Back to 80: My Literary Life

"Haha." Wang Meng laughed heartily: "If Dong Mo hears this, he will be very disappointed."

"Editor Dong knows that I am more interested in writing novels than poetry." Fang Minghua told the truth.

"Lao Dong is a very grand person, but hey, he also writes novels, and you also write poems! Since this is the golden age of poetry, why don't you put the icing on the cake and extend this era a little longer."

The two talked about novel creation again. This time Fang Minghua did not dare to make mistakes and listened carefully to Wang Meng.

It is not a good thing to be too presumptuous in front of elders.

At nine o'clock sharp, Fang Minghua looked at the time and stood up to say goodbye.

Wang Meng personally walked him to the door and said:

"Xiao Fang, you talk eloquently about poetry, but you rarely talk about novel creation. It seems you still have some reservations. Okay, let's have a good chat next time we come to Yanjing."

After Fang Minghua left, Teacher Cui, who had not opened his mouth to listen to their chat, said: "This young man is good. Although I may not agree with his views, his literary quality is very high."

"How bad can the person that the old director likes be?" Wang Meng laughed.

Besides, Fang Minghua went back to sleep at night and had nothing to do when he woke up in the morning. He decided to go to Wangfujing.

Not to visit Wangfujing Shopping Mall but Wangfujing Bookstore.

In the 1980s, it was one of the must-visit places for foreign visitors to Yanjing. This time Fang Minghua even took a special subway ride.

It is said that the Yanjing Subway began official operation in 1971, earlier than Seoul, Singapore, San Francisco, Washington and other cities.

Take the bus to Guomao Station and then enter Line 1 - the only line currently operated by Yanjing.

The subway stations of this era were far less luxurious than those of later generations. They were full of advertisements and looked very simple. There were not many people taking the subway, and the fare was a dime. Fang Minghua had seats arranged horizontally like a train.

Sitting on his seat, watching the carriage slowly start to move, and the outside quickly falling into darkness, Fang Minghua suddenly felt like he was traveling through time and space.

However, the subway slowly stopped, and there was still a simple scene unique to this era outside. Fang Minghua sighed slightly.

Get off at Wangfujing Station and exit the subway station, which is the famous Dongdan. Wangfujing Bookstore is at the south entrance of Fujing Street.

This is a very ordinary four-story building. What surprised Fang Minghua a little is that the bookstore here does not have a counter like the Xijing Bell Tower Bookstore. If you want to read a certain book, you must ask the salesperson.

Some of the bookcases here are open!

But they are basically professional books, and literature books are separated from other places by a counter.

Although it is morning, there are already people inside. There are many people, most of them are young people. In fact, you can see that there are more people and fewer people are buying. Even if you look, you can't look for a few more minutes, otherwise you will be scolded and stared at by the bookstore salesperson. .

In this era when workers' annual wages are less than 600 yuan and farmers' per capita net income is less than 300 yuan, a book worth 3 yuan is a luxury for ordinary people, even though this is an imperial capital.

But it doesn't matter to Fang Minghua, he still has a full 300 yuan in his pocket, which is part of the royalties.

Fang Minghua looked at it carefully for a while, and without being polite, he bought several books that were not available in the magazine library. He also specially bought a copy of "Jane Eyre" that had just been published as a gift for his sister during a business trip. .

How can you come to Yanjing without bringing something for your relatives?

Under the envious eyes of a group of people nearby, the salesperson handed a few books to Fang Minghua. He put them in his yellow satchel and was about to leave when he suddenly heard someone calling his name: "Xiao Fang? Are you buying books too?"

Fang Minghua looked back and saw a thin man in his early thirties looking at him with a smile.

It turned out to be Beidao.

"Teacher Bei Dao, are you here to buy books too?" Fang Minghua greeted quickly.

Unexpectedly, his greeting didn't matter. When the young man next to him heard the word "Bei Dao", someone immediately greeted him: "Are you Bei Dao? The Bei Dao who wrote "Answer" and "Everything"?"

"That's him! I met him once in a newspaper office!" Another young man said excitedly.

This was incredible, and people rushed up immediately.

"Teacher Bei Dao, could you please sign your name for me?"

"Teacher Bei Dao, this is a poem I wrote. What do you think of it?"

The counter was in complete disarray.

It seems that people of all ages chase stars, but the objects they chase are different.

Fang Minghua stood aside and watched the excitement, but he didn't expect to be shouted out by Bei Dao in the crowd: "I would like to introduce a poet to you. It is him, Fang Minghua, who won the second prize in the poetry competition!"

"It's him?"

"Is it the song "Spring" and "Premonition" that you wrote?"

"You also wrote a novel?"

Immediately, a young man stared at him with eager eyes.

Fang Minghua was so frightened that he ran away, shouting: "No, no, I'm not that Fang Minghua, I'm the gatekeeper."

I ran out of Xinhua Bookstore in one breath and stopped when I saw no one was chasing me.

Damn, that's terrible.

How is North Island doing now?

Haha, that's none of my business.

After leaving the bookstore, Fang Minghua walked around the nearby department store for a while. He originally wanted to buy something for his parents, but the products were too expensive and had to give up.

At noon, I found a state-owned store and had a bowl of Yanjing's famous noodles with soybean paste. One or two noodles cost five cents, and I took out one or two national food stamps.

Fang Minghua ate five taels in one go.

We visited Tiananmen again in the afternoon and bought a train ticket to rush back to Xijing in the evening. As soon as the train left Yanjing city, Fang Minghua saw a young man carrying a yellow satchel sneaking up from the end of the carriage.

Fang Minghua suddenly laughed.

Isn't this the fare-evading young man I met when I came here?

The young man also saw Fang Minghua sitting in his seat and suddenly felt a little embarrassed, but he still walked in front of him and said hello: "Writer Fang"

"For those who are not writers, just call me by my name." Fang Minghua stopped him, then smiled at a man sitting next to him and said that he met a fellow countryman. He didn't buy a seat ticket. Can he squeeze in a little bit? Give up your position?

The middle-aged man looked at Fang Minghua and then at the standing young man. Although he was a little reluctant, he respectfully called "writer" when he saw the standing young man, and finally gave up his position.

"Sit down." Fang Minghua called to the young man: "What's your name?"

"My name is Lei Xuecheng." The young man replied quickly.

"Did you see Bei Dao yesterday?" Fang Minghua asked again.

"See you! You even signed my name!" Lei Xuecheng was a little excited. He was just about to brag a few more words when he suddenly thought that the young man in front of him was having a meeting with Bei Dao to discuss poetry. What could he be proud of?

The excitement just now was gone.

Fang Minghua felt funny in his heart, but he didn't say much and instead asked, "Has Bei Dao read the poem you wrote?"

"Bei Dao doesn't have time." Lei Xuecheng was honest and shook his head: "But an editor from the poetry section of the editorial department of "Contemporary" read it and said that what I wrote was not good enough to meet the conditions for publication."

"Then keep working hard." Fang Minghua comforted him.

Lei Xuecheng nodded. He originally wanted to show it to Fang Minghua, but he felt embarrassed. The editor had already rejected it, so he should stop embarrassing himself.

"Writer Fang, I was in the courtyard of "Contemporary" magazine yesterday, and someone said that you worked as a guard at Yanhe Magazine? Is it true?" Lei Xuecheng suddenly thought of something and asked cautiously.

Thanks to book friends 20210326033830973, Faliwubian, book friends 20221222185726444, Jun Ming chic and unrestrained, Xuanfeng Wuyu for voting monthly