The literary era since 1979

Chapter 43: Searching for a Teacher
"Teacher Xiao Fang."

Tie Ning turned around and said, "After dinner, can you help me take a look at the manuscript I wrote, which is what we talked about last time..."

Fang Yan frowned and looked down at the letter. Although he was still there, it felt like his soul had been gone for a while.

"What's up with him?"

Tie Ning was startled and saw Wang Anyi shaking his head. He saw Mo Shen reply that after reading the letter, he became possessed.

Fangyan seemed to ignore it and kept staring at the letter.

“I actually don’t really like words like ‘predecessor’ or ‘successor’, and I don’t like being called an ‘old writer’ either.

A writer is a writer. He lives by his works, not by his qualifications. Do you remember what I wrote in your book?
Put aside your worries, don't be timid, think boldly, write diligently, and write down all the beautiful things in your heart.

Young writers like you, who have courage, conscience, talent and sense of responsibility, are the new rising force in the Chinese literary world. What you need is not for us to lead you and help you move forward slowly, but for you to push us away and leave us behind.

The Yangtze River's waves behind push the waves ahead. I welcome young people like you to push me away, but I am also willing to let you leave me behind. "

I watched it from beginning to end, especially when Li Yaotang invited him to visit his home in Shanghai at the end.

No. 113 Wukang Road.

Fangyan silently memorized the address and decided to go there when he had the chance.

"Yanzi, who gave you this letter that took you so long to read?"

Mo Shen leaned forward, and the signature on the lower right corner suddenly took away all his thoughts. He blurted out in shock:

"bar……"

"Shh!"

Fangyan made a gesture to keep quiet.

"Is it Ba Lao?"

Tie Ning had a complicated look in his eyes and lowered his voice.

It’s Wang Meng again, Ding Ling again, Wan Jiabao again, and Li Yaotang again. We don’t know how many more surprises you have in store.

"It's just a brief thank you letter, thanking me for submitting my article to Harvest. I didn't expect Mr. Ba to personally take care of this matter."

Fangyan could lie without blushing or getting nervous.

“It turned out to be a thank-you letter.”

Mo Shen, Wang Anyi and the others did not suspect anything, but Tie Ning narrowed his eyes into lines, as if trying to find a flaw in his face.

"if not?"

Fangyan remained calm and folded the letter carefully.

If the content was made public, it would definitely cause an uproar in the institute. The gist of the letter was that the great literary master specifically named Fang, hoping that the younger generation would be pushed forward by the older generation and beat the older generation to death on the beach. The words between the lines revealed his expectations for the younger generation.

Let Chinese literature be great again!
…………

The bell rang again and reached the office of the preparatory group.

"I won't bother you here any more."

Li Xiaolin, Li Qingquan and others chatted for a while and then stood up.

"Comrade Xiaolin, please stay."

Xu Gang shouted.

"Director Xu, is there anything else?" Li Xiaolin stopped and looked at them in surprise.

"I think Ba Gong has also seen Xiao Fang's works, right?"

Li Qingquan looked at her and nodded, "What do you think of him?"

"My father spoke highly of him, saying that his novels and the term 'spy war' were original and that he hadn't seen such a bold and innovative young writer in a long time." Li Xiaolin smiled and said, "When I came to Yenching, he asked me to bring him a handwritten letter."

"Handwritten letter!?"

Li Qingquan and Xu Gang looked at each other.

"Yes, I haven't read the content, but a letter that took my father a long time to write is definitely not an ordinary letter."

Li Xiaolin said with certainty.

Li Qingquan was delighted and said, "Since Ba Gong appreciates Fangyan so much, if we invite him to be Fangyan's tutor and guide his writing..." "Be his teacher and guide his writing?"

Li Xiaolin was very surprised.

"It's like this. In the second half of the semester, our institute will assign a mentor to each student, so that the old ones can guide the new ones."

