1980 My literary era

Although he hated Lin Weimin's words every time, the accuracy of his predictions was so high that Wang Shuo even doubted whether he had some skill with his words.

"Is there any way to break it?" Wang Shuo asked out of nowhere.

Lin Weimin shook his head and looked at Wang Shuo with disgust, "Do you think I'm a fortune teller on the street? I'm full of ghosts and monsters!"

Wang Shuo was furious for a moment, this thief was really hateful.

Although it is not clear why Lin Weimin is so accurate every time, Wang Shuo still believes in his words.

But if he was really asked to give up the lucrative business of selling electronic watches, he would really be reluctant to do so.

Sometimes life is like this. You know that the road ahead is full of ups and downs, but you still end up with blood blisters on the soles of your feet due to greed, luck, and other reasons.

Lin Weimin didn't expect to be able to persuade Wang Shuo, but just reminded him that if you can't make money, forget it, don't get caught up in it.

It can be said that the blow next year will be all-round, and opportunistic hawkers like Wang Shuo and Xie Jing are also among them. Even if they are the so-called big courtyard boys, they will not be spared.

Wang Shuo left with worry. Lin Weimin looked at his back with regret. Next year's January issue is indeed a good opportunity.

But for Wang Shuo, it doesn't seem that important. Even if there is no chance of the January issue, as long as he gives up the idea of ​​making a lot of money and develops on the path of writing with peace of mind, he will definitely be fine.

After returning to Yanjing to rest for two or three days, Lin Weimin set off again amidst Tan Chaoyang's urging.

It was also before leaving that he realized that the person he was going to compile a manuscript for this time also had some background.

Cheng Zhongshi is different from several young authors Lin Weimin contacted for the January issue. He was born in 1942 and is already forty years old this year. For a creator, this age should be a stage of gradual maturity, and he has already own masterpiece.

But Cheng Zhongshi's maturity seems to have come a little late. Although he has written many short stories about the life of farmers in Guanzhong, Shaanxi Province in recent years, such as "After the Succession" and "Brothers of the Gao Family", he is quite famous in the local literary world of Shaanxi Province. .

However, the spread of fame is always regional, and the influence of his works cannot be said to be great.

The ultimate reason is that he lacks a heavyweight novella or novel.

Qin Chaoyang came up with the idea of ​​composing a manuscript with him while chatting with several colleagues and friends, which led to Lin Weimin's trip to Shaanxi.

This year Cheng Zhongshi was just transferred to the creative group of the SX Provincial Literary Association and became a professional writer.

However, after becoming a professional writer, he not only did not move his family to the city, but instead moved back to his hometown in a remote location.

Xijiang Village, the ancestral home of Cheng Zhongshi, is far away from Xi'an, about fifty miles, although there is a bus from the city to the suburbs to get here.

But the terminal is located in front of a military academy, about seven or eight miles away from Cheng Zhongshi's home.

Lin Weimin walked on the dirt road in the countryside with one foot deep and one foot shallow. The cold wind of winter in the Central Plains was a bit biting.

This manuscript compilation was the hardest time he had ever worked in the industry, Lin Weimin thought to himself.

Fortunately, at this time, an old man driving a cart passed by. He was almost dressed in the unique style of an old farmer in Guanzhong, and Lin Weimin immediately felt close to him.

"Young man, where are you going?" the old man asked Lin Weimin while driving the bullock cart.

"Go to Xijiang Village and find a writer named Cheng Zhongshi. Uncle, do you know him?"

The old man laughed and said, "There is a great writer in Xijiang Village. Who doesn't know about it? He is very famous!"

The old man looked at Lin Weimin again, "Are you that...what's your name?"

Lin Weimin reminded: "Editor."

"Yes, the editor asked him to write."

Lin Weimin laughed, "Yes, I asked him to write."

"Then which newspaper do you belong to?"

"Uncle, we are not a newspaper, we are a magazine called "Contemporary"."

""Contemporary"? Have you ever heard of it? Is it bigger than "Xi'an Daily"?"

"It's incomparable. We are a literary magazine, not the same as a newspaper."

The topic was not separated by each other's knowledge. The uncle and Lin Weimin chatted for a while and then raised their voices.

Probably only the vast and majestic Guanzhong land can give birth to and carry the vast and heroic Xintianyou. Lin Weimin listened to the rough singing in his ears, and what came to his mind was Shi Tiesheng's "My Distant Qingping Bay".

The loess land with thousands of ravines may have given birth to many broken old men. They call their children "Xin'er". They rely on their bodies to complete everything, and they also value their commitments.

They live on this land day after day, year after year, seemingly without any hope.

A joke suddenly appeared in Lin Weimin's mind.

The reporter interviewed a young sheep herder. What did he do by herding sheep? He wanted to make money, get a wife, and have children.

Asked again what he did to have a baby, he still answered: herding sheep, marrying a wife, and having a baby.

Children and grandchildren, endless.

But isn’t this also a kind of life?

