My era, 1979!

Chapter 55 Go for it, Xu Chengjun!

The girl looked at him, her eyes filled with apology.

His voice was warm and gentle, with the last note as light as a feather brushing against the heart.

"Could you please get me the book on the top shelf?"

This sound?
Sounds a bit familiar.

The song "Wuxi Scenery," which I hadn't quite caught in the stairwell, suddenly echoed in my ears: "The Second Spring Under Heaven, at the foot of Huishan Mountain..."

The unfinished, melodious tune was exactly the same as the voice before my eyes.

He spoke instinctively, his voice still carrying a hint of dazedness from being engrossed in his thesis: "You are... the girl who sang 'Wuxi Scenery' in the room next to the west staircase yesterday?"

After saying it, I regretted it a little.

Although life is simple and frugal in this era, I am content with what I have.

It was a situation where "there was no noise of music to disturb the ears, and no paperwork to trouble the mind," and people became less cautious and tactful.

Although "Wuxi Scenery" is a folk music piece, it's inevitable that some people will gossip when a girl sings it.

When you encounter someone who loves to "report" and gossip, a scathing remark is inevitable.

To know,
The poem "Qinhuai Scenery" in the movie "The Flowers of War" is a rewritten version of this Wuxi folk song.

Of course, the two are different in nature.

The girl paused in her search for the book and slowly turned around.

The afternoon sun shone just over her hair, casting dappled light on her oval face.

A hint of surprise flashed in her almond-shaped eyes, then a faint smile spread across her face, revealing dimples at the corners of her lips. She said quite frankly, "It was me. I thought no one was in the room at the time, but you overheard."

They were open and honest, without any attempt to hide anything.

He exuded a confidence and magnanimity rarely seen in this era.

She took two steps forward, the cloth bag strap swaying gently on her shoulder, revealing tiny orchids embroidered on her cuffs.

"My name is Su Manshu. Su is from Suzhou, Man is from 'Manlu Ningbo', and Shu is from 'Yun Shu Xia Juan'."

"I'll be a junior in the economics department when the semester starts."

As soon as he finished speaking,

She stretched out her hand, her fingertips long and slender, her nails a healthy pinkish hue. "And you, classmate? You look unfamiliar. You don't come to the archives often, do you?"

The moment our fingertips touched, the cool sensation felt like snow falling into our palms.

The girl glossed over the singing incident with just a few words.

She gracefully and nimbly changed the subject.

Xu Chengjun stood up and shook hands with him decisively: "Xu Chengjun, from Anhui, will be here the day after tomorrow for an interview in the Chinese Department."

"Xu Chengjun?"

Su Manshu's eyes suddenly lit up, her almond-shaped eyes curving into crescents. "Xu Chengjun, the author of 'Walking Towards the Light'!"

Xu Chengjun reached down to the book she was pointing to; it was a yellowed copy of "Canglang Poetry Talks".

Looking at the girl, he smiled and said, "It should be me. I originally wrote this column for young people to encourage my peers, but I never expected it to reach Fudan University."

"Even I was surprised."

“It’s more than just adding energy.” Su Manshu closed the book and tilted her head to look at him. “When I read ‘all the flowers will bloom in succession,’ I always feel that there are millions of flower cups blooming one after another in the wind. This is not something that can be written with ordinary writing skills.”

"It's too early to encourage others."

Xu Chengjun smiled and pointed to the manuscript paper on the table, "Now I should cheer myself up. I've prepared a paper for the interview, but I'm worried that I don't have enough references."

Su Manshu took a few steps closer and glanced down at the manuscript.

The Modern Transformation of Traditional Chinese Literary Theory: From "Literature as a Vehicle for Morality" to a Localized Path of Realism

The main title is listed on the first page of a stack of manuscript papers.

She read it aloud softly, a hint of surprise in her eyes.

Although I am an economics major, I have a family background in academic studies and am somewhat familiar with the current academic focus of the Chinese Literature Department.

It might even go beyond just understanding.

This doesn't seem like the kind of academic paper a sent-down youth could write, even one like the one who wrote "Walking Towards the Light".

It's not that I have a problem with educated youth; in fact, the academic level of worker-peasant-soldier students was indeed not as good as that of college entrance examination candidates.

"Just by looking at the title, this paper must be pretty good."

As she spoke, her fingertips unconsciously rubbed against the spine of the book; her nails were slightly long and neatly trimmed.

