Ask Mr. Panasonic - In Memory of Duan Xingcan

I defecated outside the door, my bare back covered with sweat. The rack truck was so full that it had to be hauled to the field immediately.

Suddenly, two students who looked like students stood shyly in front of my car, holding an envelope in their hands. They handed it to me, saying it was given to me by the principal of the high school. They went through a lot of trouble.

I opened it and found the newspaper with my article inside, along with a letter. The writing did not conform to any style, but it was considered a style of its own. The signature is Duan Xingcan.

I don’t know him, but I have known his name for a long time. When I was very young, my father came back from a meeting in the county town and said that Xin'an County has "three kings and one section", and the several sections of Xingcan are the most famous. It was extremely hot in midsummer, and after the sun went down, the street became slightly cooler. Duan Xingcan came out, wearing a vest and shorts, holding a folding stool and a broken banana fan in one hand, and a thorn stick in the other, and said "snap bang" against the wall. "Pa" three times, the crowd cheered and gathered around. He spat: "Everyone says that I, Duan Xingcan, am counterrevolutionary. Which of you can recite Chairman Mao's quotations from beginning to end? I can, I can recite them backwards. If you are not convinced, stand up and try. A person who is familiar with Mao's election will be a counterrevolutionary." "?"

His excitement was rewarded with applause, and his reputation in the world was naturally illustrious. Of course, this arena is just the arena in Xin'an County.

The content of the accompanying letter was probably that he asked a high school teacher to contact me and said that it would be a pity for me to be buried in the countryside like this. He gave the address in the letter and said he could let me find him.

When I stood in front of him, I only saw a short old man. He talked to me about my writing, and more about his own reading experience. He dared to say things that others did not dare to say, and his tone had the character of an old scholar. The newspapers at that time had already publicized him, saying that his position was once very high, but later it was lowered to a very low level. I'm not interested in such rhetoric. People who were born at the beginning of the last century and had a little bit of education were generally a bit legendary as long as they left their hometown and joined the revolutionary ranks in that era. As for being young and vigorous, being astonished when making decisions, arguing hard with reason, and disobeying authority, I think this is a must for a scholar, and it can be called the most basic character. I didn't look into his ups and downs, I just asked for "memorizing Mao Xuan". He laughed and said that he had no such ability. Rumors were just gossiping and adding fuel to the fire. He is still sober and knows himself, which I think is very rare.

I adhere to the disciple's etiquette, in our subsequent interactions. Soon, I arrived in Beijing. During that period, he wrote me two letters in three days, encouraging me as a young man who rushed to Beijing, and also gave me calm words to keep me awake. He said that when Shen Congwen first arrived in Beijing, he could barely make ends meet. You, Cheng Yuanhe, were ordinary and couldn't be picky about work. No matter what the situation, eating always came first. In his letters at that time, he was already very concerned about analyzing the great writers who were not worthy of their reputation, talking about the vulgarity of society and the degeneration of some classes. I worked during the day and answered his letters at night. In that winter when the ice was thick, the letter he gave me was the warmth Beijing desperately needed.

This was twenty-five years ago.

I returned to my hometown because my mother was ill and did not tell him. My friend in Beijing gathered his backlog of letters to me into a thick stack and sent them to the small courtyard where I lived at that time. I am grateful, but there is no more face-to-face conversation.

It’s been ten years since we said goodbye. On Teacher’s Day fourteen years ago, I bought some flowers and asked my seven-year-old daughter to hold them to visit my husband. He was very eager and touched the little girl's head, his eyes filled with compassion that could not be concealed. Three years later, we met again. Unexpectedly, he read every article I posted carefully and memorized almost all of them, and he was already an eighty-three-year-old man. He pointed out the shortcomings of my article and asked me whether that was the original manuscript or the editor's modifications. I answered, we argued, and we sighed. He doesn't seem to want you to contradict his point of view, but I can't help but always want to argue with him. He again cited scriptures to convince me. Most of the time, I didn't want to offend the old gentleman too much. I was convinced with words, but I was still not convinced in my heart. I wonder if he was aware of it?

At that time, his "Wind and Rain Footprints" had been published. He earnestly gave me an inscription and gift book, the content of which was the same as that of Brother Deng Shitai. He encouraged me to publish a book, saying that articles or words are also small lives, and we have no right to let them live and die. He also criticized my sharpness to my face, saying that one can win unexpectedly by taking the wrong edge, but only by being open to all rivers can one achieve great things. Without grace, how can I be magnanimous? I agreed with my mouth, but I had not completely turned around in my heart.

