批判會結束後一個星期，青兒就離開生活了兩年的北京， 離開了那個曾經讓她充滿瑰麗幻想、承載著她夢想的北京大學。
兩年前， 就像是天之驕女，懷裡揣著北大錄取通知書， 來北京就讀， 當時的她， 驕傲， 興奮。一個在東北邊遠地區出生的農村妞， 竟然靠個人努力， 考進北京大學， 中國的第一學府， 就像是一個幾乎令人無法相信的神話故事。
那麼現在的她， 戴著右派份子帽子， 成了人民的敵人，被趕回東北老家勞動改造， 從天上摔到地下。 那麼現在的她， 失望， 迷惑，比兩年前的驕傲， 興奮， 真是有過之而無不及。
到現在她都不敢相信， 更是不能理解， 自己到底做錯了什麼？ 一個學歷史的大學生， 為了弄清楚歷史真相， 在圖書館查資料， 做筆記， 這觸犯了那個天條？
什麼為反蘇收集黑材料， 什麼狹隘的資產階級民族主義， 這些大帽子 ， 她一個也不能接受， 難道揭露當年帝國主義的沙俄， 在中國犯下的反人類罪行， 就等同於反對現在的蘇聯社會主義共和國嗎？批判會結束後一個星期，青兒就離開生活了兩年的北京， 離開了那個曾經讓她充滿瑰麗幻想、承載著她夢想的北京大學。
兩年前， 就像是天之驕女，懷裡揣著北大錄取通知書， 來北京就讀， 當時的她， 驕傲， 興奮。一個在東北邊遠地區出生的農村妞， 竟然靠個人努力， 考進北京大學， 中國的第一學府， 就像是一個幾乎令人無法相信的神話故事。
那麼現在的她， 戴著右派份子帽子， 成了人民的敵人，被趕回東北老家勞動改造， 從天上摔到地下。 那麼現在的她， 失望， 迷惑，比兩年前的驕傲， 興奮， 真是有過之而無不及。
到現在她都不敢相信， 更是不能理解， 自己到底做錯了什麼？ 一個學歷史的大學生， 為了弄清楚歷史真相， 在圖書館查資料， 做筆記， 這觸犯了那個天條？
什麼為反蘇收集黑材料， 什麼狹隘的資產階級民族主義， 這些大帽子 ， 她一個也不能接受， 難道揭露當年帝國主義的沙俄， 在中國犯下的反人類罪行， 就等同於反對現在的蘇聯社會主義共和國嗎？
她思來想去， 都無法接受， 可是現實就是這樣， 誰管你是否理解， 是否接受， 組織上說了你反蘇， 那你就是反蘇， 至於你是否理解， 是否接受， 那就不是組織上的事了。
那天清晨，天空陰沉沉，霧濛濛。青兒提著一個舊帆布箱，背著裝滿書籍和筆記本的背包，獨自來到北京火車站。
在北京火車站永遠是人滿為患的巨大候車室裡，灰心至極的青兒，好不容易找了一個空位子坐下。
她腦子裡一片空白。看著像螞蟻一樣亂哄哄來來往往的旅客， 候車室的椅子上坐滿了人，甚至連地上都坐滿了，讓走路的人無處下腳。她感到頭暈， 噁心要吐。
自從被打成右派以來， 她在北大的最後幾天， 真是度日如年， 她就像是一個活死人， 機械麻木地辦理離開大學的手續。 不用上課了，沒人理， 沒人問，她已經不屬於這裡， 像垃圾一樣被丟棄了。
這幾天她根本沒有心思正常吃飯， 從食堂買了幾個饅頭， 放在宿舍， 餓了就啃一口。 她不願意繼續在那個她曾經非常喜歡的學生食堂露面， 她受不了人們的冷漠， 白眼， 和竊竊議論。
那些曾經在球場上為她歡呼的人，那些曾經在圖書館和她一起討論問題的人，那些曾經爭著替她打飯、替她佔座位，企圖引起她的好感， 和注意的人， 那些千方百計接近她， 討好她的人， 現在都像躲避瘟疫一樣的躲著她。
青兒心裡也不怪他們， 這就是現實， 當時的中國， 地富反壞右， 包括右派， 都屬於人民敵人的範疇， 別人怎麼可能冒著被牽連的危險，和她接近呢？
青兒誰也不怪， 誰也不恨， 她就是想不通？ 為什麼？ 一天之間， 我就從人民，變成了敵人 ？我就是個大學二年級學生， 我算什麼敵人？ 她想不通， 實在是想不通。
就在她頭腦發木，一個人發呆的時候， 一個熟悉的身影在遠處出現， 青兒內心顫動了一下， 是他， 盧正鋼。
盧正鋼也發現了青兒， 快步走了過來， 青兒發現和盧正鋼一起來的， 還有一個中年婦女， 頭髮花白， 面目慈祥， 對著她微笑。
「這是我媽媽， 她知道了你的事， 就一定要來送你。」盧正鋼給青兒介紹。
青兒甚是感動， 盧正鋼來送她， 她內心隱約有期盼， 但是連他媽媽也要來送她， 就有些太出乎預料。
盧媽媽緊緊握著青兒的手， 端詳了她足有一分鐘， 然後嘆口氣說 ： 「 多好的孩子呀， 你的事情正鋼和我說了， 北京大學的處理有問題。 別灰心， 先回家休息一段， 我會盡力幫妳， 看看是否還有改變的可能。 」
聽了盧媽媽的話， 一直有委屈無處述說的青兒， 眼淚唰的就掉了下來， 她看著盧媽媽明顯帶著病容的臉， 內心的激動無法表達， 她不知道說什麼， 就給盧媽媽深深地鞠了一個大躬。
盧正鋼把手中的一個網兜， 遞給青兒， 可以看到裡面是果子麵包， 蘋果， 整根的北京蒜腸， 還有幾瓶汽水。
青兒推託不收， 盧媽媽說： 「孩子， 收下吧， 這是剛兒的一點心意 。 別灰心， 要堅強， 人的一生中，總會碰到各種不順心的事， 只要堅持自己的信念， 人， 總會有出路的。」
盧正鋼和媽媽一直把青兒送上火車， 幫她找好座位， 放好行李， 一直到車就要開了， 盧正鋼才戀戀不捨地鬆開青兒的手， 嚴肅地說： 「 別怕， 等我， 我會去找你。 」