"While the academic community is currently discussing Western theories, you are grounding yourself in local realities, which is quite unique."

Xu Chengjun raised an eyebrow: "Economics students also pay attention to literary theory?"

"There are many books like this on the bookshelf at home, so I've just been exposed to them since I was little."

She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "My dad often says, 'Learning knows no boundaries between arts and sciences.' Looking at your topic, are you trying to apply the wisdom of our ancestors to the present day?"

"I suppose so." Xu Chengjun flipped through two pages of the draft paper. "When discussing reform, we don't necessarily have to adopt Western theories. The concepts of 'adaptability' and 'harmony' from our ancestors are still applicable today."

"For example, the 'subtle enlightenment' in 'Canglang Shihua'?"

Su Manshu suddenly pulled out a thread-bound book from her canvas bag. It was "Annotations on Canglang Poetry Talks". "Yan Yu said, 'Generally speaking, the way of Zen lies in subtle enlightenment, and the way of poetry also lies in subtle enlightenment.' Wouldn't it be more appropriate to use this to interpret your poem 'Moonlight Seeds Shadows'?"

Xu Chengjun took the book, looked up at her, and asked, "You also study classical literary theory?"

"It's not really research; I just flip through it for fun in my spare time."

She rolled up the hem of her shirt, and sunlight streamed through the high window, falling on her hair. "But if you're missing references to 'The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons' in your thesis, there's a 1957 edition of 'The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons with Commentary' in the row of iron cabinets in the west corner of the archives. It has Huang Kan's marginal notes, which are particularly insightful in their interpretation of the 'Transformation' chapter."

He really needs it!

He had been searching for this kind of book for two days when a girl inadvertently gave him directions.

The citations are now more abundant.

Beautiful inside and out!

When he looked up, he saw Su Manshu smiling at him. "If you don't have time to prepare before the interview, I can help you copy a few pages of key annotations. Anyway, I've been spending these past two days in the archives."

"You're going to a lot of trouble," Xu Chengjun quickly waved his hand.

"Easy to do."

Su Manshu turned and walked towards the bookshelf. "You helped me get the book, and I'll help you copy the annotations. We're even now."

"Besides, I'm a fan of your poetry too! Opportunities to get up close and personal with emerging poets are rare!"

As she turned around, the ends of her hair brushed against her shoulder, carrying a delicate fragrance. "By the way, there's an old typewriter at the end of the corridor on the third floor. I saw you copying your thesis there; it's faster than writing by hand."

Xu Chengjun watched her back as she moved among the bookshelves, her pale white shirt half-transparent in the sunlight.

For a moment, I couldn't describe the feeling in my heart.

My heart is like a double-stranded net, with thousands of knots within.

"Thank you."

He picked up his pen and wrote down the version she mentioned in the blank space of the paper: "After the interview, I'll treat you to some dim sum at Yu Garden."

Yu Garden Green Wave Corridor was just established at the beginning of the year. It was jointly established by chefs from time-honored brands such as Songyuelou and Nanxiang Steamed Bun Shop, and it features 14 kinds of "Prince's Dim Sum".

Using the anecdote of Prince Sihanouk's visit to Shanghai, the waiters will proactively tell the story of the "14-course dim sum banquet in 1973," providing plenty of talking points.

Window seats offer views of the Nine-Bend Bridge and the lake.

The price is 1-2 yuan per person.
It's much more affordable than restaurants catering to foreigners, offering a "down-to-earth experience" similar to that of foreign guests in this era.

Su Manshu peeked out from behind the bookshelf, her almond-shaped eyes curving into crescents: "It's a deal. But you'd better work hard, don't let me copy the annotations for nothing!"

"correct."

"If you have an interview, the meeting room on the third floor isn't usually crowded lately, so you can go check it out beforehand."

She raised her hand to look at the Shanghai brand watch on her wrist, "And Professor Zhang and his team like to arrive early, so you'd better be there ten minutes early to wait for them."

Just as he was about to thank her, he saw Su Manshu tiptoe to reach another book on a slightly higher shelf.

The wind lifted the hem of her pale white shirt, revealing a slender yet upright back.

"found it!"

She waved the book "The Book of Poetry" in her hand, sunlight falling on her eyebrows, "Keep it up, Xu!"

Her dimples deepened when she smiled. "Good writing can never be hidden."

(End of this chapter)