1978 Synthetic Writers

Chapter 82 The Conscience of Literature

"you are?"

"Hello Jiang Xian, my name is Li Xiaolin." She stretched out her hand and smiled calmly.

Although he is in his thirties, Li Xiaolin exudes a childlike innocence in his every move, making people feel particularly close to him.

"Hello, Li Xiaolin, what's the matter?" Jiang Xian asked blankly.

Zhang Jie couldn't bear to watch it anymore and reminded him, "Little brother, Xiao Lin is the editor of Harvest."

Editor of Harvest? Li Xiaolin? Li thought of a certain name, and Jiang Xian's heart skipped a beat. He looked at her again.

Ba Jin's daughter, Li Xiaolin?
It's no wonder Jiang Xian didn't know. Ba Jin's family was very low-key. He had a son and a daughter. His son Li Xiaotang never mentioned his father. When he was studying at Fudan University, the school leaders didn't know he was Ba Jin's son. Later, he was assigned to the Literature and History Department and devoted himself to his work for more than 20 years. Few people knew who his father was.

As for his daughter Li Xiaolin, her job was to be Ba Jin's assistant at Harvest. There was no way to hide this and many people in the circle knew her.

The two men stood under an old cypress tree with tall branches and greeted each other politely.

"Dad has seen your "Furong Town" and he thinks very highly of you."

Ba Jin has seen it?!
Ba Jin was in poor health and was often hospitalized in the following years. Although the first issue of "Furong Town" only had 40,000 to 50,000 words, it was still extremely exhausting for an old man. He was willing to finish reading it, which was definitely an honor.

Jiang Xian was flattered. "My writing is still immature. Many people say that my writing style is neither Chinese nor Western, and that I have too little experience."

Humility is a virtue. No matter what, be polite first.

"How is that possible? You are too modest. I think your description of the countryside is very mature and profound. You have seen this since The Chess King."

What Li Xiaolin said is true. The original author of "Furong Town" was the ancient "Master", who was good at describing local customs in his early years.

Why do I say the early period? Because in his later period, he was fond of writing worthless, fabricated non-fiction works, using some unofficial history and village sayings to make foreigners laugh. In fashionable terms, he was a public intellectual and had a very bad reputation in the circle.

"What do you want from me?"

"I've always wanted to meet you, but never had the chance. I didn't expect to meet you today. I want to ask if you have any works recently." Li Xiaolin asked directly.

"So that's how it is." Jiang Xian pondered.

Some people's frankness may make people feel particularly abrupt, but Li Xiaolin is different. Her frankness makes people feel very sincere, so Jiang Xian is not reluctant to reveal it to her.

“I do have a novel in the works.”

"Is it still a long novel?" Li Xiaolin became excited and asked anxiously, "What is it about? Can you give us "Harvest"? "

"Harvest" was just resumed publication this year, and the editor-in-chief is still Ba Jin. The heavyweight works published in the first issue include Lao She's posthumous work "How I Write Camel Xiangzi" and the third part of "Morning in Shanghai". The first part was published in the inaugural issue of "Harvest" in 1957.

The author of "Morning in Shanghai" is Zhou Erfu. Do you know Zhou Erfu? He was an early victim of journalism. It is said that he visited the toilet.

Based on the information currently available, Jiang Xian gave Li Xiaolin an uncertain answer.

"According to my idea, it will be a novella, and the content will be related to the Tang Dynasty and fruits."

"Tang Dynasty? Fruit?" Li Xiaolin pondered for a while after hearing the ambiguous words, but he still felt very interested. "Okay, Jiang Xian, I've agreed to write this manuscript. Please send it to me when you finish it!"

"Teacher Li, you dare to ask for it without even knowing what I wrote."

"Haha, don't call me Teacher Li, I'm not used to it. Everyone calls me Xiaolin."

"Sister Xiaolin, what if it's hard to publish after you write it?" "Don't worry about that. We are Harvest, and we want to 'let a hundred flowers bloom'."

The journal "Harvest" is indeed extremely inclusive and innovative. Yu Hua directly called "Harvest" the best magazine in China in his mind. Without "Harvest" and without Ba Jin's protection, "Xu Sanguan Selling Blood" and "To Live" would never have been published.

"Regarding the standard of remuneration," Jiang Xian rubbed his hands.

"Of course your manuscript is calculated according to the standards of famous authors, at the standard of seven yuan per thousand words." Li Xiaolin said, covering his mouth with his hands and giggling, "Teacher Jiang, how come you don't even have such confidence?"

Hearing her definite answer, Jiang Xian smiled and said, "I have to ask clearly first, but I'm afraid it will take me some time to finish writing this manuscript."

"Don't worry, just remember to mail it to me when you finish writing it." Li Xiaolin said with a smile.

Jiang Xian didn't mind making an appointment with Harvest for an article in advance. He had a good impression of Harvest and Ba Jin.

Ba Jin is the patriarch of contemporary writers and a big tree in the literary world, providing shelter for all writers. When Chen Rong's "Middle-Aged Man" touched the nerves of some people who wanted to interfere, Ba Jin immediately stood up to protect her.

Do you know Zhang Xianliang? This guy is very miserable, and his luck is often taken away because he is the author of "Soul and Flesh" or "The Shepherd".

He wrote a piece called "Half of a Man is Woman", which attracted a lot of criticism and was called pornographic. This guy was devastated. Ba Jin personally wrote a letter saying that it was a good novel, and the storm subsided.

There was also a female writer who once came to see Ba ​​Jin. At the time, he thought it was no big deal and simply comforted her with a few words. Later, after understanding her situation, he felt very guilty for not protecting her well.

This female writer is Zhang Jie.

Ba Jin deserves respect in every aspect.

Literary men are passionate, but there were so many scumbags in the Republic of China. If we really wanted to name them all, the literary world would probably be wiped out.

But Ba Jin was a clear stream. He only loved one person in his entire life, had no scandals, and never had a quarrel or a quarrel with his wife.

Almost fifty years old, the letters he wrote to his wife were all sweet: "I miss you all very much, especially you." "There is a beautiful moonlight outside the window, and it can also shine on you. What are you doing?"

After his wife passed away, he missed her for 37 years.

He suffered from Parkinson's disease and had difficulty holding a pen, but starting last year, Ba Jin insisted on writing two to three hundred words every day and began to publish his confessions in Hong Kong's Ta Kung Pao. It took him ten years to write 42 words, which is the well-known "Random Thoughts".

I believe that anyone who has read this work will be moved by Ba Jin. This old man deserves the title of "the conscience of 20th century Chinese literature."

"Sister Xiaolin, can I meet Mr. Ba Jin?" Jiang Xian couldn't contain his excitement.

Although I had the opportunity to see him and hear his speeches at the National Congress of Writers, it was still different from talking to him face to face.

"You want to see dad? OK." Li Xiaolin agreed readily, "Before the Writers' Congress, I'll call you then."

"Thank you, Sister Xiaolin."

"It's okay. Dad will definitely be happy to see you. Keep this business card. It has the address of our Harvest."

"Ah."

Jiang Xian took it and glanced at it.

Harvest Magazine, No. 675, Julu Road, SH City.

I'm looking forward to the Writers' Congress.

(End of this chapter)