【Eight Milligrams of Fireman】(Stories about Fireman) (15-22) Author: Fireman

Author: Fireman
Word Count: 4992

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15

After such a night, I asked myself, this must be love, right? Lust wouldn't manifest like this
.

Before this, the things I thought about most were death and love. I imagined my death would be
spectacular , either burning myself into a fireball in an open field, turning to ashes; or
slowly walking into the river at Weiming Lake, reaching its deepest point, which would be the end of my life.
This was my imagined death, but ultimately, I think it would be contrary to my wishes.

And love? The kind of slender girl I liked, with an extremely artistic temperament,
came to my side with love, like a dream. Life is truly laughable. I live so carelessly, yet I've
encountered love that is anything but careless.

There's a row of tall trees on the street outside the window. I look at them; they are tall and robust, their yellow leaves stubbornly
clinging to the branches.

My life is a black hole; I don't know why it is like this, nor do I know where it came from. But even if I walk
alone, so what?

I've fantasized about this scenario: at the end of my life, a few people will remember
me, and some will see what I left behind—whether it's words or music. Thinking about this makes me
happy and full of strength. A faint light, but it illuminates the dreams and lost hearts of someone in a dark corner.

16

It was past 11 p.m. when I got home.

I found Brother Ding sitting in his room, the door open, looking at me.

"Quick, put your things down, let's go get some drinks."

"What's wrong?"

"Don't worry about that, it would be a waste not to drink at this moment."

I didn't care, put down my things and went with him.

"Where are we going?"

"Tiananmen Square."

We bought six cans of Harbin beer, a few bags of peanuts and chicken feet downstairs, and then Brother Ding and I set off on his little electric
scooter. Tiananmen Square in the early morning had lost its daytime luster, instead reflecting everything in reality, because
it was inherently dark.

Brother Ding and I hid the beer and went through security. The two of us sat by the stone lions, drinking beer. We
passed a flag bearer, and I noticed his epaulets were one bar and three stars—a captain. He smiled at us and
walked away, probably thinking these two were really bored, coming here to drink.

Ding started singing in this environment, telling me that this wide road was for
tanks, but now it belonged to us, and we were the tanks. I smiled at him, but had no reply.

"Brother Ding, what should we do now? We're not scholars, after all. If we were two scholars,
we'd recite two poems, but two drinkers just keep toasting."

He glanced at me and said, "That's how it is. Let's toast him, and then together, in front of Dr. Runzhi's portrait, we
'll toast him, thanking him for creating this red world through violent revolution."

"I blurted out something like this:

I once fantasized about going far away, on a

long journey, not afraid of anything, but

there's a world

that isn't red,

yet full of anticipation."

"Huo Ren, these are the questions politicians should be agonizing over. In the end, we're
just . We're victims in their game. We call ourselves a socialist country, but we're actually an aristocratic
society. We all know the details, no need to spell it out."

After

finishing our drinks, Brother Ding drove me towards the moat. I suggested we go to the Temple of Heaven and
throw the remaining alcohol fumes at the Echo Wall. Brother Ding looked at me with a smile and said, "If you can get in, I'll call you
grandpa ."

I remember reading Jia Hongsheng's "Yesterday," where he would often walk alone to the Temple of Heaven and
utter all sorts of nonsensical things to the Echo Wall.

But when Ding and I arrived at the Temple of Heaven's entrance, I understood why he thought I couldn't get in.
The surrounding walls were practically a mini-Tiananmen Square; what I thought would be a simple climb over the wall like in the movies was now an
insurmountable obstacle.

It was truly disheartening.

That era is long gone. Creators, frantically creating things that seem beautiful, but
in reality ? They've lost the purest soul.

Before I knew it, dawn was breaking. We drove home at an angle and fell asleep immediately.

The next day, Ding and I talked almost all night. He recounted his childhood, family, upbringing,
and all his past girlfriends. I told him a lot too, including about Jia'er. After that night, Jia'er and I kept in touch; it seemed impossible for us to part ways

.

As for me,
my own life has taken a step forward. These past few days I've received several calls from bars, and
things seem to be slowly improving.

