Reborn in 1977

Chapter 528: No Award

Several wooden houses contained a few old-fashioned desks, some missing legs or arms, pieced together but still sturdy.

More than a dozen people sat around the desks, making it difficult to even stand up. The desks were piled high with documents and scattered with pens, with two telephones in the middle.

This was the office of the Federation of Literary and Art Circles and the Writers Association.

Hearing Chen Fan's knock, several elderly people who were discussing work turned around together, while others glanced over, wasting a few seconds on the young man's good looks. After a silent exclamation, they continued to bury themselves in their work.

Among those who turned around, one adjusted his glasses and looked at Chen Fan, "This is the Writers Association. Which unit are you from and who are you looking for?"

Besides the Writers Association, the Federation of Literary and Art Circles, the Dramatists Association, and other units all worked here, making it a truly 'comprehensive office'.

Chen Fan placed his suitcase at the door and carefully held his letter of introduction as he stepped forward, "Hello, I am Chen Fan from the Jiangnan Writers Association..."

Before he could finish speaking, a relatively younger… actually middle-aged male comrade stood up, took his letter of introduction, looked at it, and then extended his right hand to him, smiling,

"Hello, hello. We received Comrade He Qingsheng's telegram a long time ago, knowing you were coming. We've been waiting for you for several days. Today we finally meet you in person. My surname is Lin. I am the director of the Asia-Africa Division of the Foreign Liaison Department, and I am also assisting with some overall coordination work."

As he spoke, he turned to introduce him, "This is Secretary-General Zhang Xi of the Preparatory Office, these are Zhou Yang and Zhang Guangnian, who are responsible for preparing for the reconstruction of the Writers Association, this is Chen Huangmei, the director of the Institute of Literature of the Academy of Social Sciences and the person in charge of the reconstruction of the Dramatists Association…"

Chen Fan respectfully shook hands with these big shots one by one, including those outside the Writers Association.

Nowadays, he was considered a somewhat famous figure in the literary world. Anyone who liked to read literary magazines or subscribed to 'Jiangnan Literature' almost certainly knew him. And this was the headquarters of national literary and art workers, so their subscriptions would certainly include the up-and-coming 'Jiangnan Literature'.

In other words, everyone here recognized him and was very enthusiastic.

Chen Fan also politely responded to each of them.

Looking at it from the perspective of later generations, these people were a mixed bag of good and bad.

But regardless of their reputation, the national literary and art circles were currently in the hands of these people. Greeting them with a respectful attitude was essential.

Whether he wanted to get ahead or not, he couldn't afford to offend any of them, otherwise, he would be a fool.

After a round of greetings, Director Lin led Chen Fan to a wooden chair on the side, poured him a glass of water, and after sitting down himself, said with a smile, "I heard from Mr. Ba Jin that you came to the capital on the 10th. Have you been taking care of personal matters these past few days?"

Chen Fan took the enamel mug with both hands and blinked in surprise. Mr. Ba Jin had specifically mentioned him?

At the same time, he nodded and smiled, "Yes, I have some elders in Dashilar, so I went to visit them."

Zhang Guangnian, who had stopped working at this point, sat on his chair and turned to face him, his expression kind, and asked, "Are these the elders who taught you how to write?"

They had all seen Chen Fan's file. His family was gone, leaving only him, so they guessed that these elders were likely teachers.

Zhang Guangnian's pen name was Guang Weiran. He was a veteran, having joined the organization in '29, later losing contact due to struggles, and rejoining in '37.

He was the lyricist of 'May Flowers' and the composer of the poetry for the 'Yellow River Cantata', so his academic achievements and industry status were quite high.

In his later years, he focused his main energy on academic research, while also cultivating young writers, and his reputation was good.

Since his mind was on this aspect, he was very eager to meet and get to know just which great talent could have cultivated a student like Chen Fan.

Seeing that a big shot was talking to him, Chen Fan quickly put down his teacup, sat upright, and said, "No, they are elders who taught me knowledge in other areas."

"Oh."

