What is Zhang Ailing's "Whispers" about?

Her breakup with her father

"I heard whispers late at night, and the moon fell like a golden basin." What was said at that time was not only the words of the confidants but also the words of the confidants, right? I am not going to pretend to treat what I want to say here as a solemn secret, but because this article was forced by the editor and written in a hurry, I am a little hasty and have nothing to say. Think about it, it is always there, it can be said to be part of the subconscious background. Just think of it as a night when "the moon sets like a golden basin" and someone is telling you what to listen to!

This morning the landlord sent someone to measure the length of the hot water heater pipe in the apartment. He probably wanted to remove it and sell it. I can't help but sigh at this, saying that people nowadays only have obscene thoughts and only care about them for the moment, which is a troubled world.

People in troubled times just muddle along and have no real home. Yet I have an everlasting feeling about my aunt's home. My aunt and my mother have lived together for many years. Although they have moved several times, and my mother was not in Shanghai during these times, my aunt is the only one left. My home has always been an exquisite and complete system for me, and I cannot let it get any worse under any circumstances. damage. The day before yesterday, I broke a piece of glass on the table, and I still had to pay 600 yuan for one piece. I happened to be bankrupt in the past two days, but I still urgently found the carpenter.

I have a tendency to break things lately for some reason. (Cups, plates, bowls and spoons never count. Occasionally, my aunt smashes a handful of teacups. I always say happily: "It's my aunt's turn to smash it!") Last time I was in a hurry to collect clothes on the balcony, but I couldn't push the glass door open. Open it, put your knee against the door, and with a loud bang, a piece of powdered glass shattered. The skin on your knee was only scratched a little, but blood flowed down and splashed onto your feet. Apply red potion, and the red potion followed the blood stains. It flowed all the way down, as if it had been stabbed by Wang Wu, a big sword. I showed it to my aunt. She bent down and took a quick glance. She knew it was not fatal, so she asked about the glass with concern, and I went to get another piece.

Because the current home is detailed and complete in itself, and I just bump around and break things in it, but a real home should fit well. As I grow, I think of My former home.

My first home is in Tianjin. I was born in Shanghai and moved to the north when I was two years old. I have also been to Beijing, and I just remember being carried around by the servants, and using my hands to pull the soft skin on her neck - as she got older, the skin on her neck gradually drooped; when I put my hand under her, there was a gradual difference. feeling. When I was a child, I had a bad temper. When I got impatient, I would scratch her face with bloodstains all over it. Her surname is He, "He Gan". I don’t know where the dialect comes from, but we call mom whatever. He Gan is very similar to the current fashionable pen names: "He Ruo", "He Zhi", and "He Xin".

There is a copy of Bernard Shaw's play: "The Heartbreak House" that my father originally bought. His English title is left in the blank:

Tianjin, North China.

1926. No. 61, Road 32.

Timothy. C. Zhang.

I have always felt that solemnly leaving your surname, date, and address in a book is almost boring, but I recently discovered a few lines in this book, and I like it very much, because there is one The air of late spring is like our home in Tianjin.

There was a swing in the yard. A tall girl with a scar on her forehead, so I later called her "Scar Yaya", reached the highest point on the swing and suddenly turned over. . There are chickens in the back yard. At noon in the summer, I wore a short red gauze shirt with a white background and red trousers. I sat on the bench, drank a full bowl of light green, astringent and slightly sweet Liuyi powder, read a riddle book, and sang, "Little Puppy, take a step and take a bite. "The answer is scissors. There is also a selection of children's songs. One of them describes the ideal life of seclusion in a half-village and half-guo. I only remember the sentence "Peach and walnut are used as a side house," which does not seem to sound like a child's tone.

There is a bluestone anvil set up in the corner of the patio. A man with great ambitions, who is proficient in writing and ink, often dips a brush in water to practice writing big characters on it. This man was thin and delicate, and he told me "The Romance of the Three Kingdoms". I liked him and gave him an inexplicable name called "Mao Wu".

After my mother passed away, my aunt moved in. The house was very lively, with banquets and banquets often held. I hid behind the curtain and peeked, paying special attention to the two sisters who were sixteen or seventeen years old and sitting on the same sofa chair. They had front bangs and wore the same jade-colored jacket and trousers. They were leaning against each other in white, as if they were born together. Similar.

