Lily
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Author: Ru Zhijuan
The Mid-Autumn Festival of 1946.
The troops attacking the coast decided to attack in the evening. Several comrades from the creative room of our art troupe were assigned by the leader of the main attack group to each combat company to help with the work.
Probably because I am a lesbian! The regimental leader scratched the back of my head for a long time, and finally asked a correspondent to take me to the forward dressing center.
Let the dressing room be the dressing room! Just don't ask me to enter the safe anyway. I put on my backpack and left with the correspondent.
It rained lightly in the morning. Although it has cleared up now, the road is still very slippery, but the autumn crops in the fields on both sides have been washed by the rain and turned green and sparkling. There is also a fresh and moist fragrance in the air. If it weren't for the enemy's cold cannons, which blindly blasted intermittently, I would have thought we were going to the market!
The correspondent took long strides and kept walking in front of me. From the beginning, he lifted me several feet away. My feet were rotten and the road was slippery. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't catch up with him. I wanted to tell him to wait for me, but I was afraid that he would laugh at me for being timid and scared. If I didn't call him, I was really afraid that no one would be able to touch the dressing room. I started to get angry with this correspondent.
Hey! Strangely enough, he seemed to have eyes on his back, and he automatically stopped on the roadside. But his face is still facing forward. Didn't even look at me. When I was about to approach him as I walked slowly and hurriedly, he stomped forward on his own and threw me down a few feet. I really didn't have the energy to rush, so I just wandered slowly behind. Fortunately, this time, he didn’t let me flirt too far, but he also didn’t let me get closer. He always kept a few feet away from me. When I walk fast, he strides forward in front; when I walk slowly, he waddles in front. The strange thing is that I never saw him look back at me once, and I couldn't help but become interested in this correspondent.
I didn’t pay attention to him at the regiment headquarters just now. Now when I look from behind, I only see that he is a tall man, not big, but judging from his thick shoulders, he is a tall man. A nice young man, he was wearing a washed-out yellow military uniform with leggings that went up to his knees. There are a few branches sparsely inserted into the rifle barrel on the shoulder. This is more of a decoration than a camouflage.
I didn’t catch up with him, but my feet were so swollen and painful that they felt like they were on fire. I asked him to rest for a while and then sat down on the stone that formed the field boundary. He also sat down on a rock far away, put the gun across his lap, and turned his back to me, as if I was not there. Based on experience, I know that this must be because I am a lesbian. The female comrades in the company have these difficulties. I walked over with annoyance and a sense of rebellion and sat down facing him. At this time, I saw his round face that was very young and childish, he could be eighteen years old at most. When he saw me sitting down next to him, he immediately became nervous, as if there was a time bomb planted next to him. He felt awkward and uncomfortable. It was not good to turn away, but he couldn't do it without turning around, and he was embarrassed to stand up. I tried my best not to laugh and casually asked him where he was from. He didn't answer, his face turned as red as Guan Gong, and he hesitated for a long time before he made it clear that he was from Tianmu Mountain. It turns out that he is still a fellow countryman of mine!
"What did you do when you were at home?"
"Help people drag moso bamboo."
I looked at his broad shoulders and immediately looked at me A sea of ??green mist-like bamboo appeared in front of me. In the middle of the sea, a narrow stone mountain path spiraled up. A young man with broad shoulders put an old blue cloth on his shoulders and carried several branches of green bamboo. The bamboo shoots trailed behind him for a long time, making the stone steps rattle. ...This is how familiar my hometown life is! I immediately became more and more affectionate towards this fellow countryman.
I asked again: "How old are you?"
"Nineteen."
"How many years have you been participating in the revolution?"
"One year."
"How did you join the revolution?" When I asked this, I felt that this was not like a conversation, but more like an interrogation. But I couldn't help but ask.
"I followed the army when it retreated north."
"Who else is there in the family?"
"Mother, father, younger brothers and sisters, There is an aunt who also lives in my house."
"You haven't married yet?"
"..." He blushed and became even more shy, holding up his hands. He kept counting and touching the buttonholes on his belt. After a long while, he lowered his head, smiled naively, and shook his head. I also wanted to ask him if he had a partner, but seeing him like this, I had to swallow the words in his mouth again.
The two of them sat in silence for a while. He started to look up at the sky, then turned around and glanced at me, which meant that he was urging me to leave.
When I stood up to leave, I saw him taking off his hat and secretly wiping his sweat with a towel. This is my fault. He didn't even break out a drop of sweat when he walked, but he was sweating profusely because of me talking to him. It's all my fault.