Zhang Guangnian responded. Hearing that it wasn't in the field of literature, he stopped asking and instead asked, "Have you been working on any new books recently?"

Chen Fan, "I am writing a story about Yunhu, but it is not yet finalized."

'Yunhu Love' had naturally already been written, but he hadn't shown it to He Qingsheng yet, so how could he take it out and show it to others first? What if he was petty?

In addition to those who were burying themselves in their work again, there were also several others who were very interested in him.

Chen Huangmei said upon hearing this, "I heard from Ba Jin that Xia Yan wanted your 'Ferryman' for adaptation, which shows that your creative ability is very good…"

Before he could finish speaking, Zhou Yang raised his head, his face full of astonishment, "Isn't the author of 'Ferryman' Chen Dong from Shanghai Literature?"

The others also looked at Chen Huangmei curiously.

Chen Huangmei laughed and pointed to Chen Fan, "Chen Dong is one of his pen names."

"One of?"

Everyone looked at Chen Fan in unison.

One of them suddenly said, "Let me guess, is Potato from 'BJ Literature' you?"

Liu Xi also joined in the guessing, "A Tomato suddenly appeared in 'Zhejiang Literature', with mature and unique writing, but there is always a three-point familiarity. Could it be related to you?"

Seeing Chen Fan's embarrassed face, Zhang Guangnian knew that everyone had guessed correctly, and immediately said with great interest, "Counting, there are already four provincial literary magazines: Jiangnan, BJ, Shanghai, and Zhejiang. I think there should be more than these. Everyone might as well guess again, which other ones are his pen names. Be sure to dig them all out for him!"

Chen Fan decisively begged for mercy, "They are all accumulated from previous years. Later, I made some revisions and submitted them. I didn't have confidence either, so I thought of casting a wide net to catch more fish, so I submitted to so many units. Please forgive me."

Zhang Guangnian laughed and said, "What is there to forgive? Writing and submitting books is a matter of course. It's not like you can only submit to one. But you, you only submit to provincial publications. Why don't you submit to 'People's Literature'?"

Chen Huangmei also smiled and said, "I really like the stories you create. 'People's Literature' is a direct unit of the Writers Association. If you have good articles, you can feel free to submit them."

Nowadays, many young people like literature, but good literary creators are in short supply. Whether it is 'People's Literature' or other publications at all levels, they are all worried about the source of manuscripts.

Before, he was secretly sighing at 'Jiangnan Literature's' good luck, that a talent had emerged as soon as it was re-published. Now that this talent was delivered to him, wouldn't he quickly invite manuscripts for his unit? !

In front of the big shots, Chen Fan could only nod repeatedly, "Yes, yes, yes."

Then he wondered in his heart what article he could hand in to get by?

However, what he wanted most at this time was to run away quickly.

After chatting for a while and being dug up with several aliases, what would happen if he stayed any longer?

When the big shots stopped asking questions, he quickly found Director Lin to get a letter of introduction and ran to the nearby guesthouse to check in.

Needless to say, the guesthouse also belonged to them.

Don't even think about staying in a single room or a cadre room here. Anyone who comes out casually may be older than him, whether in rank or age. It's better to obey obediently.

So he moved into a double room without even a toilet. He could only go outside.

As for taking a bath, he had to go to the bathhouse connected to the guesthouse, which seemed to be specially for the families of 'Seeking Truth' magazine. Guests of the guesthouse could also go there to wash, but the cost was calculated separately.

In short, the situation was far from what Chen Fan had imagined.

However, since he was here, he should settle down first and talk about the rest when He Qingsheng arrived tomorrow.

…

The next day, March 14th.

Chen Fan got up early and went to see the flag-raising ceremony that he had always been thinking about but never had time to see.

Just as the sky was faintly bright, two soldiers walked out of Tiananmen Square, one leading the way and the other carrying the national flag. There were few people, but it was solemn.

