Zhou Haiying:
When Mr. Lu Xun died, Haiying was still a 7-year-old child with teething teeth, but Mr. Lu Xun was indeed. The book "Lu Xun and Me for Seventy Years" not only reveals that Lu Xun suffered from stomach pain and was assassinated before his death, but also boldly questioned and inferred the "death of Lu Xun", which cleared the thick fog of history and has great historical research value. Haiying's narration is sincere and frank, his writing is simple, his words are full of affection, and his heart for his father is vividly on the paper.
stomach trouble often troubled his father
his father died of lung disease,
but it was stomach trouble that often tortured him before his death. But this stomach trouble didn't break out because of fighting with Zhang Tuzhao. According to my uncle Zhou Jianren, my father was very strong when he was young, and the earliest cause of his stomach trouble was to catch the township entrance examination in his youth. The examination room is far from home, and my father's family is poor, so I can only walk. Admission time is in the middle of the night, so I have to eat dinner at home and go there, and I have to take an examination basket with me, which contains ink, ink, stones, food and small benches. Most of the companions are in their twenties, and they run fast with long legs. In addition, one of them has to wash his feet before leaving. After washing his feet, he heard that the examination room door is about to close, so everyone can only run with great strides. This can be bitter for my father, who can't run fast when he is young, so he can only struggle all the way. But he has just had a full meal. How can he stand such strenuous exercise? This left the root of the disease.
When my father was eighteen, he came to Nanjing with eight yuan's travelling expenses raised by his grandmother and was admitted to Jiangnan Naval Academy. Every severe winter, he can only buy some peppers for dinner to keep warm, and his stomach is constantly stimulated. After my father's middle age, all his teeth were pulled out and fitted with dentures, and his chewing ability declined, which added to the burden on his stomach. Sometimes the stomach cramps strongly, and when you touch it from the outside, it is as hard as stone, and it can't be delayed for a long time.
When he was in pain, he held the armrest of the swivel chair against his upper abdomen for a long time, in order to relieve the pain. Mother looked worried and gently massaged him with her palm. Father doesn't stop working even if he has a stomach attack. If the pain is really severe, my father will warm his stomach with a pocket stove.
Now when I see this kind of thing, I can't help but associate it: every night at 9 o'clock, I have fallen asleep early, but my father is in this long night and cold environment, with illness, only bringing him a little warmth with the stove, and enthusiastically contributing everything to the arrival of the ideal world.
The Kuomintang tried to assassinate his father
Here is a historical fact that the Kuomintang tried to assassinate his father. It was in 1992, when I was transferred from the National People's Congress to Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference, and I was included as a "special representative" in Group 44. There is an old man I am not familiar with in the group. He is taciturn and serious, and he doesn't cut in and laugh with others, but he speaks briefly according to the main idea of each discussion topic. Later, I learned that he was Shen Zui, a famous assassin of the Kuomintang military system. During the break of the group meeting, everyone visited each other and exchanged pleasantries, and I followed them to visit Shen Zui's residence. When he faced me, his pupils suddenly contracted, as if his mood was quite ups and downs, but he didn't talk at that time.
a few days later, I met him in the restaurant again, and he asked me to have an empty talk. I was invited to his room, and he looked very excited and confided a "secret that has never been revealed". He said that one day in the 193s, he received an order from his superior to form a surveillance team to assassinate my father. As a result, the monitoring team sent people to monitor the opposite building for many days. He himself went there several times, only to see that my father often wrote on the table. I was still very young, playing in the room, and I couldn't see anything special. Because of their father's reputation, they didn't do it. He said, otherwise I will be sorry for you, and it will be an irreparable tragedy.
He could have buried this history in his mind and disappeared with himself in the world. But he told me frankly that I respected him for this.
"Little Guaigu" secretly packed cigarettes
In the first half of 1936, my father's health fluctuated greatly, and the whole family lived in a state of anxiety and joy. Every morning, I get dressed and go to school. I always tiptoe down from the third floor for fear of affecting my father's rest. My father's door is usually open, so I crept into the bedroom and listened to his snorting. I know I can't help his health, but I always try my best to make him a little happy. So he gently pulled out a cigarette from the cigarette case, carefully inserted it into the burnt and yellow cigarette holder, put it where he could reach it when he woke up, and then quietly left. At lunch, I always expect my father to praise me for my "contribution" in installing cigarettes. Unexpectedly, my father often deliberately did not mention it. I couldn't help it, so I asked in a roundabout way: "What's the last thing in the cigarette mouth today?" After hearing this, my father smiled and said, "My dear aunt, you packed the cigarettes." Hearing this sentence, I feel more valuable than any reward, my heart is full of joy, and my meal is more fragrant.
