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

Chapter 53 Even the donkeys in the production team weren't used like this (Please continue reading)
The temperature in Yanjing in October was much more comfortable. Back at the guesthouse in the evening, sitting on the back of the bicycle, I still felt a slight chill. Liu Yu had brought me back; the others were still chatting about poetry in the courtyard.

Liu Yu was a child of the Beijing Film Studio, and perhaps due to his family background, he was much more outgoing. He was afraid that Liu Yimin would feel awkward when he came out of the tenement, so he kept trying to find various topics to chat about along the way.

"Yimin, you're about to start school, right? I have two good friends. One is Tian Zhuangzhuang, whom everyone was just talking about, and the other is Chen Kaige. They are also college students, majoring in directing at the Beijing Film Academy. You work in art with your pen, while they work with their cameras, but it's all art. Let's get together sometime."

Our circle likes to talk about literature and poetry. Apart from Bei Dao and a few others, the rest are all quite flamboyant. To paraphrase an old Beijing resident, they love to have fun. Take Tian Zhuangzhuang, for example. His father was the former director of the Beijing Film Studio, and he's always spouting "damn it" and "fuck."

In short, there will be plenty of opportunities in Yenching; the literary world will eventually belong to us young people.

After Liu Yimin left, the discussion in the courtyard was quite heated, but the more they talked, the more they felt something was missing. They had thought that Liu Yimin would gladly join them after they extended an olive branch, but they were surprised to be turned away.

After a moment of awkward silence, Huang Rui said sarcastically:
"These people from Henan Province are quite different from us!"

Zhang Pengzhi snorted coldly, crossed his arms, and swung his legs incessantly, saying disdainfully, "I think he's a complete country bumpkin. The poems written by this kind of person are as rustic as sweet potatoes dug out of the ground!"

"Sweet potatoes are great! When I was in the countryside, having a sweet potato to eat could make me happy for half a day, hahaha!"

"Stop talking. The literary world is judged by the works themselves. If you're so capable, write a decent poem yourself."

Bei Dao rubbed his temples helplessly. Although he felt some dissatisfaction, he did not express it. He felt that Liu Yimin might not be one of them. He could sense it from Liu Yimin's poems. Liu Yimin's poems tended to be positive and uplifting, while his own were more melancholic.

Seeing that no one continued to speak, Bei Dao said calmly, "We will definitely publish our magazine. We will publish a poetry magazine that belongs to us young people and to our times, to speak out what has been pent up in our hearts for so long, and to keep our voices heard. But we also need to be careful. We should go to work as usual, and ask for leave to discuss things if necessary."

Stepping out of the courtyard, Bei Dao glanced in the direction Liu Yimin had left with a headache. Clearly, his poetry alone couldn't support a magazine; he would need to find some more authors.

Liu Yimin didn't care at all about the reactions of the people behind him; in the literary world, it's the works that speak for themselves.

If you don't have any works to show for it, then doing this is considered arrogant and ignorant. But if you have some outstanding works to show for it, then people will say that you are a person of character and have a noble and proud spirit.

A master from the Republic of China era said he would take his child to a brothel, which was described by a group of people as "unconventional".

Is this your problem? No, it's not your problem; it's that the yardstick by which the world measures the world is always wavering.

Make this side wider and that side tighter!
Liu Yimin had just seen Liu Yu off and opened his room door when Zou Huofan from next door heard the noise and came out, asking curiously, "You're back so soon?"

"Comrade Zou, you sound quite surprised?"

"I thought you young people would have endless things to talk about when you got together. What did you talk about?"

"Comrade Zou, why are you so curious? We didn't talk about much. I'm new to Yanjing and there are still many things I'm not familiar with. Listening to their interesting stories about Yanjing is enough for me."

Liu Yimin invited Zou Huofan into the house, but Zou Huofan didn't go in. Instead, he called him to come eat together.

"You're right to do it this way. You can't speak without investigation. The literary world is always in turmoil, sometimes even with whirlwinds, strange winds, and black-haired storms. Since you're new to Yanjing, you still need to be cautious. Let's not talk about this anymore. After dinner, let's rest for a while and take a bath together tonight."

"It won't be long before we can't stay in guesthouses anymore, and then it'll be difficult to take a bath!"

In the evening, with nothing to do, I went to the public bathhouse for a soak.
While taking a bath, Zou Huofan told him that Ai Qing would be giving a lecture at the training course organized by the Poetry Journal the next day. Ai Qing had just returned from Xinjiang Province and had been invited by Zou Huofan. Although it was called a lecture, he wouldn't actually talk about any specific content; he would just encourage everyone.

The next morning, when Liu Yimin arrived at the Writers Association's meeting room, a large number of people had already gathered, and the editors of "Poetry Journal" had also put down their work and rushed over.

Cui Daoyi from People's Literature and Art was also there. Upon seeing Liu Yimin, he smiled and sat down next to him, asking about the progress of the novel.

"Senior brother, how about this: from now on, you lock me in a room, only give me three meals a day, and let me spend all my time writing novels at the table, except for eating and sleeping."

"I just left here yesterday, and today I'm already asking about the progress," Liu Yimin said helplessly. "The donkeys from Maiji Brigade aren't used like this except during the double harvest and drought relief periods."

"Is it really possible?"

Liu Yimin, with a stern face, pointed to the door and said, "Mr. Ai Qing is here. Why don't you ask him if this is a good way to treat the successor of the literary world?"

Cui Daoyi shrank back, then smiled and put his arm around Liu Yimin's shoulder, saying, "How could I bear to treat you like this? You are my dearest junior brother. If the Chinese literature department teachers found out, they would skin me alive!"

"Comrades, please sit down. It's been so long, and I'm so glad you all still remember me. Seeing this scene, I can't help but feel moved. This moment feels just like that moment before. We've been through so much and finally made it through. The poetry scene today is thriving, full of vitality. The future of poetry is in your hands."

Recently, the magazine "Poetry" has published a lot of poems. My favorite is "Motherland, My Beloved Motherland," which reminds me of when I wrote "I Love This Land" 38 years ago.
The Poetry Journal invited me to give a lecture, but I feel that the lecture itself is not important; what's most important now is the spirit and the confidence...

Mr. Ai Qing spoke for about thirty minutes. After he finished speaking, the entire hall erupted in applause, and many people rushed over to shake hands with him.

Liu Yimin also wanted to go up, but he couldn't squeeze through at all, so he gave up.

Shortly after Mr. Ai Qing left, Liu Yimin returned to the guesthouse. He originally wanted to ride Zou Huofan's bicycle to visit Tiananmen Square, as he had not yet completed the task that Li Lanyong had entrusted to him.

I'll take advantage of the National Day holiday to take some good photos and send them home later.

Zou Huofan came over and told him, "Yimin, don't go out. Mr. Ai Qing is chatting with Editor-in-Chief Yan in the editorial department and wants to see you!"

Liu Yimin happily tied up his bicycle, ran a few steps, and turned around: "Comrade Lao Zou, do you have a camera? I'd like to take a picture with Mr. Ai Qing."

Liu Yimin greatly admires Ai Qing's "I Love This Land," especially the line, "Why are my eyes always filled with tears? Because I love this land so deeply," which is a classic line he often thinks of.

"Then you go to the editorial department first, and I'll borrow a camera from the Writers' Association."

"Thank you very much!"

"I'll take one too. I hadn't even remembered until you mentioned it. We haven't seen each other in ages!"

Thank you everyone for your monthly tickets, and thank you to the generous donor "天下纵横有我" for the 200 points!

(End of this chapter)