Back to 80: My Literary Life

"I also said a few words." Fang Minghua repeated the key points of his speech at that time.

After listening to this, Xi Chuan fell into silence.

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Today's poetry is no longer popular among the people as it was before, but has gradually become something for people in a small circle to entertain themselves.

Have you ever seen how many days we spent on university campuses reading aloud poems written by others and written by ourselves on the lawn or in the dormitory? Those good times have disappeared.

Today's college students watch movies and videos, play games, some play guitar and sing campus folk songs, and read martial arts novels. But these have nothing to do with poetry.

"To be honest, I have read some of the views of both of you. In fact, both have merits, but they also have their own problems. "Intellectual writing" places too much emphasis on dramatic expression, lacks cohesion, and is sometimes out of touch with social reality."

Although Nishikawa belongs to the "intellectual writing" school, Fang Minghua was not polite when speaking in front of him.

"Of course, "folk writing" has more problems. The colloquial writing that Yu Jian, Han Dong, and others have always advocated, in the end, it is just writing with saliva, writing with the lower body, and in the end, all the shit and shit come out!"

Xi Chuan did not dare to interrupt, but listened carefully.

"Originally I didn't want to say this, but Xichuan, since you are here and asked me to write something about poetry, then I will write something." Fang Minghua finally said.

Xichuan was immediately overjoyed.

Finally, Fang Minghua was invited to come out!

After chatting for a while, Xichuan was about to leave. Fang Minghua enthusiastically persuaded him to stay: "What's the rush? I won't leave until after dinner in the afternoon."

"No, Minghua, I'm still at the Academy of Fine Arts and have made an appointment with a few students to discuss ink painting." Nishikawa said with a smile.

"Oh, I forgot, you are still a painter." Fang Minghua said with a smile.

"You're joking, what kind of painter am I? It's just a personal hobby, just graffiti." Nishikawa was very humble.

Finally, Xi Chuan left, and Fang Minghua sent him outside.

Looking at his back, Fang Minghua suddenly remembered an interesting phenomenon.

In the literary world of this era, novel writers like to practice calligraphy and writing, and poets like to paint.

Bei Dao, Duoduo, Mang Ke, Ouyang Jianghe, Xichuan, and Xu Demin are relatively good at painting, and they even held art exhibitions.

Um.

I like to write, but I just want to do calligraphy exhibitions and sell calligraphy like Jia Pingwa.

After seeing off Xi Chuan, Fang Minghua was not in a hurry to go to the post office to mail the novel he wrote. Instead, he thought about the conversation he had just had with Xi Chuan.

Since you want to write, just write a good article.

Fang Minghua took a sip of the slightly cold tea and thought slowly.

"Wet clothes, apricot blossom rain"

The willow wind does not blow cold on my face."

Time flies to late March, and it is the time of beautiful spring in Xijing City.

In this kind of weather, it is very pleasant to go hiking in Cuihua Mountain, go fishing in Fenghe River, or even go a little further to see rapeseed flowers in the Tianhan area on the other side of the Qinling Mountains.

But during this period of time, Fang Minghua locked himself in his study, basically never leaving the door. He even declined several invitations from Jia Pingwa, Bai Miao and others to go fishing.

On Friday, Bai Miao called Fang Minghua and asked Fang Minghua to go fishing in the Feng River with Jia Pingwa in the morning, but he declined. The next day, only Jia Pingwa and him made the trip.

"Pingwa, Minghua, what are cats doing at home these days? Could they be surfing the Internet? I heard that surfing the Internet is addictive." Sitting on the bank of the river, Bai Miao looked at the fishing line floating in the water, and Jia Pingwa started chatting.

"Online? No, haven't you heard that he often complains that the current Internet speed is too slow, it's like a snail crawling?" Jia Pingwa took a puff from a cigarette and said slowly: "I guess he is writing something. "

"Huh? It's rare to see someone write an article so seriously that he doesn't even like fishing anymore." Bai Miao said with a smile, "When he finishes writing, I'm going to have a look and see if he can write another world-shattering masterpiece."

"We'll go take a look together then."

"Finally finished"

In the study room, Fang Minghua looked at the dense words on the screen, stood up, stretched, and rubbed his stiff neck.

Sure enough, time is not forgiving. After writing for a long time, my neck will feel uncomfortable first.

At this time, Song Tangtang opened the door and walked in. Seeing him like this, he said angrily: "Is your neck no longer uncomfortable? Sit down and I'll rub it for you."

After speaking, he came behind Fang Minghua and massaged his neck very skillfully.

"Wow, it feels so good." Fang Minghua closed his eyes slightly, almost moaning from the comfort.

"Tangtang, your massage technique is really good."

"Of course, I went to Dr. Chen Genhong to learn it." Song Tangtang sounded a little proud.

Chen Genhong is the founder of Chen's Traditional Chinese Medicine Bone-setting Physiotherapy Shop in Baihua, a northern suburb of Xijing. Her ancestral home is Jingyang County, Qin Province. When she was young, she learned the knowledge and skills of Traditional Chinese Medicine bone-setting from her father, which is a standard family tradition. Push-pull massage is very famous in Xijing, and many leaders come to him for massage.

Writers who are engaged in writing all have cervical spondylosis, and Fang Minghua is no exception. He went to get a massage several times. The effect was good, but there were too many people queuing up, and it was relatively far away in the northern suburbs.

Song Tangtang was introduced by a friend and took the time to study without hesitation, so that Fang Minghua could enjoy attentive service at home.

My wife is really kind to me.

"Minghua, have you finished writing? My sister-in-law said that when men turn thirty-five, their physical functions begin to decline. You can't always lie in front of the computer typing like you do now. You need to move frequently. I will accompany you after a while. Go play badminton, my sister-in-law said it is good for moving the cervical spine and shoulders!" Song Tangtang said while massaging.

"No, no." Fang Minghua refused: "Playing badminton with you? I'm asking for trouble."

There's no way. His wife not only likes dancing, but also has athletic talent. She's better at badminton and table tennis than him, and even better at snooker in the billiard hall. Fang Minghua feels inferior to her in this aspect.

"Then let's go out for a walk. We can't sit here all the time!" Song Tangtang said.

"Don't worry, I've finished writing. I don't plan to write anything in the near future. It's too tiring." Fang Minghao replied.

"Is it really finished?" Song Tangtang asked.

"Of course, a full 60,000 words! This is the longest piece of literary theory I've written."

"Wow, you wrote 60,000 words? That can be published as a book?" Song Tangtang was surprised.

She knew that Fang Minghua had been writing about poetry theory recently, saying that it was a commissioned article for "Tianya". She didn't expect it to be so long!

"What is it, let me see." After saying that, Song Tangtang picked up the mouse on the table.

"Hey, press it for a while, I'm not comfortable enough." Fang Minghua said quickly.

"I'll make you comfortable at night." Song Tangtang said casually, looking at the screen.

The title of the article soon appeared:

"Why is there so much trouble? - The debate between "civilians" and "intellectuals"