My era, 1979!

Chapter 19 Miscellaneous Matters
In 1978, Anhui took the lead in resuming the work of the Provincial Federation of Literary and Art Circles. The "Workers, Peasants and Soldiers Creative Writing Training Class", which had been suspended in 1966, was also restarted in a new form with the goal of discovering new talents who "can write in line with the pulse of the times".

This is now known as the Anhui Youth Creative Conference.

This year's Youth Writers Conference also brought together the future elites of Anhui's literary scene, and many young writers became the founding members of the Anhui Writers Association after its establishment in 1980.

It can be said that the opportunity given to Xu Chengjun by the Central Jiangsu Provincial Government to speak was extremely valuable.

Xu Chengjun had no reason to refuse the high expectations placed on him by his seniors.

He smiled and thanked his senior, then exchanged contact addresses with Su Zhong.

He stood at the entrance of the editorial department for a long time.

Then, in a very childish and melodramatic way, he said: "1979, I'm here!"

Zhou Ming poked his head out: "Keep it down, be calm! You're embarrassing!"

囧.jpg!——
Xu Chengjun's footsteps had just disappeared at the alley entrance.

The laughter from the editorial office made the windowpanes buzz.

In those days, literary magazines, even provincial publications like "Anhui Literature," were not large in scale.

Xu Chengjun alone is enough for everyone to talk about all summer long.

Zhou Ming stubbed out his cigarette in the enamel mug and tapped his knuckles on the edge of the table: "Tell me, what did this kid say this afternoon about 'literature going home'? Did he sound like a sent-down youth squatting on the edge of a paddy field?"

He's been the editor-in-chief for so many years.

I've mentored at least eight hundred, if not a thousand, writers who were sent to the countryside during the Cultural Revolution.

Other educated youth either wrote about wanting to return to the city or about the hardships of farming.

This is the only person who can consistently surprise him from head to toe.

Lin Xiuying was attaching a red ribbon to the poem manuscript when she heard this and shook her head.

"Editor-in-Chief Zhou, Team Leader Liu, look at my eye for talent! I picked out 'Time' magazine at first sight. The cafeteria will have to give me an extra chicken leg tomorrow at lunchtime!"

Liu Zuci had just finished neatly collating the call for submissions for the "Thirty New Talents" contest when he heard Lin Xiuying's words and smiled.

"Add a chicken leg, find the editor-in-chief, why mention me?"

“However, his statement that ‘ten years from now, someone will be writing the story backwards’ is interesting! We’re still struggling with ‘how to write about reform,’ while he’s already seeing ‘how to write it using new methods.’ Han Han called just now, and I mentioned this to him. Old Han exclaimed on the other end, ‘This kid is a rough gem!’”

Old Zhang took off his reading glasses, wiped the lenses with his sleeve, and smiled: "What's most admirable is his composure when he was arguing with Su Zhong. Old Su said, 'Individual narratives will break down the dam,' and he calmly replied, 'A wide river cannot exist without its streams,' and even gave the example of a factory job posting, which made Gong Liu nod in agreement. Such vision is rare not only among educated youth, but even those critics in the provincial writers' association would have to think twice."

"Everyone gets a bonus tomorrow to celebrate receiving 'The Barn'!"

Zhou Ming responded with a smile, echoing what Old Zhou had said.

He then pulled out Xu Chengjun's speech record from the drawer: "Look at the energy in these words. Instead of saying 'we need to break through,' he said 'we need both thunder and raindrops'; instead of saying 'we need to innovate,' he said 'we can write it backwards when the rooster crows to signal the end of the workday.'"

"I really like it!"

Lin Xiuying suddenly remembered something and took out the manuscript of the poem "Time": "His poetry also carries this kind of clarity! 'Broken porcelain pieced together to form a window' is just what I said this afternoon about 'the individual and the collective complementing each other'? No wonder Gong Liu said 'there is philosophy in this poem'. I think it's because he has the image of the whole era in his heart."

Old Zhang picked up his teacup, took a sip, and his Adam's apple bobbed: "I've spent thirty years working at the grassroots level, and I've met so many educated youth writers that you could line up from Hefei to Fengyang, but none of them are like him. He'll be the closing act at the Youth Creation Conference, that's for sure!"

Zhou Ming stood up, slung his canvas bag over his shoulder, and said, "Let's go buy two pounds of melon seeds! Tonight I have to write a letter to my old friend in Beijing, to let them see that a young man from our Anhui region has emerged who can see through the future of literature for the next ten years!"
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When Xu Chengjun returned to the guesthouse, the sun had already set.

I should write a letter home to my family.

He inherited not only this young body, but also the original owner's memories and sense of belonging.

The kerosene lamp cast a warm yellow light as Xu Chengjun laid out the "Fengyang People's Commune" letterhead on the peeling wooden table.

He paused for a moment, then wrote "July 6, 1979, Hefei" in the upper right corner.

Father, Mother:

See the word as the face.

Everything is going smoothly in Hefei. The senior members of the editorial department of *Anhui Literature* have been very kind to me. My novella *The Granary* is expected to be published in September, and the revision meeting went very well. During today's discussion, Mr. Su Zhong from the Provincial Federation of Literary and Art Circles praised me for my "sharp insight," and Teacher Liu Zuci even said she would include my short poems in the new collection. These are long stories, but I'll tell you all about them when I get home.

