Life in small things

  I am late in the evening, I can remember things completely, I am afraid I will be after I am five years old. My family is ordinary and my parents are general staff. There are two children in my family and my sister, and there are baboons, who are not rich or rich. It was in the early 1970s, I was about five or six years old. In the Spring Festival that year, I was wearing a new dress and was led by my mother to go out. Walking, my mother whispered, “You see that little sister is pitiful!”

  I only noticed that a girl younger than me was kneeling at the wall, holding a nest in her hands and staring at the pedestrians. Mom whispered: “You see that you have new clothes to wear, she does not. New Year, she still eats the head. Such a cold day, kneeling in the toilet…”

  So I looked at her carefully. She wore cotton jackets and cotton trousers that were dirty and old. They didn’t seem to wear autumn clothes and long trousers. The hollow cotton coat is definitely not warm. Her little nephew was messed up, her face was dirty, and her hands were awkward. The smell of the public toilet in the bungalow area can be heard far away, but she is unaware of it, probably already used to it, just licking her cold head.

  I look at her, she also looks at me, I walked far and looked back at her. She looked at me, maybe not profoundly; I saw her, but I had the first sympathy and pity in my life. That was the first time I was sorry for others rather than myself. Until today, I still think of the girl in many moments and many scenes. When I think of her, I really feel cold, lonely, and hopeless… I am also very grateful to my mother, who promptly reminded me to open a child to see the eyes of the world, and buried the kind seeds in the heart of a child.

  I asked myself: “What do you rely on?”

  There is another thing that I have never forgotten in my life. It is a disgust to me, but it is very important to me. When I was in the fourth and fifth grades of elementary school, I studied very well, and I was dressed and clean. This kind of girl will be a small cadre, and she will not suffer. One day after school, I played with a group of classmates on the playground, and the schoolbags were piled on the ground next to them. Suddenly, a classmate said: “Zhang Yue, she moved your bag!”

  I saw a girl in the lower grades next to her. She didn’t open the schoolbag. She was definitely not taking someone else’s things. Maybe she was just sitting alone at the playground and bored. She saw a pile of different schoolbags and looked at them. A glance. It was such an insignificant thing, I actually ran over, raised my hand and licked the girl’s mouth, and screamed, “You dare to move me!” At the same time, I am a little proud, I feel very crazy.

  The girl who was beaten was short and thin, and she was full of surprise and fear, and looked at me all the time. I am a little embarrassed, I don’t know how to end it, and I have been dead for a long time. I pretend that I have nothing to say to everyone: “Don’t ignore her! Let’s play.” Then I ran away. I don’t know when the girl left, and I don’t know how the bullying of the wicked has affected her psychology. I only know that I played very unhappy in the second half.

  This is the first time I have been beaten in my life. It is disgusting to beat people. If she resisted at the time, it might arouse my enthusiasm for madness, but she was very weak. Her tolerance made me hate myself. Later, I often saw slap in the film and television drama. Very handsome and very deflated, but I don’t like to watch. No matter who is playing or not, no matter what the reason, I don’t like it.

  I didn’t mention it after I went home, and for a long time after that, I thought I had forgotten it, but the retribution was a few years later.

  In the late 1970s, I was admitted to a very famous middle school with a full score. My classmates are all top students in various schools. As a result, I am no longer top-notch, and even a poor student, which is a great humiliation for a girl who is always self-righteous.

  One day, taking math classes, this is the class I am most afraid of. As usual, the teacher called a classmate to the calculus example on the blackboard. I called it to me that day, and I made a question on it for everyone to see. That question is actually very simple, but I am completely wrong, I still do not know. The teacher probably was impatient, and pointed to me and asked everyone: “Is she doing right?” Everyone said in unison: “No!” Then they laughed. In a laugh, a classmate’s argument came out: “This silly X!”

  In our school, no one is swearing, and now swearing is coming out, obviously I am stupid enough to be extremely intolerant. I can’t describe my feelings at the time, I have always been good, and I was beaten by myself. Although I was comforted later, my classmates were criticized, but it didn’t help. I can’t wait to die, to escape the embarrassment, and for a long time after that, I hate the classmate who is hurting me, it is also a sly girl.

  Later, I often wondered why the classmate could insult me, and I could do nothing because at that time she was smarter than me and better than me. Why can I play another girl at the beginning? Because I am stronger than her, more crazy than her. Why can a more powerful and better person despise and hurt a person who is weaker than himself? So, what is the meaning of the so-called excellent and powerful? In the shameful role of “bullying people,” I am jealous of me. What is the difference between girls and girls? In the poor role of being bullied, what is the difference between me and the girl I was beaten?

  In fact, everyone will hurt people, everyone will be hurt, but we only know our own suffering, but I do not know the pain they have imposed on others. In the past, I was very proud. Later, I regarded pride as a devil. I struggled with it every day. Whenever I looked down on someone and couldn’t do anything, I asked myself: “Why are you?”

  What to face in the face of death

  In the process of growing up, there is one more thing that makes me remember. At that time, I probably went to the third and fourth grades of elementary school. There was a winter night. My parents got off work late and had not returned yet. It was very cold outside, and the lights in the house were dim. In the silence, I clearly heard the alarm clock ticking and ticking. I suddenly thought: every tick, it’s time to go over, so I’ve been ticking, I’ll die. What is death? Is it a big black hole? I am very scared to think of it here, my parents are back, I am still afraid. No one can help me solve the problem of “death”. Since then, “death” has become a problem for me, and I have solved it for decades. I am glad that I have drawn this question very early, and partially answered it, and I still have time to continue to answer.

  A few years ago, I interviewed an oncologist. I asked her: “You sent so many cancer patients, what are they in the face of death?” The doctor said: “Most of them are not mentally prepared, suddenly face, basically collapsed. Cry, trouble, and seek …whatever there is.”

  I asked: “Who will die calmly and have dignity? Is the old man better than the younger? Is the man stronger than the woman? Is the education level high and has seen the world better?”

  The doctor said: “No, it has nothing to do with age, gender, status. It seems to be loved more and more loved. In short, people who experience more beautiful feelings will go calmer.”

  The doctor’s words are also part of the answer to my question when I was a child.

  I said something small and trivial. Because I live in an ordinary environment, I once felt inferior to my experience, twists and turns. After I grew up, I worked, and when I was a reporter, I began to have so-called “big things” and “experiences”. Only then did I know that my childhood psychological experience is very important to my life, because how do you think about those small things? For those big things.