It was already two o'clock in the afternoon when we arrived at the dressing room. This place is three miles away from Qianqian. The bandaging station is located in a primary school. There are six houses of different sizes forming a Z-shape. There is a lot of weeds growing in an open space in the middle. Apparently, the primary school has not been in session for a long time. When we arrived, there were several health workers in the house making gauze and cotton, and the floor was covered with door panels padded with bricks, which served as hospital beds.
Not long after we arrived, a township cadre came. His eyes were red from the heat. He put a piece of hard paper under the old felt hat in front of his forehead and lowered it in front of his eyes to block the light.
He carried a gun on one shoulder and a scale on the other; he carried a basket of eggs in his left hand and a large pot in his right hand, and came huffing and puffing. While he was putting things away, he apologized and complained to us, drank water pantingly, and at the same time took out a pack of rice balls from his arms to chew. I saw him doing all this very quickly. I didn't quite hear what he said. It seemed like they were talking about quilts and we were asked to borrow them ourselves. I asked the health worker, and it turned out that the quilts had not been distributed to the troops, but the wounded were bleeding and were very afraid of the cold, so they had to borrow them from the common people. Even if there are ten or twenty strips of cotton wool. At this time, I was worried that I would not be able to get involved in the work, so I volunteered for this job. I was afraid that it would be too late, so I also invited my fellow villager to help me mobilize a few people before leaving. He hesitated for a moment and then went with me.
We first went to a nearby village. After entering the village, he went east and I went west, and we split up to mobilize. After a while, I wrote three IOUs and went out. I borrowed two pieces of cotton wool and a quilt. I held them full in my arms and felt very happy. When I was about to send them back and borrow them again, I saw the correspondent coming from the opposite side with both hands. Still empty.
"Why, you didn't borrow it?" I think the people here are very aware and open-minded, so how could they not borrow it? I asked, a little surprised.
"Lesbian, you go and borrow it!... People are dead to feudalism..."
"Which one? Take me there." I guess he must have said something wrong. It's broken. It's a small thing to not be able to borrow a quilt, but it's not a bad thing to offend the people. I asked him to take me to see it. But he stubbornly lowered his head, as if nailed to the ground, refusing to move. I walked closer to him and whispered to him the words that affected the masses. After hearing this, he took me away happily.
We walked into the courtyard of the fellow villager and saw that the main room was quiet. On the door of a room inside, there was a blue cloth curtain with red forehead hanging, and there were bright red couplets on both sides of the door frame. We had to stand outside and shout "Sister, Sister-in-law" inside. We called a few times, but no one answered, but there was a sound. After a while, the door curtain opened, revealing a young daughter-in-law. This daughter-in-law is very good-looking, with a high nose bridge, curved eyebrows, and a fluffy wave on her forehead. Although the clothes they wear are made of coarse cloth, they are all new. I saw that her head was already tied up in a tight bun, so my sister-in-law apologized to her profusely, saying that this comrade just came here, so don’t be offended by what she said. As she listened, she turned her face inward, biting her lip and laughing. After I finished speaking, she remained silent, still lowering her head and biting her lips, as if she had not finished laughing after holding back a lot of jokes. Now, I feel a little embarrassed. What should I say next? I saw the correspondent standing aside, looking at me without blinking, as if he was watching the company commander perform a demonstration. I had no choice but to bite the bullet and asked her to borrow the quilt. Then I told her that the Communist Party's troops fought for the common people. This time, she stopped laughing and kept looking into the room while listening. After I finished speaking, she looked at me and the correspondent, as if weighing the weight of what I just said. After a while, she turned around and hugged the quilt.
The correspondent took this opportunity and said to me rather unconvincingly: "I just said the same words, but she just refused to borrow them. You think it's weird!..."
I quickly rolled my eyes at him and refused to ask him to say anything more. But it was too late, the wife hugged the quilt and was already at the door of the room. As soon as I took out the quilt, I understood why she refused to borrow it just now. It turned out to be a new floral quilt that was brand new inside and out. The quilt top was made of fake satin, with a maroon bottom and white lilies scattered all over it.
As if she was deliberately trying to annoy the correspondent, she threw the quilt in front of me and said, "Take it."
My hands were full of quilts, so I pursed my lips. , ask the correspondent to come get it. Unexpectedly, he raised his face and pretended not to see it. I had no choice but to call him, and then he became sullen, his eyelids drooped, he went up to take the quilt, turned around and left in a panic. Unexpectedly, before he even took a step out, he heard a "hiss" sound, and his clothes caught on the door hook, and a piece of cloth hung from his shoulders, with a big tear. The wife smiled and hurriedly found a needle and thread to sew him up. The correspondent refused, took the quilt and left.
