values of great love and love for all mankind that fail to distinguish between the enemy and ourselves. His lecture even implied thatwe must identify our enemies and let our hatred rise against them so that our martial spirit can be fully displayed. This I understood.
I knew this was also the ingenious method I could use later to earn Z’s trust. With his strong idea of the difference between inside and outside forces, he will surely make me a close member of his inner circle. I immediately organized six Peking and Tsing-hua University students who already worshipped me into a group of iron-willed loyal braves and began to practice martial arts with them. I feel that university students today are all lacking in courage and the killing spirit. They’ve all been overinfluenced by society’s general mood of love. They’ve all been feminized and sissified and have lost the lofty male spirit of machismo. Sometimes I’m afraid that even I am too loving, too indecisive, and won’t be able to accomplish anything great. I tried my best to stimulate their killing spirit and told them that they must never forget how to hate, must never forget the distinction between the enemy and ourselves. We watched documentary films on the Nanjing Massacre and the Nazi extermination of the Jews, and I encouraged them to imagine how they would systematically massacre the little Japanese devils. Then on one occasion, when we were camped out on maneuvers, I wanted them to kill a couple of stray dogs in order to build up their courage, but they let the bastards get away. I think university students are all good-for-nothing losers.
Finally, one night, I had the chance to put them through their rite of passage.
Every night in my grandmother’s crummy little Wudaokou restaurant, Five Flavors, there is a folk-music performance. It’s a good place for me to keep watch on our young people’s attitudes and thinking. That night all the iron-willed loyal braves were there, but their morale was pretty low and they were frowning into their drinks. Maybe he had had too much to drink, but one of them, from Tsing-hua University, suddenly pointed at a tall young man onstage playing the guitar and said, “Look at that big shit playing the guitar. One look and you know he comes from the countryside.” That Tsing-hua iron-blooded loyal brave also comes from a peasant family, but he hates peasants more than anyone else. He was always saying that peasants are a vulgar social class lower than anybody and nobody should sympathize with them.
I’ve always known that poor people hate other poor people, peasants despise other peasants, and children love to bully other children. “Look at him and his dark skin! He’s disgusting, isn’t he?” said the Tsing-hua student. “The tall guy plays pretty well, though,” said another brave, but another one disagreed with him. “His body language is so crude and his fingers are as thick as rolling pins. And he still wants to play Spanish guitar? Fuck!” “He’s just a fucking peasant!” said the Tsing-hua guy, with anger rising in his voice. All the iron-blooded braves stared at that tall peasant guitar-player in utter disgust. “Maybe tonight we should …” I suddenly thought out loud. They all understood immediately, and one of them said, “Let’s go pick up our weapons.”
We waited outside the restaurant, growing angrier by the minute while that big jerk was still in there drinking and laughing. When he finally came out, we followed him, not knowing exactly how to have a go at him. After a while we came to a bus stop and that dumb prick actually sat down against a wall in a narrow street across from the bus stop and went to sleep. All my crew went after him at once, beating the crap out of him with their clubs until the big bum couldn’t move even a muscle. I was standing across the street thinking to myself, This is the real thing. Tonight we’re going to beat that fucker to death. But just then a
I knew this was also the ingenious method I could use later to earn Z’s trust. With his strong idea of the difference between inside and outside forces, he will surely make me a close member of his inner circle. I immediately organized six Peking and Tsing-hua University students who already worshipped me into a group of iron-willed loyal braves and began to practice martial arts with them. I feel that university students today are all lacking in courage and the killing spirit. They’ve all been overinfluenced by society’s general mood of love. They’ve all been feminized and sissified and have lost the lofty male spirit of machismo. Sometimes I’m afraid that even I am too loving, too indecisive, and won’t be able to accomplish anything great. I tried my best to stimulate their killing spirit and told them that they must never forget how to hate, must never forget the distinction between the enemy and ourselves. We watched documentary films on the Nanjing Massacre and the Nazi extermination of the Jews, and I encouraged them to imagine how they would systematically massacre the little Japanese devils. Then on one occasion, when we were camped out on maneuvers, I wanted them to kill a couple of stray dogs in order to build up their courage, but they let the bastards get away. I think university students are all good-for-nothing losers.
Finally, one night, I had the chance to put them through their rite of passage.
Every night in my grandmother’s crummy little Wudaokou restaurant, Five Flavors, there is a folk-music performance. It’s a good place for me to keep watch on our young people’s attitudes and thinking. That night all the iron-willed loyal braves were there, but their morale was pretty low and they were frowning into their drinks. Maybe he had had too much to drink, but one of them, from Tsing-hua University, suddenly pointed at a tall young man onstage playing the guitar and said, “Look at that big shit playing the guitar. One look and you know he comes from the countryside.” That Tsing-hua iron-blooded loyal brave also comes from a peasant family, but he hates peasants more than anyone else. He was always saying that peasants are a vulgar social class lower than anybody and nobody should sympathize with them.
I’ve always known that poor people hate other poor people, peasants despise other peasants, and children love to bully other children. “Look at him and his dark skin! He’s disgusting, isn’t he?” said the Tsing-hua student. “The tall guy plays pretty well, though,” said another brave, but another one disagreed with him. “His body language is so crude and his fingers are as thick as rolling pins. And he still wants to play Spanish guitar? Fuck!” “He’s just a fucking peasant!” said the Tsing-hua guy, with anger rising in his voice. All the iron-blooded braves stared at that tall peasant guitar-player in utter disgust. “Maybe tonight we should …” I suddenly thought out loud. They all understood immediately, and one of them said, “Let’s go pick up our weapons.”
We waited outside the restaurant, growing angrier by the minute while that big jerk was still in there drinking and laughing. When he finally came out, we followed him, not knowing exactly how to have a go at him. After a while we came to a bus stop and that dumb prick actually sat down against a wall in a narrow street across from the bus stop and went to sleep. All my crew went after him at once, beating the crap out of him with their clubs until the big bum couldn’t move even a muscle. I was standing across the street thinking to myself, This is the real thing. Tonight we’re going to beat that fucker to death. But just then a
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