【Sorrow】

Chapter One: The Cultural Revolution

My name is Jiang Xiaoli, born in 1958. I was born into an intellectual family; both my father and mother

were high school teachers, and our ancestors for three generations were scholars—a truly scholarly family.

My hometown is a beautiful coastal city in Liaoning. It was just my parents and me; the three of us lived a

very warm and loving life.

My father was a very upright man. Aside from teaching and scholarship, he knew nothing else. He gave

all love to his students. My mother was a typical lady from a well-to-do family. She taught at the same school as my father and treated

her students like her own children.

Although I was an only child, I felt like I had many brothers and sisters during my childhood

because my parents' students often came to our house. I felt like I had many, many older brothers and sisters.

Influenced by my family, I loved poetry, calligraphy, painting, singing, and dancing from a young age, and my mother wholeheartedly

supported and taught me.

However, in this warm and harmonious family, a nightmare suddenly descended upon us in that era. It came

without any warning, so suddenly, so terrifyingly.

I remember it was early spring of 1974, a time when everything was reviving. The Cultural Revolution was already

unstoppable . My upright father and virtuous mother were taken away from our home by the rebels.

I was 16 years old that year. Due to the suspension of work and school, I could only stay at home. Every day, I would talk about poetry with my father

, and my mother would teach me to sing on the harmonium we had at home. But even this life was ruthlessly shattered.

In the morning, my father's students, his most beloved students, wearing red armbands and green military uniforms,

shouted slogans of "rebellion is justified" and led my parents out of the house.

I ran and cried, following the crowd to the school playground. My father and mother, labeled as "stinking intellectuals,"

stood on the school playground's exercise platform, their hands bound and wearing placards, to be criticized.

Those students, whom my father and mother cherished as their lives, held armed belts and waved signs that read "Long Live Chairman Mao

," mercilessly criticizing their most beloved teachers, my parents.

From that day on, I rarely saw my parents. Our family lived in the dormitory assigned by the school. Because my parents

had been criticized and their property confiscated, the Revolutionary Committee, out of humanitarian considerations, arranged for me

to live in . The 5-square-meter warehouse, besides a bed, could barely hold anything. Almost everything in the house

was taken away; that's when I understood what ransacking meant.

Except for my and my parents' everyday clothes, everything else was taken. My father's cherished calligraphy and paintings,

and my mother's most beloved organ, were all ruthlessly burned and smashed, euphemistically called "destroying the Four Olds."

Even my mother's silk underwear was taken. I cried and screamed, trying to snatch it back, but how

could a 16-year-old girl be a match for those Red Guards? Those were my mother's intimate undergarments; to have them

in the hands of a group of immature young men was unbearable.

At that time, the Revolutionary Committee gave me 5 yuan a month for living expenses, and I was responsible for cleaning all

the classrooms . Although work and school were suspended, the school buildings and factories could not be destroyed. Every day at school, watching my parents being

criticized and verbally abused by the students they were once most proud of, broke my heart. My mother was imprisoned in a separate room in

the administration office , and my father was imprisoned in the bicycle shed. My upright father couldn't bear

it all and committed suicide one night a year later. I was 17 years old that year; I remember it clearly—it was

the summer of 1975.

My father's death did not awaken the rebels in the slightest. My mother continued to be criticized and

paraded through the streets enduring a life of shame. I knew my mother had long wanted to follow my father, but she

couldn't bear to leave me, her only daughter. It wasn't until later, after some events, that my mother

embarked on that path to heaven, joining my father in death.

In 1975, I was 17, a beautiful young woman. My mother was a

beautiful woman, virtuous and elegant, with the poise of a well-bred lady. I inherited my mother's good looks; by 17, I

was already a beautiful young woman. What should have been a source of pride for a woman brought

indelible scars in that era—a wound that remains indelible in my heart to this day.

In the summer of 1975, after my father's death, my mother seemed to lose her vitality. She became numb to criticism sessions,

public humiliation , and even beatings. One summer night, I

was crying alone at home, reminiscing about my happy childhood and the laughter I shared with my parents, when there was a knock on the door. I

opened the door to our small, five-square-meter warehouse—our home at the time. The director of the Revolutionary Committee stood

before . Before I could even react, he had already entered.

The director, surnamed Zhang, was an old soldier, around 50 years old at the time, who had participated in the War of Resistance Against Japan, the Liberation

War, and the Korean War. His wife had died in the Liberation War, and now he was the director of our local Revolutionary Committee,

wielding the power of life and death. After Director Zhang entered the room, he looked around

. There wasn't much to see; the 5-square-meter room was easily identifiable.

"Xiaoli, what have you been up to lately? Is work tough?" he asked, looking me over. These

questions were completely irrelevant to me. What could I be busy with? Cleaning the school. My monthly

allowance of 5 yuan was barely enough to survive. Seeing that I didn't speak, Director Zhang sat down on my bed. What happened next

was the beginning of a life-changing event.