Not far from the door, someone told us that the young daughter-in-law just now was a bride who had just passed away three days ago, and this quilt was her only dowry. After hearing this, I felt a little sorry. The correspondent also frowned and looked at the quilt in his hand silently. I think he will feel the same after hearing such words! Sure enough, he started mumbling to me as he walked.
"We didn't understand the situation, so we borrowed someone else's wedding quilt. How inappropriate!..." I couldn't help but want to make a joke to him, so I pretended to be serious and said, "Yes. Ah! Maybe she had to wake up early and stay up late when she was a girl to save up the money to make the quilt. Maybe she couldn't sleep because of this flower quilt. Some people called her feudal..."
Hearing this, he suddenly stopped and said, "Then... let's send her back!"
"I've already borrowed it. If I send it back, I'll make her worried." I saw his serious and embarrassed look, which was funny and cute at the same time. Somehow, I have fallen in love with this silly little fellow countryman from the bottom of my heart.
When he heard what I said, it seemed reasonable. After thinking about it for a while, he made up his mind and said, "Okay, forget it. Give her a good wash after using it." After he decided, he I grabbed all the quilts I was holding, draped the left one and the right one over my shoulders, and strode away.
After returning to the dressing room, I asked him to go back to the regiment headquarters. His energy suddenly became lively, he saluted me and ran away. After walking a few steps, he remembered something again, dug into his bag for a while, took out two steamed buns, waved them towards me, put them on the stone on the side of the road, and said, "dinner is ready for you!" After that, he walked away without stepping to the ground. I walked over and picked up the two hard steamed buns, and saw that at some point there was a wild chrysanthemum in the gun barrel on his back. Together with the branches, it was trembling in his ears.
He has gone far, but you can still see the pieces of cloth torn off his shoulders, fluttering in the wind. I really regret not sewing him up before leaving. Now, at least he'd have his shoulders bare for a night.
There are very few staff in the dressing room. The township cadres mobilized several women to help us fetch water, boil pots, and do some odd jobs. The new daughter-in-law also came. She was still the same, smiling and pursed her lips. She occasionally glanced at me from the corner of her eyes, but she looked around from time to time, as if she was looking for something. Later, she asked me: "Where has that gay brother gone?" I told her that the gay brother is not from here, he has gone to the front now. She smiled sheepishly and said, "I borrowed a quilt just now, and he was so angry with me!" After saying that, she pursed her lips and smiled again, and started to neatly spread out the dozens of borrowed quilts and cotton batting. On the door panel and on the table (two desks put together make a bed). I saw her spreading her new white lily quilt on a door panel under the eaves outside.
It was dark, and a full moon rose in the sky. Our general offensive has not yet been launched. As usual, the enemy was afraid of the night. He burned piles of wildfires on the ground and bombed blindly. The flares were also raised one after another, as if countless gasoline lamps were lit under the moon, leaving everything on the ground naked. The ground was exposed. How difficult it is to attack in such a "white night", and what a price to pay!
I even hate the bright moon.
The township cadres came again and gave us dried vegetable mooncakes made by our families. It turns out that today is the Mid-Autumn Festival.
Ah, Mid-Autumn Festival, in my hometown, now there must be a bamboo coffee table in front of every house, with a pair of incense candles and several plates of melon and fruit mooncakes on it. The children eagerly hoped that the incense would burn out quickly so that they could share the things with the Moon Lady earlier. They danced and sang beside the coffee table: "Moon Goddess, beat the gong to buy candy,..." or sang : "Mother Moon, shine on you, shine on me,..." When I thought of this, I also thought of my little fellow countryman, the young man dragging the bamboo. Maybe, a few years ago, he sang these songs!
...I took a bite of the delicious home-made moon cake and remembered that the little fellow countryman was probably lying in the fortifications right now, maybe in the regiment command post, or walking in those winding traffic ditches. ! ...
After a while, our artillery fired, several red flares flashed across the sky, and the attack began. Soon, several wounded people came intermittently, and the air in the dressing room immediately became tense.
