My era, 1979!

Chapter 32 I have to latch onto this powerful figure!
When the wooden door to the editorial office of Anhui Literature was pushed open, Zhou Ming was drawing crosses on the manuscript paper with a red pen.

"What did you bring?" He twitched his nose and looked away from the cloth bag in Xu Chengjun's hand. "It's not your Fengyang vermicelli, we haven't finished the ones you brought last time!"

Xu Chengjun put the cloth bag on the table, revealing the small red bean cakes inside: "Fengyang red bean cakes, sold by a fellow villager, they taste just like the ones at home."

He scratched his head. "I'd like to ask you to write a letter of recommendation for Fudan University. Deputy Director Wang said it requires two associate professors or higher..."

Zhou Ming grabbed a small bean cake, stuffed it into his mouth, and muttered, "Can't write."

His voice carried a hint of nonchalant familiarity.

Xu Chengjun was stunned.

Before he could speak, Zhou Ming's mocking voice could be heard.

"You think Old Su's pen is just for show?"

Zhou Ming suddenly laughed and tapped his forehead with his cigarette. "Old Liu was just talking about you the other day. Go find a master; they can write beautifully for you, much better than this broken pen of mine!"

"Look, one of them writes reviews, and the other writes poetry. They're writing recommendations for you. It's a perfect match, isn't it!"

What the hell does writing poetry and reviews have to do with writing recommendations?!
This old thing!
Xu Chengjun saw him smile.

Zhou Ming saw that he smiled too.

His wrinkled face looked just like a sunflower.

He pulled out a leather notebook from the drawer, tore out two pages: "Su Zhong's house is in the old alley of Tongcheng Road, there's a pomegranate tree in front of the door; Liu Zuci likes to drink bulk liquor, take two jin with you, just say I asked you to consult on the revision of 'The Granary'."

Xu Chengjun held the note in his hand.

How could he not understand?

Old Zhou is such a good friend!
This wasn't a rejection; it was practically building a ladder for him to climb.

His mouth moved faster than his brain, and Xu Chengjun shamelessly pressed forward again: "Editor-in-Chief Zhou, is that so!"

"Alright, enough with the editor-in-chief. I'm two decades older than you. At least call me 'brother' out of courtesy, or call me 'Old Zhou'!"

Alright, Lao Zhou is a real expert too.

He really spoils people he finds pleasing to the eye!

Xu Chengjun pushed "The Fitting Mirror" forward, "Brother Zhou, take a look, can this manuscript be published in Anhui Literature?"

"Okay!"

Zhou Ming's fingers, which were holding the manuscript paper, paused for a moment.

"You write really fast, kid! Don't try to cut corners."

Despite his words, Zhou Ming read very slowly and very carefully.

On each page, small circles are drawn in the blank spaces. When Chunlan steps out through broken glass, he suddenly slams his hand on the table and says, "You've hidden a knife behind the mirror."

"This is reform literature? No, I would say it's neo-realism."

After a moment's thought, he exhaled a smoke ring. "Wilder than 'The Barn,' but without the sugar coating."

Xu Chengjun's lips twitched. What school of thought is Neorealism?
"That……"

"Forget about it, it can't be published in Anhui Literature."

Zhou Ming pushed the manuscript back, his tone resolute.

"Your mirror is too bright; it can see the mud in other people's crotches. Our little temple can't accommodate that."

He suddenly lowered his voice and moved closer to Xu Chengjun: "Do you know Harvest? It's from Shanghai. It dares to write more than People's Literature and is sharper than Contemporary. Last year it published Lu Xinhua's 'The Wound,' and this year we need someone with your thorns."

Xu Chengjun's eyes lit up.

He was very familiar with "Harvest" magazine; he had worn out a bound volume of it while writing his thesis in his past life.

In 1979, it stirred up the literary world with "The Legend of Tianyun Mountain". Editor Li Xiaolin was known for her daring to take risks. As long as the manuscript was good enough, she would publish it even if the subject matter was sensitive.

Who is Li Xiaolin?

Do you know Buffett, the author of the Torrent Trilogy?

Her father!

"But there are risks."

Zhou Ming tapped the table. "Although Li Xiaolin is young, she reviews manuscripts like she's skinning them alive. Last month, she rejected a manuscript by an older writer, saying that his 'pen was as soft as cotton.' And your 'Shadow Rebellion' in 'The Fitting Mirror' is enough to keep her arguing with the editorial board for three days."

He pulled out a crank-operated phone, wrapped the receiver cord three times: "I've dealt with her before, I can call her now. Whether it works out or not depends on your luck, it's up to you whether you invest or not."