My aunt didn't like my brother, so she tried her best to promote me and took me to Chishilin to watch dancing every night. I sat at the table, and the white cream on the cake in front of me was as high as my eyebrows. However, I ate the whole piece, and gradually dozed off in the reddish dusk. As usual, until three or four o'clock, I carried it on the servant's back. go home.

My brother and I were given a husband at home. It was a private school system. We studied all night long and swayed in front of the window in the evening. When I read "The King is interested in Maoyu", I changed it to "The King is fond of smoked fish" and then I remembered it. During that period, I often worried about not being able to memorize written materials. It was probably because I cried on the morning of the first day of the new year, so I cried all year long. ——On the first day of middle school, I asked my mother in advance to wake me up at dawn to watch them welcome the New Year. Unexpectedly, they were afraid that I would be tired from staying up late, so they asked me to sleep a little longer. When I woke up, the firecrackers had already been set off. I felt that all the prosperity and excitement were in the past, and I had no part in it. I lay on the bed and cried again and again, refusing to get up. Finally, I was pulled up and sat on a small wicker chair while someone helped me put on my new shoes. , still crying - even if I put on new shoes, I can't keep up.

My aunt lived in a large, dark and messy room downstairs. I seldom went in and stood in front of my father’s cigarette bed to endorse. My aunt was also literate and taught one of her nephews to read "Fish in the Pond, Swimming Back and forth". She would hit him accidentally, and his face would often be so swollen that he couldn't even open his eyes. She also beat my father. Smash his head with a spittoon. So someone from the clan spoke up and forced her to walk. I sat on the window sill upstairs and saw two couches slowly coming out of the gate. They were all the silverware and household items she had taken away. The servants all said: "It's better now!"

When I was eight years old, I came to Shanghai and took a boat through the black water and the green water. It seemed that it was indeed black and green, although I have never seen Hai's Zazan in a book, and I feel happy. Sleeping in the cabin, I read "Journey to the West" which I had read many times. In "Journey to the West" there are only high mountains and red-hot dust.

When I arrived in Shanghai and sat on the carriage, I was very excited and happy. There were blue butterflies flying on my pink gauze shirt and trousers. We live in a very small Shikumen house. Red oil siding. For me, it is also a kind of tight red happiness.

However, my father took excessive morphine injections at that time and was very close to death. He sat alone on the balcony, with a wet handkerchief on his head, looking straight into his eyes, and a thick white rain like a rope hanging from his forehead. It was raining heavily and I couldn't hear clearly what he was mumbling. I was very scared.

The maid told me that I should be happy because my mother was coming back. The day my mother came back, I clamored to put on what I thought was the most playful little red coat, but the first thing she said when she saw me was: "How can I put her in such a small dress?" Soon I made new clothes. Everything is different. My father regretted his past mistakes and was sent to the hospital. We moved to a garden house with dogs, flowers, and fairy tale books, and suddenly many rich relatives and friends were added to the family. My mother and a fat aunt sat on the piano bench imitating a love scene in a movie. I sat on the floor watching, laughing, and rolling around on the wolfskin mattress.

I wrote a letter to a playmate in Tianjin, describing our new house. I wrote three pieces of letter paper and drew a picture. I didn’t get a reply—anyone would hate such a vulgar boast, right? I think everything in the house is beautiful. The blue chair cover matches the old rose red carpet, which is actually not very harmonious. However, I like it, and I also like England, because the three cosmos of England remind me of a little red house under the blue sky, while France is a microcosm. The cyan color of the rain was like the tiles in the bathroom, stained with the scent of hair oil. My mother told me that it often rains in England, but it is sunny in France, but I couldn't correct my initial impression.

My mother also told me that red should be avoided in the background of drawings. The background should look quite far away. A red background always feels close to you.

I only have one urgent feeling: I can't let this happen no matter what. If that woman were right in front of me, leaning on the iron railing, I would definitely push her off the balcony and finish her off.

My stepmother also smoked opium. Not long after we got married, we moved to an old bungalow in the style of the early Republic of China. It was our own property, and I was born in that house. There are too many memories of our family in the house, like overlapping photocopied photos, and the whole air is a bit blurry. Where there is sunshine, people can doze off, and where there is darkness, there is the coolness of ancient tombs. The green and black heart of the house is sober and has its own strange world. And at the edge of the dark border, you can see the sun, hear the bell of the tram and the sound of "Su San, don't cry" over and over again in the cloth store on sale. In that sunshine, there is only drowsiness.

