I struggled instinctively, but I was crushed to death. In a blur, I saw that the master was also stopped outside the bedroom by several people with guns to their chests. I asked aloud, who are you? What do you want to do! Only then did I realize that my voice was hoarse.

The man who pressed me said, we are the glorious successors and defenders of the leader, and I will ask you now, did you secretly go to burn incense and worship the Buddha to the dead man at the door last night?

I quickly replayed in my head what had happened last night. I didn't see anyone from the time I slipped out the door until I came back, could it be that someone had secretly seen me from afar and denounced me? But I just gave the dead less paper money, this is the traditional custom of our Chinese, how did I become a lackey of the feudal remnants?

So I was not angry in my heart, and said loudly, I burned it, and no one took the corpses when they died, and I felt pitiful, and I was afraid of dying at our doorstep, so I worshipped. The second half of my sentence is lying, and with these arrogant people, I can't tell the truth and even affect the master.

After listening to my answer, the two men who were holding me down commanded, and the two men who were pointing guns at my master came over, clasped my hands behind my back, and then set me up. That's when I could see the face of the guy who was pressing me just now. He looked about my age, with sleeves rolled up, armbands on his arms, and a leader's head badge on his left chest.

He looked at me coldly, but his eyes were full of joy. It was like "finally getting another one." He took out a red-skinned pamphlet from his breast pocket, held it high above his head, and said loudly to me, "The leader has said that we must clean up the leftovers of ancient culture and bring down all the bad habits!" Only then can we save the country and the people! Today we have caught another feudal element, and we have made another contribution to the leader and the people!

That tone sounds impassioned, like the tone in a movie I watched when I was a child, "The Southern Expedition and the Northern War". Master stared at the group angrily, and I squeezed my eyebrows at Master, meaning that he should not get involved and save him more trouble. In fact, I think that even if I am caught, this matter should not be so serious, at most, I will be arrested, interrogated, and after I am explained, I will be released.

And as it turned out, I was overly optimistic. On that day, I suffered the biggest setback of my birth.

As I was grabbed from my bed, wearing only shorts and a vest, I was escorted out of the main entrance, as if on a parade through the streets, through the stairs at the door, to the side of the road at the end. Fortunately, the neighbors were scared, and most of them did not go out to watch, and occasionally one or two people watched from afar.

Passing by the place where I burned the paper last night, I found that the body had been removed, leaving only a pool of red-black blood and ashes from the paper I burned last night. When I got to the side of the road, a few people pushed me and stuffed me into the cargo box of a Dongfeng truck, in which sat three or four people who were about the same as me, each with their heads down, looking extremely depressed, just like the landlord I saw at the Seventh Archway at the beginning of the year. And there were several young people with red tassel guns standing beside them.

At the moment, my mind is also clear, and I know that it is best not to be a leader at this moment, so as to save myself from suffering. Since you have arrested me, you can't be caught clearly, and if you convict me just because I burned paper last night, I'm afraid it wouldn't be so ridiculous. So I didn't say a word, and the car drove for about ten minutes, and I arrived at a courtyard not far from the old city wall, a place I had never visited, but it was only when a man viciously beckoned all the people in our car to get out of the car that I saw this courtyard clearly. Judging by the size and furnishings, it should be a school playground.

The group of people asked us to stand in a row, one by one, and put our names on them. In front of us sat a man who was struggling to write. After everyone says their name, he repeats the name, asks why you were arrested, and then adds a crime. When it was my turn, I told him that my name was Situ Shan, and that I had been arrested for burning paper money for dead people. He repeated one side, Situ Shan, a feudal.

So it's as simple as that, I don't have any room for explanation, or even the right to open my mouth to defend myself, and I've already been convicted. And so on, there were many "lawbreakers", "capitalist roaders", "counter-revolutionaries", and so on. From that point on, I realized that I was probably imagining this group of people too simplistic and began to worry about myself.

