that wasn't the case. The ghost did not exist, and although the aperture seen now was said to be moving in the same way, it was constantly shaking, but it was dead. A lifeless look. Long dead. Know that they are never possessed by a soul in themselves. The lights are gray. The color was whitish, and it felt like an aging pale, glowing with corpse blue, sallow yellow, with corpses and solidified iron creases. Suddenly, I remembered the white-eyed people with bulging faces of the ancient tyrants. Or just the dead eyes of a thick-lipped prehistoric fish.

I saw peach blossom petals that let the wind blow down on the surface of the water. The wings of the little gray butterfly are scattered one by one, spilling and wandering. Dance wildly in the wind. A small horse that fled obliquely, lonely, lonely, indifferent. Where is that place? After a long time, I seemed surprised to understand the mystery, and I could see that the place was an old turret, and it was empty. If it is ancient, it is true that I do not know in what era the turret was built. What year and month was it built? I turned to ask the other one, (When exactly was this built?) Who dares to tell me! ）

"We're just in the same situation. And it's in distress. "We are simple friends. 'Friendship' needs to be maintained. "This can also be attributed to certain religions." "I've never seriously considered it." "A handsome man like you would be upset." It's like memorizing lines.

Personable. I said out loud. Logically it can have a strong attraction to any woman, and the magnetic field itself is there. ××。 ××。 tongue. If we want to have serious interactions and coexist peacefully, don't just be obsessed with organs. If it is pinned on thought, metaphysical, it will produce a huge appeal of religion, like the HlV virus, which is transmitted through blood or sexuality, and the desire to restrain may not be spared, and it is difficult to retreat from the whole body in adolescence, restlessness. Pure heart and widowhood is only one aspect of it, whether it is important or not, whether it is visible or not, in the end, it is at best a detail. And can we reject the flesh, reject the physical needs, and simply love each other spiritually? Honestly, I never doubted that I was obsessed with this kind of thing. It's been too deep. I was weak as I climbed up from the pit. I don't even try to enjoy it as much as I can. It always feels like it will be in vain. In March 2018, I never doubted my obvious intention to talk to Jiang Daiyu in the Zhoushan Islands. When I sent this second-year graduate student on a boat back to the school in Nanjing, it was only two hours apart in the blink of an eye, or two days? I hooked up with new people again. In fact, most of the northeasterner Zhu Shuiyuan came on a cruise ship that picked up Jiang Daiyu. My landlord was available to help confirm that night. The guy in my dream was Hanako Zhang Zhilong. People look too much like, the old version. He denied it.

I met yangyang of the hostel again. A sunshine boy.

"You still haven't told me about J's whereabouts."

So I spoke up.

"I really don't know. Don't know! ”

"Concubine, he's barefoot."

"You've always called him that nickname."

"Huang Feng never gets angry."

We both ended up on the shore. My conversations with them have nothing to do with sex and desire, but with a different purpose. "I never deny that I've started to like the little guy."

"The corners of his mouth look like that J."

"The nose looks like it too."

"But it's probably another kind of like!"

Why just mention the boy's nose.

Will the legend be true?

It is not a kind of love on the religious level.

"Love?" The reasons that are really hard to talk about.

"The main thing is that they actually feel the same way."

"Homosexuality has become very fashionable."

Maybe it has nothing to do with desire itself. It is true that there is not much correlation. In this way, the misalignment becomes a brother. It's as if two people were friends a long time ago. Same as a past life lover.

"You can't forget the brown bear."

This one bear. He actually remembered J's nickname of the ghost-headed knife handle in the brigade, and he hadn't forgotten it after so many years.

Actually, the nickname is ugly to death. "Probably, it wasn't taken in the courtyard."

"In this way, the two of us are much closer, and the distance is also much closer." Relive a childlike fun with many fantasies. ”

"Anyone thinks I'm happy and free." He then said, "Actually, I've been very lonely for most of my life. ”

(Writing doesn't get rid of loneliness.) ）

We are really lonely inside, like a sailboat floating on the sea. Robinson on a desert island. Why aren't you desert soloists? A long-headed trekker on the 318 National Road? Where is J? At first, it was only because we needed each other to be together. We are not heavenly, mistakenly thinking that it is only a brief surrender to desire. Only a brief reunion can be maintained. There has to be a distance. I think. I plucked up the courage to tell Zhu Shuiyuan or Jiang Daiyu or Yangyang about him, including how I got along with J in the courtyard.

"You can pretend to be a novel."

Can these people understand?

"I don't want strangers to find out the truth about my relationship with J."

queer. Same-sex lovers.

"Let people spy!" I said, "You'll suspect me of my ulterior motives." ”

Even Zhang Zhilong in the dream pretended not to know each other. He mostly came to the island to work. There was also that Yang Yang, when they met, he brought a girl to Dongfushan to see the sunrise.

On board. Bars on the outlying islands. After they left Dongji Island, I felt lost, so I went to see a disabled performance and then went to his place to find him. "Ah, a well-read person like you also has that intense loneliness and loneliness?"

"Lonely," I said, "maybe you won't believe it." ”

"You had so many friends. Go around and play everywhere. ”

My eyes were empty. The flesh will be dried.

At that time, I thought that perhaps from ancient times to the present, the black turret has long existed (referring to a kind of existence itself), and it has existed like this for a long time. For the students, there is no substitute for this scene. I smelled the flowers of a summer night again. With a bit of a rotten smell. On the side of the road, the caravan nest fern and the crowd emit a strong fragrance, mixed with the wet smell of mud and rotting small animals and insects. A smell of gunpowder. In the moment of death, the breath of the heart stopping for a moment. There is a strange smell that makes people sick and vomit. It stinks. It is the smell of sulfur emanating from the former dead. Intense madness. (I didn't understand where it came from?) Then I learned of a large patch of flowers associated with rotting corpses. Later, on Stable Street, I heard that stinky grass generally grew around the execution ground.

"Actually, the smell left a deep impression on me."

"I'm just like someone who stumbled into a border."

"It's not just a matter of feeling content, but it's really unclear, and there is some helplessness." Refers to that emotion. ”

"It's exactly the same as when I first landed, exactly the same."

"But everyone thinks I have a strange temper."

I believeD I was very easy-going, but I didn't have to explain it to anyone. "Sometimes I feel that oxygen is very thin. The air pressure is too low. ”

Although things like this are not common.