[The Romantic History of Warlords] (Autobiographical Account 1)

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

My Name (1)
My name is Tang Bohu, a child from the Yimeng Mountain area of Shandong.
I really don't know what my dad was thinking when he named me. Did he think my mom was ugly, or was he planning to train
me to be a painter?
In elementary and middle school, I carried a bag of dry food and walked 10 kilometers of mountain roads every day, wearing out 17 pairs of cloth shoes, and
it took me 9 years to finish my studies. After graduating from middle school, I was going to inherit the family business - herding sheep. Who knew that
I would be admitted to the county high school in a daze. My parents and the whole village were so excited that everyone gave me a thumbs up and praised me
as the "God of Literature" descended to earth. Even I believed it. Because, in the history of our village, I was the only high
school student.
When I was riding a donkey cart, carrying my luggage, to the county town, Zhang the Blind Man from our village chased after me for 3 miles, insisting on
telling my fortune.
Zhang the Blind Man used his dirty fingers to touch and pinch my face, fiddling with it for a while before saying,
"Looking at your full forehead and square jaw, you'll definitely be successful when you grow up, a high-ranking official."
"Okay!" I happily gave Zhang the Blind Man two yuan. As soon as I turned around, I regretted it; that was a day's
living expenses!
When I arrived in the county town, I was dumbfounded, feeling like I had stumbled into a picture book. Here, buildings stood tall, and wide
streets were filled with cars of all sizes. Men were dressed in suits, and women were adorned with jewels,
wearing revealing dresses that exposed their chests and buttocks. They passed by, their fragrance filling the air. One even glanced at me sideways and greeted me
, "Hey, where did this country bumpkin come from?" Dare to call me a country bumpkin? I was furious. I took a deep breath 　　and spat a thick wad of phlegm viciously
at the girl 's back. 　　But then, a guy in a peaked cap turned around, saluted me, and said with a smile, 　　"Spitting on the ground, 10 yuan fine." 　　10 yuan for spitting?! 10 yuan, that's five days' worth of food! I was dumbfounded. 　　When paying the fine, risking my life, I mustered my courage and asked, "Uncle, 　　how much would it cost to piss?" 　　Just as the peaked cap was about to explode, everyone around burst into laughter. I turned around and saw a 　　group of students like me, carrying basketballs and luggage. They were all laughing unrestrainedly; one guy had 　　his mouth wide open, his throat showing. It made my throat itch; I really wanted to spit in his 　　mouth again. 　　During my three years of schooling in the county town, books, television, and movies gradually made me understand 　　the poverty, ignorance, and barrenness of the mountain villages. It also filled me with curiosity and a certain desire for the world. Someone 　　asked me, "What is your ideal?" 　　If it were before, my answer would have been, "To build three tiled houses and marry a big-breasted wife," or "To become 　　the village head." 　　This time, my answer is: "To start a company, be a boss, and own a car and a mansion." 　　Perhaps this ideal will be ridiculed, or that I'm too vulgar. But I'm truly terrified of poverty; that kind 　　of life, where you never have enough to eat, is too unbearable, too agonizing. 　　The ideal is good, but reality is cruel. I only had 30 yuan in my pocket, which my father had sold 　　a ewe and sent to me as half a month's food allowance. What can 30 yuan do in 2013? Even 　　setting up a small street stall requires an investment of 3,000 to 5,000 yuan. Luckily, it's a boarding school; if I were to rent a place, it would cost 　　120 to 200 yuan per month… 　　Thinking about all this, my heart sank. 　　Every day after school, the pool hall, internet cafe, arcade, KFC… everywhere was filled with the laughter 　　and carefree figures of my classmates. I, on the other hand, could only hide in my small dormitory, pretending to be busy washing clothes and socks. After all 　　my classmates left, I would look for a free pastime—watching TV. 　　Old Wang, the gatekeeper, also came from a remote mountain village, so we got along very well. I would lie on the tattered sofa, 　　sipping a free cup of tea, happily watching TV, while Old Wang, smoking his pipe, would start 　　snoring loudly. Watching TV, most of the time was spent on commercials: shampoo, cars, KFC's newest dishes… … 　　… 　　… Amidst these commercials, I managed to watch 　　various TV series such as *A Step into the Past*, *My Chief and My Regiment*, and *Scarlet Heart*. 　　Time travel, a term already overused in television, movies, and literature, held a certain novelty and magic for me 　　. Not only me, but my roommates also frequently discussed it. 　　Some said, "If I could time travel, I'd go to the Han Dynasty, be an emperor, with three palaces, six courtyards, and seventy-two concubines." 　　Others said, "Bullshit! I'd go to the primitive society. The primitive society is great! Men chase women, and 　　once they catch them, they just pounce on them. They can live as carefree as they want..." 　　Someone poked me with their toe and asked, "What about you?" 　　At this moment, Ma Lei said to me in a mocking tone, "He's Tang Bohu, of course he'd time travel to the Tang Dynasty. 　　Painting, marrying a bunch of wives, going to the brothel every day... how dashing!" 　　"Hahaha..." Everyone burst into laughter. 　　Making fun of me, finding amusement, was their usual form of entertainment. I was disdainful of it and couldn't be bothered to pay them any attention. 　　How could a sparrow know the ambition of a swan?! 　　After they fell asleep, I pointed at each of their noses and said, "You little bastards, listen up! 　　If I were to time travel, I'd become a warlord in the Northern Warlord era and castrate all your ancestors, making your 　　families childless!" 　　"What the hell are you yelling about instead of sleeping?" Ma Lei suddenly woke up. 　　"I...I'm going to pee." I quickly ran away. 　　The next day, I cautiously asked my teacher, "Teacher, does Einstein's theory of time travel exist 　　?"