I took a small book to register their names and units. I asked those who were slightly injured, and those who were seriously injured had to unzip their signs or look through their clothes. When I pulled out the symbol of a heavy lottery number, the words "correspondent" made me suddenly shiver and my heart beat faster. I calmed down and saw the words "camp" written on the symbol. ah! No, my fellow countryman is the correspondent of the regiment headquarters. But I somehow wanted to ask someone if the wounded would be missed on the battlefield. What else do correspondents do during battles besides delivering messages? - I don't know why I ask these boring questions.
In the dozens of minutes after the battle started, everything went smoothly. The wounded brought news time and time again that we broke through the first Luzhai and the second barbed wire fence, occupied the enemy's forward fortifications and entered the street. But at this point, the news suddenly stopped. The wounded who came down simply replied: "Fighting." or "Fighting in the streets."
But from their muddy and extremely tired voices, From their looks, and even from the stretchers that seemed to have just been dug out of the mud, everyone knew what kind of battle was going on ahead.
There were not enough stretchers in the dressing room, so several patients could not be sent to the rear hospitals in time, causing delays.
I couldn't relieve any of their pain, so I had to take the women with me, wipe their faces and wash their hands, feed them some food if they could, and change them into clean clothes for those with backpacks. They had to untie their clothes and wipe the mud and blood off their bodies.
Of course I have nothing to do with this kind of work, but those women were too shy and afraid to let go. Everyone rushed to cook the pot, especially the new daughter-in-law. I talked to her for a long time before she blushed and agreed. But he only agreed to be my go-getter.
The gunshots in front have become sparse. It feels like it's almost dawn, but in fact it's still only midnight.
The moon is very bright outside and hangs higher than usual. Another seriously injured person came down from the front. The bunks in the house were all full, so I placed the seriously injured man on the door panel under the eaves. The stretcher bearer carried the injured person up to the door panel, but he still gathered around the bed and refused to leave. An elderly stretcher bearer, who probably thought I was a doctor, grabbed my arm and said, "Doctor, you have to find a way to cure this comrade no matter what! You cure him, I...we all stretcher bearers The team members will hang a plaque for you..." When he was talking, I noticed that several other stretcher bearers were also staring at me with wide eyes, as if if I nodded, the injured would recover immediately. I wanted to explain it to them, but I saw the new wife standing in front of the bed holding water and making a short "ah" sound. I hurriedly pushed them away and stepped forward to take a look. I saw a very young and childish round face. The original brown-red complexion had now turned grayish-yellow. He closed his eyes peacefully. The big hole was exposed on the shoulder of the military uniform, and a piece of cloth was still hanging there.
"This is all for us,..." the stretcher bearer said guiltily, "We have more than ten stretchers crowded in a small alley, ready to move forward, and this comrade is walking behind us , but who knows that the stubborn reactionaries dropped a grenade from somewhere on the roof, and the grenade was smoking and spinning in the cracks among us. At this time, this comrade told us to get down quickly, and he jumped on that Things are here.
..."
The new wife said "ah" again. I held back my tears, said something to the stretcher bearers, and sent them away. I turned around and saw that my new wife had gently moved an oil lamp and untied his clothes. Her shyness had completely disappeared, and she was just wiping his body solemnly and reverently. This tall and young man The correspondent lay there silently. ...I suddenly woke up and jumped up, stumbling and ran to the doctor. When the doctor and I arrived with injections and medicine, my new wife was sitting sideways next to him.
She lowered her head and was sewing the hole on his shoulder one stitch at a time. The doctor listened to the correspondent's heartbeat, stood up silently and said, "No need for injections." I went over and touched it, and sure enough, my hands were cold.
The new daughter-in-law seemed to have seen and heard nothing. She still held the needle and sewed the hole carefully and densely. I couldn't stand it any longer, so I whispered, "Don't sew anymore." But she glanced at me strangely, lowered her head, and continued to sew stitch by stitch. I want to pull her away, I want to push away this heavy atmosphere, I want to see him sit up, see his shy smile. But I accidentally bumped into something next to me. I stretched out my hand and touched it. It was the meal he had given me, two dry and hard steamed buns. ...
The health worker asked someone to bring a coffin, took off the quilt from his body, and put him into the coffin. The new daughter-in-law turned pale at this moment, grabbed the quilt with her hands, and glared at them fiercely. He spread half of the quilt flatly on the bottom of the coffin and covered him with half of it. The health worker said in embarrassment: "The quilt... is borrowed from the common people."
"It's mine -" she yelled angrily for half a sentence, then turned away. Under the moonlight, I saw her eyes shining brightly, and I also saw the maroon quilt covered with white lilies. This flower, which symbolizes purity and emotion, covered this ordinary young man with a bamboo mop. human face.
March 1958