【Lou Cheng】 How easy is another day

…………

Mingtai finds out that his brothers have all changed.

Needless to say, big brother.Ever since he came back from a trip to Beijing in 31, Mingtai felt that something was wrong. Once he mentioned this feeling to his eldest sister, but the eldest sister said, this is right. When you grow up, you will take on the burden of the family. Naturally, you will be more mature and stable, knowing how to advance and retreat.

Deep down in Mingtai’s heart, he has never been convinced by this statement—he has never been ashamed to admit his awe of his eldest brother, but awe is nothing but awe. Before that trip to the north, he had never felt that kind of coldness on Minglou’s body. His determination is lonely, proud, but bright.

But after the reunion in Paris this time, Mingtai found that the determination was still there, as was the loneliness and pride, but the sense of brightness disappeared.

But a bigger change happened to Mingcheng.

If Minglou's change happened in temperament, Mingcheng's change is reflected in his actions: he spent less and less time at home, and later, he simply moved out of the apartment on German Avenue and went to the university in the 14th district Living in a dormitory in the city, basically only come back on weekends, and have a meal with the eldest brother and the younger brother.And many times, he even missed the once-a-week dinner.

At that time, Mingtai was studying French and other subjects at home with the tutor Minglou specially hired for him. Minglou hoped that he could adapt to the French education system as soon as possible. How to teach the elder sister who reluctantly sent her younger brother to go abroad to feel at ease.It is precisely because he is "at home" every day that Mingtai is extremely sensitive to Mingcheng's "absence".Finally one day, after Ming Cheng was absent from the family gathering again, Ming Tai couldn't help but ask Ming Lou: "Why doesn't Brother Ah Cheng come home all the time? Did you quarrel?"

"What do you think?"

"You guys never quarrel...then..." The young master hesitated for a while, and asked desperately, "Brother, have you scolded him?"

Minglou smiled: "Why am I scolding him? He's not you, so there's nothing to scold him for."

After two consecutive questions were rejected by the eldest brother, Mingtai had an idea: "Oh, I see! That can't be Brother Ah Cheng dating!"

Minglou raised his eyes from the newspaper: "Oh? Why do you say that?"

Mingtai recalled the last few meetings, Mingcheng lost weight, but he looked good and full of energy, especially with a strange light shining in his eyes. If he had to judge by Mingtai, this must be the expression of love .

"Really. Brother, think about Brother Ah Cheng's recent performance, especially his expression. Doesn't it look similar to how Sister Man Chun saw you when you just returned to Shanghai?" Ming and Taiwan compared each other, becoming more and more determined stand up.

"Speaking of Ah Cheng, just say Ah Cheng, what are you talking about other people." Ming Lou glanced at him, "That's right. Ah Cheng is also at this age, and it's normal to fall in love."

"...Hmph, brother Ah Cheng is really mean, and he didn't tell me when he fell in love." Mingtai saw that his elder brother said the same thing, but he was a little unhappy.

Seeing this, Minglou smiled again: "Young master is the head of our family, and you must be informed first about everything."

Mingtai just felt that this sentence made his back feel cold, shrugged his shoulders, and dared not speak any more.

He didn't dare to be presumptuous in front of Minglou, but with Mingcheng, it was another matter.When I saw Mingcheng again, without saying a few words, Mingtai immediately pestered him with a smirk: "Brother Ah Cheng! You have a problem! Be honest!"

Mingcheng opened the hand on his shoulder: "What nonsense. What's the problem? What's the explanation?"

"My eldest brother and I both think that you must be in love."

Mingcheng was startled at first, and then laughed dumbfounded: "I said, young master, what are you thinking about all day long? Are you studying hard? Tell me, is it because elder brother is busy recently? Never mind you, are you itchy?"

Seeing his rebuttal, Mingtai thought it was all 300 taels of silver, so he called Minglou loudly: "Big brother! Big brother! Brother Ah Cheng is back! I asked him what we talked about last time, and he didn't recognize it." Woolen cloth!"

After calling for a few words, Minglou finally came out of the study and said, "What are you yelling about?"

As soon as he opened his mouth, Mingtai, who was jumping up and down just a second ago, suddenly became quiet. He looked at Minglou and then at Mingcheng, feeling a little unwilling: "Brother! You're really biased! I'll just ask." Brother Cheng, is he in love, why did you mention me?"

Mingcheng heard that he was making such a fuss in front of Minglou, and shook his head helplessly: "My little master, stop talking nonsense."