However, my father's illness is getting worse. When autumn comes, the home is as quiet as a hospital. Temperature should be measured every day, and doctors come to inject it from time to time. Although my father still went downstairs to have dinner with us, he ate very little and sometimes went upstairs to his room in advance. You can't have dinner with guests, and you can't end up.
it may be strange to say that two days before my father died, I came home from school in the afternoon, and suddenly I heard someone in the distant air say to me, "Your father is going to die!" " This sentence is very clear, and I was greatly surprised. I quickly looked around, and there was no one nearby, but this sentence was sent to my eardrum very clearly. A seven-year-old has auditory hallucinations? And it never happened again after so many years, which is really a mystery. At that time, I hurried home and went to the third floor to tell nanny Xu Ma about it. Xu Ma scolded me: "It's impossible to talk nonsense."
Father's death
But misfortune finally came. On the morning of October 19th, 1936,
I woke up from a deep sleep and felt that it was getting late. I was very surprised. Why did Xu Ma forget to wake me up? At this time, the stairs rang gently, and Xu Ma came to the third floor and whispered, "Brother, don't go to school now." I hurried to ask why. I saw that Xu Ma's eyes were red, but she held back her tears and said to me slowly, "Dad is gone, so Nong should not go downstairs now."
I didn't have time to think, so I hurried to my father's room, regardless of Xu Ma's advice. My father is still lying in bed like he used to fall asleep in the morning, calm and serene. But the air in the room is so low that people can't breathe. My mother, in tears, came to hold my hand and clung to me, as if afraid of losing anything again. There are several relatives and friends at my father's bedside, who are also waiting quietly, as if waiting for my father to wake up. Time seems to be stagnant, the second hand goes forward one second at a time, and the time passes one by one, but it can't take away the sorrow and grief in the whole room.
In a short time, the Japanese female nurse went to the bed and leaned down with experience to listen to her father's chest. When she confirmed that her heartbeat had stopped, she stretched out her hands across the quilt and vigorously vibrated her father's barren chest, trying to make his heart beat again. We waited with bated breath for a miracle. I hope he is only in a temporary coma, temporarily suspended animation, and I hope he suddenly wakes up and opens his eyes. However, my father finally didn't wake up, and finally left us. I can't call me a "little girl" lovingly, and I can't stab my cheeks with my beard ... < P > My tears poured down my cheeks, and my mother hugged me and said, "Now my father is gone, and we are dependent on each other." The more I cling to my mother, the more I want to melt into her warm chest.
After a while, some people came, some recorded movies, some took photos ... The room was not as quiet as before.
At this moment, a Japanese sculptor named Okuda Xinghua came. He approached his father's bed, bent down and opened a box. He dug out a yellow sticky vaseline ointment from the bottle and applied it to his father's cheek. First, he applied it from his forehead, carefully and slowly, and then he used the prepared white gypsum paste to rub it evenly layer by layer with his fingers and a spatula, or he applied a thin gauze until it was flat and semi-circular. After waiting for half an hour, Mr. Okuda held the edge of the mask and slowly lifted it up. Finally, the mask came off. I saw a dozen of my father's eyebrows and beards sticking off in the mask, and I felt a strange pain in my heart. I wanted to rush up and ask a few questions, but I couldn't move. My mother hugged me. She didn't say anything, what can I say! Mr. Okuda was very satisfied with the mask, talked with Mr. Uchiyama and left.
after eight or nine o'clock, the number of people who came to pay their respects gradually increased, but everyone's movements were still very light, just silently mourning. Suddenly, I heard a loud banging of the stairs, and people followed me. I saw a big man throwing himself at his father's bed and kneeling on the ground, crying like a lion for the first time. He fell on his father's chest for a long time and didn't get up. The hat on his head rolled rapidly along his father's body until he reached the bed. He didn't care about all this, but he sent a cry of grief from the depths of his heart. I looked through my tearful eyes and saw that it was Xiao Jun. This friendship-oriented Kanto man was laughing with his father a few days ago! Now only in this way can he express his feelings for his father.
As for my father's sudden death, it was later recalled by a Japanese friend, Lu Digen, that the day before, my father had walked to his apartment for an interview, and it was already evening when he left. At that time, the weather turned cold, so that he became breathless that night, and he died in just half a day. Lu Digen became the last friend my father visited.
we'll talk about the plaster mask later. At that time, a mask was turned over and handed over to us as a souvenir. It is covered with his father's beards and eyebrows, but it is not what his father looked like when he was born. His face looks narrow and his cheeks are sunken. I think maybe it is because all his dentures were not installed when Okuda Xinghua turned over the mold, and his cheeks sank. But anyway, it is extremely precious. In the 195s, the Lu Xun Memorial Hall in Shanghai was completed. We donated this mask to them and now it is preserved as a first-class cultural relic.