青兒聽後嚴肅地說： 「盧正鋼， 你別犯傻， 我已經是右派了！不能把你也搭上，不要再管我， 好好照顧好你媽媽， 她看上去身體不太好。 」
火車開動了， 青兒淚眼婆娑地， 看著盧正鋼一直追著火車跑， 向她招手。
青兒回到自己的座位上， 打開盧媽媽下車前塞給她的一個小紙包， 裡面是一張十元人民幣， 紙包上寫著幾個字， 「孩子， 要堅強， 天不會塌下來。 」
兩天後， 幾經轉車， 青兒回到家鄉 ，迎接她的，不是鮮花，不是掌聲， 而是一紙通知書。
生產隊已經接到縣裡發來的文件。北京大學右派學生李青兒，遣返回鄉，接受監督勞動改造 。
壞消息比她本人回來得還快。幾乎整個屯子的人都知道了。青兒剛到家，許多人都跑來看熱鬧。
她家院子裡，裡裡外外站滿了人， 有人是真關心她，有人只是好奇，也有人幸災樂禍 。
青兒從人群中走過，聽見有人小聲議論。
「不是說在北京上大學嗎？怎麼又回來了？」
「聽說她犯錯誤了。」
「什麼錯誤？」
「誰知道。」
「反正不是好事。」
「不然怎麼會被趕回來。」
議論的聲音不大，卻字字清晰，鑽進青兒的耳朵。青兒只能低著頭，假裝沒聽見， 快步向屋裡走去。
當天晚上，父親坐在炕沿上抽了一夜旱煙， 一句話都沒說。母親偷偷抹眼淚，她最愛的女兒，曾經是她的驕傲， 也是整個屯子的驕傲， 如今卻戴著個右派份子的帽子回來。她不知道該怎麼安慰女兒，也不知道該怎麼面對。
第二天，青兒就被生產隊長叫起來， 安排她參加勞動，挑糞，割草。 挖排水溝。反正幹的都是男勞力幹的重活， 苦活， 髒活，本屯的婦女少有人幹這些活。
青兒沒有抱怨， 也沒有偷懶。無論生產隊長分配她幹什麼，她都不爭辯， 默默完成任務， 讓生產隊長無話可說。
可是她很快就發現，真正讓人難受的，不是勞動，而是別人看她的奇怪眼光。
以前，大家提起她時總說：「那是北京的大學生。是咱們屯飛出去的金鳳凰。將來要當大學教授的人。」
如今，大家提起她時卻變成：「那個右派學生。聽說思想有問題。讀書讀傻了。書念得太多，也不是好事。」
有一天，她正在河邊洗衣服，幾個婦女從旁邊經過。其中一人故意提高聲音：
「所以說啊，女孩子念那麼多書有什麼用？最後還不是把自己念成右派了！」
幾個人一起笑了起來，青兒的手抖了一下，然後繼續低頭洗衣服，她雖然一聲未吭， 但是委屈的淚水卻不受控制地流了下來 。
那天晚上，她一個人來到村外的小山坡。遠處是連綿起伏的長白山，山林在夕陽下顯得格外寧靜。
她忽然想起北京，想起未名湖。想起圖書館，想起籃球場。那些曾經似乎近在眼前的東西，如今卻像是上輩子的事情。
就在這時，身後傳來腳步聲，是父親。老人走到她身邊，遞給她一樣東西，那是父親用了一輩子的獵刀。刀鞘已經被歲月磨得發亮， 顯然已經用了很多年。
「拿著吧。」父親說。
青兒愣了一下，「爹？」
老人望著遠方的山林。
過了很久， 老人才說：「要是活得不痛快，就進山吧，山裡沒有那麼多閒話。」
風從遠處吹來，吹動山坡上的枯草。青兒握著那把獵刀，久久沒有說話。她忽然明白，有些地方，已經回不去了。
那天深夜，全屯的人都睡著以後，青兒背起背包，帶上獵刀，帶上筆記本，悄悄離開了家。
月光照著她，遠處的長白山像一道沉默的黑色巨獸，她沒有回頭，一步一步向山林深處走去。
她不知道未來會怎樣，也不知道自己將走到哪裡。但她知道，從今以後，一切只能靠自己了。
（未完待續）One week after the criticism meeting, Qing’er left Beijing, the city where she had lived for two years, and left behind Peking University, the place that had once filled her with magnificent dreams and carried all her hopes for the future.
Two years earlier, she had arrived in Beijing like one of Heaven’s favored daughters, clutching her admission letter from Peking University against her chest. She had been proud and excited. A country girl born in a remote corner of Northeast China had, through her own effort, gained admission to Peking University, the foremost institution of higher learning in China. It had seemed almost like an unbelievable legend.