In the past, there was only one flag-raiser, named Hu Qijun, who was an ordinary electrician in the power supply department of Haizi. Later, he was also responsible for driving the small elevator in Tiananmen Square. He often met Mr. Li and the others, but he didn't tell anyone. He was very tight-lipped. The reporter was particularly proud when he interviewed him later.

The day before the National Day in '51, the head of the department notified him that he would be the flag-raiser from the next day. From then on, he became a 'professional flag-raiser', but his usual work remained unchanged. This lasted for 26 years.

Until his last flag-raising on May 1, '77, after which two soldiers from the garrison unit took on the task of raising the flag.

These were the two people Chen Fan saw at this time.

One led the way and the other carried the flag. When they reached the flagpole railing, one climbed over first, and the other handed him the flag before climbing in himself.

At this time, the flagpole base still had a one-meter-high white marble railing, surrounded on all sides, without any gaps, so to raise the flag, they had to climb in and out. It was not until the flagpole was replaced in '90 that an entrance and exit were added.

Chen Fan leaned on the railing and cheered them on. The two soldiers were about the same age as him. Hearing the sound, they turned their heads and smiled. One stepped on the power distribution box cover next to the base and climbed onto the two-meter-high base.

After he chose a standing point and stood firm, the other handed the national flag up. The one above tied the flagpole to the rope, then jumped down and turned on the power switch to raise the national flag.

During the flag-raising, in addition to Chen Fan, there were many early-rising tourists watching.

Without anyone starting it, at the moment when the national flag was raised, everyone consciously stood at attention and sang the national anthem.

Especially several newly reported college students, holding their heads high and chests out, were so excited that their faces were red, and their sense of pride overflowed.

Until the national flag was raised to the top, the rising sun shone on the flag, and everyone let out a burst of cheers, and this informal flag-raising ceremony ended.

Chen Fan watched the two soldiers climb out of the railing, waved goodbye, and then turned to the memorial hall to queue up.

When he came out of the memorial hall, it was already 8:30. He thought about it, he had come here, could he not go to Dashilar to see?

So he went to the market again to buy some vegetables and ran to his master's house to cook a meal.

The morning passed just like that.

When he returned to the guesthouse at noon, he happened to see He Qingsheng and Secretary-General Xu Qizhen entering the door with their bags.

Chen Fan hurried over, "Chairman He, Secretary-General Xu, you're finally here."

Xu Qizhen smiled and greeted him, "Just call me Sister Xu."

Then he continued to go through the formalities.

He Qingsheng turned to look at him and said with a smile, "Have you met them? How do you feel?"

Chen Fan walked up to him and said with a serious face, "I feel very good!"

He and Xu looked at each other, knowing that there was a problem.

The check-in procedures were quickly completed. Unsurprisingly, He Qingsheng and Chen Fan were assigned to the same room, while Xu Qizhen had a separate room. Her roommate was likely a female cadre from the writers' association of another province.

She went back to her room to drop off her luggage and immediately went to Chen Fan's room.

Inside the room, He Qingsheng was taking off his cotton-padded coat while asking Chen Fan, "You feel it's good? In what way is it good?"

Chen Fan, carrying a kettle, poured tea for both of them, speaking in a local dialect, "Have you guys been to see it? I mean the writers' association office."

He Qingsheng shook his head. "No, we came straight here from the train station. Today is the last day for registration. Comrades from other provinces will also be arriving. The meeting will officially start tomorrow."

Chen Fan walked over with the tea, smiling, "I did see it. The Federation of Literary and Art Circles, the writers' association, the drama association... a whole bunch of organizations are crammed into a few wooden shacks for their offices. They say they want to rebuild, but how can they rebuild like this?"

He Qingsheng frowned slightly, a thoughtful look in his eyes. After several seconds, he asked, "Are the conditions very difficult?"

"It's not about whether it's difficult or not."

Chen Fan placed the two teacups on the coffee table within reach of the two men, took a step back, and sat on the bed, smiling, "To say something that might be a mistake, the day before yesterday, I even took a look at the Taoist Association. Oh, that's the Taoist Association. Although their lives are a bit hard, at least they have a proper building to call home.