"Brother, look, he won't admit it in front of you. Brother Ah Cheng, this is not a bad thing. Don't be embarrassed."

Minglou glanced at Mingcheng and asked, "Are you in a relationship?"

"No." Mingcheng looked at Minglou and replied softly.

Minglou nodded, then looked at Mingtai again: "Did you hear that? Ah Cheng said no."

"Big brother..."

Minglou ignored him, and continued to say to Mingcheng: "College life is interesting. But this is your home, don't forget your family members. Is it so comfortable to live in the school dormitory?"

Now the person calling "Big Brother" was replaced by Mingcheng, different from Mingtai's unconvinced tone, Mingcheng's tone vaguely begged him to stop here.Minglou smiled in his heart, and didn't answer anyone's words, but said: "Okay, since you're back, we can go out. I reserved a seat at Maxim, and it's just right to go out now. Both of you Stop messing around and go change your clothes."

When Mingtai heard that he was going to Meixin, he cheered and ran back to the room immediately; Mingcheng stood still, but looked at Minglou, and said softly after a while: "Brother, it's a family dinner anyway, so we're at home eat it?"

Minglou raised his eyebrows: "Then who will cook?"

Mingcheng hesitated for a moment: "I'll come."

"When did you learn to cook?"

"Did not do well."

"Then make this suggestion after you're done." Minglou gave him a deep look, "Ah Cheng, do you need to talk to me?"

Mingcheng bit his lower lip lightly: "...Brother, what do you want to talk to me about?"

"I'm asking you." Minglou looked at him with a calm expression.

"No."

Ming Lou nodded: "Okay. Whatever you want. Go change your clothes."

"understood."

Mingcheng didn't go back to the dormitory that weekend, and spent the whole night taking the exam with Minglou on Mingtai's homework, and without any accidents, the young master was directly put down in the exam.After Mingtai went to sleep listlessly, they shared another bottle of wine and said good night to each other.

Mingcheng knew that Minglou might have been waiting for him to say something first, just as he knew that maybe Minglou already knew everything and was just waiting for him to say something.From childhood to adulthood, they have such a tacit understanding and congenial relationship. They are not related by blood, but they are very close.

But he still didn't say anything.This is not fear, nor resistance, but knowing that the current self has not made up his mind-he has lived until now, and his short life has been full of contradictions, poverty and wealth, love and hatred, labor and pleasure, China and pleasure. Foreign countries, friends and enemies, communism and capitalism.These things tore him apart and made him.

He labored, he read, he observed, he engaged in discussion, he threw himself into debate, he advocated for new beliefs, he did what he could.But none of this seemed to be enough for him to make his final choice.Mingcheng doesn't know whether he will break free from those chains in the end, the only thing worth knowing is that the new world has not yet arrived.

But what is the new world?

He asked his comrades, teachers, and many people of different classes, ages, and countries, and everyone's answers were consistent and different; in fact, even if he asked himself, he couldn't give a definite answer.

In the past few months, Mingcheng wanted to ask Minglou more than once what his new world is.He was his mentor, his elder brother, who pulled him out of the darkness and literally gave him a whole new world.

Maybe it was because he wanted to know Minglou's answer too much, but Mingcheng couldn't ask.

Although he deliberately didn't mention it, things in the world have their own laws of cause and effect.What is concealed will be confessed, and what is hidden will eventually come to light.It didn't take long for Minglou to learn what Mingcheng had done during this period of time in an unexpected way.

When he felt the stick hit his arm and back, Mingcheng's first reaction was not pain, but fear—the memory of his childhood appeared in a foreign country in a strange way, and hit him viciously.

This little pain was actually nothing, but his limbs began to spasm uncontrollably.His stomach turned violently, and Mingcheng threw up almost immediately.

The comrades who participated in and supported the strike were terrified by his reaction. Fortunately, someone with quick eyesight and quick hands grabbed him, so that he did not fall to the ground and avoided a tragedy that might be trampled by the retreating crowd.

In 1932, Europe was affected by the Great Depression across the ocean, and workers in Paris went on strike one after another.

This is not the first time Mingcheng has participated in an industrial workers' strike, but it is the first time he has been violently expelled, and it is also the first time he has witnessed the failure of a strike.

He evacuated the scene under the cover of his comrades. It took Mingcheng a long time to realize that he was covered in blood, maybe it was his own, maybe it was someone else's, but no matter who it was, the blood was real and belonged to a a living person.Mingcheng was in pain, and even more angry.