I'm still maintaining my habit of busking in the underpass; it's a state I enjoy. The underpass
is different When I'm on a bar stage, I can't see the audience clearly. The beams of light
make everything seem like an illusion, leaving me feeling lost, yet also releasing my senses so clearly.

But in the underpass, I can see the eyes, expressions, and even
the disdain —everything is so real.

That day, while I was singing "Whisyouwerehere" in a bar, I suddenly
saw a familiar figure walk in. It was Jia'er. She greeted Brother Ding and then sat down
to watch me. I looked at her too, telling her all the emotions from the song.

For my last song, I chose Luo Dayou's "Even Wild Lilies Have Spring." Before singing, I said, "
I haven't sung this song in a long time, but I'd like you to be quiet and let me finish it quietly. If you don't like it,
please let me finish before you criticize me."

And that's how I ended the performance. No one criticized me after I left the stage. Instead, I went straight to
Jia'er, took her hand, and gave Ding Ge a knowing smile.

And just like that, Jia'er and I disappeared from sight, swallowed up by the bustling atmosphere of Houhai.

19

That night, Jia'er and I went back to her room. In the middle of the night, I suddenly woke up, drenched in sweat. I
hugged her tightly, as if afraid she would leave. She was startled by my actions and quickly turned over
to lean against me, saying, "Fireman, what's wrong?"

Seeing my silence, she started to tease me until all the gloom dissipated.

We didn't make love that night. Our feelings for each other reached their peak. Jia'er is an amazing
girl ; she could tell what I needed. In that situation, a kiss and a hug
lasted longer than anything else.

I hate couples who need time to mature. I think true love
transcends time, like Zhao Gang and Feng Nan in "Bright Sword." It's as if
they had known each other for a long time in another parallel universe before they even met.

Life is a tearful smile, encompassing all the bitterness and the mundane.
In the end , it's just a farce.

Before meeting Jia'er, I encountered several different kinds of girls. Some would cry in my arms,
telling me they didn't love me anymore, but couldn't live without me; some would be relentless during breakups, even chasing me
naked to the door; and some would sleep with me and then never see me again. In short, each person's experience was different, but the ending was always
the same.

Is this love? Or is it just the hormones generated on those passionate nights?

Years ago, when Douban and Tianya were at their peak, I saw a friend write something like this:
"If you're lucky, you'll meet a woman who aspires to be, or has already become, an artist. She sees you
as , and with a more delicate and gentle patience, she molds you. This molding can even make you forget desire,
leading you directly to a distant echo of history. You become a primal, natural pet. You mold each other; this
is perfect love, this is perfect desire."

Looking back, I can't help but sigh. That

morning

, Jia'er and I walked for a long time. The weather was surprisingly nice; the early winter sun
felt warm on our skin, dispelling any chill. Jia'er was also there, laughing happily, which instantly
made me feel enveloped in her gentle warmth.

We found a place to sit down and started chatting.

"Fireman, is this kind of relationship good for you? Sometimes I sense you're lost in thought, as if nothing
in the world really matters to you. What does love mean to you?"

"Hmm, I think, for me, you seem more important than myself now. I've got
everything I've ever wanted; it's a perfect life. When I first came to Beijing, I thought, if
I could leave my mark on this land, if I could make my own record, then I'd die happy.
But now, with you, I've discovered that living is a joyful thing. It seems like I'm
much more relaxed with you by my side. That's what love is, isn't it?" "

But, perhaps, we also have an expiration date? After this period, we'll both
feel lost ."

"That's not necessarily true. Some relationships are based on sex, and some on the heart.

I'm a often sentimental person, which I always felt was a bit out of character for my gender, but you
've been able to embrace me and stay by my side, which makes me feel truly at ease. Actually, I've wanted to find a
girl like you for a long time. If I find her, it will be for life. I think that's wonderful."

"Fireman, this is the first time you've confessed to me so seriously, isn't it? Seeing you say this, you seem like
a child. It's the first time I've felt so charming."

"So, you accept what I've said? To be honest, I don't even know
why actually a little shy."

"Fireman, tell me about yourself. I want to get closer to you."

"Okay."

21

I was born in a small town in the south, quietly by the Fuchun River. I've always been reluctant to talk about that place.
People there seem to be born with a predetermined order, perfectly structured and rule-abiding.