And now she wore the label of a Rightist, had become an enemy of the people, and was being driven back to her home in Northeast China for labor reform. She had fallen from the heavens to the earth. The disappointment and confusion she felt now were even greater than the pride and excitement she had known two years before.
Even now, she could hardly believe it, much less understand what she had done wrong. She was a university student studying history. She had searched through materials in the library and taken notes in order to understand the truth of the past. What sacred law had she violated?
Collecting damaging materials for anti-Soviet purposes. Narrow bourgeois nationalism. She could accept none of those enormous political labels. Did exposing the crimes against humanity committed in China by imperial Tsarist Russia mean that she opposed the present-day Union of Soviet Socialist Republics?One week after the criticism meeting, Qing’er left Beijing, the city where she had lived for two years, and left behind Peking University, the place that had once filled her with magnificent dreams and carried all her hopes for the future.
Two years earlier, she had arrived in Beijing like one of Heaven’s favored daughters, clutching her admission letter from Peking University against her chest. She had been proud and excited. A country girl born in a remote corner of Northeast China had, through her own effort, gained admission to Peking University, the foremost institution of higher learning in China. It had seemed almost like an unbelievable legend.
And now she wore the label of a Rightist, had become an enemy of the people, and was being driven back to her home in Northeast China for labor reform. She had fallen from the heavens to the earth. The disappointment and confusion she felt now were even greater than the pride and excitement she had known two years before.
Even now, she could hardly believe it, much less understand what she had done wrong. She was a university student studying history. She had searched through materials in the library and taken notes in order to understand the truth of the past. What sacred law had she violated?
