Back to 80: My literary life.

Chapter 7 How about we join in the fun?
  By the time the literature lecture ended, it was already five o'clock in the afternoon. Fang Minghua was about to go home, but his sister asked him to stay at school and finish his meal before leaving.

"You have to eat anyway when you go back. Mom may not cook it for you, so why not eat in our school cafeteria." My sister said.

The food in your school cafeteria is terrible.

Fang Minghua complained in his heart.

The steamed buns and stir-fried tofu with cabbage that I had for lunch were terrible.

There was no way, the food in the cafeterias of various universities in the 1980s was not very good.

"How about we go out to eat, and eat your favorite fried noodles! I'll treat you to it!" Fang Minghua suggested.

"Brother, you have to save money! It's quite expensive outside, but it's not as delicious as what mom makes."

Ok
  Fang Minghua had no choice but to follow his sister and walk obediently toward her dormitory.

"It's still the same as lunch, you eat first, and I'll eat after that." Fang Mingli said.

Because there is only one set of bowls and chopsticks, and these days the canteen does not provide disposable lunch boxes or plates.

"Okay, don't go to the cafeteria and just rest in the dormitory. I'll call you back after eating." Fang Minghua said.

"Okay then, I will take this time to sort out the study notes from the lecture I just attended."

Arriving at the door of the girls' dormitory, Fang Minghua took the bowls, chopsticks and meal tickets from his sister, and walked towards the cafeteria.

Dinner consisted of noodles, steamed buns, steamed buns, etc. Fang Minghua went to the cafeteria and bought a portion of noodles and two steamed buns. He saw that there was only one girl sitting at an empty table nearby, so he went over to sit opposite and started eating.

I tried the potato noodles and it tasted pretty good, at least much better than the braised tofu with cabbage.

Fang Minghua was also hungry. He wolfed down a steamed bun first to satisfy his hunger, and then slowed down his pace.

When I looked up, I realized that the girl sitting opposite me was Li Li, who had just given a speech in the classroom.

Seeing Li Li looking at him, Fang Minghua smiled and said hello.

In fact, Li Li had noticed Fang Minghua for a long time. She remembered his "weird" smile in the classroom and wanted to ask him again.

But they were not familiar with each other and it was hard for me to say hello first as a girl. Now that I saw him smiling at me, I immediately asked: "This classmate, you said you are not from Western University, how come you have a meal ticket from Western University?
  What a curious baby.

Fang Minghua answered truthfully: "I have a sister who attends your school, and I use her meal ticket."

Oh.
  Li Li nodded and suddenly changed the topic: "This classmate, I think you have different opinions on my analysis of the little poem "Spring" just now?"

what?
  Are you still obsessed with this?
  "Actually, I don't mean anything else, because I like this little poem very much and am willing to share it with others. I also want to hear how it feels." Li Li's attitude was very sincere.

Ok
  Anyway, it’s just the two of us now.

Fang Minghua swallowed the steamed bun and said: "I think this poem is good, but it is not the hazy poetry that is rising now. There is no so-called imagery, symbolization, and three-dimensionality, and there is no symbol, metaphor, or transformation. That's it. Simply describing spring and love is not as complicated as you think."

"Du Mu, the great poet of the Tang Dynasty, once wrote, "The spring breeze is ten miles away from Yangzhou Road, but it is better to roll up the bead curtain." This poem is a bit imitative of the ancients."

"In addition, it is similar to "In Front of the Gate" written by Gu Cheng. Just this sentence: The wind is shaking its leaves, the grass is bearing its seeds, and you stand there without saying anything. It is already very beautiful."

Fang Minghua talked eloquently, and Li Li looked shocked.

Really?

After Fang Minghua finished speaking, he paused and added: "Really, there is no need to over-interpret the poem. It only needs to be pleasant to listen to and easy to read, as long as you can feel the beauty of the music and the beauty of the Chinese language in the poem."

Li Li didn't speak. She subconsciously stirred the bowl with her chopsticks, as if she was still digesting what Fang Minghua said just now.

"Goodbye!" Fang Minghua drank the last mouthful of noodle soup, stood up and went outside the cafeteria to wash the dishes. Then he came back to serve his sister some noodles and steamed buns. He saw Li Li still sitting at the table in a daze.

I didn’t care, and just as I was about to leave the cafeteria after finishing my meal, I heard someone from behind shouting “Wait a minute.”
  It turned out that Li Li had caught up.

Fang Minghua had no choice but to stop.

Li Lipan's chest rose and fell: "Comrade, in which magazine was the song "In Front" written by Gu Cheng you just mentioned published? Why have I never heard of it?"

So you were thinking about this?
  Has Gu Cheng not written this poem yet?

Fang Minghua suddenly thought of a question.

