Writer 1978: I Need to Give the Literary World a Lesson

Chapter 2: I still have to take the college entrance exam.

Liu Yimin is a time traveler; for some reason, he suddenly traveled to 1978. Before his time travel, he was already a manager at a media company, a mid-level manager, the result of ten years of hard work.

I spent over a decade trying to get into a second-rate 211 university, majoring in Chinese literature. Only after graduation did I realize that humanities was worthless.

My parents raised me for over a decade after I graduated from university, hoping I would soar to great heights, only to find the salary incredibly low. Later, through hard work, I finally landed a job at a media company.

I worked hard for ten years to become a minor leader. I originally thought I could just keep working hard for another ten years to become a leader and then I wouldn't have to work hard anymore, but I didn't expect that the young people are all so good at working hard.

He's come to terms with it and wants to be a seasoned office worker, coasting along until the end, but his wallet hasn't quite caught up, so he has to keep rolling in money.
He remembered that when he transmigrated, he was reviewing short drama scripts for the company, which were essentially reskinned versions of American characters: "Musk falls in love with me, a divorced woman with three kids who has gained weight, and Trump is so jealous he keeps pressing the nuclear button" and "After going through menopause and getting divorced, I marry the youngest billionaire CEO in the universe."
The script was full of characters showing off and getting slapped in the face, with a plot full of ups and downs. He watched it for several hours in a row, until he felt a mouthful of black blood stuck in his throat and couldn't spit it out, and he fainted.

However, it seemed that fate felt the joke it had played on him was too much, so it arranged a little background for him, but after he saw it, he felt that it was pitifully small.

Liu Yimin is the son of Liu Fuqing, the production team leader of the third team of Maiji Brigade, Shiling Commune, Ruxian County, Luocheng City, Henan Province, and a Chinese language teacher in the primary and junior high school classes run by the brigade.
He woke up in the hospital. The original owner of this body had decent grades and happened to be able to take the college entrance examination in 77 when it was reinstated. However, unfortunately, it started snowing heavily in the early morning of the day of the exam. By the time he stumbled to the examination hall, it was too late to enter, and he missed the first exam, Chinese.

Due to the sudden surge of anger, he couldn't catch his breath and collapsed outside the examination hall. In this respect, the two are quite similar.
Could it be that they were swapping clothes? Liu Yimin struggled with this question for a long time.

The militiamen and teachers maintaining discipline outside the county middle school hurriedly took the original owner to the hospital. By the time Liu Yimin woke up, he had already missed the afternoon exam.

Liu Yimin couldn't help but sigh, wishing he had woken up sooner. With his 211 university degree, he could have gotten into university even if he had just relied on the last three exams, since the 77 college entrance exam was unusually easy.

This year, Liu Yimin absolutely has to take the college entrance examination. The reason is simple: in this era, getting into university is incredibly cost-effective, and it even guarantees you the status of a government official.

"A loss may turn out to be a blessing in disguise!" Liu Yimin comforted himself, then continued to worry about the novel.

In a literary world where "scar literature" is all the rage, it's uncertain whether "Mr. Donkey" will pass muster.

Liu Yimin wrote to earn some money. Besides, writers have a high social status; doing other things is hard work and doesn't bring much appreciation. Today's readers are like celebrity fans in later generations; they can't take their eyes off the real person and just keep crowding around them.

An author who suffered sexual repression in his youth reportedly had over twenty lovers after becoming famous. He even questioned, "Can a writer without scandals write good novels?"

There are many ways to make money, but becoming a writer is currently the safest option, as it brings both wealth and status. Moreover, he's a Chinese literature major who has studied many classic novels, and he also enjoys watching movies and occasionally writes film reviews.

Relying on his memories and the movies he had watched, he believed that he could survive in this era, and even live a very comfortable life, simply by using his pen.

From this perspective, time travel wasn't a joke played on him by fate, but rather a lottery ticket, and most importantly, this ticket wasn't a one-time gift, but a lifetime of wealth. "Mr. Donkey" tells the absurd story of a teacher in a remote school during the Republican era who falsely claims a donkey as a teacher to embezzle salaries. To cover up the truth, the teachers hire a local coppersmith to impersonate a teacher to fool the special envoy.

The school teacher, Zhang Yiman, personally taught the young coppersmith a few English phrases, which, combined with the young coppersmith's Mongolian, successfully fooled the special envoy.

But unexpectedly, an even more serious situation awaited them. Mr. Ross was coming to inspect, which marked the turning point in the entire film from joy to sorrow.

On the surface, it's an absurd comedy, but at its core, it's a tragedy, a tragedy that runs deep. It satirizes the indifference and selfishness of society at the time, showing how people could abandon their moral principles and easily betray their colleagues for personal gain.

I've watched the movie "Mr. Donkey" at least three times, and the classic scenes always make me laugh.

"He actually bit my ear! Why the hell did you bite my ear? Do you think people eat ears?"

As Liu Yimin pondered this, he arrived at the entrance of the supply and marketing cooperative in Shiling Commune. The cooperative's door was painted green, and wooden couplets reading "Unified purchase and sales, guaranteed supply" hung on both sides. There were more people coming and going at the entrance than at the post office.

The commune's supply and marketing cooperative was not far from the post office agency, and basically all the commune's main institutions and departments closely related to people's daily lives were located in this area.

The supply and marketing cooperative was much larger than the post office agency. Two green doors opened inwards, and the outside was painted with a red slogan that read "Unified purchase and sales, ensuring supply." A red five-pointed star hung at the top of the door frame.

The supply and marketing cooperative was much busier than the post office. It was the only place in the entire commune where people could buy daily necessities, and all the members had to get their daily necessities there. Members came in and out of the door, and those who had bought things would happily hold them in mid-air, look at them with satisfaction for a few moments, and then leave with a smug look on their faces.

As soon as you enter, you can hear the noise inside. The middle-aged female sales clerk's voice is particularly shrill, and she occasionally throws things around. The customers next to her don't dare to speak loudly and just keep smiling.

Supply and marketing cooperatives controlled people's basic needs, including food, clothing, housing, and transportation. As a result, sales clerks became one of the most sought-after professions of the time. Moreover, they had priority in the allocation of some scarce items, which fostered an arrogant attitude among them.

"Comrade, a pack of peach shortbread, and a pound of sugar, please," a woman holding a child said in a humble voice.

"Here you go!" The sales clerk tossed the peach shortbread to the woman and then turned around to pick up a copper spatula to weigh the sugar.

The child in the woman's arms greedily sniffed the aroma of the peach shortbread in his mother's hand, clawing at the packaging with his hands, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth like a broken thread, finally landing on his mother's clothes.

(End of this chapter)