The news of Lu Xun's death

Lu Xun (1881.9.25 ~1936.10.19) was originally named Zhou Zhangshou and later renamed Zhou Shuren. China is a modern writer, thinker, revolutionary and educator. People call it "thinking about culture and education". Guangxu was born on the third day of August (188 1 September 25th) in Dongchangfangkou, Huiji County, Shaoxing City, Zhejiang Province, and his ancestral home was in runan county, Henan Province. When I was a child, I enjoyed my young master's life, and my family gradually declined and became penniless. Youth was influenced by Darwin's theory of evolution and Tolstoy's thought of fraternity. 1898 Lu Xun changed his name from Zhou Zhangshou to Zhou Shuren. 1902 went to Japan to study at public expense. He originally studied medicine at Sendai Medical College, but later he became a writer because of the war and engaged in literary and artistic work, hoping to change the national spirit (see the preface to Scream). 1905- 1907 participated in revolutionary activities and published papers such as Moro Poetry and Cultural Prejudice. During this period, I was ordered by my mother and wife Juan to return to China to get married. 1909 Co-translated the Collection of Foreign Novels with his brother Zhou Zuoren to introduce foreign literature. He returned to China in the same year and taught in Guangzhou and Shaoxing. 19 18 published the vernacular novel Diary of a Madman under the pseudonym of Lu Xun. 1927 married Ms. Xu Guangping and gave birth to a boy named Zhou Haiying. 19361June19 died in Shanghai. His works were included in Complete Works of Lu Xun, His Works and Letters of Lu Xun, and various ancient books edited and revised by Lu Xun were reprinted. Later, in 198 1, The Complete Works of Lu Xun (* * * sixteen volumes) was published. In 2005, The Complete Works of Lu Xun (eighteen volumes) was published. His works are mainly novels and essays, among which Blessing, The True Story of Ah Q and Diary of a Madman are the most famous. Dozens of novels, essays, poems and essays by Lu Xun were selected into Chinese textbooks for primary and secondary schools, and novels such as Blessing, The True Story of Ah Q and Medicine were adapted into movies. Luxun Museum and Memorial Hall have been established in Beijing, Shanghai, Shaoxing, Guangzhou and Xiamen. At the same time, his works have been translated into more than 50 languages such as English, Japanese, Russian, Spanish, French, German and Arabic, and have a wide audience all over the world.

Zhou Haiying:

When Mr. Lu Xun died, Yinghai was still a 7-year-old baby with teeth, but Mr. Lu Xun accompanied Yinghai for 70 years with his spirit and thoughts. 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 fog of history and was of great historical research value. Ying Hai's narrative is sincere and frank, with simple writing and deep affection between the lines, and his heart for his father is vividly on the paper.

Stomach trouble often bothers my father.

Father died of lung disease,

But before his death, it was stomach trouble that often tortured him. But this stomach trouble didn't break out because of a fight with a picture. According to my uncle Zhou, my father was very strong when he was young, and the earliest cause of his stomach trouble was to catch up with the township entrance examination when he was young. The examination room is far from home, and my father's family is poor, so he can only walk. The admission time is midnight. I have to have dinner at home and bring an exam basket with ink, stones, food and a small bench. Most of my companions are in their twenties, with long legs and fast running. Besides, one of them must wash his feet before leaving. After washing his feet, he heard that the examination room door was about to close, so everyone had to run in big strides. This is bitter for my dad. When he was young, he couldn't run fast and had to struggle all the way. But he just had a full meal. How can he stand such strenuous exercise? This left the root of the disease.

When my father was eighteen years old, he came to Nanjing with eight yuan travelling expenses from his grandmother and was admitted to Jiangnan Naval Academy. Every 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 dentures were installed, which reduced his chewing ability and increased the burden on his stomach. Sometimes my stomach cramps badly. When I touch it from the outside, it's as hard as a stone, and it won't last long.

When he was in pain, he put the armrest of the swivel chair on 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 stomach trouble. If the pain is really severe, my father will warm his stomach with a pocket stove.

Now when I see such a thing as a burner, I can't help but think of it: at 90 o'clock every night, I have already fallen asleep early, and my sick father just brought him a little warmth with the burner and enthusiastically contributed everything to the arrival of the ideal world.

The Kuomintang tried to assassinate his father.

There is a historical fact that the Kuomintang tried to assassinate his father. It was 1992, and I was transferred from the National People's Congress to the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference, and was included in 44 groups as a "special representative". There is an old man I am not familiar with in the group. He is taciturn and serious. He doesn't interrupt and laugh with others, but makes a short speech 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 rest of the group meeting, we visited each other and exchanged greetings. 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 speak at that time.