Lin Weimin couldn't help but think of Lu Yao and Cheng Zhongshi. Perhaps it was because of the nourishment of such a rich land that they were able to write those masterpieces.

"Young students are here!"

The old man's shout interrupted Lin Weimin's thoughts. He jumped out of the car and thanked the old man, then turned and walked towards Xijiang Village.

Cheng Zhongshi is well-known in Xijiang Village. Anyone who asks a child can know his home address.

The ancestral home of Cheng Zhongshi's family is located at the foot of the northern slope of Bailuyuan. Lin Weimin found his home under the guidance of his two children.

When Lin Weimin came to find him, Cheng Zhongshi was sitting in the room writing.

Hearing Lin Weimin's self-introduction, Cheng Zhongshi had a bit of surprise on his face. His face looked like the Loess Plateau, with criss-crossing ravines, embodying the vicissitudes of time.

His words had a strong Shaanxi accent, and Lin Weimin had a hard time hearing it.

"Thank you so much, Teacher Lin, for letting you run so far." Cheng Zhongshi said with a sincere expression and a sense of touch.

The two of them were sitting on two small stools in the center of the room, about thirty or forty centimeters above the ground. There was a table next to them. This was where Cheng Zhongshi ate and where he usually wrote.

Lin Weimin looked around, a little too simple.

In his opinion, Cheng Zhongshi and Lu Yao were both from Shaanxi, but they went to two extremes.

Lu Yao is stretching outwards but holding on to his roots tightly, while Cheng Zhongshi is restrained and down-to-earth.

After chatting about the process along the way and introducing the meaning of the January issue in detail, Lin Weimin looked to Cheng Zhongshi.

"Brother Cheng, are you interested?"

Lin Weimin first called Cheng Zhongshi his teacher. Cheng Zhongshi was a little embarrassed. Even though Lin Weimin was young, his writing performance was much better than his, even though he was now seeing him as an editor. , but hearing him call him that, Cheng Zhongshi still felt uncomfortable all over.

So Lin Weimin changed his title to "Brother Cheng", which was both friendly and catchy, and Cheng Zhongshi felt very comfortable with him.

Cheng Zhongshi hesitated and said: "At my age, I don't want to join in the fun of young people, right?"

Lin Weimin had no choice but to continue explaining that in fact, the January issue was not just for young writers like Yu Hua. The deeper meaning was to introduce a group of new faces to the readers. New faces did not only refer to age, but also to The familiarity of a broad readership with writers and their works.

Seeing that Cheng Zhongshi was still hesitant, Lin Weimin stopped worrying about this topic and asked instead, "Has Brother Cheng written any good works recently?"

Cheng Zhongshi said: "I actually wrote an article, but I haven't submitted it yet."

Lin Weimin said happily: "Why don't you let me take a look?"

Cheng Zhongshi honestly took out a stack of manuscripts and handed them into Lin Weimin's hands, "There are also some novels in here, all of which are novellas."

Lin Weimin was sitting on a low stool, looking down at the manuscript, while Cheng Zhongshi was smoking a cigarette with a calm expression.

Time passed slowly in the swirling smoke, and Lin Weimin raised his head to look at Cheng Zhongshi.

"Brother, please give us these two manuscripts to "Contemporary"!"

Cheng Zhongshichen's calm expression finally became rippled, "Can you even send it?"

Lin Weimin thought for a while and pointed to the completed work, "This "Kang Family Courtyard" needs to be revised. If this "Early Summer" can maintain this quality, there will be no problem in publishing it."

Cheng Zhongshi was relieved. His submission process over the years had not always been smooth sailing. Lin Weimin asked for two novels, which made him a little uncomfortable. This was the right thing.

Moreover, he has been focusing on short story creation in the past few years. It was not until he entered the Shaanxi Literary Association this year that he thought about entering the field of novella creation.

Cheng Zhongshi honestly told Lin Weimin the reasons why he wrote the novella.

He was just transferred to the Shaanxi Literary and Art Association this year to engage in professional creation. The only feeling is that he has reached the best position in his life, but what follows is fear and pressure.

"What if I become a professional writer and can't write any works? What if I can't write decent works?"

Cheng Zhongshi shook his head, with a look of frustration on his face.

"That's why I moved my family from the city back to my hometown, just to let myself be clear-headed and control myself. When I came back, I not only wanted to create, but I also wanted to be able to study in peace and peace of mind. My foundation is still too weak."

Listening to Cheng Zhongshi's final sigh, Lin Weimin could only say that everyone must have his own way to success.

At least among the many authors Lin Weimin has come into contact with, his attitude is extremely rare and correct.

"Brother, your idea is right, and your efforts are in the right direction." Lin Weimin shook the manuscript in his hand, "These works are the best proof."

When Cheng Zhongshi heard this, the smile on his face was a little relieved.

Lin Weimin put the manuscript on the table and asked as if accidentally: "Brother, I have been writing for so many years, don't you plan to write a novel to prove yourself?"