The Four Books by Yan Lianke Page B

asylum, but now they treated him like a general who had returned from battle. There was a combination of belief and disbelief in their admiring eyes, as they crowded together so closely that no one could even utter a word.
    “Does anybody want these?” The Technician slowly tore up one of the blossoms he was holding in his hand, letting the red scraps flutter to the ground, like tiny butterflies. “Go ahead—I’ll give one of these blossoms to whoever can say something that pleases me. And if you say two things that I find pleasing, I’ll give you two blossoms.”
    The Technician proceeded to peel another blossom off the wall, then turned around and gazed again at the crowd. Everyone was staring at him in shock, not knowing whether to believe their eyes. He held up the blossom, but just as he was about to start ripping it to shreds, a comrade from one of the other dormitories jostled his way to the front of the crowd and shouted, “Stop, don’t rip it! You are a hero of our ninety-ninth. I know that you have already helped us locate a source of iron for smelting steel. You are our saving star, do you know that?”
    The Technician smiled at the professor who had come forward—then, sure enough, handed him the blossom he was holding.
    Others soon followed suit. Upon realizing that they could get a blossom simply for saying something, another professor jostled forward and said, “Technician, we all know that you are completely blameless, and that you are only here on behalf of your advisor. But here in Re-Ed, you have endured hardship and hard labor, and have studied diligently, selflessly working the fields and smelting iron. Don’t you realize that you are a model for all of us?”
    The Technician gave him a blossom as well.
    At that point, everyone rushed forward and started shouting. One said, “Technician, I’ll miss you after you leave, and will use you as an inspiration to work, study, and reform myself.” Another said, “You are not only the model of models for our ninety-ninth, you are a model for our entire Yellow River Re-Ed region, and even for all of the other Re-Ed districts throughout the country!” Another said, “We’ve really been blind, having wasted our entire lives with mere book learning. Your knowledge, wisdom, and skill in translating language into practice, and practice into results, is something that the rest of us intellectuals who are here for Re-Ed will never be able to achieve or imitate.”
    Someone in the crowd shouted, “Everyone must learn from the Technician!” . . . “Everyone must pay their respects to the Technician!” . . . “The Technician is a model and an example for all of us in Re-Ed” . . . “The Technician is the greatest activist and revolutionary among us!” Although these shouts were not as earth-shattering as what one might hear at a mass rally, there were nevertheless people shouting slogans while standing on their beds and stools, while others on the ground lifted their arms in support. While the initial call and the response sounded hoarse, like water flowing through a floodgate that was not fully opened, the Technician was very moved, and he smiled as tears ran down his face. After setting aside three blossoms, he proceeded to peel all of the remaining ones from the wall and, in a fluid gesture, tossed them into the crowd.
    As everyone was bending over to retrieve the blossoms, I collected the Technician’s luggage and accompanied him to the canteen, where he exchanged his remaining three blossoms for some dried rations. Then, as though he were participating in a ceremonious opening procession, he picked up the board with the five large red stars and headed toward the entranceway of the ninety-ninth. Radiant with health and in good spirits, he walked under the bright winter sun. Glancing at the Child’s closed door, the Technician bowed deeply, then proceeded to the main gate.
    Everyone in the ninety-ninth accompanied him to the district gate to see