Probably. "Oh, I forgot which magazine it was, but it must have been written by Gu Cheng. I also have to deliver food to my sister. Goodbye!" After saying that, he hurried out of the canteen, leaving Li Li who was a little confused.

Half a month later, Minghua received a notice from Western University: He had been admitted to the Chinese correspondence course. It also specifically stated that the tuition and miscellaneous fees for one semester were 18 yuan, and the start of the semester was set for December 12.

Fang Minghua was a little excited when he saw this very simple handwritten admission notice.

Now I am also a young man with "four things" who loves to learn.

Time passed quickly, and in mid-November, the weather turned cold. Fang Minghua also put on a thick maroon turtleneck sweater - knitted by his mother. A chimney was set up in the guard room and a coal stove was lit.

This morning, after Fang Minghua came to the unit to take over the shift, he saw that nothing happened, so he poured a cup of water and made some tea - naturally the cheapest labor insurance tea issued by the unit.

Minghua liked to drink tea in the time travel, and of course he looked down on the lowest grade tea. At the very least, he would drink Longjing worth a few hundred yuan a pound, but in this day and age, he couldn't be so particular.

It would be nice to have tea. This is something you strive for.

I walked around the door of the unit again and saw that the rush hour had passed and the door was quiet. I sat at the table by the window in the guard room and picked up a book - "Xu Mao and His Daughters". It seemed that this book was from Borrowed from the work library, written by writer Zhou Keqin.

The novel is based on the winter of 75 when the working group came to rural Sichuan to carry out rectification work. It tells the story of the joys and sorrows of the old farmer Xu Mao and his daughters. It won the first Mao Dun Literature Award.

Of course, you can't concentrate on it, you have to pay attention to what's going on at the door.

Suddenly he spotted a fat middle-aged man hurriedly walking into the door holding a black leatherette briefcase in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

"Editor Lu, good morning!" Fang Minghua immediately stood at the door and greeted with a smile.

"Hello, Comrade Xiaofang!" Lu Yao replied with a smile and walked into the courtyard without stopping.

"What's he doing here today?" Fang Minghua looked at the other person's back with curiosity.

Lu Yao's current identity is the editor of "Yanhe" magazine. It is said that he obtained it through the Qin Provincial Writers Association after graduating from Yan University. In addition to reviewing manuscripts, the most important thing is your own creation.

More importantly, it is said that Lu Yao is a night owl. He writes at night and sleeps during the day. He usually reports at noon. Later, he wrote an essay called "Morning Starts at Noon"

Is it a meeting?
  But what surprised Fang Minghua was that not long after, another thin middle-aged man in his forties also walked in with a serious face.

Chen Zhongshi!
  Next came a man in his early thirties.

Jia Pingwa!
  Jingfu!

These are all well-known young and middle-aged writers in Qin Province's literary circles and frequent contributors to "Yanhe" magazine. They all live in Anxi, but they are rarely seen in daily life. What happened today? Gathering at a magazine?
  What happened?
  Fang Minghua, a small doorman, naturally cannot run over and ask these future literary giants: "What's wrong with you today? If you don't write novels well, why are you all here?"

Fang Minghua was standing at the door, wondering, when he saw a round-faced girl coming out of the office building and hurried out of the door.

He naturally recognized that it was Wang Juan from the editorial department, who did some secretarial work.

"Wang Juan!" Fang Minghua quickly stopped her and asked, "I saw Lu Yao, Chen Zhongshi, Jia Pingwa and other writers coming to the magazine. Did something big happen?"

"You don't know? Editor Zhang is planning to launch a "Novel Issue for Young Writers of Qin Province", so he asked Editor Lu Yao and them to have a meeting to discuss it."

At this point, Wang Juan lowered her voice and pretended to be mysterious: "I heard that the main reason is to increase the popularity of our Qin Province writers and compete with Shi Tiesheng, Liu Xinwu, Chen Jiangong and others from Yanjing."

Fighting in the ring?
  Fang Minghua smiled, the word was quite accurate.

The literary circles of the 1980s all had their own arenas, among which the Beijing circle was full of talents.

Not to mention literary giants like Mao Dun and Cao Yu, Yanjing is also proud of its young and middle-aged writers.

The northwest circle is slightly inferior, but it should not be underestimated. In addition to Qin Province, Zhang Xianliang of Ningxia is also very good.

"Thank you, Wang Juan."

"You're welcome Fang Minghua, do you also want to write a novel?" The girl looked at him and joked.

"Me? I'm afraid not."

"You can write poetry, but you can also write novels well."

Writing poetry and writing novels are two different things, right?
  But Fang Minghua also knew that the girl just said it casually.

Wang Juan left in a hurry, and Fang Minghua returned to the duty room and thought about what Wang Juan said just now.

How about we join in the fun?
  (End of this chapter)