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

Chapter 90 The Food Culture of Old Beijing (Please Subscribe)

Under Jiajia's watchful gaze, Liu Yimin opened the box. Inside was a wooden pen holder, which had been carefully polished, with not even a splinter sticking out.

“These were made by the workers at the Saihanba Forest Farm from dead pine trees. Since you’re a writer, they thought a pen holder would be a more appropriate gift,” Yu Jiajia explained from the side.

Liu Yimin picked up the pen holder and examined it; it was exquisitely made. The left side had three shelves for storing things, while the right side had two shelves with holes at the top and bottom for holding pens.

"The comrades at the forest farm are so thoughtful!"

"Alright, I've handed over the stuff to you. I've completed the task assigned to me by the comrades at the forest farm. I'm leaving now!" Yu Jiajia stood up, dusted off her clothes, as if she had accomplished a major mission.

"No, let me treat you to a meal. I feel bad making you run around like this all the time!" Liu Yimin said, taking the opportunity to invite you.

"How could I let you treat me? I'll treat you!" Yu Jiajia said with a smile.

Out of consideration for Jiajia's hard work, the editor-in-chief gave her two days off, and she's not in a hurry to go back.

While the two ate, Yu Jiajia told her about her experiences in Saihanba, how when heavy snow blocked the mountains in winter, supplies were sent uphill by horse-drawn carts.

“In some places, the snow was up to my waist, and the comrades from the forest farm pulled me up. You don’t know, originally no one thought that trees could be grown alive in Saihanba. The comrades from the forestry bureau were not willing to give up, and after searching for a long time, they finally found a living pine tree. After seeing it, everyone had confidence and believed that as long as there was one living tree, it proved that trees could be grown here.”

So a group of people came from all over the country to settle in Saihanba. The first generation lived in shacks, the thatched roofs of which would be blown away by the wind. Initially, the survival rate was less than eight percent, and everyone from top to bottom said the project should be cancelled. They didn't believe it, but finally they found a successful model.

Liu Yimin watched the TV series "The Most Beautiful Youth" and learned from his experience that instead of importing seedlings from other places, he directly cultivated seedlings locally, adapting them to the local environment from the very beginning, which greatly increased the success rate when planted on the mountain.

Yu Jiajia gave Liu Yimin her notes and interview materials, telling him that she might need them when she wrote in the future.

After dinner, before leaving, Yu Jiajia told him, "The comrades in Saihanba are waiting for you. Don't forget to go if you have the chance!"

The following day, Yu Jiajia's in-depth report, "The Perseverance of Saihanba - From One Pine Tree to Hundreds of Millions of Pine Trees," was published on page two of the China Youth Daily. The newspaper was accompanied by photos of the forest farm transporting supplies and the lives of forest workers during a snowy day.

The in-depth report, consisting of 8,000 words, occupied an entire page of the official publication, comparable to a short story.

The nationwide discussion sparked by Liu Yimin's novel further fueled the debate surrounding desertification control in Saihanba. This in-depth report covered the history of the Saihanba Forest Farm and the arduous process of tree planting from various perspectives, featuring interviews with dozens of people, ranging from the forest farm director to newly assigned college graduates, making it a broadly representative case.

In-depth reports also have a storytelling element, unlike ordinary news reports which can be dry and dull. Readers can even read them as a documentary novel.

The report was reprinted by other central media outlets and local media, calling for learning from the spirit of desertification control in Saihanba Forest Farm and referring to it as the "Spirit of One Pine Tree".

Yu Jiajia, an ordinary name, has entered the eyes of the news industry and readers through this in-depth report.

On the third day, Yu Jiajia braved the cold wind to arrive at the newspaper office early in the morning. The editor-in-chief called her into his office and praised her profusely. Looking at the chilblains on Yu Jiajia's hands and her chapped, red face, the editor-in-chief, Xu Zhuqing, smiled and said:

"Jiajia, well done! Young people should have the spirit of not being afraid of hardship! After reading your report, the comrades from the Forestry Department all came to me and said they wanted to give you a good commendation. Among all the young people in our company, I have the most faith in you. You must work hard and strive to write even better reports for the people."

"Editor-in-Chief Xu, I will definitely continue to work hard and live up to the newspaper's expectations." Yu Jiajia was overjoyed to receive the editor-in-chief's praise, but because her face was chapped, she could not make too big a change in expression, so she could only force a smile.

As she walked out of the editor-in-chief's office, the other colleagues also showed admiration on their faces when they saw Yu Jiajia.

"Jiajia, well done!"

