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

There must be a reason why Chapter 35 is written this way (please continue reading)

After lunch break, Liu Yimin went to the supply and marketing cooperative and bought some things, asking Li Lanyong to take them home to Liu Fuqing and Yang Xiuyun. He had secretly bought these tickets from his colleagues at the cultural center; some of them needed money in emergencies, while Liu Yimin happened to have enough money at the moment.

After buying a bicycle, we had nearly 180 yuan left from the 360 ​​yuan novel royalties. Adding the poetry royalties, and after deducting other expenses, we had 200 yuan left. Our immediate priority was to convert these into supplies to improve our family's life.

Most of the coupons we received were for non-staple foods; cloth coupons were practically nonexistent. The few feet of cloth coupons the government issued each year weren't even enough to make a pair of trousers, and every household was short of them. Initially, the cloth ration was 16 feet per person, but later it was reduced to 3.6 feet, which was only enough to make one trouser leg. Two people's cloth coupons totaled 7.2 feet, enough to make one pair of trousers.

It wasn't that they were so poor they couldn't afford to eat, and no one was exchanging cloth coupons for them. However, he bought a lot of handkerchiefs. Women's handkerchiefs didn't require cloth coupons, and Yang Xiuyun could sew them together into large pieces of cloth, which would make good quilt covers.

"Did you see the way Zhang Meijia looked at you just now?" Li Lanyong said excitedly as they walked out of the supply and marketing cooperative.

“I didn’t notice, I was so busy picking things out. You can drink these sodas on the way back. Be careful on your way back, I think I’ll be going back in a few days. Tell my parents that if they need anything, they can call the cultural center from the village phone number and I’ll bring it back. Just transfer the call to the cultural center’s creative team.”

Liu Yimin tidied up Li Lanyong's military green satchel, putting the soda away so it wouldn't fall out when he rode his bicycle.

"If Zhang Meijia saw you like this, she probably wouldn't even recognize you. I saw her looking this way, so I went over to say hello and let her admire your brand-new Phoenix from afar."

The Revolutionary Committee's supply and marketing cooperative was quite large. Zhang Meijia was in charge of the other counters, so they hadn't met when they were shopping earlier. While Liu Yimin was picking out things, Li Lanyong deliberately went over to show off.

Liu Yimin glanced helplessly at the gate of the supply and marketing cooperative, just as Zhang Meijia was looking in his direction. She seemed to want to say something, but didn't.

"Alright, let's go!"

"Now I understand what you meant when you said we weren't from the same world!" Li Lanyong hopped on his bicycle and waved to Liu Yimin.

Liu Yimin glanced at the supply and marketing cooperative again, wondering how Zhang Meijia had offended Li Lanyong last time, making him hold a grudge for so long.

Back at the cultural center, Lao Zhang hadn't returned yet. Liu Yimin greeted everyone and then sat down on a stool to prepare for writing. The afternoon sun shone directly into the office, and soon the sweat on his wrists made the manuscript paper filthy.

Around four o'clock in the afternoon, Old Zhang, looking rather grim, called Liu Yimin out. In the courtyard stood a middle-aged man wearing a white short-sleeved shirt, carrying a black bag in both hands, wearing glasses, and occasionally raising his wrist to check the time.

"Yimin, this is Comrade Qin Yide from our regional cultural center. He'd like to meet with you and, by the way, ask for your opinion on whether you'd like to transfer to the regional cultural center. If you are..."

"Old Zhang, this must be Comrade Liu Yimin." Qin Yide interrupted Old Zhang and firmly grasped Liu Yimin's hand.

"Hello."

"Hello, Comrade Liu Yimin, we've all read your novel 'Donkey Water,' and it's very well written. Director Yang of the regional cultural center specifically asked me to come over after he heard about it. He's been busy with the relaunch of 'Peony' magazine lately and hasn't had time to come. Would you be interested in transferring to our cultural center? The conditions there are definitely better than in the county."

As Qin Yide sized up Liu Yimin, he spoke excitedly. The next issue of "Poetry Journal" hadn't been released yet, and Qin Yide was unaware that Liu Yimin could write poetry.

“Old Qin, how can you talk like that? What’s wrong with our county cultural center? We still need to consider Yimin’s opinion. The county cultural center is close to home. If he goes to the prefecture, it will be inconvenient for him to go home.” Director Zhang said from the side, staring nervously at Liu Yimin.

When he returned from the Revolutionary Committee and saw Liu Yimin, he was conflicted. It was true that going to the regional level would be better than going to the county, but he was reluctant to give it up. Liu Yimin glanced at Director Zhang and continued, "Comrade Qin, I think Comrade Zhang didn't tell you about my situation. I took the college entrance examination this year, so even if I want to enter the cultural center, I'll have to wait until the results come out."

Qin Yide glanced at Lao Zhang, who had clearly not told him about this situation. After a long pause, he said, "I see. Comrade Liu Yimin, we welcome you anytime. We'll contact you again after the college entrance exam results are released!"

After discussing some literary matters, Qin Yide left the cultural center with a regretful expression.

Old Zhang looked at Liu Yimin with a complicated expression and said, "Yimin, working at the cultural center is actually not bad. If you really don't want to, I can recommend you to be a full-time writer at our provincial writers' association. Actually, writers who write well have a promising future. There's no need to go to university."

"Old Zhang, I'm very confident. I've already taken the exam, I can't just not go!" Liu Yimin said with a smile.

Old Zhang put his hands behind his back, twirling his fingers for a long time, but in the end he couldn't bring himself to say what he wanted to say, and only said, "Alright, let's wait for the results!"

Liu Yimin glanced at Lao Zhang; Lao Zhang seemed a bit strange today.

However, Old Zhang was still very happy that Liu Yimin didn't go to the region with Qin Yide. He ran to the fig tree, picked a basket of figs, and delivered them to the creative team. These fruit trees he planted were a benefit for the cultural center staff; if they bore a lot of fruit, everyone could get a good share when they went home.

On August 27, Zou Huofan saw Liu Yimin's letter as soon as he arrived at the editorial office of Poetry Journal and said in surprise, "You wrote it so quickly?"

Poets need inspiration to write poems and writers need inspiration to write novels. Sometimes they don't write a single piece for months. In this short month, they have submitted two pieces.

"Who is it, Old Zou?"

"Liu Yimin, who wrote 'My Motherland, My Beloved Motherland,' has written another one."

"It's probably a saved manuscript. Let me see how this one is?" Upon hearing this, the editors immediately gathered around, ignoring the mountain of manuscripts piled up on their own desks.

Under everyone's expectant gaze, Zou Huofan slowly tore open the envelope. This action made the editor next to him anxious, wishing he could open it for him himself.

"Hurry up, Lao Zou, I'm so anxious!" the editors said one after another.

Zou Huofan smiled and said, "Don't rush, don't rush."

When the manuscript was unfolded, everyone was stunned. Even Zou Huofan thought he was seeing things, so he took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and put them back on. The large sheet of paper contained three lines of text: one line was the title, and only two lines were the content.

"Why is it so short?" one editor asked incredulously.

"Don't rush, let's take another look. Liu Yimin must have his reasons for writing it this way. Let's take a closer look!"

(End of this chapter)