A few days later, I met him in the restaurant again, and he asked me for an empty talk. I was invited to his room, and he looked very excited and revealed a "secret that has never been revealed". He said that one day in the 1930 s, he was ordered by his superiors to form a monitoring team to assassinate my father. As a result, the monitoring team sent people to monitor the opposite building for many days. He has been there several times by himself, only to see that my father often writes on the table. I was still very young, playing in my 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 into the world with himself. But he told me frankly that I respected him.

"Little darling" secretly packs cigarettes

1in the first half of 936, my father's health fluctuated greatly, and the whole family lived in 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 snore. I know I can't help his health, but I always try my best to make him happy. So he gently pulled out a cigarette from the cigarette case, carefully inserted it into the brown cigarette mouth, put it where he could get it when he woke up, and then quietly left. At lunch, I always count on my father to praise my "contribution" in loading cigarettes. Unexpectedly, my father often deliberately didn't mention it. I couldn't help it, so I asked obliquely, "What's the last thing in the cigarette mouth today?" My father smiled and said, "My dear aunt, you packed your 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 condition is getting worse and worse. Autumn has come, and the home is as quiet as a hospital. Take your temperature every day, and the doctor will 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 it.

Strange to say, two days before my father died, I came home from school in the afternoon and suddenly heard someone say to me in the distance: "Your father is going to die!" " "This sentence is very clear, I was 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 child has auditory hallucinations? And it never happened again after so many years, which is really a mystery. At that time, I hurried home, came to the third floor, and told the nanny Ma Xu about it. Ma Xu scolded me: "It is impossible to talk nonsense. "

Father's death

But misfortune finally came. 1October/morning of kloc-0/9 1936,

I woke up from a deep sleep and felt it was getting late. I was very surprised. Why did Ma Xu forget to wake me up? At this time, the stairs rang gently, and Ma Xu came to the third floor and whispered, "Brother, don't go to school now." I hurried to ask why. The eyes I saw were red, but she held back her tears and said slowly to me, "Dad has left, and the farmer shouldn't go downstairs now."

I didn't have time to think. Despite Ma Xu's advice, I hurried to my father's room. My father is still lying in bed, just like when he was asleep in the morning, calm and serene. But the air in the room is so low that people can't breathe. My mother came to hold my hand in tears and hugged me tightly, as if afraid of losing anything again. There are some relatives and friends at my father's bedside, and they are also waiting quietly, as if waiting for my father to wake up. Time seems to have stagnated. The second hand goes forward second by second, and the minutes pass by, but it can't take away the sadness and grief in the whole room.

After a while, the Japanese female nurse went to the bed and leaned down to listen to her father's chest by experience. When she confirmed that her heartbeat had stopped, she put her hands across the quilt and shook her father's bare chest hard to make his heart beat again. We held our breath and waited for a miracle. I hope he's just in a coma for a while, temporarily faking his death, and I hope he suddenly wakes up and opens his eyes. However, my father finally didn't wake up and finally left us. He can no longer call me "little aunt" affectionately, nor can he stab me on both cheeks with his beard. ...

Tears welled up in my eyes, and my mother hugged me and said, "Now the farmer's father is gone, and we live together." The more attached I am to my mother, the more I want to melt into her warm chest.

After a while, someone came again, some recorded movies, some took pictures ... The room was not as quiet as it was just now.

At this time, 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 of all, he began to paint from his forehead, carefully down, slowly and evenly. Then he rubbed the prepared plaster evenly layer by layer with his fingers and spatula, or applied thin gauze until it was flat and semicircular. After waiting for half an hour, Mr. Okuda held the edge of the mask and slowly lifted it. Finally, the mask was taken off. I saw a dozen of my father's eyebrows and beards fall off in the mask, and I felt a strange pain in my heart. I want to rush up and ask some questions, but I can'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 mourn gradually increased, but everyone's movements were still very light, just silently mourning. Suddenly, I heard a loud bang on the stairs and people followed me. I saw a big man throw himself at his father's bedside, kneeling on the ground and crying like a lion for the first time. He crouched on his father's chest for a long time and didn't get up. The hat on his head rolled quickly along his father's body until he came to the bed. He doesn't care about all this, but he sends out a cry of grief from the bottom of his heart. I looked through my tears, and it turned out to be Xiaojun, a Kanto man who valued friendship, who was still laughing with his father a few days ago! Only in this way can he express his feelings for his father now.

As for my father's sudden death, later, according to Japanese friend Lu Digen, my father walked to his apartment for an interview the day before, and it was already evening when he left. At that time, the weather turned cold, so that he was panting that night, getting worse and worse, and died in just half a day. Lu Digen became the last friend my father visited.

We'll talk about plaster masks later. I turned over a mask and gave it to us as a souvenir. It is covered with his father's beard 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 it may be because his dentures were not installed when Okuda Xinghua turned over the mold and his cheeks sank. But anyway, it is extremely precious. In 1950s, Shanghai Luxun Memorial Hall was completed. We donated this mask to them and now it is preserved as a first-class cultural relic.