Xu Gang said: "Originally, we arranged for Fang Yan to be mentored by Mr. Qin Zhaoyang of Contemporary Magazine, who could teach him both writing and editing, but now the plan has changed."

Li Xiaolin became interested and sat back.

Li Qingquan said: "A few days ago, Mr. Ding Ling and other senior colleagues in the institute discussed with us that they hoped that one or two novels could be published among these students. We think it is worth paying attention to."

Li Xiaolin agreed: "My father and editor-in-chief Xiao have the same idea. Most of the novels published now are short stories and novellas. Long novels are really rare."

"So, we hope to train writers who can write novels among this batch of students, but we dare not expect too much."

Li Qingquan said: "We will be satisfied if we can have one."

"So you two chose dialect?"

Li Xiaolin suddenly realized.

"It's not just us, it's also the consensus of all the colleagues in the institute that Fang Yan is the most promising student in the fifth batch. He has talent and ability, but he just has no experience."

“So the institute wanted my father to be a mentor in dialect and guide him in writing novels.”

"In today's literary world, the people with profound attainments in novels are none other than Mr. Mao Bading, Mr. Shen Xiao and Mr. Qian."

Li Qingquan said: "Since Mr. Ba and Fangyan get along so well, if we ask him to be Fangyan's mentor, Mr. Ba won't refuse, right?"

"I'm afraid that won't work. My father no longer takes apprentices." Li Xiaolin shook her head regretfully.

"Not bringing it anymore?!"

Li Qingquan and Xu Gang looked at each other.

"Yes, no more."

Li Xiaolin said with certainty: "He said that writers are not flowers grown in a greenhouse and that they should be allowed to experience the wind and rain on their own. He also said that every writer has his own thoughts and feelings and that others cannot feel for him or give him advice. All he can do is correct typos and grammatically incorrect words and sentences."

"This this……"

Li Qingquan opened his mouth, which was beyond his expectation.

Li Xiaolin shook her head and laughed, "Besides, Shanghai and Beijing are so far apart, it's impossible for Fangyan to come to Shanghai, and it's impossible for my father to live in Beijing for a long time. Even if he wanted to teach me, it would be too far away."

"Yeah, it's beyond my reach."

Li Qingquan sighed softly.

"Didn't Mr. Li ask the other gentlemen?"

Li Xiaolin cast an inquiring look.

Xu Gang said helplessly: "Some are like Mr. (Shen) Congwen, who is too old. Some are like Mr. Ding Ling, whose writing style is not compatible. Some are like Mr. (Qian) Zhongshu, who is busy with affairs. Mr. Mao, who was originally the most suitable, has been ill recently and is recuperating at home. And like Mr. Ba, he seems to have given up the idea of ​​accepting disciples. Mr. Ding Ling took the dialect version of "Secret Calculation" and said that he could only try his best to help persuade him to read it."

“It’s hard to find a teacher to guide Fangyan in writing novels!”

A trace of weakness appeared on Li Qingquan's face.

"How about this, I'll go back and try to ask my father."

Li Xiaolin pondered for a moment, "He can't be a teacher, but he might be willing to be a 'one word teacher'. As for guidance, although I can't teach him face to face, I can also use letters and phone calls. What do you think?"

"If that's really possible, it would be perfect!"

Li Qingquan was very excited.

"But you still have to find a tutor for Fangyan."

Li Xiaolin gave a reminder, and then was escorted out of the school gate by Li Qingquan, Xu Gang and others. She took the No. 18 bus back to the guesthouse and called Wan Jiabao's home as soon as possible.

She made an appointment for the visit in advance. After all, the letter that Li Yaotang asked her to pass on must be handed over to Wan Jiabao in person.

"Do you want to tell Dad about the dialect now?"

After hanging up the phone, she hesitated and said, "Forget it. I'll tell Dad about it when I get back from Uncle Wan's house."

(ps: The content of the letter mainly comes from the message written when "Mengya" was re-published)

(End of this chapter)