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

Chapter 48 The Emergence of Little Li Bai (Please Read On)
Liu Yimin read it aloud in the room, and Zou Huofan quickly wrote it down, afraid that if he was even a little slow, he wouldn't have memorized it all.

"Overcoming Yourself"

We can deceive others
But I can't deceive myself.

As we approach the lush and verdant May
Youth is no longer a mystery
The road to success is always bumpy and rugged.

Always keep the initial romance.
It's really not easy.

Some people are sad
Some people are delighted
When we crossed a high mountain

That is, crossing over to a true version of oneself.

"That's it?" Zou Huofan finished writing and felt that he had just found the rhythm of shorthand and was about to write with great enthusiasm, but then it was gone! However, he also knew that good poetry was not judged by its length or number of words, but by its content.

He stopped thinking about the word count and began to happily appreciate the poem titled "Transcending Oneself." When he was writing it, he only felt that it was beautiful, but he didn't have time to think about exactly what made it beautiful.
Liu Yimin picked up the lunchbox, washed it in the water room, and came back while Zou Huofan was still there, savoring his meal.

Yes, we can deceive others, but who can deceive themselves? Walking towards the lush foliage of May represents a bright future and growth. Only by constantly moving forward can one avoid getting lost on the road ahead.

Countless young people, past, present, and future, are trapped in confusion. But even if the road ahead is bumpy, we must not forget who we were before.

Liu Yimin sat on the edge of the bed, watching Zou Huofan excitedly making annotations at the table.

“Yi Min, you just said that the direction of poetry creation is from the praise of the collective to the individual, and then you wrote it. Are you sure you just came up with it?” Zou Huofan stared into Liu Yi Min’s eyes like an old fox. If Liu Yi Min did anything wrong, it would be as if he had given himself away.

Some people in the literary world are indeed like that; they like to boast about a moment of inspiration, but in reality, it's all stuff that's been revised again and again.

"Old Zou, didn't you just see that?"

"It's because I saw it that I find it unbelievable. Okay, I won't bother you anymore, I have to hurry back to the editorial department!" Zou Huofan couldn't wait to leave the guesthouse with his notebook in hand.

Inside the editorial department, Zou Huofan swaggered in, placing his notebook prominently in front of him. After pacing back and forth a few times, someone finally asked:
"Old Zou, what are you doing with that notebook in your hand? Did Comrade Liu Yimin write another poem for you?"

"How is that possible? It's only been a short time! Even a genius needs time!" someone immediately replied.

Zou Huofan smirked smugly: "Old Wang, your idea won't work. I'll show you what a genius poet is. This is a poem written by a young man for young men—no, you could say it's a poem written by a young man for a young republic!"

Zou Huofan believes that Liu Yimin's poem applies not only to individuals but also to the nation. Especially the line about forever maintaining one's initial romanticism.

He even felt that the poem was a metaphor for the nation, using the individual as a metaphor!

Under everyone's expectant gaze, Zou Huofan cleared his throat and began to read with great expression:
We can deceive others

But I can't deceive myself.

As we approach the lush and verdant May
Always keep the initial romance.
When we crossed a high mountain

This also means transcending a true version of yourself.

"You actually wrote it? It's quite well written. I like the first sentence the most: We can deceive others, but we cannot deceive ourselves. A glamorous appearance and a true heart—others see the appearance, but you read the heart yourself."

"That's what Old Wang, the editor who just spoke, said with a sigh."

“My fellow villager came prepared!” Ge Luo clapped and chimed in.

"Old Ge, you're wrong too!"

"wrong?"

"Yes, it wasn't written before, but in front of me. You wouldn't believe it, I asked him if it was finished, and guess what he said?"

Editors: "What did he say?" "He said there hadn't been any recently, but that doesn't mean there aren't any now. He stood up and walked around the room like that?"

Editors: "Seven steps to compose a poem?"

Zou Huofan shook his head at the curious crowd, then wagged his index finger and said calmly, "There are no seven steps!"

Upon hearing this, everyone was astonished and looked incredulous, thinking that Zou Huofan was just bragging. However, it was impossible for an old comrade who had come through the flames of war to brag about an author.

Then everyone asked again, "Six steps!"

Five steps!

"Four steps!"

"Three steps!"

"Two steps!"

"step?"

Everyone counted down from six to one, but Zou Huofan still shook his head. Some people scratched their heads and paced around anxiously, while others realized what was happening and shouted, "He definitely didn't leave!"

"wrong again!"

"Hey, hurry up and tell me, Lao Zou. If you weren't an old comrade, I really can't guarantee you'd be standing here right now," Editor-in-Chief Yan Chen also came over to join in the fun.

"He took a small step with his right foot, and before I could react, he shouted!" Zou Huofan was really into it. After saying that, he immediately shut his mouth, suppressing a laugh.

"He took a small step and said something."

He said!

"."

Seeing that everyone was already eager to get started, Zou Huofan quickly said, "He said he's got it!"

After saying that, he even imitated Liu Yimin's tiny step in the room. With a slight movement of his toes, everyone's eyes followed the movement of his toes and measured with their eyes just how long that tiny step was.

"Wow, his small step is a giant leap for the poetry world!" Yan Chen patted his forehead and said with a smile.

"The most crucial thing is that he had just woken up, his head was still dizzy, and his eyes were glazed over. At that moment, I thought of someone. Do you know who it is?"

"who?"

"Li Bai, Li Bai could write a hundred poems after drinking a bucket of wine. He looked just as drunk when he woke up. I bet he fell asleep again as soon as I left!"

Zou Huofan's analogy quickly earned Liu Yimin the nickname "Little Li Bai!" Zou Huofan then went on to talk about Liu Yimin's understanding of the direction of poetry creation, which further fueled everyone's curiosity about Liu Yimin.

"Old Zou, you have to take me to meet my fellow villager tonight!" Ge Luo grabbed Zou Huofan's arm and said through gritted teeth.

Seeing Zou Huofan nod, he crossed his arms and said to everyone, "Let me tell you, our place has always been a land of culture, with a strong literary tradition. There are poets at the foot of Funiu Mountain, and a single person can write a hundred poems after drinking a bucket of wine!"

As Zou Huofan predicted, Liu Yimin was indeed sleeping in his dormitory, unaware that the editorial department had just had another collective climax.

Yan Chen felt that this poem would definitely resonate with and be popular among young people, and exclaimed, "Young people really understand young people. I think that no one else can capture the essence of young people's confusion!"
Our editorial department must always maintain our initial passion and clearly understand why we publish this journal and whom we serve. We must not forget the lessons of history, for forgetting them will lead to great losses, comrades!

Zou Huofan: This young comrade deserves a monthly pass!
(End of this chapter)