I live on campus and rarely go home. Although I feel very unfair when I see my younger brother and his elderly brother He Gan being tortured at home, because it is so rare to come back, I treat them politely and perfunctorily. It's over. My father was very proud of my composition and once encouraged me to learn poetry. One *** has written three poems called Qijue. The second poem chants "Xia Yu". There are two verses that Mr. Meng emphasized very closely, so I also think it is very good: "The sound is like a drum urging the flowers to grow, and the lotus blooms with the rain." "One branch." The third poem, "Mulan," was too unsatisfactory, so I had no interest in learning it any more.

When I graduated from middle school, my mother came back to China. Although I didn’t feel that my attitude had changed significantly, my father did. For him, this was unbearable. He had been following him for many years, being fed and educated, but his heart was on the other side. I made things very bad. I asked him to study abroad in a speech, and it was a very bad speech. He lost his temper and said that I had been instigated by others. My stepmother scolded her on the spot and said, "Your mother is still interfering in your family's affairs after she is divorced. Since you can't let go here, why don't you come back? But it's too late, so you have to be your aunt when you come back!"

The Shanghai War broke out, and my affairs were put aside for the time being. Because our home was near the Suzhou River and we could not sleep due to the sound of gunfire at night, we stayed with my mother for two weeks. The day I came back, my stepmother asked me: "Why didn't you say anything to me when you left?" I said that I had told my father. She said, "Oh, I told my father! Where do you see me in your eyes?" She slapped me across the face. I instinctively wanted to fight back, but two old ladies came over and stopped me. My stepmother screamed all the way up the stairs: "She hit me! She hit me!" At this moment, everything became very clear. In the dark dining room with blinds, the meal was already on the table, and there was no goldfish. A goldfish tank with orange-red fish and algae delicately traced on the white porcelain tank. My father rushed downstairs with his slippers on, grabbed me, fisted and kicked me, and shouted: "You still hit people! If you hit people, I will hit you! I have to beat you to death today!" I think My head turned to one side and then to the other, countless times, and my ears were deafened. I sat on the ground and lay on the ground. He grabbed my hair and kicked me. Finally he was pulled away. I have always been very clear in my mind and remembered my mother's words: "If he hits you, don't fight back, otherwise it will always be your fault if you tell him." So I didn't want to resist. He went upstairs, and I stood up and walked to the bathroom to look in the mirror, see the injuries on my body and the red fingerprints on my face, and prepare to report to the patrol room immediately. When I walked to the gate, I was stopped by the patrolman who was guarding the gate and said, "The door is locked. The key is with the master." I tried to act up and kicked the door, trying to attract the attention of the policeman outside the iron gate, but it didn't work. Easy thing. When I returned home, my father exploded again and threw a large vase at my head. It tilted slightly and scattered broken porcelain all over the room. After he left, He Gan cried to me and said, "How could you do this?" It was then that I felt so wronged that I burst into tears and held her in my arms for a long time. However, she blamed me in her heart. Because she loved me, she was timid on my behalf, fearing that I would offend my father and suffer for the rest of my life; fear made her cold and hard. I cried alone in a spare room downstairs all day, and slept on the mahogany kang bed at night.

The next day, my aunt came to intercede. When my stepmother saw her, she sneered: "Are you here to catch opium?" Before she could say anything, my father jumped up from the cigarette shop and beat her. , I also injured my aunt and went to the hospital. I did not go to the arrest room because it was too embarrassing for our family."

My father threatened to shoot me to death with a pistol. I was temporarily imprisoned in a vacant room. Here, the house I was born in suddenly became unfamiliar, like a green wall appearing in the dark shadow under the moonlight, one-sided and crazy.

Beverley Nichols① has a poem. About the half-consciousness of the madman: "The moonlight sleeps in your heart." When I read it, I thought of the blue moonlight on the floor of our house, the quiet murderous intent.

①Beverley Nichols. , translated by Beverley Nicol (1899-), a British writer. He is the author of the novels "Prelude", "Self", "The Ruthless Moment", the autobiography "Twenty-Five", "The Image of the Father", etc.

I also know that my father will never kill me, but after a few years of imprisonment, I will no longer be who I am when I am released. I will be many years old in a few weeks. Looking at the wooden railings on the balcony, it felt like water could be squeezed out of the wood. The sky was bright and noisy at that time, because there were so many planes in the sky. I hoped that a bomb would fall on our house, just like them. I am also willing to die together.