When I was very young, because of my father's unconventional behavior in his thirties, our whole family fled there.
I guess it was fate. Like father, like son, continuing to live an unconventional life.

Jia'er, actually, I don't have much of a story to tell. Really, too many things have happened that I don't know
how to begin.

"It's okay, just say whatever comes to mind. I'm listening."

I remember when I was little, someone pointed a finger at me and slapped me, saying, "Your parents don't want you anymore."
I was only seven years old then, practically seven.

This person taught a 7-year-old a lesson, making the child realize that the world
is indeed messed up and so real. However, compared to now, I actually think I'd rather live under that
direct reality.

At 11, in 5th grade, during an English class, my English teacher slapped me with a
notebook . Afterwards, I argued with him, and he actually brought up my family background. From that moment on, I
made a decision: even if I have to give it my all, I will make people look at me with new eyes.

That year, I fell in love with music, with words, and with the guitar.

At 14, I went to a tattoo shop for the first time and had the tattoo artist carve my name and the word "nirvana" on my body
. I think that in my life, there is always a cycle, and I want to
make myself stronger.

The year I took the college entrance exam, I was 18. I filled out the wrong application, and instead of going to a good university, I ended up in
an unknown junior college in a second-tier city.

To escape my parents' daily nagging, I started working in a nightclub, working from 8 PM to 7 AM every day
.

I still remember being called in to drink until I was completely drunk, then being dragged to the manager's office and forced to do two hundred
push-ups, drenched in sweat, before starting all over again.

Those drinks, those people, their disdain, their teasing—looking back now, I feel a sense
of peace and happiness.

In my sophomore year of college, I fell in love with hedgehogs. On my second visit to a tattoo parlor, I got a hedgehog tattooed on my chest.
That time, I bled a lot; the whole process lasted over an hour. The needle kept pricking my heart, and I
was numb.

During that time, I often frequented the tunnel. I loved it there, loved
the feeling of singing with a guitar. I'd seen girls from my university class walk by, then cover their mouths and laugh out loud before
quickly walking away, reacting like they'd seen a lunatic. But was that me? Perhaps?

The first chord, the guitar music rising, the first sound, unrestrained indulgence.

That version of me was real, truly me. It was liberating. There, I could even talk to myself in the tunnel
, thanking those who left money in my guitar case, thanking them for tolerating a strange life form.

Thanking them for not leaving early, for not closing the shutter.

Jia'er, perhaps even now I'm still hypocritical, a hypocritical person, hypocritical words, hypocritical
everything.

But these things count as me, though not all of me, they're precious to me. I've pretended long enough,
let's come out and relax.

"Fireman, a hedgehog's quills point outwards. If you touch my heart, you'll soften. Don't worry, with me
around , you'll return to your original, genuine self."

After Jia'er finished speaking, she hugged me and touched my quills.

"But, Fireman, didn't you forget something? Don't you want to talk about your past relationships?"

22

Sure enough, women are all the same. Since I've said so much, I'll just say it all at once. But I'll just
gloss over it briefly. Those relationships were a bit strange, and a bit helpless.

Before I came to Beijing, I often thought about people from my past, and when I thought of them, I couldn't help but
feel warm. I don't know what my mindset was. I just thought
how wonderful it would be if I were in a dream now, still able to face my white self. Those years feel like they happened yesterday. How I wish
I could stay in those days.

In those days, I hurt others and I was hurt. Nothing was left, except for
the cheap stainless steel ring on my right hand and the tattoo on my chest.

It's such a joke.

They were the ones who showed me my slovenly and dirty side. Her in autumn, her short hair, her
ponytail , her flat feet... But what happened? I think of her, think of her, and think of her again.

I was lucky after all.

"Fireman, you were too hasty, saying just a few words. But, after all, that's all in the past
. None of us live in the past. You left them, and maybe you'll leave me too, maybe
not. But since our love has come, let's cherish it. I think I've fallen in love with you."

"Jia'er, you know what? I actually feel the same way you do.

We both live in a warm world."

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【Eight Milligrams of Fireman】(Stories about Fireman) (15-22) Author: Fireman

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