Back to 80: My literary life.

Chapter 33 Military Writer (please vote for collection and follow up)

Today is May 14th, and he will be on a business trip to southern Xinjiang tomorrow, so Fang Minghua did not go to work and packed his luggage at home. At noon, he washed some clothes and was drying them in the yard when he suddenly saw his father coming in from outside on a bicycle and carrying fishing gear.

Huh? Did you come back so early today?

Dad Fang Changhe is a fishing fan. Except for a few exceptions when the weather is sunny or rainy, he leaves early and comes home late every day to go fishing outside the city. What happened today?
  "Xiaohua, go to school this afternoon and call your sister back." Fang Changhe got off his bicycle and said to Fang Minghua.

"What's the point of calling my sister back?" Fang Minghua felt strange, today is not Saturday.

"Aren't you going to southern Xinjiang tomorrow? The whole family will get together in the evening."

Are you still sending me off?

Why does it feel like "the wind rustles and the water becomes cold, and a strong man will never return once he is gone"?

However, Fang Minghua did not refute his father's words. At around three o'clock in the afternoon, he rode his bicycle to Western University.

When he arrived at Western University, Fang Minghua went to the dormitory to find his sister and explain what his father meant. Naturally, Fang Mingli would not refuse and hurried back to the family courtyard of the magazine on his brother's bicycle.

In the evening, we made an exception and did not eat noodles. Instead, we cooked some fried vegetables, steamed buns, and opened a bottle of Xifeng wine.

Even though Fang Minghua is a big drinker, his father is not a big drinker and his face turns red after just two drinks, so he seldom drinks alcohol.

"Tomorrow, Xiaohua will go to southern Xinjiang. This trip will take more than two months, so I will get the whole family together to send him a farewell."

Fang Changhe continued: "Some time ago, when Xiaohua joined the Writers' Association, I didn't let him cook a few dishes, but today is special."

Speaking of this, Fang Changhe looked at his son: "When you said that you were going to southern Xinjiang to collect folk songs, I had no objection, but I have to say a few words today. You must not show off after you go! You must obey the organization's arrangements! Your mother and I only have This is your son!"

"Don't worry, Dad, I will definitely pay attention to safety." Fang Minghua said quickly.

"Of course, don't be too afraid. Don't dare to go here. Don't dare to go there. Men, you have to act like a man and don't be a coward! Come on, have a drink!"

You have told me both truth and irony.

Fang Minghua murmured in his heart, but he quickly agreed and raised his glass.

"Brother, I wish you all the best in your trip to southern Xinjiang and write a good article when you come back!" Fang Mingli also quickly raised her tea cup.

"Son, you must be careful. I heard that there are many mosquitoes in southern Xinjiang, so bring more cooling oil with you."

On the morning of May 15th, Fang Minghua set foot on the southbound train with a travel bag and a yellow satchel on his back.

According to this southern Xinjiang style collection plan, Fang Minghua first went to Green City, the capital of Guizhou Province, where writers from all over the country will gather. Then, staff from the local military division will lead the team to the army and go to military camps, hospitals, art troupes, etc. for on-the-spot research. The investigation and interview lasted about two months.

Fortunately, I am qualified to sleep on the hard bed this time, so I don’t have to suffer anymore.

After all, he is a member of the Writers' Association, so his status is there.

After crossing the Qinling Mountains and Bashan Mountain, the train went over mountains and ridges all the way south.

Sitting on the car, Fang Minghua looked at the high mountains and caves outside, getting closer and closer to southern Xinjiang. He wondered if he could see Song Tangtang?
  The train traveled for a day and a night and finally arrived at Greentown. Fang Minghua took the letter of introduction and checked into the military subdivision guest house.

Three days later, all the 20 writers who came to collect stories arrived. Under the leadership of a clerk named Wang, they headed to the destination of the collection—the small border town of Ningming.

Sitting on a minibus, Fang Minghua noticed that the writers from various provinces were not too old, in their thirties or forties, but Fang Minghua didn't recognize any of them.

But there was one person who caught Fang Minghua's attention. He was tall and in his thirties. Unlike the others who were all wearing casual clothes, he was actually wearing a military uniform! The red five-star collar badge is particularly eye-catching.

Military writer.

Fang Minghua understood. It was probably writers from other military regions who went to southern Xinjiang to collect stories.

