1980 My literary era

In the last few days before the Spring Festival, Lin Weimin entered a state of seclusion.

During the holidays, the operation of the Chinese Literature Society went into hibernation. Only a few people were on duty every day, and most of the writers in the guest house in the back building went home.

Apart from Lin Weimin, the only two people left on the third floor were Zheng Guo, who was next door to him.

At first, Zheng Guo would go to Lin Weimin to chat when he had nothing to do. Later, when he saw that Lin Weimin was concentrating on writing behind closed doors, he felt embarrassed to disturb him again.

Lin Weimin's state lasted until New Year's Eve. When his pen dropped the last word on the manuscript paper, he felt inexplicably lost.

He put down the pen in his hand, stood up and came to the window.

The city of Yanjing, which had just had a heavy snowfall, was covered in snow, and the sky was vast, and the sound of festive firecrackers could be heard in the distance.

He was suddenly alert. Today seems to be New Year's Eve?

Lin Weimin went to look at the perpetual calendar and saw that it was New Year's Eve!

These days, he is obsessed with creation, almost day and night. He completed a short novel of 120,000 to 30,000 words in just one week, which is incredible when he thinks about it.

Such high-intensity creation not only requires creative ability, but also tests the writer's physical strength.

Lin Weimin looked in the mirror. Compared with the past few days, he was almost haggard and thinner at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Damn, this is too exaggerated. I feel like I have lost ten pounds.

Lin Weimin put down the mirror with some fear, and secretly swore in his heart that he would never forget about food and sleep like this again.

The body is the capital of revolution. Without the body, everything is in vain.

"For the people!" There was a knock at the door, and it was Zheng Guo's voice.

Lin Weimin opened the door, and Wan Fang stood behind Zheng Guo.

"This lesbian is looking for you and asked about my room."

Zheng Guo explained, with a hint of gossip hidden in his eyes.

"Sister, why are you here?"

Hearing Lin Weimin's words, Zheng Guo was a little disappointed. It turned out to be his senior sister.

Wan Fang did not answer his question, but asked: "Why are you like this?"

Lin Weimin smiled nonchalantly, "I recently went into retreat and wrote a novel."

"Oh?" Wan Fang became interested upon hearing this.

Wan Fang doesn't have much contact with Lin Weimin, but because of her father's relationship, she still knows a little about Lin Weimin, and knows that he always writes quickly and well. His current dignity is very different from his usual performance. .

"What kind of work can torture you into this state?"

"It's not torture. The main thing is that the writing was too smooth and I didn't get much rest."

After hearing what Lin Weimin said, Wan Fang wanted to see this work even more.

But right now she still has a mission, "My dad asked you to go home to celebrate the New Year."

"I wrote it down and forgot about it. Senior sister, wait for me to clean it up."

Lin Weimin hurriedly packed up, and Zheng Guo left wisely. After he finished packing, Wan Fang asked again: "Bring the manuscript with you."

"What kind of manuscript should I read during the Chinese New Year?"

"Aren't you afraid that my dad will ask you?"

Lin Weimin thought the same thing. Every time he went to see Mr. Wan, he couldn't escape the topic of creation. This time he brought a fresh work, and the old man had nothing to talk about.

He and Wan Fang rode bicycles to Muxidi, their ears almost falling off due to the cold.

"Hiss! It's so cold today!" Lin Weimin said breathlessly as he entered the room.

Mr. Wan was making dumplings with his wife in the kitchen. When he saw Lin Weimin arriving, he said, "Here you come? You're really hard to find!"

Lin Weimin laughed and said, "Teacher, you can't blame me for this. I've been so inspired these past two days!"

Mr. Wan glanced at him, wondering if he was lying.

"Dad, Weimin said that he just wrote a novel, and he brought the manuscript over." Wan Fang said.

Mr. Wan's expression finally showed some surprise, "How long did it take?"

"One week." Lin Weimin answered honestly.

The old gentleman began to mutter that he would write a long story in a week. Are you too boastful?

At this moment, he no longer cared about making dumplings, and handed over the task of rolling out the dough to Wan Fang, "Bring me the manuscript and take a look."

Lin Weimin handed over the manuscript honestly and wanted to get closer to him, but the old man drove him away, "Go and make your dumplings!"

He and Wan Fang got together, and Wan Fang asked, "What is the subject of your novel?"

"Well, if we have to classify it, it should be included in scar literature." Lin Weimin said uncertainly.

"Scar literature? Isn't it a bit cliche? It doesn't fit your style!"

"What's my style?"

Wan Fang stared at him and said, "You don't seem to have much style."

"Nonsense, this is what I call a variety of styles."

The two of them chatted and bickered without stopping from what they were doing. Wan Fang rolls out dumpling wrappers, while Lin Weimin and his wife Li Yuru make dumplings.

The three of them worked together and finished making the dumplings in less than half an hour.

Mistress Li Yuru started to prepare the dishes, and Wan Fang and Lin Weimin helped her.

At this time, the sound of firecrackers outside became louder and louder.

The New Year's Eve dinner in the north is generally held at noon on New Year's Eve, and firecrackers are indispensable before the meal.

By the time the three of them were almost done with their work, it was almost one o'clock in the afternoon.

Lin Weimin thought of Mr. Wan who was reading the manuscript. He looked up and saw that the old man was sitting motionless on the sofa in the living room, still holding his manuscript in his hand.

"Master's wife, I'll serve the dishes. You go and call the teacher." Lin Weimin took the plate from Li Yuru's hand and said.

Li Yuru walked to the living room and called Mr. Wan. He raised his head and seemed to be in a trance. He calmed down before he recovered.

"Yuru!"

"The food is ready, come and eat."

"okay."

The old gentleman stood up absentmindedly. Perhaps because he had been sitting for too long and was inactive, he was a little unsteady when he stood up. Fortunately, Li Yuru helped him.

"what happened?"

"It's okay, I've been sitting for a long time."

Mr. Wan came to the living room with Li Yuru's support. Lin Weimin asked with concern: "Teacher, are you okay?"

Mr. Wan waved his hand and said, "It's okay. Let's sit down and eat first."

Everyone at the dinner table noticed that something was wrong with the old gentleman, but seeing that he didn't want to say more, no one asked further questions.

Li Yuru went to take out the dumplings that had just been cooked and put them on the table. There were six dishes on the table, two hot and four cold, three meat and three vegetarian. They were rich yet simple.

"Teacher, don't you say a few words?" Lin Weimin asked.

A smile appeared on Mr. Wan's face, "We are all one family, what's there to talk about? Let's have a reunion dinner!"

After he finished speaking, he motioned for everyone to use their chopsticks.

Lin Weimin was not polite, and it was not the first time he had dinner at his husband's house.

He was in seclusion in the dormitory these days, and he had indeed neglected his diet. He suddenly ate delicious home-cooked meals, which whetted his appetite and kept picking up his chopsticks.

"Weimin, am I saying you are too fake?" Wan Fang said.

Lin Weimin shook his head, "Sister, you are wrong. You don't know what I have been living these days."