"Damn! Time is frozen, how can you travel through time? Are you out of your mind?" The teacher looked
at me with utter contempt, like I was a stupid donkey.
From that day on, I completely gave up on the idea of "time travel." However, I still want to mention my lofty
ambition: I want to travel through time and become Ximen Qing, a wealthy man. (ps: The Ximen Qing in *Water Margin* is fictional
. The real Ximen Qing had nothing to do with Pan Jinlian, and there's no story about him being killed by Wu Song.)
In August, a TV drama crew came to our county to film on location. I forgot the name of the drama, but in one
scene, a landlord's son raped someone's wife. Afterwards, the wife, carrying a butcher's knife, sought revenge, forcing the landlord's
son to jump off a building, where he died. The building they chose was a local protected historical building in our county called "Xiaogulou" (Little Aunt's Building)
.
That day, the streets were packed with people, and I squeezed into the crowd to watch the spectacle, wanting to see how the landlord's son would fall to his death.
"Hey you? You…yes, you!" someone from the film crew pointed at me and shouted.
"What's up?" I asked curiously, moving closer.
"Here's a hundred bucks for a role, wanna do it?"
"A hundred bucks…yes! Yes! Yes!" I immediately agreed. I could be an actor and get paid, why
wouldn't I
? It turned out that the actor playing the landlord's son suddenly had diarrhea and couldn't film. So
they were looking for a temporary extra. I happened to be "fat-headed and big-eared," so they chose me.
Damn it!! What does "fat-headed and big-eared" mean? "I have a full forehead and a square jaw, I'm destined to be a high-ranking official...
"
"What are you thinking about?
" I quickly struck a pose, embracing a pretty young woman in a cheongsam, drinking and flirting:
"Girl, if you're willing to be my concubine, I'll redeem you."
"Sir, really?" The young woman in the cheongsam nestled in my arms, looking at me with a seductive expression, her
large, watery eyes flashing.
Her gaze was like a beam of high-voltage electricity, sending shivers down my spine, making me feel numb and tingly all over. I almost couldn't resist
grabbing her delicate little mouth and kissing her hard, and then…
Just as I was lost in these fantasies, a thunderous roar rang out: "Ma Baocai, you dog
!"
I looked up and saw it was that cuckolded guy, wielding a gleaming butcher knife, charging towards me
menacingly. That look, that aura, terrified me out of my wits, and I turned and jumped out of the window. As I
floated in the air, someone behind me cried out in alarm: "Wrong window!! Quick…"
But it was too late. My face made intimate contact with the cold, hard surface of the street. With
a loud "bang," I lost consciousness…
Do humans have souls?
This question had been haunting me for half a month, accompanying my hazy, confused state of mind.
The first thing my buddy did upon waking was to rage. He glared at the "landlord" wearing a melon-shaped hat and roared,
"Damn it!! Are you ever going to stop? Give me the money, a hundred bucks! I'm not filming this anymore
!" Wait! It wasn't a roar, it was a groan. His voice was extremely weak and hoarse, as if he was about to die. This
surprised me: the landlord's son hadn't died from the fall?
The landlord in the melon-shaped hat stared at me blankly for a long time, then finally shouted excitedly, "Oh dear! Little Si'er
, come quick, the child is alright, the child is awake..."
With a "whoosh," a group of people gathered around the bed, men and women, young and old. However, these guys
were clearly actors, dressed in tattered clothes from the old society, reeking of a pungent body odor. But their
acting skills were superb; each of them had a rich array of expressions. Some were excited, some were surprised, and some were in tears,
constantly murmuring, "Heaven has eyes... Heaven doesn't punish fools..."
"Sanbao, my son..."
Amidst this bittersweet cry, a middle-aged woman in a diagonally-buttoned long gown suddenly hugged my
head, sobbing uncontrollably. Her tears, like raindrops from a leaky roof,
pelted down my nose and face, warm and wet.
This actress is really crying! What kind of price does she charge? How much does Ge You cost...? I was completely confused by the actress's crying
, my mind racing with wild thoughts.
Then, through the actress's prominent breasts, I saw a middle-aged man grinning widely, baring his buck teeth
, waving his hands and shouting, "Don't cry! This is a happy occasion, a great joy for our family. Erbao, go set off a string of
firecrackers."
Next, this group surrounded me, constantly asking with concern, "Child, are you hungry?"
"Sanbao, does your head still hurt?"
This scene was too eerie; it didn't seem like a movie shoot, it felt like it was actually happening…
Could it be…
? Amidst the crackling of firecrackers, my eyes rolled back, and I wisely chose to faint.
By eavesdropping on the conversation of these men, women, and children, I was utterly horrified—Holy crap!! I've time-traveled?!
Yes, when Big Tooth carried me to the yard to sunbathe, seeing the Kuomintang
flag flying high in the village, I finally realized I had time-traveled—to the Republic of China era.
Damn it!! How did I get time-traveled?!

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