At the time, I was thinking, 'Same people, different fates.' Their lives can't compare to ours. But when I came to register yesterday, good heavens, it turned out to be even worse than them! Just a few wooden shacks, everyone crammed inside to work.

The toilets and cafeteria have to be borrowed from other organizations, and there's nothing else.

"As he spoke, he spread out his hands, his smile becoming even more peculiar. "In this state, they're still calling us here for a meeting. I still don't know where the meeting will be held. Given the writers' association's conditions, it shouldn't be this bad, right?"

After Chen Fan finished speaking, He Qingsheng and Xu Qizhen exchanged glances, both seeing the surprise in each other's eyes.

When the Jiangnan Province Writers' Association branch was re-established, the province gave a lot of support, not only providing the cultural guesthouse specifically for meetings, but also allocating two small buildings for office space, so they no longer had to squeeze together with the 'Jiangnan Literature' magazine.

Listening to what Chen Fan said, they hadn't expected the general association's conditions to be so poor?

After a while, a look of understanding flashed in He Qingsheng's eyes, clearly having figured something out.

He picked up the teacup, blew on it twice, and said softly with his head lowered, "If the conditions are a little difficult, then they're a little difficult. We came from difficult times back then. Now we can at least work steadily. What more could we ask for?"

Chen Fan raised his eyebrows slightly, looking at him and blinking, wondering about his attitude.

But after all, he had intelligence exceeding ordinary people. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck him, and his eyes widened.

Could they be doing this on purpose?

He Qingsheng looked up and happened to see Chen Fan's expression. He couldn't help but secretly praise him, then smiled and said, "It seems you've figured it out."

Chen Fan chuckled and didn't say anything more.

Xu Qizhen looked at the two of them, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "Is the general association biding its time?"

He Qingsheng chuckled twice and said to her, "Our 'Jiangnan Literature' magazine currently has a monthly circulation of about 500,000 copies, priced at 0.45 yuan per copy, with a net monthly income of about 50,000 yuan. The magazine keeps some of this money, and the rest has to be handed over, including a portion for the writers' association.

"'People's Literature' has a much higher circulation and revenue than us. Their direct leadership unit is the writers' association. Can't they come up with the money to buy a building to rebuild the writers' association?

Even if it's inconvenient to use the magazine's money, aren't the big writers in the general association all wealthy? How much is a courtyard worth? Didn't Zhao Shuli donate a large courtyard to the writers' association for office space back then?!

"It's just that everyone has had a hard time in recent years, and now no one dares to stand out. Everyone just works honestly, and that's it. As for working in a few wooden shacks, isn't that better than cleaning in a livestock shed?"

Xu Qizhen immediately understood, saying with realization, "We must obey whatever the leaders arrange!"

He Qingsheng shook his head and smiled. "Of course we can take what's offered, but we can only take what the higher-ups give us. We can't act on our own initiative, and we especially shouldn't be a bird that sticks its head out."

He turned to look at Chen Fan, his expression a little complicated. "Little Chen, you're young and haven't experienced many things, so you don't feel it deeply. But you're very smart. I only said one sentence, and you understood the implications.

"I won't say anything more. In short, in Jiangnan Province, in our own territory, it doesn't matter if you're a little flamboyant, as long as you don't make any major mistakes of principle, I can still cover for you.

"But in the capital, you must remember one word: 'caution,' be extremely cautious!"

Chen Fan made a gesture, nodding with a serious expression. "Understood."

Then he thought of the large villa he had already started constructing.

Buying this large courtyard was both a coincidence and inevitable. Having come to the capital, seeing such a cheap courtyard next to Shichahai, how many people could resist the temptation?

Unlike others who liked to buy siheyuan courtyards, frankly speaking, he didn't particularly like them.

The historical value of the old courtyards is undoubtedly beyond question, but if you really live in them, they are definitely not as comfortable as modern buildings.

Otherwise, why would the common people living in the large courtyards from the founding of the country until the early 1990s all want to "move upstairs"?