Collecting damaging materials for anti-Soviet purposes. Narrow bourgeois nationalism. She could accept none of those enormous political labels. Did exposing the crimes against humanity committed in China by imperial Tsarist Russia mean that she opposed the present-day Union of Soviet Socialist Republics?
She turned the question over in her mind again and again, but still could not accept it. Yet reality was reality. Who cared whether she understood or accepted it? Once the organization declared that she was anti-Soviet, then anti-Soviet she was. Whether she understood or accepted the judgment was no longer the organization’s concern.
That morning, the sky was dark and overcast, wrapped in mist. Carrying an old canvas suitcase and wearing a backpack filled with books and notebooks, Qing’er arrived alone at Beijing Railway Station.
Inside the enormous waiting hall of Beijing Railway Station, which always seemed overcrowded, the utterly disheartened Qing’er finally managed to find an empty seat.
Her mind was completely blank. She watched the noisy travelers moving back and forth like swarming ants. Every chair in the waiting hall was occupied, and even the floor was crowded with people, leaving almost nowhere to place one’s feet. She felt dizzy and nauseated, as though she might vomit.
Ever since she had been labeled a Rightist, her final days at Peking University had felt endless. She had become like a living corpse, mechanically and numbly completing the procedures for leaving the university. She no longer attended classes. No one spoke to her, and no one asked about her. She no longer belonged there. She had been discarded like a piece of rubbish.
During those days, she had no desire to eat properly. She bought a few steamed buns from the dining hall and left them in her dormitory, taking a bite whenever hunger became unbearable. She did not want to appear again in the student dining hall she had once loved so much. She could no longer endure the coldness, the hostile glances, and the whispered conversations around her.
Those who had once cheered for her on the basketball court, those who had once discussed problems with her in the library, those who had competed to fetch her meals or save her a seat in hopes of winning her attention and affection, and those who had once tried every possible way to approach and please her now avoided her as though she carried the plague.
Qing’er did not blame them. This was reality. In China at that time, landlords, rich peasants, counterrevolutionaries, bad elements, and Rightists were all placed within the category of enemies of the people. How could anyone dare approach her and risk being implicated?
Qing’er blamed no one and hated no one. She simply could not understand. Why? How had she changed from one of the people into an enemy in a single day? She was only a second-year university student. What kind of enemy could she possibly be? She could not understand it. She truly could not understand.
While she sat alone in a daze, her thoughts numb, a familiar figure appeared in the distance. Qing’er’s heart trembled. It was him—Lu Zhenggang.
Lu Zhenggang saw Qing’er as well and hurried toward her. Qing’er then noticed that a middle-aged woman had come with him. Her hair was streaked with gray, her face was gentle and kind, and she was smiling at Qing’er.
“This is my mother,” Lu Zhenggang said by way of introduction. “When she learned what had happened to you, she insisted on coming to see you off.”
Qing’er was deeply moved. Somewhere in her heart, she had quietly hoped that Lu Zhenggang might come to see her off, but the fact that even his mother had come was completely beyond anything she had expected.
Lu’s mother held Qing’er’s hands tightly and studied her face for nearly a full minute. Then she sighed and said, “What a fine child you are. Zhenggang told me what happened. Peking University handled your case wrongly. Don’t lose heart. Go home and rest for a while. I will do everything I can to help you and see whether there is still any chance of changing the decision.”
At Lu’s mother’s words, the tears that Qing’er had held back for so long suddenly spilled down her face. She looked at the woman’s visibly ill and weary features, overwhelmed by emotion and unable to find the words to express herself. In the end, she could only bow deeply before her.
Lu Zhenggang handed Qing’er the string bag he was carrying. Inside were fruit bread, apples, a whole length of Beijing garlic sausage, and several bottles of soda.
Qing’er tried to refuse, but Lu’s mother said, “Take them, child. This is a small token from Gang’er. Don’t lose heart. Be strong. Everyone encounters hardships in life. As long as you hold fast to what you believe, there will always be a way forward.”
Lu Zhenggang and his mother accompanied Qing’er all the way onto the train. They found her seat, helped stow her luggage, and remained with her until the train was about to depart. Only then did Lu Zhenggang reluctantly release her hand and say with great seriousness, “Don’t be afraid. Wait for me. I will come and find you.”
Qing’er answered just as seriously, “Lu Zhenggang, don’t be foolish. I am already a Rightist. I cannot drag you down with me. Don’t concern yourself with me anymore. Take good care of your mother. She does not look well.”