Mother's cough should be better by autumn, right? I've dried the loquat leaves Xinghua's mother gave me on the windowsill of Xujiatun Brigade; they're completely dry. I'll bring them back for you to boil into a drink. In your last letter, you mentioned Xiaomei's apprenticeship was over. Does the factory have any spots for her to take the college entrance exam? The bookstore here has just received some new high school textbooks; I picked out a math one for her. She has a vocational school diploma, and ultimately, it's better for her to take the college entrance exam while she's still young.

Has my brother's trip home from the army been arranged? Perhaps I'll be able to catch him when I go home this time.

The revision meeting is over, and I'll be attending the provincial youth creative writing conference early next month, which will probably keep me in Hefei for another ten days or so. Once things are settled here, I'll go home to visit. Old Xu said the new wheat has been stored, and the thatch on the roof needs replacing; I'll go back and lend a hand. Teacher Qian's son, Qian Ming, should be taking the exam at Bengbu No. 2 Middle School right now; he wants to apply to Beijing Foreign Studies University. By the way, the sugar cakes in Hefei are really authentic; I'll bring two jin for my little sister to enjoy, and also a bottle of bulk liquor for you, Dad—it's a new product from the local distillery, and supposedly it won't give you a headache.

It's late, I won't write much more. I hope everyone at home is doing well.

Respectfully submitted by Cheng Jun

I hesitated for a moment when writing the letter, and ultimately did not include the recommendation for Fudan University.

Xu's father's favorite saying was, "When things are uncertain, do not speak."

Let's wait until it's decided before we talk about it. They'll probably be very surprised, especially my eldest brother.

After writing, fold the letter into a small square and stuff it into an envelope printed with "Serve the People".

The cicadas outside the window were chirping less, and the sound of a train whistle arriving at the station came from afar.

Xu Chengjun breathed on the envelope, as if that would make the writing dry faster.

In those days, carriages and horses were slow, and mail was plentiful.

I'll go to the post office to mail it first thing tomorrow morning.

The letter should arrive in about ten days if it's sent by regular mail.

He imagined his father reading the letter while wearing his reading glasses, and his mother would definitely give two of the three dates to Xiaomei.
In the examination room of Bengbu No. 2 Middle School, Qian Ming stared blankly at the word "production" on the English test paper.

The sound of the proctor's leather shoes came from the corridor. He suddenly remembered the old trick Xu Chengjun had taught him: "pro-'pù mǒu' (pù mǒu, meaning 'meat'), duc-'dǔ 'dǔ jiāo' (dǔ jiāo, meaning 'green beans'), tion-'shén' (shén, meaning 'god') - pù mǒu dǔ jiāo shén,

The corners of her mouth had just turned up when she quickly pressed them down with the back of her hand, pretending to rub her eyes.

The English essay topic was "My Production Team," and the essay required a description in 50 words.

As soon as he picked up his pen, he wrote: "We grow wheat and corn. Every one works hard. The new way makes more food. We are happy."

I was secretly delighted.

Whether it's right or wrong, at least the "new method to produce more grain" has been clearly explained.

When he handed in his paper, he noticed that the girl in front of him had written a sparse English essay and was muttering, "It's really hard."

I feel at ease. Although there were some ups and downs in the exam, it went smoothly overall.

When Qian Ming came to a multiple-choice question in the math exam, his pen paused for a moment.

The question, written in three dense lines, reads: "The production team needs to spray pesticides on its wheat fields. They have 30 jin (15 catties) of 20% pesticide solution, which needs to be diluted with water to a 5% concentration. If each mu (0.067 hectares) of wheat field requires 8 jin (4 catties) of the diluted solution, how many mu can be sprayed with this pesticide solution?"

他在草稿纸左下角画了个歪歪扭扭的喷雾器，旁边列着算式：“设需加清水x斤，20%×30=5%×(30+x)，x=90。总药液120斤，120÷8=15亩。”

After calculating and staring at the words "15 mu", he suddenly drew a small question mark next to it: "Our team's sprayers always leak pesticide, so it's good if we can actually spray 12 mu."

Of course, don't think it's easy; this is the third year since the college entrance examination was reinstated.

That's how math exams are.

It's something that would make 21st-century students scratching their heads over math in the college entrance exam incredibly envious.

Don't envy kids; if you were born in this era, you might not have to study!

Don't start laughing!

You have to farm.
Stepping out of the examination hall, the sunlight was so bright it was hard to open one's eyes.

He wondered how Cheng Jun's manuscript was doing.

I heard the cry of an ice pop vendor in the distance, so I took out five cents and bought a mung bean ice pop.

Thinking to myself: If I could really go to Beijing, the first thing I would do is go to Tiananmen Square and see the "stone-paved road where you can see your reflection".

The popsicle wrapper was blown by the wind and flew towards the train station.

In the autumn of 1979, it seemed like everything was flying.

Paper butterflies, words on exam papers, and the hopes in the hearts of young people.

(End of this chapter)