"Xiaoli, I didn't come here today for anything else, just to see you. Haven't seen your mother in a long time, have you?

Do you miss her? It's getting cold; you should take some clothes to her." Director Zhang

lit a cigarette as he spoke, his eyes fixed on me.

"Director, can I go see my mother? I miss her so much." Hearing Director Zhang's words, my eyes lit up.

Could I see my mother? As I spoke, tears streamed down my face. It had been almost a year since I

'd truly seen my mother. I'd only seen her on the criticism platform, paraded through the streets, and growing

increasingly haggard. How I longed to see her again!

"Your mother's case is a political issue; visits aren't allowed. But seeing you isn't easy for her either. You've grown up now. I

can try to find a way to let you see your mother. Come, come sit down. Uncle Zhang will help you think of a way."

"I'll let you see your mother." Director Zhang said, pulling me to sit down next to him. "As long as you listen to Uncle Zhang

, I'll let you see your mother the day after tomorrow." After saying that, Director Zhang pulled me onto his lap.

"Director, what are you doing? Let me go!" I shouted and pushed him away.

"What? Don't you want to see your mother? It's getting cold, don't you want to bring her some clothes? Your father is dead, and your mother

is still my flesh and blood. Don't let your mother's age fool you, she's not bad looking. So many

young Red Guards, if I hadn't stopped them, your mother would have been raped to death long ago. Your Uncle Zhang isn't forcing you today. If you say

no, I'll turn around and leave right now, and you can forget about seeing your mother. I won't care about the rest of the time. Let those

young Red Guards who have been eyeing your mother have their fun with her. I also want to see what it's like for such a refined lady like your mother

to be gang-raped." Director Zhang stared intently at me as he spoke.

Seeing that I didn't speak, he grabbed my breasts directly, tearing at my clothes as he

squeezed . I was truly terrified, terrified of what my mother would be

like, as he had described.

I was like a frightened little mouse, not knowing how to protect myself

or how to resist this drooling wolf. All I knew was that my clothes were instantly stripped off.

Director Zhang threw me onto the only bed in that tiny 5-square-meter room. His foul-smelling mouth

pounded against my face, ears, and neck, his rough hands kneading my breasts, while something

hard as an iron rod pressed against my stomach. I silently wept, letting him lick, suck,

and bite me.

He became increasingly frenzied, scraping and biting my breasts with his teeth, tearing at my tender nipples, his rough

hands forcefully reaching between my legs, his calloused fingers rubbing my genitals,

a burning pain shooting through my tender virginity.

Finally, with a tearing pain, his hard, iron-like penis plunged into

my vagina. He forcefully covered my mouth to stop me from screaming, thrusting his lower body into me with force. I

felt as if my genitals were being torn apart, desperately shaking my head and pushing him away.

But his strength was too great; he held me tightly, pressing me down beneath him. He sucked on my

nipples, thrusting his lower body in and out with frantic force. I felt like I was in hell. Finally, this feeling stopped with a heavy groan from

Director Zhang .

He pressed heavily on me, his lower body occasionally thrusting. I could feel a large amount of fluid gushing from his

penis into the depths of my vagina, warm currents surging through the deepest part of my vagina.

"Go see your mother the day after tomorrow with your clothes on. If you want to live well, you have to be obedient. You and your mother still have

to live. If you don't want to suffer, you have to serve me well," Director Zhang said, sitting on the edge of the bed, grabbing my

breasts . My heart was filled with humiliation and bitterness, but what could I do? The director of the Revolutionary Committee

was practically a local tyrant; he could criticize whomever he wanted, kill whomever he wanted, and even killing was legal.

Trading my body for my mother's safety, for our survival, was perhaps the best option for me.

But I never imagined this was just the beginning of a nightmare.

After washing my genitals, which were covered in Director Zhang's semen, I

drifted . In my dream, I thought I would soon be able to bring clean clothes to see my mother.

After getting up, I packed some warm clothes for my mother and sat on the bed, silently weeping, a mixture of physical pain

and heartfelt joy. No matter what, no matter the cost, I could finally see my

mother, whom I had missed day and night, and weep in her arms.

The day I had been waiting for finally arrived. In the morning,

after headed to the school's administration office, as she was being held alone in the small room that used to be part of the administration office.

On the stairs, two Red Guards stopped me, saying it wasn't possible now because Director Zhang was interrogating my mother and

I should come back in the afternoon. I was puzzled, because my mother wasn't a high-ranking political prisoner, and

I'd never ; she was just being criticized and paraded through the streets. Why was she being interrogated?

But seeing the two Red Guards' indifferent attitude, I didn't dare ask any more questions and could only retreat downstairs. However, out of

curiosity , I climbed up to the second floor from the boiler room behind the school. I missed my mother terribly. I thought,

Director Zhang had taken my body and had his fun, so he agreed to let me see her. Perhaps the two Red Guards didn't

know , so sneaking up shouldn't be a problem. So I quietly climbed to the second floor

and tiptoed to the entrance of the administration office. I heard men talking and women sobbing inside.