But whether it is pain or anger, the failure and blood are real.Can fade and never fade away.

In order to avoid pursuit, they scattered under the cover of night, acting alone, wounded or not.Mingcheng originally planned to go back to the contact point of a French Communist Party activity group two blocks away, but as he walked, he realized that he had overestimated his physical strength.

Fortunately, he was already familiar with the Latin Quarter, and he knew which streets were sparsely populated after nightfall, and which dark lights and blind lights could cover the blood on his clothes.

He walked slowly, like a wounded dog, bruised and panting.There are often torrential rains in Paris in summer, and this night is also the same. After getting wet, Mingcheng thought, great, so the blood can be washed away.

In Mingcheng's memory, this is actually not a very long road, but for some reason, today's him has traveled for so long and still hasn't arrived.To make matters worse, as he walked, he no longer saw the crooked streets of the left bank of Paris in front of him. He just returned to the alleys in Shanghai. The smoke from the tiger stove was a bit pungent, and he coughed.

Mingcheng vigorously wiped off the rain on his face, but it was useless, but the small figure in front of him, staggering, became more and more clear.

At last he reached the corner of the street.No other pedestrians could be seen on the road for a while, Mingcheng sat down by the street lamp.

I don't know how long it has passed—Mingcheng rationally thinks it won't be too long, because he hasn't recovered even a little bit of strength—an umbrella covers him.

The elegant leather shoes and meticulously ironed trousers came into view, Mingcheng raised his head with effort, and wanted to thank: "Thank you, sir..."

Minglou's face under the umbrella was as white as a moon.

An inexplicable sentence flashed in his mind.This is a sentence from a script he and Minglou read together: How weird the moonlight is.You'd think it was like a dead woman reaching for her shroud.

But there is no moon, and no shroud, there are only Minglou.

Mingcheng felt himself laughing: "Hi, brother."

…………

When he woke up again, Mingcheng knew that he had returned home.

This is the taste of home.

His whole body was in pain, his eyes were sore, his chest and abdomen were churning, every tendon from his temples to his fingers was struggling with him.

Mingcheng gritted his teeth, and turned his face to the bright side.

Minglou sat on the chair beside the bed with a book on his lap, and was also looking at him.

His gaze was very calm, without a trace of anger or annoyance, on the contrary, Mingcheng couldn't look at him like this, so he could only hastily closed his eyes, his throat seemed to be blocked by a stone, and he couldn't speak a word.

After a while, the voice sounded: "Can you still move? I have to treat your wound."

Mingcheng trembled slightly, and opened his eyes again: "...Brother."

Minglou obviously took this sentence as "yes".He didn't ask a second time, got up and brought bandages and alcohol, then helped Mingcheng up, and started to apply medicine to him.

Mingcheng stared at the same silent Minglou in silence, feeling his hands brushing over his bruised skin, cleaning up the scars bit by bit, washing away the congestion, applying medicine, and then putting on a bandage.Very skilled, very gentle.

Mingcheng felt that the smell of Minglou was covering him. It was the mixed smell of ink, cigarettes and perfume. It was very mild and a little spicy in the deepest part. At this moment, it was intertwined with the pungent smell of alcohol, making Ming Cheng's line of sight is a little distorted, and with it, the time is cycled and overlapped in a wonderful way.Mingcheng didn't know if Minglou remembered something at this moment, at least he couldn't forget it.A younger Ming Lou, a younger self.If there is any difference between the past and the present, it is that Minglou back then would never be able to apply medicine to wounds so skillfully.

Time has changed them in ways that none of them can perceive.

"... Where's the little thing?" It was a long time later that Mingcheng realized that the hoarse and weak voice was made by himself.

In stark contrast, Minglou's voice was calm and powerful, like the sea on a sunny day: "I made a new friend and asked him to spend the weekend at his home in the suburbs."

"I've already made such a good friend." Mingcheng was a little dazed, and seemed to smile slightly.

"Mmm. That's fast."

After saying these few words, the room fell silent again.Until Minglou healed his wound, neither of them said a word.

Mingcheng didn't ask where Minglou learned such bandaging techniques, just as Minglou didn't ask where his wound came from.After the bandage was finished, Minglou asked him if the bandage felt too tight, Mingcheng shook his head and told him, it was just right.

"That's good. Don't take a bath today, for fear of infection."

"Thank you bro."

"I see vomit marks on your coat, would you like something to eat?"