He Gan was afraid that I would escape and repeatedly warned: "You must never walk out of this door!" Once you go out, you can't come back. "However, I still thought about a lot of escape plans. "The Three Musketeers" and "The Grudge of Monte Cristo" all came to mind. The one I remember most clearly is that in "The Nine-Tailed Turtle" ① Zhang Qiugu's friend has a lover , tied into a rope with a sheet, and let it out of the window. I don't have a window facing the street, but I can only climb over the wall from the garden and go out. A goose is calling, what should we do?

① "Nine-tailed Fish" is a novel about evil in the garden written by Zhang Chunfan (Shu Liushanfang). There are big white geese that suck foxes and chase people and peck people. The only trees are tall white magnolias with huge flowers, like dirty white handkerchiefs and waste paper, thrown there, forgotten. The big white flowers are like a dirty white handkerchief. The year has come to an end. I have never been so depressed.

I was seriously ill with dysentery and almost died. Half a year later, I lay in bed and looked at the light blue sky of autumn and winter. The gray stone antlers on the gatehouse opposite me were raised, and there were two rows of small stone Bodhisattvas underneath - I don’t know which dynasty or which generation it is now - who were born here dimly. Did he also die here in a haze? If he died, he would be buried in the garden.

However, while I was thinking about this, I listened with all my heart to every opening and closing of the door. He pulled out the rusty door and smelled it, then opened the iron door with a loud bang. I heard this sound in my sleep, as well as a cinder path leading to the door, and the squeaking of sand under my footsteps. . Even if they let their guard down because I was sick in bed, could they sneak out silently?

As soon as I could walk on the wall, I was ready to ask He Gantou. It was time for a patrol officer to change shifts. On a midwinter night, I leaned against the window and used my binoculars to see clearly that there was no one on the dark road. I walked step by step along the wall to the iron door, pulled out the latch, opened the door, and put the binoculars on the milk crate. , stepped out, and stood on the sidewalk! There was no wind, just the coldness of the lunar year, and I could only see a piece of cold gray under the street lights, but what a lovely world I was walking along the street! , every foot hit the ground was a resounding kiss, and I negotiated the price with a rickshaw driver not far from home - I'm so glad I haven't forgotten how to bargain. It's crazy. Yeah! I could be arrested again at any time. Only now did I realize how funny it was in this thrilling situation.

Later I found out that He Gan had been implicated in everything I had done. Things were divided and people were separated, just thinking that this was the end of my family.

I fled to my mother’s house, and that summer my brother also came with me, bringing a basketball shoe wrapped in newspaper and saying that he would not go back. My mother explained to him that she could only afford the upbringing of one person and therefore could not take him in. He cried, and I cried beside him. Later, he finally went back, taking those basketball shoes with him.

He Gan secretly smuggled out some of my childhood toys as a souvenir for me. Among them was a folding fan with white ivory bone and light green ostrich feathers. Because of its age, the hair fell off when I fanned it, and it flew all over the sky. It makes people cough, choke and cry. Even now when I think back to the day my brother came, I still have a similar feeling.

I crammed to prepare for the University of London exam. I was used to being alone in my father's house, and it was very difficult for me to suddenly want to learn to be a human being, and to be a "lady" in a difficult situation. At the same time, I can see that my mother has sacrificed a lot for me, and she has always wondered whether I am worth these sacrifices. I doubt it too. I often walk around alone on the rooftop balcony of my apartment. The Spanish-style white walls cut clear strips and blocks in the blue sky. I look up to the scorching sun. I feel like I am standing naked under the sky. Being judged is like all the confused minors, trapped in excessive boasting and self-contempt.

At this time, my mother’s home is no longer gentle.

I was admitted to university, but because of the war, I couldn't go to England, so I moved to Hong Kong. Three years later, because of the war, I returned to Shanghai without finishing my studies. The home in the apartment is still there, and although I don't believe in it absolutely, it is still cherishable. Now I am living in old dreams and dreaming new dreams in old dreams.

Writing this, the wind blowing on my back became a bit cold, so I went to close the glass door and saw the fluffy yellow moon on the balcony.

In ancient times, there were drums at night, but now there are clappers selling wontons, and countless people's dreams have been echoed for thousands of years: "Too, too, touo, tou" - lovely and sad years!