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A man who does not lie

A man who does not lie

By Richard RoperPublished 10 months ago 14 min read
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A man who believed himself to be very honest, like Zhou Wenxiang, certainly thought it a shame to receive such a letter. Before he had received this letter, he had heard of a horrendous society, openly and shamelessly called the Liars. Several of his friends, it was said, were members of the society. He dared not delve into this "rumor." Once it was confirmed, I was sorry to break up with you. It seemed too much. And they perfunctory, and a little sorry conscience. Zhou Wenxiang knew that he had no great talent, but he was loyal and honest. His reputation and career depended on it. Honesty is his religion. He felt to himself like a heavy stone, not very handsome, but hard. And now I get this letter:

"... No lie, no culture. Lying is the highest art of life. We suspect everything except that everyone lies about everything. History is the record book of lies, the newspaper is the broadcaster of lies. Coincidence and lying have the greatest happiness, because can lie is wisdom. Think how many fights there would be in a day without telling so many lies; How can a husband and wife get through 12 hours without lying. Our conscience never condemns what we write in love words - a piece of lies! But love is sacred! Winners, Kings, losers, thieves, yes, and less care about the cunning of lying. Culture is a product of lies. Gentle and gentle, then a gentleman - the most liars. The funniest thing is that people can't hide this treasure all the time, like pregnant women wearing oversized trench coats on purpose. It was as if they were most afraid of being found out that they were always lying, and so they multiplied their lies and became the biggest lies of all. We do not, we know the value of lies, and the difficulty of lies, so we lie honestly, the art of the use of lies, we organize lying, in order to study its skills, and to publicize its benefits. We know that we all tell lies, and we would like to make them less bad in the future... Mr. Su Yang used to lie, deep wish each other to think, in order to enhance the happiness of life, the vast eastern and western culture! If you do..."

Zhou Wenxiang put the letter down without finishing it. The meeting, in his opinion, was a farce; This letter is also nonsense. But he could not humorously forgive others for their mischief. He could not forgive people who had brought such trouble upon himself; it was an insult to his character. "Mr. Suyang is a liar"? He doesn't remember telling a lie. And if they did, they certainly didn't mean it. He is against telling lies. He could not admit that the newspapers were liars, because he got a lot of advice and knowledge from them.

Perhaps it was written to him by people he knew, who were "said" to be members of the Liar's Club, to play a joke on him, he thought. But in the top left corner of the letter was printed "President Tang Hanqing; Standing Committee member Lin Dewen, Deng Daochun, Fei Muchu; Accountant He Zhaolong." These were people Zhou Xiangwen knew and wanted to know. They all had some fame in society and some property. Fame and property, in the view of Zhou Xiangwen, can never come from nonsense. Nonsense can only ruin people. Then the association of so famous and rich people should not be nonsense. Incidentally, there might be some truth to the letter, not necessarily that his friends were joking with him. He picked it up again and tried to read it again. But he read only a few sentences and could read no further. No matter how famous or blessed the chairmen are, this letter is absurd. It's a nightmare! Never encountered such a contradiction, so can not think of reason!

Zhou Wenxiang is past the age to pay more attention to his appearance. Although not deliberately disheveled, but sometimes two or three days without shaving and heart can be very calm; Not only calm, but also seem to feel more solid and simple. He didn't look in the mirror much; He knew that his round face and square body were not attractive; All his self-love was in that simple, honest heart. He did not want to take the appearance to reveal the inner wisdom, and would like to look at the body as the heart of the honest instruction. He always seems to say, "Look at me! Consistent honesty inside and outside! Zhou Wenxiang is nothing but reliable!"

Put that letter down, he wants to look at himself in the mirror; Long confidence has made him deliberately re-evaluate himself, just as the most stable cabinet fears, and welcomes, the introduction of a "no confidence motion". He was about to go to the mirror when he heard footsteps outside the window. He recognized his wife coming. It gave him a sudden pleasure, not so much to welcome his wife, but to hear her footsteps. Everything in the family is regular, customary and kind. On the "summer solstice" day, we must eat noodles, and my wife always walks in the same voice. If only everything in the world were so accustomed to him. How frightened and helpless it would be if his wife ever did not walk in the way he was accustomed to! He could not say that his wife did not love him, but the familiar footsteps seemed to give him the strength to believe that life was not a disorderly nightmare. He knew her walk as well as the two bright red peonies on his tea bowl.