The train began to move. Through tear-filled eyes, Qing’er watched Lu Zhenggang running alongside the carriage, waving to her again and again.
Qing’er returned to her seat and opened the small paper packet that Lu’s mother had slipped into her hand before leaving the train. Inside was a ten-yuan banknote. Written on the wrapping were a few words: “Child, be strong. The sky will not fall.”
Two days later, after changing trains several times, Qing’er returned to her hometown. What awaited her was not flowers or applause, but an official notice.
The production team had already received the document sent down by the county authorities: Li Qing’er, a Rightist student from Peking University, was to be sent back to her home village and placed under supervised labor reform.
The bad news had arrived even before she did. Almost everyone in the village already knew. The moment Qing’er reached home, many people came running to watch the spectacle.
The courtyard of her family home was crowded inside and out. Some had come out of genuine concern, some merely out of curiosity, and others because they took pleasure in her misfortune.
As Qing’er made her way through the crowd, she heard people whispering.
“Wasn’t she studying at a university in Beijing? Why has she come back?”
“I heard she made some kind of mistake.”
“What kind of mistake?”
“Who knows?”
“Whatever it was, it can’t have been anything good.”
“Otherwise, why would they have sent her back?”
The voices were not loud, but every word reached Qing’er clearly. She could only lower her head, pretend she had heard nothing, and hurry into the house.
That night, her father sat on the edge of the heated brick bed, smoking his long-stemmed pipe until dawn without saying a single word. Her mother secretly wiped away her tears. The daughter she loved most had once been her pride, the pride of the entire village. Now she had returned wearing the label of a Rightist. She did not know how to comfort her daughter, nor did she know how to face what had happened.
The very next day, the production team leader summoned Qing’er and assigned her to labor—hauling manure, cutting grass, digging drainage ditches. They were all heavy, dirty jobs normally done by able-bodied men, work that few women in the village were ever asked to perform.
Qing’er neither complained nor shirked her duties. Whatever task the production team leader assigned, she accepted it without argument and completed it quietly, leaving him with nothing to criticize.
Yet she soon discovered that what hurt most was not the labor itself, but the strange looks people gave her.
People used to say, “She’s the university student from Beijing. She’s the golden phoenix who flew out of our village. One day she’ll become a university professor.”
Now they said instead, “That Rightist student. I hear there’s something wrong with her thinking. She studied so much that she studied herself into trouble. Too much education isn’t always a good thing.”
One day, while she was washing clothes by the river, several village women passed by. One of them deliberately raised her voice and said,
“See? What’s the use of girls studying so much? In the end, she studied herself into becoming a Rightist!”
The women burst into laughter. Qing’er’s hands trembled for a moment, then she lowered her head and continued washing her clothes. She did not utter a single word, but tears of humiliation flowed down her cheeks beyond her control.
That evening, she walked alone to a small hill outside the village. Beyond it stretched the endless Changbai Mountains, their forests bathed in the quiet light of the setting sun.
She suddenly found herself thinking of Beijing—of Weiming Lake, of the university library, of the basketball court. Those places that had once seemed so close now felt as though they belonged to another lifetime.
Just then, she heard footsteps behind her. It was her father. The old man walked to her side and handed her something. It was the hunting knife he had carried his entire life. The worn leather sheath had been polished smooth by countless years of use.
“Take it,” her father said.
Qing’er looked at him in surprise.
“Father?”
The old man gazed silently toward the distant mountains.
After a long while, he finally spoke.
“If life becomes too painful, go into the mountains. There aren’t so many cruel tongues there.”
A breeze swept across the hillside, stirring the dry grass. Qing’er gripped the hunting knife tightly and remained silent for a long time. At that moment, she understood that there were some places to which she could never return.
Late that night, after everyone in the village had fallen asleep, Qing’er quietly shouldered her backpack, took her hunting knife, gathered her notebooks, and slipped away from home.
Moonlight fell softly upon her as the distant Changbai Mountains stood like a silent black giant before her. Without looking back, she walked step by step into the depths of the forest.
She did not know what the future held, nor where her path would ultimately lead. But she knew one thing with certainty—from this day forward, she would have to rely on no one but herself.
(To be continued)