His health is getting worse and worse. His legs are so serious that he can hardly go downstairs. He is severely deaf and almost needs translation from his children. When I called, they were basically blocked. At first I was a little angry, but later I understood that for the elderly, not disturbing or intruding is true care or respect. Later, some organizations interviewed him and let him appear on the scene. I was a little puzzled.

This morning, I saw Brother Baochun’s message and Brother Shitai’s commemoration, and I found out that my husband passed away in Daoshan on March 18th. At ninety-five years old, I don’t think I have any big regrets. Life is full of ups and downs, and suffering is like a knife. In fact, there is no need to talk about it too much. The sufferings endured by the people at the lowest level are no less than those of intellectuals. Could it be that just because you know how to write, you can only complain and cry? Destiny is the epitome of the times. After seeing through it, everyone should be calm and calm.

The value of "Wind and Rain Footprints" is mainly information or teaching experience, which has certain historical value and teaching significance. The first few essays in the first volume are really well written and clearly have the style of May Fourth New Literature.

When I was compiling "Hundred Schools of Prose in Heluo" and Brother Yu Ke was compiling "Selected Prose in Heluo", I deliberately included several articles. What follows is mostly about his own mental journey, almost like the memoirs of a veteran cadre. The collection of Tang poetry in the second volume is extremely ingenious and shows great skill. The twelve poems about Yi'er are deeply emotional and surpass Han Yu's "Essay on Sacrifice of Twelve Langs" and Yuan Mei's "Essay on Sacrifice of Sisters". Readers will not fail to shed tears.

When the old gentleman was talking to me, he also sighed loudly when he talked about the passage of time. During the years when we published more articles, he also submitted manuscripts in handwriting, but received no response from the editor. He didn't let me say it, but now I feel it's necessary to announce it. It's time for the old man to relieve the pain in his chest. I remember that 20 years ago, the Evening News published a column for him called "Moonlight in Old Times", but it didn't appear in a few articles and then nothing happened. I originally wanted to call the newspaper office to ask, but then gave up.

Mr. Duan’s character brings fame, but his words come second. He has the demeanor of a celebrity, the passion of a person with ideals, and the insight of a noble person, but at the end of the day, he is a civilian and a grassroots person, and his character must be unpopular with many people. He has not joined any society, nor is he a visiting professor. He has more of an ego than others. But in his old age, he was deeply grateful to the principals and secretaries who came to visit him during festivals and festivals. He had become a peaceful grassroots person and no longer had the fierce spirit of his youth.

There must be many text lovers he cares about. In his later years, I think he may have felt deeply lonely and sad. The situation of a century has become a gray cloud, and looking at himself in the mirror has become an old man. Occasionally, someone will remember that when he visits someone, he will think that people have not forgotten him, which is a great comfort. He will even be grateful that the other person has his name in their heart!

I do not agree with the title "the cultural conscience of a famous city" given to him, nor do I like the so-called modesty that some people must worship him when they see him. His fame did not go beyond Heluo, and his writings were only circulated in Heluo. His articles were destined not to enter the history of literature, and the combination of the three words "Duan Xingcan" must be very unfamiliar to readers outside. This is the truest reality.

The husband is gone. I hope there won’t be too many unnecessary words. He doesn’t need them anymore. He has the marks of an old intellectual. His death marked the disappearance of the spirit of a generation of scholars to a certain extent. His words are like a breeze blowing into people's hearts, and the achievements of his essays are not as good as those of prose. He is very opinionated in his thinking, and he can penetrate deeply into his arguments. He is considered a strange person among the writers at the bottom, but he is not an expert.

He will be mentioned among Heluo authors for decades more, and he should be mentioned when writing a summary of Heluo literature. He interacted with famous people such as Gong Liu and Liu Shahe, but those people may not have thought of him after leaving Luoyang.

Hua Shi, Zhao Hexi, Song Jimin, Leng Weihuai, Sun Jianbang, Deng Shitai and others went to see Mr. Duan off for the last time. Mr. Duan Xingcan and I dare not say what kind of fate we have. If I must say it, the small village of Soluogou where he taught in his teenage years is very close to my own village of Shenwa. The name of this village always reminds me of the author of "Walden Pond". The strange thing is that this village also has a large bamboo garden and a reservoir, all green. People in the old village live at the bottom of the ditch, sitting in wells and looking at the sky. New villagers go to higher places and drive to any distance. There are many pines and cypresses on the slope, and I am sure that Mr. Xiao Duan must have wandered around the Panasonic at that time, even though Japanese planes were circling overhead.

I can only commemorate him with these words. During his lifetime, he always cherished his temple in the mountains and fields, and was not afraid of the loneliness after his death. That's it.