1980 My literary era

The green leather car was gliding slowly on the railway track, and Lin Weimin looked out of the car window.

In Yanjing in the 1980s, there were not as many high-rise buildings as there would be in later generations, making people breathless at a glance.

The train station is still a relatively prosperous place around it, and it is mostly built with multi-story buildings. From the perspective of later generations, it looks a bit rustic, but it also has a sense of down-to-earth beauty.

"We've arrived at Yanjing Station! We've arrived at Yanjing Station! If you want to get off the bus, hurry up!"

Without the conductor having to shout, there was already a long line of people waiting to get off at the door of the carriage.

Lin Weimin was carrying a military green bag on his back. It was the only bag he had at home when he traveled from the city to the countryside to jump in line. It contained his change of clothes and nothing else.

However, his hands were not free. He was carrying a bag in one hand and a flower rope basket in the other. These were the bottles and jars that Huang Zonghan brought with him when he got on the train.

Lin Weimin complained in his heart as soon as he arrived in Beijing and moved his family here.

He also understood that the lack of things he brought was entirely due to his material-rich soul in future generations. He could just spend money to buy whatever he needed.

For people like Huang Zonghan who have struggled through hard times, every penny they can save is worth it.

I was rubbing shoulders with people on the bus for a while, and finally squeezed out of the car.

Huang Zonghan was walking in front, holding the luggage roll in his hands, and he could hardly see the road ahead.

"Brother Huang, slow down and watch the road." Lin Weimin reminded.

"It's okay, you can see it."

Huang Zonghan said cheerfully, finally arriving in Yanjing, he couldn't help but get excited.

Lin Weimin shook his head.

Yanjing! Yanjing!

No matter now or in future generations, you always have this magical power that makes people happy and worried!

In early spring, the Sophora japonica trees on both sides of the street have already sprouted their buds, and the catkins floating from nowhere are still as irritating as ever.

"Comrade, could I ask you, how to get to Chaoyang District Party School D?"

Huang Zonghan walked in front and asked specifically. He had a steady temper. Even though the literature class had already told them the address and the way to take the bus when notifying them, he still couldn't help but ask.

I asked Chaoyang District Committee School D if they didn’t know. After a long while, Beijing Films suddenly realized: It turned out that they were talking about the area near Zuojiazhuang outside Dongzhimen.

"Yes, the terminal of bus No. 18 is right there." Huang Zonghan said to Lin Weimin after getting the affirmative answer.

The two of them wandered around on the bus for an hour holding large and small packages, and the bus finally arrived at the end.

The Institute of Literary Studies was established in 1950 and was initially named the "National Institute of Literary Studies". Later, upon approval by the Ministry of Culture, it was renamed the "Central Institute of Literary Studies".

In 1957, due to force majeure, the Institute of Literature ceased operations.

In January 1980, the Literature Institute resumed its operations.

According to the timeline, in 1984, the Literature Institute was officially renamed the National Institute of Liberal Arts, and this name has been used to this day.

It is now March 29, 1980. It has been just over two months since the Literary Institute resumed its operations. The fifth phase of the Literary Institute (Novel Writing Class) is about to start on April 1, with 34 students.

Lin Weimin is one of these 34 students. He doesn't know how many of the other 33 students really love literature. Anyway, he has worked hard to write novels and come to study purely to improve his living conditions.

So after getting out of the car, his eyes immediately began to scan the surrounding environment.

There is a post office next to the terminal of the No. 18 bus, and there is a grocery store facing the street opposite. There is a cotton curtain hanging at the door, which is similar to the mattress Lin Weimin left in the countryside that has not been washed for almost two years. He didn't even look at it.

After walking for another two or three minutes, I finally saw the sign for School D of the Chaoyang District Committee.

At this time, the Institute of Literary Studies was a shabby settlement. It didn’t even have its own school building. It was temporarily borrowing the house of School D of the Chaoyang District Committee.

A table was set up at the entrance of School D. Behind the table was written in black and red writing "Warmly welcome the fifth batch of students of the Institute of Literature."

Huang Zonghan took half of his face out of his luggage and said to the old comrade sitting behind the table: "Hello, we are here to register from the literature class."

The old comrade had a pale face and a kind smile, and asked, "What's your name?"

The old comrade's accent should be from Jiangsu and Zhejiang, but it doesn't sound difficult.

"My name is Huang Zonghan."

"Lin Weimin!"

The old comrade glanced at the roster and said, "Prove it to me."

The two began to rummage through their bags. Lin Weimin found it quickly, while Huang Zonghan searched over and over again for a long time before finally finding it.

After checking the information, the old comrade asked the two to wait for a while.

A few minutes later, a young man came over from not far away and said, "I'm sorry, Teacher Jin, for wasting your time."

The old comrade smiled and said, "It's okay. School hasn't started yet, so I'm very busy."

"By the way, Xiaojing..." He pointed at Lin Weimin and said: "These two classmates have come to register, and the information has been corrected. You are alone here, I will lead them to arrange dormitories."

"Thank you so much."

"You're welcome."

The old comrade known as Teacher Jin waved to Lin Weimin and Huang Zonghan, "Come with me."

Teacher Jin walked in front with his hands behind his back, and the two of them kept up with Teacher Jin's pace.

Lin Weimin just heard the young man call him Teacher Jin, and thought that this must be a teacher from the institute. There is nothing wrong with establishing a good relationship.

He leaned forward and asked, "Teacher, what should I call you?"

"Didn't you hear that just now? Just call me Teacher Jin."

"Hello, Teacher Jin!" Lin Weimin climbed up along the pole and called out loudly.

Teacher Jin turned his head and looked at him with a smile. He was keenly aware of the instability in Lin Weimin's character.

"Teacher Jin, do we have many students here?"

"It's okay. More than 20 people have come one after another. There are only 34 of them in total this time." He looked at Lin Weimin and asked: "Your name is Lin Weimin, right? You are the one who wrote "A Penny Matter" written?"

"I wrote it. Teacher, do you know me?"

Teacher Jin smiled and nodded, "You students are recommended by major literary magazines and publications. We teachers have read your masterpieces and your novels are good."

"Thank you for the compliment, teacher. You appreciate it. I have to keep working hard."

Teacher Jin felt a little disgusted when he heard Lin Weimin's humble words. They were obviously good words, but why did it become more and more wrong when he heard them from this kid's mouth?

"Teacher, my name is Huang Zonghan." The silent man next to him suddenly said.

Teacher Jin immediately understood, "Oh, I've read "The Noble Green Pine", it's very good!"

Lin Weimin pouted.

Hey~ Elementary school student? This all needs to be compared.

"Here, here we are, this house is our territory."

Teacher Jin pointed to the rows of bungalows in the courtyard. The houses in the courtyard are all connected like this, separated by hand-curved verandahs and hanging flower doors.