He busily tucked away in his pocket the letter which had disturbed his mind. It was done quickly and naturally, almost instinctively; Without thinking, he decided at once that she should not see such a ridiculous letter.

"It's getting late," said the lady, opening the door and putting her foot on the doorknob. "Must we go?"

"Haven't I got everything ready?" He looked at his shirt, surprised that he had forgotten whether he had put it on in his thoughts about the letter. Now I see a big shirt on my body, I can't remember when I put it on. Having put on his shirt, he was undoubtedly ready to go out. It was his honor and ideal to go out early and come back early to earn money for his family. In fact, he had forgotten to go to the office for the letter, but he could not detract from the glory and ideals of his life by his wife's prompt: "Am I not going?" He put on his hat. "Is Little Spring gone?"

"He said he wouldn't go to school today," said his wife, looking at him with the kind of dilemma a mother often has, not wanting her husband to lose his temper, and not wanting her son to fail, but if her husband can not lose his temper, the son is a little bit of the tendency to fail doesn't matter much. "And a stomachache."

Zhou Wenxiang said nothing and went out. If he interrogated Xiaochun, and Xiaochun interrogated short - just do not love to go to school and stomach does not necessarily hurt. This proved that Zhou Wenxiang's son could lie. If the son is left alone, and the son does learn to lie, even worse. He had no choice but to remain silent and resolute; Composure enables a man to appear competent when he has no means, especially in front of women. Zhou Wenxiang is a parent, of course, have to show authority, can not be seen by his wife and children what weakness.

Out of the street, he became more aware of his own abilities. The silence of his wife, and so on, he had done it so simply and so neatly, almost as he wished. There is no false, no means, it is a kind of sincerity from the simple cultivation of life, do not need to consider will cope with. Think of the letter, nonsense!

The office clock struck eight thirty-two and he was two minutes late. This is a new experience; For ten years he arrived at the latest at eight twenty-eight, and when he dreamed, the long hand of the clock was always on the half hour "here" side. The world seems to be two parts wider, everything has changed! He suddenly did not know himself. He had always been "here" at half past eight; Life is a collection of habits, a new bed can not sleep; Zhou Wenxiang lost himself, lost in two minutes outside, as if he had suddenly walked on a desolate beach.

But in a little while he regained his composure and recovered himself from his stray path. He wanted to blame himself for being so upset about such a thing; At the same time, he felt obliged to praise himself, anxious for such a trifle because he had always been faithful.

Sitting at his desk, he was thinking of something uninspiring. The company rule, the rule, is no lateness. He has seen colleagues reprimanded by managers for being late; And a salary deduction for being late. Well, that's no small thing! Naturally, ten years of loyal service could not be written off for being late once, he thought. But what if the manager sent it? It was not necessary to say that he was reprimanded or deducted from his salary, but that the manager did not say anything but pointed his forefinger at Zhou Wenxiang -- he whispered to himself -- and this was intolerable; Not because of the finger, but because of the finger, the honor of ten years has been pointed out, like a stream of hot water on the snow!

Yes, he should automatically go to the manager first, not wait for a summons. A faithful man should admit his mistakes and be rebuked or punished. He stood up to see the manager.

He stood a while longer, trying to think of several words. "Mr. Manager, I'm two minutes late, for the first time in years, but I've made a mistake!" It was appropriate, he judged his confession exercise. But if the manager asks, what's the reason? The reason for being late should not only be prepared, but should also be given first, without waiting for the manager to ask. There is: "Spring, my boy - stomachache, so..." It's very complete, and it's true. He also thought of asking the manager for a half-day off, because Xiao Chun's stomachache might require a doctor to see him. He did not dare to decide to do so, for it would naturally be considerably rounder, but perhaps it was too much. What's more, he had always felt very fond of little Spring, but somehow he was not so much concerned about Little Spring's stomachache now, though according to his own level of loyalty, he should have believed it and sent for a doctor at once.