"Don't let Jiajia's young age fool you, she's got a strong will to fight!"

"Teacher Jia, there are still many things I need to learn from you. I'm not satisfied with many of the photos I took this time, and I wasted a lot of film," Yu Jiajia said earnestly as she approached Jia Huamin, a veteran photojournalist at the agency.

After New Year's Day, the holiday season is just around the corner. The campus, though bitterly cold, is busier than usual as students work hard for their final exams. The library, usually packed with people, is now practically impossible to squeeze into.

The group of students in the dormitory stopped going to the library and instead stayed in the dormitory to read and memorize books.

"Professor Zhu gave my aesthetics exam a score of 60 and wrote three words in his comments: 'No beauty!'" Liu Zhenyun complained, sitting on his bed.

Li Xueqin sat cross-legged, holding a lecture note on literary history in his hand, and said, "Everyone's scores are not high. The average score for aesthetics in our class is only 65 points."

"Yimin, how come you only got 89 points?" Liu Zhenyun asked unwillingly.

Liu Yimin glanced at his exam paper: "I don't know either. Professor Zhu graded the paper. I should think more about the later exams. After the exams, it'll be vacation time!"

The Spring Festival was at the end of January 1979. They were to have a holiday on the 13th, and all the exams would be completed on the 10th.

“There are only seven days left until the holiday. Yimin, let’s buy tickets for the same train. We can ride together for a while, so we won’t be lonely on the train,” Liu Zhenyun suggested.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I estimate I won't be able to get back until the Lunar New Year," Liu Yimin said with a wry smile.

Liu Zhenyun asked, puzzled, "Why did you get home so late?"

"Teacher Wan wouldn't let me leave, saying that I had to finish writing the first draft of the play script, otherwise he wouldn't let me go home."

A few days ago, Cao Yu told him that he had to finish the first draft of the script for "Mr. Donkey" before going home, or he would have to stay at Cao Yu's house for the New Year. Liu Yimin's objections were ignored. On the day of the holiday, Cao Yu's driver came to pick him up and took him directly to the Beijing People's Art Theatre dormitory.

“I shouldn’t have asked. I really envy you. You write at the Beijing People’s Art Theatre and often get guidance from Mr. Cao Yu.” After saying that, Liu Zhenyun continued, “You should be careful, lest you can’t buy a train ticket!”

“If you want Mr. Cao Yu’s guidance, I have a very simple way.” Li Xueqin glanced at the other two, his expression indicating that he was about to play a trick on them.

"What's a good idea?" Chen Dazhi put down his lecture notes and approached Li Xueqin.

"If you take Yi Min as your teacher, then you'll be Old Master Cao's direct second-generation disciple." Before Chen Dazhi could even react, Li Xueqin burst into laughter, sitting on his bed. After a brief argument, the dormitory quieted down again, and everyone returned to their studies.

This kid's pretty good at finding shortcuts!

On January 10th, after the last exam, "History of Modern Literature," ended, Liu Yimin was stopped by Li Congren and Kelifu as soon as he stepped out of the exam room. Mu Latu stood beside him, and the three of them were clearly prepared.

The holidays are approaching, and most of these international students who came to China will be returning home. Only a very few will stay at Yenching University for the Spring Festival for various reasons. They came this time to strongly request that Liu Yimin lead them in holding one last Foreign Language Teaching and Research Press (FLTRP) club activity.

It was also Lao Ma, whom Liu Yimin had promised to take them to, but who hadn't actually taken them there.

"Comrade Li Congren, you can't always resort to this kind of coup!" Liu Yimin said, feigning anger.

"Liu, I'm letting you hear the voice of the people. Compared to other clubs, our club organizes far too few activities. In your Chinese terms, well, we call it 'free-range'!"

Li Congren's spoken English has improved a lot, and he even knows what "free-range" means.

Hey bro, you guys weren't raised by me!

"Meet at the school gate at eight o'clock tomorrow morning, I'll take you there!"

Liu Yimin had mentioned this matter to Lao Ma a long time ago, and Lao Ma readily agreed, saying that he wanted to show these foreign devils what it was like for old Beijingers to have three meals a day.

With the exams over and no classes starting, Liu Yimin could finally relax and play with them.

Early the next morning, a large group of people gathered at the south gate of Yenching University and rode their bicycles towards the Writers' Association guesthouse. The biting cold wind cut his face like a knife. He lowered and fastened the ear flaps of his hoodie, turned around and looked at the international students who had come with him. Except for Mulatu, who showed no change, the noses and faces of the others were red from the cold.

But each one of them was more energetic than the last, roaring as they rode forward!

