Weishuang 01 | Spell

"I must kill her, I must kill her, I must kill her..." Naked walked with pious steps around a sick century-old podocarpus, praying silently in her heart.

A few days ago, the mentalist told her that you have to find a way to find a spell, like an amulet, to take out to protect yourself every time you want to die.

As she listened, her tears could only continue to fall, and because she felt ashamed, or in other words, she hoped that the person in front of her would not feel guilty because of her fragility, so she reflexively squeezed her facial features, as if in vain on the springs. One end exerts force, and before the elasticity is exhausted, he puts on his signature shy smile.

So considerate.

"What a considerate child, your ancestors must have done the best for burning incense." As a mother of a naked child, when she goes out with her little naked child, others always praise her like this. The naked mother smiled from the bottom of her heart, very happy, but the next second she was troubled: "Are these the ancestors of that dead old man's family, or mine?" It was not to fight against the patriarchy, but to be unwilling to do so.

The heart teacher sitting opposite was waiting quietly. Nakedo could feel a bunch of eyes gradually converging on his body, too sharp, and the tears could only continue to fall, but at a certain teardrop, he jumped in the queue and rushed to the tear ducts. During the break, a question flashed through Nakedo's head, "Is it because you can finally trust the person in front of you?"

Naked women are always like this, like naked mothers, swinging between the extremes of reason and sensibility. Sometimes they swing so high that even gravity can hardly catch her.

"It would be nice if she couldn't catch her. Then she could do crazy things. I really hope she dies." Naked interrupted me while I was sitting in front of the computer typing on the keyboard, but I didn't want to pay attention to her.

When she saw that I didn't respond, she asked and answered herself: "Hmmm... Trust, it should be said that it is because you can feel vulnerable. 'Fragility' is a scarce resource in modern times." Her voice faded, like a star. The basketball that is deflating has to be very close to you to realize that it is emptying itself.

Talking back to the mantra, I remembered the private temple that my mother often took me to when I was a child. The main god worshiped was Emperor Yegong. One time, Naozi and I learned in a history class at the Han Nationality Center that it turned out that Emperor Yegong was God Xuantian , holding a seven-star sword, steps on a turtle with his left foot and a snake with his right foot. We remember it very clearly because the teacher said this exam will be passed.

The smell of incense sticks in the temple always gives me a sense of security (perhaps security was once a countable noun); but I have a very poor memory, so even though I go there often, I still have to ask my mother every time: "How much for the incense?" ?”

"It's tsâng ." I asked in Taiwanese ㄍㄡˇ, and my mother replied impatiently in Taiwanese.

One for the Tiangong furnace, one for each of the left and right door gods, three for the Emperor, one for the neighbor on the right of the Emperor, and finally one for the Tiger Lord who has to bend down and squat down every time. The one on the left does not need to be worshiped, that is the ji. The god card of Aunt Tong’s family is, to be precise, the god card of Aunt Tong’s husband’s family.

Even though I went there so many times as a child, I still couldn't figure out what I was worshiping. I could only remember the order of insertion using "position" instead of logic. In short, this part is very fun, like collecting good baby stamps. If you collect ten points, you can exchange them for a one-yuan chocolate bar for free.

When I was a kid, I thought it was a good deal, but at Diye Gong's place, after I finished collecting, what I got in exchange was not a chocolate bar, but a handful of (pé ) incense.

Aunt Jitong first took off her pink thick-soled plastic slippers with a height of five centimeters. She stepped on the uneven asphalt-colored floor with her two little feet. She reached out and took a handful of incense from her husband. After making sure that each stick was lit, she You lay down on the wooden table as if you were fainting, and then - at an absolutely unpredictable moment, you woke up and started mumbling something.

Because gods cannot talk directly to humans, they need a translator. The official name of this position is table head . At the head of the table is Aunt Jitong's husband - a husband who beats her when he's drunk.

Perhaps, in a partnership, something fades away and the two become more like business partners, and violence becomes a bargaining chip.

My uncle asked me to close my eyes and turned to face his wife. At this time, she had already drawn the talisman on my back with the incense - no, it was Him.

Because I closed my eyes, I turned very slowly, and then I felt the incense in His hand slowly swaying from the top of my head to my chest, circling around.

My scalp always gets numb when something comes close to my head. This feeling is subtle and not annoying, but maybe the fragrance is too close to other parts of my body. I start to feel a little uncomfortable and subconsciously want to avoid it. .

Maybe it's because the eyes are closed? The feeling of the heat from the incense lingering on the body is greatly magnified, especially when it lingers on the face.

I chase the residual heat of incense sticks, like black kites hovering over the farmland that has been sown for a good winter .

Heat, although very weak, can reach its destined place through the medium; for example, after the second rice harvest, the temperature slowly drops, so the ghost mouse mother decides to give birth to her cubs ( kiánn ) at the bottom of the straw pile. Several rats are nestled together. They haven't opened their eyes yet. They are warm in the palm of your hand. They are so fragile. If you pinch them hard, you can put an end to this life full of dangers. But you feel that the rats are nestled together. Your heart beats steadily at a certain frequency, so you let go of your hand.

The survival instinct is so hot that a stick of incense thrown around is destined to burn down the entire house.

"Aminzai, your daughter is very well-behaved, and her academic performance is very good. She often gets first place, but..." The uncle who beats his wife pinched my mother's embarrassment.

"But what? Why don't you just say it kín !" Mr. Diye is my mother's mentor.

"About eighteen years old. He may go astray like Ah Xuan." The uncle didn't explain clearly. I'm not sure whether it's because he is a bad translator, or because Auntie Jitong's signal reception is unstable, or because the emperor The father has no intention of saying anything.

"Fuck you!" I didn't have to wear a mask in the small theater. I just knew that I couldn't hold it anymore. I really want to pee.

Just when my urine was about to leak out, the heat of the incense moved away from my body, and the loneliness came back.

Although I felt that Mr. Diye had not finished speaking, Auntie Jitong had already stuffed it back, and her body melted like snowflakes and ice, but uncle took a step forward and skillfully picked her up; strictly speaking, it was quite The posture at eight o'clock - that of a Taiwanese tornado .

I rushed to the toilet, ignoring my mother's shouting behind me.

Taking off Hua Brand's pink mid-waist cotton underwear, squatting down, I thought - whether you think about it or not, thoughts always come to your mind: "How could uncle hit auntie? He looks so 'normal'!"

Normal, many people look normal, and Nakedo who uses "I must kill her" as a mantra also looks normal.

That afternoon, after my uncle filled cup after cup of tea, Aunt Ji Tong walked towards me thoughtfully, and something flowed out of her dilated pupils.

"Some things are destined a long time ago. You can't stop it when it comes. Even if you want to, you can't." He didn't say any more, and she couldn't bear to say any more.

Just like walking into a temple, the fragrance of the thread is destined to linger on your body. If you don't smell it carefully, you won't notice it, or even forget it.

As a child I forgot because I was in a hurry to pee.

Looking back now, maybe if the eight sticks of incense I lit that year were a countable sense of security, then at this moment, my sense of security is the countless burnt incense sticks, with no bones left, and other "unknown" objects. They were mixed together and broken down together in the darkness into something so fine and broken that I couldn't put it together even if I tried hard.

You can only use "position" to remember the order of insertion, not logic.

annotation:

1. Psychologist, not spiritual mentor, is a nickname that the author lazily chose in order to reduce the number of strokes of "counselor" in his diary.