作者：司空先让
编辑：gloria wang 责任编辑：罗志飞 翻译：程铭
我出生于1957年，彼时反右运动正如汹涌潮水般席卷大地，知识分子的脊梁一根根被击折。随之而来的，是“天灾”与“人祸”交织的岁月，饥饿如影随形，压在千家万户的屋檐下。
家中子女众多，生计艰难。三岁那年，我被送往桐庐芦茨湾外婆家寄养。那里同样清苦，餐桌上常是麸糠野菜糊糊。幸而山水有情，溪涧间偶尔的鱼虾，给饥饿的童年添了些许鲜味。
芦茨湾，四面青山环抱，溪水潺潺。族谱记载，唐代诗人方干曾在此隐居。外婆与舅舅同住。那时舅舅年仅十九，清秀而意气。他是方家这一代唯一的男孩，自小得以读书识字，成了乡里少见的读书人。舅舅爱好诗文，常在昏黄灯火下抒写胸中感怀。
我常跟随舅舅上山采果，或在田埂间听他讲些稚趣又惊悚的故事，夜里常被吓醒。外婆便以一盅米、一枚银戒，口中念念有词，为我“驱邪”。长大后忆及，总觉可笑，但外婆的慈爱却真切无比。那三年，我在芦茨湾过得虽然清苦，却也充满温情。
六岁时，我回到杭州。读初三那年，父亲悄然告诉我：舅舅已经不在了。母亲刻意隐瞒，因为在那个年代，“反革命”三个字，足以令家族噤声。
多年后，我才陆续拼凑出舅舅的遭遇。文革狂飙突起，卷走无数生命与尊严。舅舅，不过是一位乡办小学的代课教师，平日只知读书写字。不知因何言语，或因文稿中无心的一句，被人捕风捉影，终被扣上“现行反革命”的罪名。
外婆闻讯，如天塌地陷。舅舅被押入县监狱，受尽羞辱与殴打。终有一日，他不堪折磨，决意以死抗争。在放风时，他夺得一截铁条，佯作行凶越狱。几声枪响，他倒在血泊中，年华骤断。
外婆自此以泪洗面，不久亦悲伤而逝。舅舅与母亲最深的依靠，就这样在荒唐年代相继湮没。
半个多世纪过去了。每当重回芦茨湾，望见熟悉的山水，听见亲切的乡音，我的心中总会浮现舅舅清朗的身影。
2001年，我因“煽动颠覆”之名入狱，仿佛冥冥之中注定与舅舅有某种命运的交织。命运的轮回令人唏嘘，而舅舅的冤魂，至今仍在我心底回响。
——选自《我所经历的人和事碎片（一）》
杭州 司空先让
2025年9月11日
My uncle – Fang Zhigang
Author: Sikong Xianran
Editor: gloria Wang Responsible Editor: Luo Zhifei
Translator: Ming Cheng
I was born in 1957, when the anti-rightist movement swept the earth like a surging tide, and the backbone of intellectuals was broken one by one. What follows is the years when “natual disasters” and “man-made disasters” are intertwined, and hunger is like a shadow, pressing under the eaves of thousands of households.
There are many children in the family, and it is difficult to make a living. At the age of three, I was sent to my grandmother’s house in Luziwan, Tonglu for foster care. It is also bitter there, and the table is often covered with bran and wild vegetables. Fortunately, the mountains and rivers are affectionate, and the occasional fish and shrimps in the streams add a little freshness to the hungry childhood.
Luzi Bay is surrounded by green mountains on all sides, and the stream is gurgling. According to the genealogy, Fang Gan, a poet in the Tang Dynasty, once lived in seclusion here. Grandma lives with her uncle. At that time, my uncle was only 19 years old, beautiful and spirited. He is the only boy of the Fang family’s generation. He has been able to read and read since childhood and has become a rare reader in the countryside. My uncle likes poetry and often expresses his feelings under the dim yellow light.
I often follow my uncle up the mountain to pick fruit or listen to him tell some childish and scary stories in the fields, and I am often woken up at night. Grandma used a cup of rice and a silver ring to recite words in her mouth to “exorcise evil spirits” for me. When I remember it when I grow up, I always feel ridiculous, but my grandmother’s love is incomparable. In those three years, although I lived in Luziwan, it was also full of warmth.
When I was six years old, I returned to Hangzhou. In the third year of junior high school, my father quietly told me that my uncle was gone. The mother deliberately concealed it, because in that era, the word “revolutionary” was enough to make the family silent.
After many years, I pieced together my uncle’s experience one after another. The Cultural Revolution surged wildly, taking away countless lives and dignity. My uncle is just a substitute teacher in a township primary school. He only knows how to read and write. I don’t know why, or because of an unintentional sentence in the manuscript, I was caught by the wind and caught by the shadow, and finally I was charged with the crime of “current counter-revolution”.
Grandma heard the news, and the sky was falling. My uncle was taken to the county prison and was humiliated and beaten. One day, he couldn’t bear the torture and decided to fight to the death. When he was releasing the wind, he grabbed an iron bar and pretended to be a murderer and escaped from prison. After a few gunshots, he fell into a pool of blood, and his age suddenly broke.
Since then, grandma has been in tears and soon passed away in grief. The deepest reliance between uncle and mother was annihilated one after another in the absurd era.
More than half a century has passed. Whenever I return to Luzi Bay, I see the familiar landscape and hear the friendly local sound, and the clear figure of my uncle always appears in my heart.
In 2001, I was imprisoned in the name of “inciting subversion”, as if I was destined to have some kind of fate with my uncle. The reincarnation of fate is sobbing, and my uncle’s unjust soul still echoes in my heart.
——Selected from “Fragments of People and Things I’ve Experienced (I)”
Hangzhou, Sikong first concession
September 11, 2025