Mingcheng shook his head: "...I kind of want to drink water."

Minglou handed him the water glass that had been placed beside the bed.

"The bone is fine, it's just a trauma."

"Ah."

"Tell me if it hurts badly. I'll give you an aspirin."

"I am fine."

"Okay." Minglou glanced at him again, then stood up from the bed, "Then get a good night's sleep. Call me if you feel uncomfortable."

After speaking, he walked to the sofa in the other corner of the room.It was only then that Mingcheng discovered that Minglou had already put pillows and blankets on it.

Mingcheng has never been so eager for Minglou to say to him, "Acheng, do you need to talk to me?" As long as there is a hint, any word, or a look, he will say everything, all thinking and exploration , all the anger and struggle, everything.

Because, that is Minglou.

He looked at Minglou for a long time, trembling slightly with longing.But Minglou didn't say anything, he didn't even turn his head, he turned off the light and said goodnight in the dark.

When Mingcheng woke up the next day, Minglou had already gone to school.Breakfast was left on the table, and the newspaper of the day, in an inconspicuous corner of an unimportant page, reported the news of a violent strike by workers in a certain textile factory.

Mingcheng finished reading the newspaper expressionlessly, ate his breakfast, and after packing everything up, he limped away from home and reported to the party branch for his safety.

For a long time, they never mentioned this matter again, as if that rainy night never existed.Before the start of the summer vacation, Mingcheng still maintained the frequency of going back every weekend. It was not until the summer vacation started and the lease period of the student apartment ended that he moved back home.

Unlike college students, Minglou doesn't have specific winter and summer vacations, so even if Mingcheng moves back home, most of the time, the two of them still only see each other sooner or later.That rainy night seemed to be a knot in my heart. It was okay when Mingtai was present, but as long as the two of them were alone, conversations became very rare.

Not long after the summer vacation started, Mingtai went to the south with his local friends for vacation, while Minglou went to Germany with the teachers and classmates in the department, leaving Mingcheng alone to look after the house.

Injuries and setbacks did not repel Mingcheng, but made him stronger.He still attended rallies, listened to speeches, and worked with his comrades as usual.One day, when he woke up, he suddenly felt that maybe he could take the initiative to go to Minglou and tell him that he was a Communist.Then two people can sit together and discuss class and revolution, capital and exploitation, just as they discussed poetry and prose, Dante and Voltaire.

He began to eagerly look forward to the day when Minglou returned from Germany.

But before Minglou came back, Mingcheng suddenly received a notice from the party branch, saying that a Communist Party member from China had officially started working in Paris after receiving relevant documents and notices from the Communist International.In order to help him better, the French Communist Party will appoint Mingcheng to get in touch with him and assist him in his work.

The colleague in charge of this matter did not tell Mingcheng the name of the comrade who was going to meet him, but only the code name of the other party, the time and place of the meeting and the method of connection.When Mingcheng heard the code name, he even made a joke, asking: "Since it's called Cobra, you must be wearing very thick glasses, right?"

But after getting the props that need to be verified by each other when meeting, Mingcheng put away his smile.

On an afternoon in August 1932, Mingcheng walked west along Boulevard Saint-Germain, towards the Cafe Shuangsou on the same street.In his trousers pocket was a thin sheet of paper torn from a book.With this, he is about to recognize his comrades and compatriots who came from afar, and become his assistant, working together for their motherland thousands of miles away.

Because of nervousness and anticipation, Mingcheng's pace was fast, and the short distance took only half the usual time to arrive.He knew that his nervousness and anticipation were not just because of the new comrade he was about to meet, but because deep down he vaguely knew who he was going to meet, but he didn't know if he wanted it to happen.

But he couldn't wait, a shiver pushed him to open the door of the cafe.

At a table by the window, Mingcheng saw a figure from behind, with a book spread out in front of him.

He suddenly calmed down, but dizziness and ecstasy hit him like a passing hurricane.

Nothing is more unreal than this, and nothing is more real than the present.Mingcheng stepped forward and took out the page of the book. It came from "Wild Grass" published by Beijing Book Company in July 1927, and the article printed on this page was called "Tomb Jiewen".

One summer day many years ago, he memorized this article. After so many years, he still remembers every word.

Hearing the sound of footsteps, his dear comrade turned around and smiled at him: "'Cold in the midst of fanaticism; see the abyss in the sky; see nothing in the eyes of all; be saved in hopelessness.' Ming Cheng Comrade, good afternoon."

End of this article