Back to 80: My Literary Life

This is how 2007 was spent.

Fang Le successfully graduated from Stanford University as an undergraduate, and then continued to study for a master's and doctoral degree. He said that he would try to get a diploma in five years, and then return to China to start a business.

Fang Minghua did not express his own opinion, and everything was up to him.

Fang Rui also graduated from the directing department of Yandian. She did not rely on her parents' status in the film and television industry as people in the circle said to make movies.

Instead, she entered Yanjing People's Art Theater and became a disciple of the famous director Gu Wei of the People's Art Theater. She honestly started from the most basic assistant director. It seems that she really wants to make drama her lifelong career.

Song Tangtang is still busy every day, leaving early and returning late.

Shengshi Film and Television has completed the layout of traditional film and television and theaters, and is now entering the online video. It is in contact with the Tudou team and is preparing to acquire it and become a subsidiary of Shengshi Film and Television.

Fang Minghua is concentrating on writing novels at home.

Time soon came to 2008.

This year is unforgettable for the Chinese people.

The Chinese people wiped away their tears and began to welcome the Olympics again, and the fireworks were particularly brilliant.

This summer and early autumn, Fang Minghua basically stayed in Xiangyugou Village, Fengyukou.

Three years ago, Fang Minghua bought a house from a local farmer, demolished it and rebuilt it, building a white-walled, blue-brick, red-roofed house with tiles, still in an L-shaped layout, with a living room, bedroom, study, bathroom and toilet.

The fence is still made of fences, and the fence is covered with morning glories.

He also asked someone to dig a well in the southeast corner of his yard and connect it to the water pipe. Of course, the septic tank, sewer system, and solar water heater on the roof are also indispensable.

Most of the yard has also been hardened with cement, and the original vegetable patch has become a small garden. Fang Minghua planted roses, chrysanthemums, peonies, etc., and the vegetable plot on the hillside behind the house was also used to plant garlic sprouts, onions, leeks, etc.

In summer, Xijing City is particularly hot and stuffy, but here it is particularly cool.

Song Tangtang usually works, and sometimes comes to spend the weekend with him. Of course, she will not forget to drive a lot of daily necessities.

Fang Minghua gets up at six o'clock every morning, washes up and jogs along the mountain village path, breathing the fresh air and feeling particularly cool.

He also makes his own meals, porridge steamed buns, sauerkraut noodles, oil-splashed noodles, and occasionally rice. Anyway, he is alone, so he doesn't care too much. Sometimes he is pulled by the secretary and the village head to their house to drink and eat meat. The wine is also ordinary, that is, very cheap Taibai wine, and Fang Minghua does not refuse.

He will go out at night, and most of the rest of the time is still spent on writing.

"The Romantic Generation" is not long, only more than 400,000 words, but Fang Minghua spent a full year and a half and revised it three times. It was finally completed today.

Sitting at the computer in the study, looking at the last paragraph of the novel, it is about two families who finally meet again in Xijing on New Year's Day of the millennium after their own ups and downs.

The youth of the past has gradually aged, but the two children have grown up and are in their prime. The two families sat in the living room, eating and drinking together, and it was lively.

The TV on the cabinet was playing a program, and a female announcer was saying in a passionate voice: "The first spring of the new century is coming to us."

In the living room and on TV, people's faces were filled with happy smiles.

Seeing the last paragraph, Fang Minghua sighed for a long time.

He finished writing.

He drank a sip of the slightly cold tea, took out his mobile phone and dialed a number. It was Xia Juanjuan.

"Xiao Xia, my novel is finished. I will send the electronic version to your email. You can serialize it under the banyan tree."

"Great!" Xia Juanjuan's happy voice came from the other end of the phone, and she asked again: "Are you serializing it in full?"

"Yes."

"What about President Su? Shengshi Books wants to publish your novel in full. If we serialize it in full." Xia Juanjuan's tone was a little worried.

According to the agreement reached between Under the Banyan Tree and Shengshi Books, the copyright of the physical books published by Shengshi Books belongs to Shengshi Books. However, Under the Banyan Tree can select some of the essence and publish it on the Under the Banyan Tree website. The total number of words cannot exceed one tenth of the novel, otherwise it will be infringement.

Fang Minghua smiled and said, "I will use this privilege once this time. Don't worry about it. I will tell Su Bin."

"OK!"

Fang Minghua hung up the phone, left the study and came to the yard.

It is now October in the golden autumn.

It is about five o'clock in the afternoon. The sun has set. The whole mountain village is very quiet. Occasionally, a few dogs bark. The small daisies by the yard have bloomed, dotted with stars, and look very beautiful.

Fang Minghua likes to stand in the yard and enjoy the scenery.

This reminds him of Meng Haoran's poem:

Open the window facing the field, drink wine and talk about mulberry and hemp.

Wait until the Double Ninth Festival, and come back to the chrysanthemums.

Please...collect_6Ⅰ9ⅠBookⅠBar (Six\\\\\\Nine\\\\\\Book\\\\\\Bar!)

It is autumn now, a good time to enjoy chrysanthemums.

At this time, the sound of cars driving from far to near broke the tranquility of the mountain village. Fang Minghua turned his head and saw a black Passat driving along the cement road from the mountain pass. The car soon arrived at the gate of his yard.

He saw the license plate number and recognized it. It was a car from the Provincial Writers Association.

So he went to open the gate, and the car drove into the yard. Three people got out of the car.

Chen Zhongshi, Lu Yao, Jia Pingwa.

"What are you doing? Come to play mahjong?"

Fang Minghua asked curiously.

Ever since Fang Minghua built this small courtyard in Xiangyugou Village, friends often come over to play on weekends, fish, play mahjong, eat and drink, and it has become a farmhouse.

Fang Minghua did not reject anyone who came.

However, he has a condition: "Visitors must cook by themselves. He will provide wine. The dishes at home are relatively simple. If you want to eat well, you can bring it from the city."

Naturally, the most people who came were friends from the Writers' Association.

So when he saw these three people arriving, Fang Minghua asked, but he felt a little strange. Today was not the weekend.

Lu Yao is just as idle as himself, but Chen Zhongshi and Jia Pingwa are still quite busy.

One is in charge of the Provincial Writers' Association, the other is the main leader of the Municipal Writers' Association, and there are a lot of part-time jobs, so they are very busy.

Unexpectedly, Jia Pingwa laughed after hearing this: "We are not playing mahjong today. A few of us came here specially to congratulate you. If we want to have a good time, we have a drink! You see, we have brought the food to go with the wine." ”

After saying that, Jia Pingwa asked the driver to open the trunk of the vehicle, put the cooked food and snacks they prepared in several plastic bags, and took them out to the kitchen.

Fang Minghua was very surprised when he heard this: "Congratulations to me for what? Birthday? We have agreed that neither of us will celebrate our birthday."

"Instead of celebrating your birthday, congratulations on winning this year's Nobel Prize for Literature!"