Back to 80: My literary life.

Chapter 617 Chapter 616 Don’t write novels, write reportage
After leaving Fang Mingjun's house, the two found a small restaurant nearby.

They ordered a pot of pork stewed with vermicelli, a plate of pork head and cucumber, a portion of colorful rice noodles, and a bottle of Lao Longtou liquor that the locals like to drink. They ate and chatted.

These days, Fang Mingjun took Fang Minghua everywhere, but they didn't talk much. Now, after three glasses of wine, they started talking more.

"Brother, have one." Fang Mingjun took out a pack of Changbai Ginseng cigarettes from his coat pocket.

Fang Minghua shook his head: "You know I don't smoke."

Fang Mingjun lit up a cigarette, took a puff and said, "Brother, I find it's not easy for you to be a writer. In this cold weather, you're running around outside with me. I thought I could write by sitting in the office and drinking tea."

"How can it be that easy?" Fang Minghua laughed, "But compared to the workers we saw these two days, it's much more comfortable."

"Brother, I've read the article 'The Weaving Girl' you wrote." Fang Mingjun suddenly changed the subject.

"You read serious novels?" Fang Minghua was a little surprised.

"Hey, brother, you sound a bit disrespectful." Fang Mingjun wiped his hair casually and said, "Do you think I only know how to read martial arts novels? Back then, I was also a literary youth."

"Haha. Sorry, I'll drink a glass as a punishment." Fang Minghua picked up the glass.

"I'll accompany you."

They both picked up their glasses and drank them all.

"I was deeply touched after reading it. Brother, you really understand it from the ground up, instead of just sitting in the office and writing nonsense like some writers do."

"Don't forget, your cousin Mingmei is a textile worker in Xijing," said Fang Minghua.

"Oh, yes, yes." Fang Mingjun said, "Brother, I think what you wrote is still a little light."

"Lighter? What do you mean?"

"In your novel, you wrote that Zhang Li was taken to a dance hall by her husband on a bicycle. This is nothing in our place. We all go in groups, and the price of entering a dance hall is clearly marked: 5 yuan for dancing openly, and 10 yuan for dancing secretly with physical contact."

"Some are even more serious. They send their wives to be prostitutes. They are afraid of being embarrassed by their acquaintances in Tiexi, so they go to other places in the city. One of my childhood friends works in the chemical factory where I accompanied you. He is even worse off than us. He and his wife have been laid off and have not received salary for several months. There are six people in the family, including the elderly and children, and the family is in great difficulty.

Later, we found that this guy seemed to have become rich. He didn't smoke Changbai ginseng anymore, but "Sanwu". We asked him what business he did to make a fortune, but he always smiled and said nothing.

"Once we were drinking, he drank too much and started crying, saying he was sorry to his wife. Later I found out he was actually a pimp! His wife was a prostitute. Many times he would ride his motorcycle to drop his wife off at the ground and wait downstairs, because he had to pick her up later and he was afraid she would run into bad people."

"I got furious when I heard that and yelled at him, 'Are you still a man? You have hands and feet, why don't you go out and do something else? Why do you have to be a cuckold?'"

"He had a sad smile on his face. What can I do? How can I earn enough money to support my family?!"

Fang Minghua listened in silence.

After a while, he asked again: "What happened next?"

"What happened next? Later, this matter was discovered. He couldn't hold his head up, so he left the child at home and took his wife to the south. I don't know what he did there."

As Fang Mingjun spoke, he lit up another cigarette. The smoke obscured his face, making it impossible to see his expression at the moment.

After finishing the meal and drinking a bottle of wine, they both prepared to leave.

Before leaving, the Ming army in front suddenly said: "Brother, you are going back to Xijing, and I am also ready to leave Fengtian."

"Where are you going? To work in the south?"

"No, I want to go to Harbin and Heihe. I heard that doing business with Russians there is profitable. I want to give it a try."

International trader!

"Do you need funds?" Fang Minghua asked softly. "No, I still have some."

"Then you should pay attention to safety."

"I know, brother. When the day comes when I can't make it anymore, I will come to Xijing to seek refuge with you." Fang Mingjun said half-jokingly and half-seriously.

"No problem." Fang Minghua agreed immediately. "But I still wish you good fortune and success!"

The two broke up at the door of the small restaurant.

The next morning, Fang Minghua flew from Fengtian to Xijing.

The sky was still gloomy, and looking down from the plane window, the whole city was gray.

Fang Minghua felt that he had visited many places during his time in Fengtian and should write something when he returned.

In this era, there are not many novels focusing on the Northeast, especially those about cities. Chi Zijian, a young writer who has emerged in the literary world, also mainly writes about rural areas. Cities and the people living in these cities seem to be forgotten.

Instead, two or three decades later, a group of young writers emerged in this land, especially in Liaoning Province, telling "a belated story": "Past Events in Northeast China" in the 90s.

It is not the stories of their fathers told by the working generation but by their descendants, such as Shuang Xuetao's "The Master", "The Scoundrel", "Guangming Hall", and "The Aviator", Ban Yu's "Xiaoyaoyou", "Panjin Leopard", "Susha", and "Sky Road", and Zheng Zhi's "Xian Syndrome".

Of course, there are also the movie "The Piano in a Factory" and the TV series "The Long Season", which only appeared in people's sight more than 20 years later.

Since no one is writing it now, just write it yourself.

However, this time Fang Minghua suddenly decided not to write a novel, he wanted to write a reportage.

Novels are fictional after all, but reportage is real.

Real cases, real data.

There is no need for embellishment of words, nor does it need to be too sensational. It just needs to present what you know exactly as it is.

Back to Xijing, although it is still covered with ice and snow, it is much warmer than Fengtian.

It is undoubtedly a pleasure to stay at home in this weather, drink tea and write something you like.

After Fang Minghua returned home, he immediately calmed down and devoted himself to writing.

Halfway through, Jia Pingwa came once and told Fang Minghua that "Wasteland" had been revised again, and after communicating with Su Bin, it was finalized and decided to be published.

"Minghua, I deleted some □□□□□□ (the author deleted × hundred × ten × words), and blurred some of the erotic descriptions. I went back and thought about it calmly, and I think you are right. It's my mentality that is wrong."

Jia Pingwa is very frank.

Fang Minghua understood what he meant.

Because Jia Pingwa and his wife divorced.

Divorce is a double-edged sword. It is a blow to both husband and wife, which is bound to affect the writer's mentality.

Seeing Jia Pingwa looking a little depressed, Fang Minghua felt like saying a few words of comfort, but of course she wouldn't say anything: "It's okay, just find another one."

He just smiled and patted Jia Pingwa on the shoulder, saying jokingly: "As the saying goes, if you fail in love, you will succeed in gambling. Of course, you don't gamble, but you will be very proud of your career! Wait for the good news after the publication!"

December is just passing by.
A 60,000-word report titled "Do Our Workers Still Have Strength? The Ups and Downs and Confusion of a Generation of Workers" was released.

The article is divided into three parts. Part 1: Breaking the "iron rice bowl": from factory to market
Part 2: "Lazy", "face-loving", "living on the minimum living allowance"? The re-employment dilemma of laid-off workers
Part Three: Women and Family under the Dark Cloud.

(End of this chapter)