1978 Synthetic Writers

Chapter 26 The Eve of Synthesis
Lao Mo was founded in 1954 and is the first Western restaurant in Beijing.

The full name was originally "Moscow Restaurant", but now it has been changed to "Beijing Exhibition Hall Restaurant".

Most of the people who come here to eat are children of cadres and "troublemakers", or perhaps these people are just a group.

Today, Feng Jicai is hosting a party at Lao Mo to celebrate the launch of Today magazine, and Jiang Xian was also called over.

As the topic was being discussed, they turned to "The Chess King". A group of people were furious about Jiang Xian being criticized by Liu Xinwu as a "rogue writer" recently.

"Silly Belle, does he know what a writer is?" Feng Jicai slammed the table, his Tianjin accent bursting out.

Jiang Shiwei said unhappily, "I can't even read one of his 'scar literature'."

Zhao Zhenkai then expressed his attitude, "I don't like 'scar literature'. Can crying and throwing tantrums be considered literature?"

Everyone at the table agreed with what he said.

Only Feng Jicai looked embarrassed, and pursed his lips as if he wanted to explain something.

"I'm not talking about you, Old Feng. What you write is different from what they write." Zhao Zhenkai added.

"Liu Xinwu, only his 'Class Teacher' is passable, what's the rest?" Yu Youze said with disdain, "I've read his 'Wake Up, Brother', it's far-fetched, and it violates even the basic logic of life and artistic truth!"

Chen Ai Ge snorted coldly.

"Look down on others as if they are so noble."

Jiang Xian sits between the national defense green and Chinese blue of a water.

Unlike their indignation, he was calm and composed.

"I don't think this is a big deal. It's just that people with different ideals cannot work together."

There has always been conflict among intellectuals.

This was just a minor fight between him and Liu Xinwu.

Recalling the past, the love and hate between zy, dl, and hf were a life-and-death struggle, with bloodshed and head-breaking, which influenced the entire pattern of today's literary world.
"Old Jiang, I didn't expect you to be so magnanimous."

“This is the demeanor of a great man!”

"Gentle and refined, no wonder he writes well."

"."

Zhao Zhenkai just pursed his lips but said nothing.

Some time ago, Jiang Xian quietly wrote a "review" for the inaugural issue of "Today", with the subtitle "Wake up, Liu Xinwu", which coincidentally corresponds to Liu Xinwu's article "Wake up, Brother".

Respect his body with the same respect you would give him.

It’s such a loss!
He was just daydreaming when he suddenly heard Jiang Xian asking, "Zhenkai, how are your plans going?"

In the past month, five hundred copies of the first issue of Today have been mimeographed. In order to promote it, they decided to post Today everywhere in the city.

A trace of sternness flashed across Zhao Zhenkai's iconic bitter face.

"Jiang Shiwei and I will go. This matter is too risky. We might get arrested."

Jiang Xian's mind moved.

This is unorthodox and does sound dangerous at first glance.

But he knew it clearly.

This posting in "Today" encountered almost no obstacles or punishments, and effortlessly set off a trend of new literature and Misty Poetry.

"Inspiration [Heretical] Current Progress (2/3)"

Just one last step away from synthesis.

I have to find a way to get involved in this matter.

Ever since Jiang Xian mentioned the posting, the atmosphere at the dinner table became heavy, with a sense of desolation and tragedy as in "The wind is whistling and the Yi River is cold, the hero is gone and will never return."

Jiang Xian fiddled with the cutlery, which was made of silver. Later, because it was often stolen, it was lost a lot, so he replaced it with cheaper ones. "Zhen Kai, count me in for the thing tomorrow." He took the initiative to volunteer, breaking the silence.

Everyone raised their heads and looked at Jiang Xian in shock.

"You're going?" Jiang Shiwei couldn't believe it. "Jiang Xian, this is no joke."

Zhao Zhenkai was also quite worried. "Don't get involved in this matter. We are underground people. We don't have much fame. It doesn't matter. You are different. You are on the shore."

Jiang Xian refused to listen.

"It doesn't matter. I'm just locked up in Niupeng."

Others at the table also tried to dissuade him.

"Jiang Xian, this is no joke."

“You have to think about the consequences.”

"You have to be careful. You are a great writer, highly respected, and you cannot afford to be tainted."

"Okay, stop trying to persuade me." Jiang Xian stood up as if he had made up his mind to leave, like a generous man who wanted to actively participate in the movement, "Zhang Langlang failed, Guo Dingtang's son failed.

We may fail! But if we strive for cultural renewal, why should we be afraid of sacrificing our lives for our country?
As a member of Today, I have to participate in this event no matter what. If I don’t do my part in this matter, I will have no face to stay in Today.”

"Jiang Xian." Zhao Zhenkai looked at Jiang Xian's body, which was as firm as steel at this moment, and suddenly thought of the Gadfly who devoted himself to the great cause, Pavel Korchagin who fought bravely for the cause of proletarian liberation, and Spartacus who showed a fearless revolutionary spirit in the storm of armed struggle.

Jiang Shiwei was moved by Jiang Xian's passion and raised his glass.

"Jiang Xian, I toast to you!"

Feng Jicai picked up his cup and suggested, "Let's toast to Jiang Xian together!"

The glasses clink.

As the strong liquor went down his throat, Jiang Xian felt his heart surge.

Although it is for collecting inspiration, it is also very enjoyable to personally participate in the creation of this storm.

How magnificent!

As if encouraged by Jiang Xian, Chen Ai Ge patted his chest and said, "Brother Zhenkai, leave the posting work of the Film Academy and Beijing Film Studio to me."

"I'll be at the entrance of People's Literature."

"Tie Sheng and I are going to Ditan Park."

It was as if Lao Mo had started a pre-war mobilization, and everyone at the table was as excited as if they had been injected with chicken blood, and were full of energy.

Back to Lu Huanxing's farmhouse on the banks of the Liangma River, it was the area outside Dongzhimen that later became Xinyuanli. It was a no-man's land at the junction of urban and rural areas, covering a total area of ​​seven or eight square meters. This was the temporary home of Today.

Jiang Xian was no stranger to this place. As early as when he went to the countryside, underground literary salons were often held here. Almost all contemporary writers in Beijing had appeared here.

As for Lu Huanxing, he has a very unethical skill, which is hand-painting monthly bus tickets to make them look real, and distributing them to everyone every month.

The room was filled with mimeographed copies of the first issue of Today, and there was also a broken mimeograph machine.

The mimeograph machine is a relatively backward printing method. Before printing, oil engraving must be done on wax paper. The wax paper is also very easy to damage. Once damaged, it has to be engraved again.

Jiang Xian picked up a book and looked through it, and saw the poem "Declaration" written by Zhao Zhenkai——

[I am not a hero/In an age without heroes/I just want to be a human being]
This is not Zhao Zhenkai's best poem, but it is definitely the most meaningful one.

It is dedicated to a martyr.

They all decided to set off at daybreak and stayed here for the night.

Several people were lying in a mess. The dark room was filled with cold wind, but no one felt cold. There was only heat burning in their hearts.

Half asleep and half awake.

Jiang Xian could vaguely hear the Liangma River whimpering, as if stagnant water that had been blocked for many years was rushing out.

(End of this chapter)