"Vote! Brother Zhou, you're so supportive!" "We absolutely have to vote!"

"We've written about the soft stuff, but we should let them taste the thorny stuff too."

Zhou Ming raised an eyebrow and suddenly grabbed the phone and started shaking it.

The turntable spun rapidly, making a clicking sound, like wind-up a clockwork mechanism for fate.

The line beeped twice before the operator's voice finally came through: "Hello? Who can I connect to?"

"Please take a call to the SH City 'Harvest' magazine and find Editor Li."

After a short wait, the call connected with a click, and he quickly pressed the receiver to his ear: "Hello, is this Editor Li?"

He chuckled into the receiver, "I'll recommend a tough one to you... Yes, a sent-down youth from Fengyang, his manuscript is even more compelling than 'The Wounded'..."

"The risks are considerable."

Zhou Ming hung up the phone and looked at him. "She wants you to bring the manuscript directly and mention my name. It's a special case; I'll show you the manuscript first."

"I can get you there before you arrive at Fudan University, but it's hard to say if I can give you a bargaining chip."

Before Xu Chengjun left, Zhou Ming suddenly remembered something.

He smiled and told him to "wait a minute".

By the time Xu Chengjun realized what was happening, Zhou Ming had already neatly folded a stack of money and handed it to him.

50 yuan.

"Don't just stand there, hurry up and take it. This is an advance payment, so it'll definitely be 50 less later! Don't be broke when you get to Shanghai and embarrass our editorial department!"

This arrogant little old man.

Xu Chengjun was furious, but he was genuinely moved by Old Zhou from this era.

Those thighs.

I need to hug him again!
Later, Xu Chengjun went to Liu Zuci's house along the road but couldn't find her.

Instead, they bumped into each other when they arrived at Su Zhong's house in the old alley.

Xu Chengjun was clutching two jin of bulk liquor when he saw Su Zhong, who was holding a cigarette butt, open the door and walk out.

Su Zhong looked at him suspiciously: "Comrade Xiao Xu is looking for me?"

Xu Chengjun earnestly explained the whole story, displaying a somewhat familiar demeanor.

This prompted Su Zhong to laugh and scold, "That old bastard Zhou Ming is slacking off again? That old fox has certainly raised a little fox."

Then Su Zhong called into the courtyard, "Old Liu! The young man you've been talking about has brought the wine!"

Liu Zuci peeked out from behind the grape trellis, a tattered copy of "A History of Western Aesthetics" still clutched in his hand: "Which young man? Little Xu from Fengyang?"

Wow, these two seem to have a good relationship!
Xu Chengjun placed the wine pot on the stone table, the metallic clinking sound ringing out crisply: "Editor-in-Chief Zhou said that you two have a keen eye, and asked me to come and learn from you two!"

"Seeking advice?" Liu Zuci suddenly laughed, abandoning her book. "Last year, I argued with your teacher, Ms. Su, about the writing style of 'The Class Teacher,' and we almost overturned the table in the middle of the night?"

"Why, you want to try it too?"

Xu Chengjun's lips twitched. "Actually, I wanted to ask you two teachers to help me write a letter of recommendation for Fudan University."

Su Zhong interrupted with a smile: "Recommendation letters are easy to arrange."

"Let us both take a look at your manuscript of 'The Fitting Mirror' first. We can't let that fox Zhou Ming see it all by himself, can we?"

Liu Zuci snatched the manuscript of "The Fitting Mirror" before Su Zhong could, and the two of them read it one after the other.

Indeed, the more you look at it, the more your brows furrow.

After a long pause, Liu Zuci suddenly looked up and said, "You've turned 'longing' into something alive."

"Chunlan's shadow dares to roll her eyes at Director Wang. She's much bolder than you were when you wrote 'The Granary'."

Su Zhong held a cigarette but didn't smoke it, his gaze lingering on the "singing through broken glass" section for a long time: "The mirror is a decoy, what you wrote is 'people should live two different lives.' The body inside the wall, the soul outside the wall, that's quite a wild idea."

He suddenly laughed, tapping his cigarette on the manuscript paper. "If those old scholars at Fudan University saw this, they'd probably bang their fists on the table! But Professor Zhu Dongrun would like it; he hates articles that are pretentious."

"It's a good thing you gave it to Harvest magazine, otherwise I would have been the one slamming my fist on the table!"

Before Xu Chengjun could speak, Liu Zuci had already taken out a pen and written "To the Department of Chinese Language and Literature, Fudan University" at the top of the letter.

Su Zhong took the pen and wrote the last line, which read: "This student's writing has the power to break through the soil, revealing the essence of the times in the details."

(End of this chapter)