After more than four hours on the mountain road, the minibus finally arrived in Ningming. As soon as it arrived, Fang Minghua felt the tense atmosphere of war.

There are military camps everywhere, military vehicles and troops are coming and going on the road, and the dust is flying.

Fang Minghua and his party were arranged to a guest house in the army, and a local officer named Zhang received them. Officer Zhang was about thirty, wearing a military uniform and looking energetic. He smiled and said to everyone: "Everyone, writers, take your luggage and go to your room to rest. After dinner in the evening, the leader arranged activities for everyone to watch the Southern Xinjiang Art Troupe. Performance!"

Is there a show to watch?
  Everyone got excited, but later they found out that it was not specially arranged for them. The Southern Xinjiang Art Troupe is also stationed here. It just happens that the art troupe performs for soldiers coming down from the front line from time to time. They just caught up today.

Is the Nanjiang Art Troupe really here?
  Then we can meet Song Tangtang?

Ha, before leaving, if Zhao Hongjun asked him to bring it with him, he must bring it with him.

Director Zhang immediately assigned accommodation, and Fang Minghua happened to live in the same room as the military writer.

"My name is Li Cunbao, from the Jinan Military Region. What's your surname?" the other party took the initiative to say hello.

shit
  Li Cunbao!
  Fang Minghua was shocked.

"What's wrong?" The other party was a little surprised by Fang Minghua's demeanor.

"No, it's nothing." Fang Minghua quickly regained his composure, with a smile on his face: "My name is Fang Minghua, and I am from the Xijing Writers Association."

"Comrade Xiaofang, I see you are the youngest among our group." Li Cunbao said and took out another pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

Fang Minghua looked at the brand. It had a very strange name: "Big Chicken"

"Xiao Fang, smoke."

"I can't." Fang Minghua declined politely, and the other party did not persuade him, so he lit one himself.

"Writer Li, are you from Shandong Province?" Fang Minghua asked tentatively.

"Yes, my hometown is in Wulian, Weifang, and I am a native of Shandong Province." Li Cunbao said a sentence in Shandong Province, and both of them laughed.

Fang Minghua was sure at this time that he had met a great person.

The famous movie "Garland Under the Mountain" was adapted from the novel of the same name written by him!
  The other party also came to collect information, which means that this novel will be published soon.

Alexander.

Perhaps he was a writer. Li Cunbao was very talkative. He talked about his experiences as a soldier and Fang Minghua listened with interest.

"Although there are military camps everywhere here, in fact, the rear is relatively safe. The real front line is far away from here." Li Cunbao said with relief knowing that Fang Minghua was visiting southern Xinjiang for the first time.

"Have you been to the front line?" Fang Minghua was very interested.

"Why haven't you been in it? I was a soldier in 64, and was later transferred to the propaganda team of the political department of the army. After the self-defense counterattack started in 79, I went to the frontline combat troops of Yun Province to interview, and lived there with frontline officers and soldiers for four years. Months." Li Cunbao said while smoking.

"Then why are you coming again this time?"

"There isn't enough material, so I want to come over and take a look." Li Cunbao said lightly.

"Aren't you afraid of danger?"

"I am both a writer and a soldier." Li Cunbao laughed: "This is my responsibility. Although we can't go to the front line to fight, we must write down those deeds, right? I once wrote a reportage, and this time I want to Write a novel.”

"Wreaths Beneath the Mountains".
  Fang Minghua thought silently in his heart.

"Writer Li" Fang Minghua started to speak but was interrupted by Li Cunbao: "Don't call me a writer. Are you not a writer? How old am I to you? You can call me big brother."

"Okay, Brother Li, what have you encountered during frontline interviews?" Fang Minghua asked curiously.

"You want to hear a story? Okay, today I'm here to tell you a touching story I encountered while interviewing on the front lines of Yun Province." Li Cunbao sat down on the bed and started talking.

"This is a true story." Li Cunbao lit up another cigarette.

　感谢湖畔镇霍格、史某、无限的辖想的打赏，感谢爱阅读的东方自明、诗予年华、书友2021030165879049、书友10401213329114、lhk心想事成、澳洲龙虾CC、书友20210301106587940932、书友20170418000936791、书友2022032823558316、KD速速D投的月票
  　　
  　
  (End of this chapter)