When they arrived at the Writers' Association guesthouse, Old Ma saw more than a dozen people, threw down the shovel he was holding, clapped his hands and said, "Good heavens, Yimin, you've brought me so many foreign devils?"

Then he leaned close to Liu Yimin's ear and whispered, "This guy is blacker than coal, he must be African, right?"

"You have sharp eyes, sir. These are our comrades from the Third World, Ethiopians. And this one is an American, a Maltese, an Icelander..."

Before Liu Yimin could finish his introduction, Old Ma waved him off, saying, "I can't remember it even if you tell me. Forget about this island or that island, let's give them a good thrashing today!"

Seeing the two whispering, Li Congren frowned and spoke up, saying, "We're not Japanese, I'm American!"

"Hey, so you can understand Chinese!" Old Ma said with a sneer, "Americans are no better than Japanese devils. Back when I was pulling a rickshaw in Beiping, I pulled an American soldier. The two of them were hugging and kissing each other on the rickshaw. Later, they even bullied us female students."

Liu Yimin and Lao Ma went to the guesthouse and told him that the international students from Yenching University wanted to learn about old Beiping from Lao Ma. The guesthouse leader agreed without hesitation and told Lao Ma to take the international students on a tour, but there was one condition: they must not cause any foreign affairs disputes.

"Today, I'll take you on a tour. In the morning, we old Beijingers like us eat douzhi (fermented mung bean juice) with jiaoquan (deep-fried dough rings) and some shredded radish. It's past morning now, so I'll take you to Donglaishun for hot pot, which we also call shuanguozi."

After Old Ma finished speaking, he glanced at them a few times, then asked with an air of nonchalance, "Do you know what the most important thing is when eating with Chinese people?"

"What?" The group exchanged glances and asked with interest.

"When you eat with friends, you should offer to pay the bill. That's what friends are for!"

Students like Li Congren, who have been in China for a year or two, are quite familiar with how Chinese people pay for meals. They often see Chinese people pushing and shoving each other when paying. At first, they didn't understand, but later they found the way Chinese people pay to be quite interesting.

A group of people walked north from the Writers' Association's guesthouse and arrived at Nanluoguxiang. In the alley, they could see men and women carrying several large cabbages on their shoulders from time to time. Old Ma told them that there were not many vegetable options in winter, and every household relied on cabbages and radishes to get through the winter.

The alley was filled with the smell of coal briquettes. Old Ma explained to them what a courtyard house was, and what the difference was between a courtyard house belonging to a wealthy family and one belonging to a small family.

At noon, a group of people went to Donglaishun for hot pot. Lao Ma felt that Xilaishun was actually more suitable for the tastes of these foreigners, but unfortunately the restaurant had already closed down. The "Xi" in the names Xilaishun and Donglaishun is not a simple geographical concept; the "Xi" in Xilaishun carries the meaning of "Western style."

Upon entering Donglaishun, the dozen or so distinctly black and white foreign faces immediately caught the attention of all the diners, and even the lazy waiters leaning against the counter couldn't help but straighten up.

"Hot pot, bring us five jin of fresh mutton to start!" Old Ma said to the waiter, then turned to Liu Yimin and said, "Yimin, you've never tried Donglaishun before, have you?"

"No, this is my first time here!" Liu Yimin said with a smile.

“In the past, Donglaishun had its own sheep farm, and the sheep they used were called small-tailed Han sheep. They were very particular about their mutton, only using a few of the best parts of the sheep. Now it's not like that anymore. They use whatever meat they can get. You foreigners, remember this too: people in Beijing are very particular about food. There are many nobles in the capital, and they eat with such refinement.”

“What do you mean by ‘being particular’?” Klif asked.

Liu Yimin explained it to him again, and he finally understood.

While waiting for the food, Lao Ma told everyone about what Donglaishun used to be like. After the copper pot boiled and the mutton was served, he couldn't wait to teach everyone how to cook the mutton in the hot pot and how to mix it with sesame sauce.

"Start by simmering the chicken breast. I'll simmer it for as long as you like. If it's too short, it won't be cooked through; if it's too long, the meat will become tough!"

The clear broth in the copper pot sizzled and steamed. The eyes of the group followed Old Ma's chopsticks as they moved up and down. The rich aroma of sesame paste and meat filled their nostrils, and with a flick of the tongue, the mutton, along with the scallions, stimulated their taste buds.

"That feels great!" Old Ma wiped the sweat from his forehead and said with a smile.

"Let's stroll around Liulichang for a bit, then I'll take you to Quanjude for dinner!"

(End of this chapter)