Back to 80: My Literary Life

In his old house in Jiangxi Village, Chen Zhongshi carefully stuffed a thick pile of manuscripts into his briefcase and said to the woman standing next to him:

"Cuiying, I am going to the city tomorrow. I have to go to the Writers Association meeting. I will send this manuscript by the way."

Wang Cuiying said nothing, but looked at her husband with some distress.

Chen Zhongshi was already looking old. In the past few years, he had devoted himself to writing and worked hard. His face was wrinkled and his hair was gray, looking like a sixty-year-old man.

But he just turned fifty this year.

Seeing that his wife was silent, Chen Zhongshi thought he was worried about something, so he comforted him: "Cuiying, don't worry. I said that if no one wants this book, I will stop writing it and come back to raise chickens with you." ! I do what I say!”

"That's not what I meant. Someone must want your book." Wang Cuiying quickly replied and asked again: "Which company are you going to invest in?"

Chen Zhongshi felt a little surprised. His wife was not well educated, so she rarely asked about creation. What happened today?

But Chen Zhongshi also answered truthfully: "I am going to vote for "Contemporary"."

"I heard that Fang Minghua's friend runs a book company that specializes in publishing novels. What kind of royalties does Lu Yao get? This is how Lu Yao got rich. Why don't you find Fang Minghua and submit your manuscript to this company?" Wang Cuiying said. Views.

Chen Zhongshi had a wry smile on his face after hearing this, lit a cigar and then explained: "Do you think royalties are given casually? Fang Minghua's friend company publishes best-selling books, which can sell hundreds of thousands or millions of copies. How can I sell this book?"

"You have been writing for several years, why can't you sell so many copies?" Wang Cuiying muttered.

"Who said it will be easier to sell if it takes longer to write? Forget it, I can't tell you clearly, so don't mess with this matter." Chen Zhongshi looked a little impatient.

Wang Cuiying didn't ask any more questions, and said: I will cook for you now, and then turned around and went out.

Chen Zhongshi walked out of the room and came to the yard, smoking a cigar, looking through the thick smoke at the sycamore tree outside the wall, not knowing what he was thinking.

When the Writers Association meets, Fang Minghua naturally has to attend.

Since the beginning of this year, the number of meetings of the Writers Association has increased suddenly, mainly for study. There are various documents for studying current affairs and politics, and it is stipulated that no leave is allowed except under special circumstances.

No, all the vice-chairmen and directors of the Writers' Association who are in Xijing are basically here, but there is still one person missing.

Jia Pingwa.

"Brother Lu, why didn't Pingwa come to the meeting? Is he not in good health?" Fang Minghua asked Lu Yao, who was sitting next to him. The two of them often got together during meetings of the Writers Association.

He knew that Jia Pingwa suffered from hepatitis B, which was good and bad.

But unexpectedly, Lu Yao lowered his voice and said, "I'm not in Xijing, I'm hiding from my wife."

"Hiding my wife?"

"Junfang (Jia Pingwa's wife) and he were having a lot of trouble recently. Pingwa couldn't stand it anymore, so she went to a reservoir called Taoqupo in Yao County to hide and relax, and work on her creations there."

Fang Minghua heard this and was not very surprised.

The relationship between the couple is very tense, which is an open secret in the Writers Association.

"I see, Pingwa and his wife will divorce sooner or later." Lu Yao sighed again.

This is true.

"Brother Lu, do you know what Pingwa wrote?" Fang Minghua asked again.

"I met him once and heard him say that this time I will not write about the countryside, but the city, and I will write about Xijing where we live."

"Abandoned Capital"!

Jia Pingwa is going to write "Abandoned Capital"!

This is a book with mixed reviews, but it sold well.

Hmm. When Jia Pingwa finishes writing, talk to him.

Fang Minghua suddenly thought that Lu Yao was also writing a novel, so he asked: "Hey, Brother Lu, you told me years ago that you were going to write the novel "Collapse". How is the writing going now?"

"It's still early. I've been writing the book "The Ordinary World" for several years, and how many months have it just passed?" Lu Yao said with a smile.

This is true.

Except for Jia Pingwa, who is a fast shooter, Lu Yao and Chen Zhongshi are not very fast in creation.

"The Ordinary World" took six years from creation to publication.

Chen Zhongshi's "White Deer Plain" also took five years!

Huh.

Have you finished writing "White Deer Plain" by Chen Zhongshi?

Fang Minghua turned his head and glanced at Chen Zhongshi, who was sitting on the other side, smoking a cigar and taking notes.

Ask him after the meeting is over.

The morning meeting was not long, it ended in about two hours, and then everyone went about their own business. After the meeting, Fang Minghua went to the toilet. When he came back to look for Chen Zhong, he found that there was no trace of him. He hurried to his office and the door was locked.

gone?

Seeing this, he asked the staff of the Writers Association, where was Chairman Chen?

A worker told him: "I just heard Chairman Chen say that he should go to the post office to send manuscripts."

Contribute? !

"Got it, thank you!"

Fang Minghua hurriedly ran to the front yard and went straight to his SUV.

After getting in the car, I quickly drove out of the Writers Association Gate and drove eastward to Changle Gate.

There is a Dongguan Post and Telecommunications Office outside Changlemen. People from the Provincial Writers' Association like to come here whether they are submitting articles or sending letters. It is the closest to the Writers' Association.

He drove out of Changlemen, and sure enough he saw Chen Zhongshi riding a bicycle on the street. There was a black briefcase hanging on the handlebar, bulging inside.

Fang Minghua slowed down the car, approached the street, honked the horn twice more, turned his head when he saw Chen Zhong, rolled down the window and greeted him with a smile.

"Teacher Chen, what are you doing here?"

"I'm sending a manuscript to Contemporary." Chen Zhongshi told the truth.

"Is it the White Deer Plain you wrote?"

"Yes."

As expected!

"Teacher Chen, wait a minute, I have something to tell you."

Chen Zhongshi jumped off his bicycle after hearing this, and Fang Minghua quickly pulled the bike over and got off.

"Teacher Chen, can I take a look at your novel now, just to get a sneak peek?" Fang Minghua said with a smile.

If it were someone else, Chen Zhongshi might not agree, as it hadn't been officially published yet.

But since the other party was Fang Minghua, he didn't hesitate and took out a thick stack of manuscripts from his briefcase and handed them to him.

Fang Minghua took it and took a look.

The first page had the words "White Deer Plain" written on it, and there was a line of small words below, which turned out to be a famous quote from Balzac: Novels are considered to be the secret history of a nation.

The second page was the main text.

Chapter 1: "Bai Jiaxuan later took pride in having married seven women in his life."

The entire manuscript was covered with traces of smears.

Fang Minghua flipped through it, handed it back to the other party, and said, "Teacher Chen, I have an idea, I wonder if you are willing to do it?"

"What idea?"

"Don't rush to submit it to "Contemporary". I will let the boss of Shengshi Books take a look and let their company publish it and give you royalties. How about it?"