Rebirth 78, the beginning of the marriage was broken off by the female educated youth

1964 summer vacation.

Under the shade of the locust tree in Zhima Hutong, 12-year-old Hu Qiyi squatted on the ground and played with his newly acquired tin frog.

The sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, illuminating a group of ants at his feet in great detail.

Hu Qiyi, his attention drawn to the frog, carefully put it in his pocket and plucked a grass stem to fiddle with the little creatures carrying the rice grains. But at this moment, a voice suddenly exploded at the entrance of the alley: "Look! The whore is back!"

Hu Qiyi looked up suddenly.

His mother, Zhao Cuifen, flashed by at the entrance of the alley, pushing a bicycle. Hanging on the handlebars was a net bag containing a lunch box, which contained his favorite meal from the textile factory canteen.

On ordinary days, his mother would always prepare two taels of extra rice at noon, save some and bring it back to him in the evening.

My mother said that the rice in the cafeteria was sweeter than the rice at home, and she used her coupons to exchange it, which was more cost-effective than buying it at the grocery store outside.

Several women gathered under the locust tree, their voices piercing like knives, not caring at all that Hu Qiyi was still there.

"Yesterday at the back of the warehouse, she and Director Wang were so close!"

"Tsk tsk, this slut's belt is so loose it could be used as a door curtain!"

"I heard her son Qiyi doesn't look like Lao Hu..."

Twelve-year-old Hu Qiyi retracted his hand that was picking at the ants as if he had been scalded, and the grass stem broke between his fingers.

He saw his mother's face drain of blood in an instant, the handlebars shook, and one of the aluminum lunch boxes in the net bag fell to the ground with a clang, and two cold steamed buns rolled out.

She didn't pick it up, but pushed the cart with her back straight, walking through those sharp gazes. But Qiyi clearly saw her hands grasping the handlebars, her knuckles so white that they seemed to pierce the skin.

At that time, he didn't know why his mother lost her composure like this. He only knew that his mother didn't bring any food back today, only cold steamed buns.

He felt it was a waste to throw it away, but after thinking about it, he thought that it might be the neighbors' gossip that made his mother unhappy.

So he glared at his gossipy neighbors and ran to pick up the steamed buns and go home.

But before I got home, the door slammed shut, blocking out the buzzing noise outside.

Qiyi pressed against the crack in the door and heard his father, Hu Erliu, roaring from inside the house, like a wounded beast: "It's spread all over the factory! I, Hu Erliu, am so green that a horse can run! Whose bastard is that?!"

Then came the dull sound of thumping, the dull thud of flesh hitting furniture, and the mother's suppressed sobs, squeezed from the depths of her throat.

Hu Qiyi slowly slid down to the ground, and the cool air from the concrete floor seeped into his pants.

He picked up half a brick and smashed it hard at the group of ants that were still moving rice.

The ant colony collapsed and their bodies were mixed in the soil.

He stared at the mess, digging his nails into the splinters of the doorframe.

Hatred is like a poisonous seed, pounded into the softest soil in the child's heart by spit and fists.

Three days later, Zhao Cuifen's body floated up in the lower reaches of the moat, swollen and white, like a piece of swollen driftwood.

While the salvage workers were poking the fish with bamboo poles, Hu Qiyi was standing on the high river bank.

He saw that his mother was still wearing the pair of green cloth shoes that he had patched himself on one foot. There were a few strands of dark green algae wrapped around the shoe uppers, like dirty rumors that could not be shaken off.

The funeral was sadly simple.

No one from the Hu family came, only a few distant relatives from my grandmother's family hastily burned some paper.

Hu Erliu squatted beside the grave, his hands shaking violently as he threw paper money into the brazier.

Qiyi didn't cry. He stared at his mother's name on the tombstone and thought of the faces of the women at the entrance of the alley.

The flames danced in his dark pupils, burning with a chill that shouldn't be in a twelve-year-old child.

"Your mother is a slut! You are a bastard!"

On the way home from school, the children from the neighboring yard chased Qiyi and shouted.

He turned around suddenly and pounced on the leader like a little leopard, raining down his fists and leaving deep bloody marks on the other's face with his nails.