The same group of people who were escorted here were all locked up in one classroom. Once inside, the pungent smell stinks. There were already a dozen people inside, and everyone looked as if they had walked from the king of Yama, and their bodies and faces were wounded, including tailors, old cadres, and teachers. Each person wore a sign around their neck with their name and their own charges.

This sign, like a disgrace, even though most people are reluctant to bring it up again after many years, I still feel that it is a great insult and destruction to hang the sign in the first place. Those who were held before us appear to have been beaten and abused, including even women. At this moment, I noticed a sign that also said Feudal Elements, which was the same crime as my crime, so I looked at this person carefully, from the appearance of his clothes, to the posture of sitting on the ground, and then the incense scar on the top of his head, so I knew that this was a monk.

Although I am a learner, I am not a monk. But my master is a monk, so I can also distinguish between a Taoist priest and a monk who are both monks, but there is still a big difference. People like Master are free and loose, and they are not taboo in meat and vegetarianism, but they can't get married and have children, and other than that, they are no different from ordinary people. But the monk must ask for a pure heart and few desires, and do not ask about the affairs of the red dust. This monk is meditating in the temple and chanting scriptures, and occasionally goes out to make a fate, and most of the Buddhist family members who really know how to craft will not stay in the temple, most of them are in the folk. The temple will only make it convenient for the good believers on the fifteenth day of the new year, and do what they do.

Master told me a few days ago that the Buddhist temple was smashed and the monk was forced to return to the world appeared in my mind again, although the monk in front of me should not be the person in the temple, but it can be seen that this incident is not accidental, but everywhere. He had been closing his eyes and recuperating, but his eyebrow bone had been broken, and half of his face was marked by dried blood.

I began to think in my heart that I was afraid that I would also be beaten. So I secretly made up my mind that if they wanted me to confess my crimes, I would say that I would be pitiful, and that I would recognize my mistakes more and have a slightly better attitude, and maybe people would not use their hands to torture me. Actually, I didn't believe that they would be so compassionate at the time, but I had to convince myself in this way so that I would not be so afraid.

However, I still overthought it. In the evening, someone outside the classroom shouted my name and asked me to stand at the door. So I silently got up and stood up, and when the door opened, two people dragged me to another classroom, one left and one right. There were four or five people in the room, and before I could explain myself, a few of them came up to me and started beating me.

Growing up like my children, most of them would fight when they were young, and of course I had times when I was beaten up, and at this time, I was usually the only one who helped me. But the beating that day almost killed me.

I didn't even get a chance to say anything about me, and even when I tried to speak a few times during the beating, someone would kick me in the stomach before I could say anything. Soon, an astringent, slightly salty sensation appeared in my mouth, which was the taste of blood. My head was buzzing and my fists were hitting me, and I even felt numb and painless.

They stopped beating, but I vomited blood from my mouth and fell to the ground, not even having the strength to stand up.

This beating has taught me to remember it for the rest of my life, and it has also taught me that in the days to come, the use of force is to protect the weaker, not to be above others.

I was angry and wanted to resist, but I knew that if I resisted, I might really die. The group of guys in front of me, their atrocities must have been tacitly approved to be so bold, so I gritted my teeth and endured it, not saying a word. Two of them pulled me up from the ground and came up to me to look at my face, as if to see if I was unconscious, and gave me two slaps in the face. Then they dragged me aside and made me crouch on the ground. One of them pointed to the chalk on the ground and said, "Explain."

Hand over? I've fought all the battles, and I still need to explain something. Is it still useful to say what I say now? So I shook my head and said, I don't know how to read, I can't write. A guy kicked me in the shoulder and kicked me to the ground, and he said, you can't read, right, then you say, I'll write for you.

I know that no matter how clearly I explain it at this point, I will be guilty in the end. So I decided to make up a story and try to get as far as I could, and then I confessed. It's just to suffer less, but now I swear in my heart that if I get killed by these bastards, it will be fine, but if I don't die, I will make it worse than you bastards.