He went to see the manager, and said all his prepared words, and said them properly, without being too busy, and without hesitating to be suspicious. He didn't dare ask for half a day off, but he made a slight hint that he needed a doctor. And before the manager could speak, he felt at peace, for he had not thought he could speak so delicately. He always thought he was not good at talking because he thought he was loyal. Now that he had such eloquence in front of the manager, he began to feel that he was not only loyal, but had some undiscovered talent.

As he had expected, the manager did not reprimand him, only smiled at him. "An honest man after all! Zhou Wenxiang said to himself.

A smile is sometimes as silent as a scowl, so that people can not turn around. When Zhou Wenxiang had finished his speech and the manager's smile was gone, things seemed to be over, but there was no way to end it. Zhou Wenxiang could not just walk out without saying a word, and it was not very graceful to stand there any longer. Something seems to have to be said, but not to the manager. Suddenly, he thought of his son. "Well, if the manager thinks it's all right, I'll ask for half a day off and go home!" It was proper and solemn, though it was not clear whether the son was really hurting his stomach.

The manager agreed.

Zhou Wenxiang walked out of the company, a little lost in his heart. Even if it was purely out of love for his son, the act seemed almost based on. But an honest man does not have to think twice. Go home and see.

Arriving at the door, Xiaochun was singing "The sun comes out to go to school" on the stone pier in front of the door. His face and voice were enough to prove that he had not suffered from abdominal pain recently.

"Xiao Chun," cried Zhou Wenxiang, "how is your stomach?"

"But also waves of pain, even singing do not dare to shout!" Spring pressed his hand to his navel.

Zhou Wenxiang snorted.

Seeing his wife, he asked, "Does spring really have a stomachache?"

When Mrs. Zhou saw her husband come back, she felt uneasy. When she heard this question, she felt that she was in a difficult position. Mother's love in the end make him still want to protect his son, really love is not time to choose means, she also have to lie: "when you go out, he is really stomachache, pain even color turn, now just a little!"

"Then call a doctor?" Zhou Wenxiang is to prove that both mother and son lie, think of this method. Though he found this method somewhat insincere, it did not detract from his sincerity, for he would have called the doctor, if his wife would have approved.

"No need to invite," thought his wife. "You can show him."

He didn't expect his wife to approve of treating Spring so much. Now that he had said so, well, the doctor would not prescribe to a child who was not ill, and a visit for nothing would have been enough to show his true love for his son and expose the hypocrisy of the mother and son, though it was distressing that the Zhou family could be so dishonest.

He took Xiaochun to Niuboyan, an old Confucian doctor in his sixties, who was certainly reliable. The old doctor closed his eyes and put his fingernail on little Chun's wrist for about ten minutes.

'It's a serious illness! Niubolyan shook his head and said, "Give it a try. Take two doses and come back again." Then he began to write slowly, but with many words.

Spring has nothing to do, the wrist cushion small cloth pillow as a sand pocket, throwing hands to play.

After paying the money, Zhou Wenxiang picked up the pharmacy and thanked Mr. Xie. Come out with spring; He could not decide whether to take the medicine at once or leave it alone. Xiao Chun is indeed, according to him, there is no disease. Then give him some medicine, just a punishment, see if he will still pretend to have stomach pain! However, since Xiaochun is not ill, and the doctor prescribed a prescription, then the doctor must be lying. If he took this deceitful prescription to fill the medicine, he himself believed the lie, in the doctor's trick. Spring lies, his wife lies, the doctor lies, only their own honest. He remembered the Lying Conference. There was some truth in the letter, which he could not help admitting. But he himself was an exception, so he could not quite believe the letter. Unless someone can prove that he - Zhou Wenxiang - lie, he can fully admire the truth of "lying." However, it is impossible to prove only that you have lied. He thought over everything, and there was nothing to blame. From afar to nearer, he considered what he had done and said that morning, and there was nothing wrong with it, for it had been done and said according to the habit of honesty, and there was no deliberate circumvention of what was done and said, and only himself knew himself.

He tore the letter up with the prescription and threw it on the road.

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