Back to 80: My Literary Life

After leaving Fang Mingjun's house, the two found a small restaurant nearby.

They ordered a pot of pork stewed with vermicelli, a plate of pork head and cucumber, a plate of colorful rice noodles, and a bottle of Laolongtou liquor that the locals like to drink. The two ate and talked.

These days, Fang Mingjun took Fang Minghua everywhere, but he didn't talk much. Now that he had three glasses of wine, he talked more.

"Brother, have a cigarette." Fang Mingjun took out a pack of Changbai ginseng cigarettes from his coat pocket.

Fang Minghua shook his head: "You know I don't smoke."

Fang Mingjun lit a cigarette himself, took a puff and said: "Brother, I find that it's not easy for you to be writers. In the cold weather, you follow me running around outside. I thought I could write by sitting in the office and drinking tea."

"How can it be that easy?" Fang Minghua laughed: "But compared with the employees we saw these two days, it's much more comfortable."

"Brother, I've read the article "Textile Girl" you wrote." Fang Mingjun suddenly said, changing the subject.

"Do you read serious novels?" Fang Minghua was a little surprised.

"Hey, brother, you look down on me." Fang Mingjun wiped his hair casually: "Do you think I only read martial arts novels? Back then, I was also a literary youth."

"Haha. Sorry, I'll punish myself with a glass." Fang Minghua picked up the wine glass.

"I'll accompany you."

The two of them raised their glasses and drank it all.

"I was deeply touched after reading it, brother, you really understood it in the real world, instead of sitting in the office and writing a few random things like some writers."

"Don't forget, your cousin Mingmei is a textile worker in our Xijing." Fang Minghua said.

"Oh, yes, yes." Fang Mingjun said, "Brother, I think you wrote it a little lightly."

"Lightly? What do you mean?"

"In your novel, you wrote that Zhang Li was sent to the dance hall by her husband on a bicycle to dance. This is nothing in our place. We all go in groups, and the price of entering the dance hall is clearly marked: 5 yuan for dancing openly, 10 yuan for touching and secretly dancing."

"There are even more powerful ones, who send their wives to be prostitutes. They are afraid of being embarrassed by acquaintances in Tiexi, so they go to other places in the city. One of my childhood friends works in the chemical factory where I accompanied you. He is worse off than us. He and his wife have been laid off and have not received wages for several months. There are old people and children in the family, and the family is very difficult.

Later, we found that this guy seemed to have become rich. He didn't smoke Changbai ginseng when smoking, but "Sanwu". "We asked him what business he did to make money, but he always smiled and said nothing."

"Once we were drinking, he drank too much, and he started crying, saying he was sorry for his wife. Later we found out that he was actually engaged in the pimp business! His wife was a prostitute. Many times, he would ride a motorcycle to send his wife to the ground and wait downstairs, one because he had to pick her up later, and the other was because he was afraid of meeting bad people."

"I was furious when I heard it, and I yelled at him, are you still a man? You have hands and feet, why don't you go out and do something else, why do you have to be a turtle?!"

"He smiled miserably, what can I do? What can I do to earn money to support my family?!"

Fang Minghua listened in silence.

After a while, he asked again: "What happened later?"

"Later? Later, this matter was discovered, and he couldn't raise his head, so he left the children at home and took his wife to the south. I don't know what he did specifically."

Fang Mingjun said, and lit another cigarette, the smoke covered his face, and his expression at the moment could not be seen clearly.

After finishing the dishes and drinking a bottle of wine, they were ready to leave.

Before leaving, Fang Mingjun suddenly said, "Brother, you are going back to Xijing, and I am also going to leave Fengtian."

"Where are you going? To work in the south?"

"No, to Harbin, to Heihe. I heard that doing business with Russians there is profitable now, and I want to try it."

International trader!

"Do you need funds?" Fang Minghua asked softly.

"No, I still have some."

"Then you have to pay attention to safety."

"I know, brother, then when I can't make it one day, I will come to Xijing to join you." Fang Mingjun said half-jokingly and half-seriously.

"No problem." Fang Minghua agreed at once. "But I still wish you good fortune and become a rich man!"

The two broke up at the door of the small restaurant.

The next morning, Fang Minghua took a plane from Fengtian and flew directly to Xijing.

The sky was still gloomy, and looking down from the plane window, the whole city was also gray.

Fang Minghua felt that he had been to many places in Fengtian these days, and he should write something when he returned.

In this era, there are not many novels focusing on the Northeast, especially those about cities. The young writer Chi Zijian, who has risen in the literary world, also mainly writes about rural areas. Cities and the people living in these cities seem to be forgotten.

On the contrary, 20 or 30 years later, a group of young writers appeared on this land, especially in Liaoning Province, telling "a late story": "Northeast Past" in the 1990s.

It is not the story of the workers' generation but the story of their fathers told by the descendants of workers, such as Shuang Xuetao's "Master", "Rogue", "Guangming Hall", "Aviator", Ban Yu's "Xiaoyaoyou", "Panjin Leopard", "Susha", "Sky Road" and Zheng Zhi's "Xian Syndrome".

Of course, there are also movies "The Piano in a Factory" and TV series "The Long Season", which have not appeared in people's sight for more than 20 years.

Since no one is writing now, then write it yourself.

However, this time Fang Minghua suddenly did not plan to write a novel. He wanted to write a report literature.

Novels are fictional after all, but report literature is real.

Real cases, real data.

No need for embellishment or sensationalism, just present what you know exactly.

Back in Xijing, although it is still snowy and icy here, Hong Kong dramas are much warmer than Fengtian.

It is undoubtedly a pleasure to stay at home in this weather, drink tea and write something you like.

After Fang Minghua returned home, he immediately calmed down and devoted himself to writing.

Halfway through, Jia Pingwa came once and told Fang Minghua that "Wasteland" had been revised again, and after communicating with Su Bin, it was finally finalized and decided to be published.

"Minghua, I deleted some □□□□□□ (the author deleted × hundred × ten × words), and blurred some erotic descriptions. I went back and thought about it calmly, and I felt that you were right, and there was something wrong with my mentality."

Jia Pingwa was very frank.

Fang Minghua understood what he meant.

Because Jia Pingwa and his wife divorced.

Divorce is a double-edged sword, which is a blow to both husband and wife, which will inevitably affect the writer's mentality.

Seeing Jia Pingwa who was somewhat depressed, Fang Minghua felt like saying a few words of comfort, but of course he would not say anything: "It's okay, you can find another one."

He just smiled and patted Jia Pingwa on the shoulder, and said jokingly: "As the saying goes, if you fail in love, you will succeed in gambling. Of course, you don't gamble, but you will be very proud of your career! Wait for the good news after the publication!"

December passed like this,

A 60,000-word reportage "Do our workers still have strength? The ups and downs and confusion of a generation of workers" was released.

The article is divided into three parts, the first part: Breaking the "iron rice bowl": from the factory to the market

The second part: "Lazy man", "face-loving", "living on the minimum living allowance"? The re-employment dilemma of laid-off workers

The third part: Women and families under the dark clouds.