"Teacher Cai, think it over carefully. My patience is limited. No one has been

rough with you for so long; you should understand why. Look at those individual female political prisoners—aren't they all being fucked

to death ? And all those Red Guard young men—if I hadn't been holding them back, would you be where you are today?

You'd probably be worn out before your old man dies. Besides, Xiaoli has grown up; she's 17 and really beautiful.

Don't you want to meet her? As long as you make me feel good, I'll arrange for you and your daughter to meet right away. If you're still

stubborn , I'll turn around and leave. Countless young Red Guards will come in to serve you properly, and then they'll go

and serve your precious daughter properly. Think it over carefully. If you've made up your mind, come over here yourself." The voice was

Director Zhang's.

My mind went completely blank. What did he mean? He had just slept with me, forcibly taken my

virginity, and promised to let me see my mother. Why was he saying all this to her? As I was thinking this, I heard

the woman's sobbing from inside the room grow louder. I couldn't help but peek through the small window at the back door.

Director Zhang sat upright in a chair, smoking a cigarette, while my mother knelt on the floor opposite him, silently weeping. After

a while , my mother seemed to have figured something out. She gathered her disheveled hair and slowly moved closer to Director Zhang

. Director Zhang didn't say anything, holding a cigarette in one hand and grabbing my mother's hair with the other. "You slut, take it off

yourself . Do

you want me to do it?" he said, pulling my mother's hair. My mother was forced to look up. Seeing my mother's tear-streaked face, my heart broke. But what could I do? I could only silently weep, watching

this beast treat my mother like this.

My mother wept silently, taking off her clothes. Her few garments scattered to the floor.

I knew her heart was dead. A young lady from a respectable family, forced to

undress if it weren't for me, she might have committed suicide by smashing her head against the wall. But for me, for her only

beloved daughter, she chose to endure the humiliation. Her clothes, trousers, were removed one by one, revealing her naked body to

Director Zhang .

Director Zhang, breathing heavily, suddenly pulled my mother into his arms, burying his face in her chest, his hands

forcefully grabbing and kneading her buttocks from behind. My mother tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and bit her lip, enduring

Director Zhang 's humiliation. Suddenly, Director Zhang turned her around and forcefully pressed her onto the table, her buttocks raised high.

He forcefully spread her white, tender buttocks, completely

exposing to his view.

Director Zhang forcefully thrust his large hand between my mother's legs, pumping it in and out, slapping

her buttocks repeatedly while shouting vulgarities like "slut" and "bitch.

" When my mother's buttocks were red and swollen from the slaps, Director Zhang forcefully

shoved his hard, purplish penis into her lower body. Grabbing her buttocks with both hands, he continued to thrust, until with a low growl, he

ejaculated all his filthy semen into her body. Only then did Director Zhang, satisfied, pull up his pants and

say to my mother as he walked towards the door, "Put your clothes on. I'll call your daughter to come see you later. I keep my word; that old cunt was really fun.

You'll have your fun later."

Watching Director Zhang leave, I wiped away my tears and hurried back to the entrance of the administration office, but I didn't go in.

I wanted to give my mother time to get dressed. I couldn't let her be so

humiliated . This might be the only thing I could do for my mother right now. Upon seeing my mother, we

embraced and wept bitterly. My mother fussed over me, and I inquired about her health. Neither of us mentioned

the humiliation I had suffered at the hands of Director Zhang.

From then on, I could visit my mother more often, on the condition that Director Zhang would periodically visit my

tiny 5-square-meter room to vent his lust. I was frequently stopped from visiting her, told I was

being interrogated and needed to come back later. The Red Guards on guard said their expressions during the interrogations were incredibly lewd.

Each time I was stopped, I would climb from the boiler room to the second floor, only to witness my mother being

repeatedly wasn't just Director Zhang; I also saw Commander Zhang, a Red Guard rebel at the time, who was

Director Zhang's nephew.

On one occasion, I even saw Commander Zhang with three of his subordinates—four men in total—humiliating my

mother . Like animals, they took turns humiliating her; one ejaculated, another took his turn,

some fondling her breasts, others grabbing her thighs and stomach. This continued for over two hours before they finally left,

satisfied .

I felt that back then, my mother and I were like prostitutes in that abandoned school, except I only

served Director Zhang, while my mother had to serve most of the men.

This continued until 1976, the year I received a spot to go to the countryside.

When I ran to my mother's room to tell her the news, she took a deep breath, smiled, and stroked my head, saying

the hard times were over.

On the very day I left the city, my mother committed suicide, dying in that school she loved all her life, yet which had left her

with endless humiliation.

And on the morning of her death, she had been gang-raped by several Red Guards; it was said that when she died, her vagina was still

flowing with the foul-smelling semen of those Red Guards. Meanwhile, I had already boarded the train leaving the city, beginning my

journey as a sent-down youth.

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【Sorrow】

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