Even when he was pulled away by adults, he was still biting the child's arm tightly, and a beast-like growl came from his throat.

Hu Erliu was called to school, and he bowed and nodded to the teacher, putting on a smile.

On the way home, he kicked Hu Qi in the knee: "What a disgrace! Just like your mother!"

Qiyi fell in the mud and raised his head. The corner of his mouth was broken, blood mixed with mud, but his eyes were like poisoned nails, nailed firmly into his father's hunched back.

A few days later, an explosive piece of news broke in Zhima Hutong: He Caili, who had spread the most rumors about Zhao Cuifen's affair, was arrested by the factory security department.

It turned out that she failed in her pursuit of Director Wang and held a grudge against him, so she fabricated rumors about Zhao Cuifen!

The truth is like a belated slap in the face, making those who once gossiped about you feel hot and dry.

Some people sighed, and some people took snacks to Hu's house with guilt, but were thrown out by Hu Erliu with red eyes.

Qiyi locked himself in the room. On the table was the only photo of his mother, which was taken by his mother and the whole family at a photo studio when he had just started elementary school.

My mother smiled gently and her eyes were clear.

But that was in the past. The mother's face in this photo had been completely scratched by him with a knife.

The last trace of my mother on earth was also erased.

He picked up a pencil sharpener and carved the three words "He Caili" on the uneven table next to the photo, stroke by stroke. The wood chips were swirling and the bottom was visible.

Then he struck a match, poured candle wax, and moved close to the name to cover it.

The flames greedily licked the grain of the wood, burning the three words into charred scars, twisted and hideous, just like his heart at the moment.

The delayed truth is not an antidote, but salt poured into old wounds.

The hatred towards his mother collapsed in an instant, but was quickly transferred and condensed - his father's incompetent and cowardly fists, He Caili's harsh and rumor-mongering mouth, and all those who fanned the flames and killed his mother with their eyes!

When Hu Qiyi was in junior high school, his transcripts always ranked him among the top three in his grade, but his eyes were like a deep frozen pool.

He particularly hated physiology classes. When the teacher pointed to a diagram of the female reproductive system on a wall chart and explained, he pushed his chair away, and the metal legs scraped a harsh noise on the concrete floor.

"It's just a pile of rotten meat and pipes, what's there to talk about!" He said this and slammed the door and left in the astonished gaze of the whole class.

All his intelligence and talents began to be used in a twisted way to deal with women.

My classmate, Dan Xiaoli, had her bicycle tires deflated every now and then, and the seat was covered with sticky glue.

One day after school, Shan Xiaoli was wiping her tears in front of the flat tire in the carport, while Hu Qiyi was leaning against the wall with a cold smile on his lips.

When Shan Xiaoli realized it was him and started crying, he just said coldly, "Why are you crying? They're just like you, useless as water."

He even secretly collected the discarded sanitary products of the girls, picked them up with tweezers, and stuffed them deep into the desk drawer of the young female teacher he hated the most.

When the female head teacher screamed and opened the drawer in the office, he was watching through the crack in the window, with no expression on his face, only a hint of satisfaction deep in his eyes.

These despicable tactics ultimately cost him. After repeated severe warnings, the school issued an ultimatum: expulsion.

When Hu Erliu received the notice, he seemed to have aged ten years in an instant and almost knelt down in front of the dean.

In the end, Hu Qiyi was reluctantly kept on probation, but Hu Erliu was also called to the school and was pointed at and scolded as "the father's fault for not raising and educating his child."

When he returned home that day, Hu Erliu did not beat or scold his son for the first time.

He just sat on the doorstep, facing the empty yard, smoking one cigarette after another, his hunched back like a shoulder pole crushed by an invisible burden.

In the smoke, he looked at his son's cold, handsome but violent face, and for the first time, his turbid old eyes revealed bottomless fatigue and confusion.

This son is like a bomb that can explode at any time. He is unable to defuse it, and dare not abandon it.

So he was worried about his son staying at home alone, and began to ask the prison warden He Yong to allow him to bring his son to work.

After Li Xiangnan said this, he stared at the stunned Hu Qiyi with cold eyes.

"From then on, Hu Qiyi's journey to prison began..."