Those sky-high-priced siheyuan courtyards of later generations are all about "location" and "status," and they have all undergone infrastructure upgrades, otherwise, living in them is really inconvenient.

So he had never thought about buying a siheyuan courtyard. Even if he "coincidentally" bought a large courtyard this time, he was thinking of building a comfortable modern villa, not creating an antique courtyard.

As for cultural heritage and collection value, he could always buy a large siheyuan courtyard for collection later when he had spare money.

However, he also knew that building a large villa would be a bit eye-catching, so he cut off a small half and built a garden-style complex integrating office and accommodation.

Not to mention anything else, when the Yunhu Machinery Factory's cars were successfully launched, they would definitely have to open a representative office in the capital, which could be stationed here to provide cover for him.

When the environment became more open in the future, he could ask them to leave, and the building could be kept for his own use, to open a company or to be a private club for entertaining friends.

But now, thinking about the practices of the Federation of Literary and Art Circles and the Writers' Association, he suddenly felt that doing so was still a bit problematic.

If the Machinery Factory's representative office in the capital was opened here, and people came and went, could his big villa still be hidden?

I'm afraid even more people would know!

But with a turn of his eyes, Chen Fan had a new idea.

From today onwards, he would not show his face. Once the meeting here was over, he would run back!

If anything happened to the house, he would let Master Zhang handle it. Anyway, the old man was a towering tree, just right to shield his junior from the wind and rain.

Moreover, this "wind and rain" was just his imagination. For a long time to come, except for a brief "cleaning up" activity that lasted for less than a month, nothing else happened.

And with the old man coming forward, people like Director Li would definitely not dare to say anything, which would make the confidentiality stronger.

After a few more years, when a large amount of foreign capital poured in in the 1980s, and high-rise buildings were under construction, his courtyard would be nothing, and probably no one would even look at it.

Everyone would be looking at skyscrapers, who would care about two small buildings!

......

As the representatives from the other provinces arrived, the Writers' Association's reconstruction discussion finally began the next day.

Chen Fan's premonition was correct.

The meeting place was in one of the wooden shacks.

There were not many representatives, only a dozen people from five provinces. Chen Fan was the only young writer, and he was very noticeable sitting in the room.

The meeting was presided over by Liu Xi, with Zhou Yang, Mao Dun, Ba Jin and other big shots assisting from the side.

In the smoke from the burning cigarettes, the relevant regulations were discussed and passed one by one......

Chen Fan listened attentively in the corner. At this moment, he had a feeling of participating in history.

Much like he anticipated, from now on, many of the Writers' Association's functions would be handed over to the leading unit, and its powers and responsibilities would be limited to "serving writers and serving literature" itself, with the most important role being to provide ideological guidance.

Chen Fan sat in this wooden shack smoking a cigarette, listening to the words pouring into his ears, and thinking of the Writers' Association in later generations, he couldn't help but feel some emotion.

The prudence of the older generation was not passed down after all. The future of this organization is hard to describe in a word.

Just as he was distracted, he suddenly heard a voice.

"Little Chen, come and tell us, as the young writer who currently publishes the most articles and has the highest popularity, talk about your opinion."

Chen Fan came back to his senses, searched his mind for their previous topic, and immediately coughed and said, "I can't really call it an opinion. I haven't been engaged in literary writing for long, and I don't have much experience in this area. I can only say a little of my own shallow views.

"On the cultivation of young literary talents, the seniors and leaders have talked a lot just now, very carefully and comprehensively. From my personal point of view, let me put forward an idea.

"That is, our country does not yet have a special award to encourage literary creators......"

The words only got this far, and the quiet little wooden house was like a spoonful of water falling into a hot oil pan, suddenly becoming lively with a whoosh.

Mao Dun, "This suggestion is very good. We don't really have an authoritative literary award in China, and I think it's necessary to establish one."

Ba Jin, "It's not just for young people, there isn't one for all literary creators either. I think it's necessary to establish both."

Zhang Guangnian, "I agree with this suggestion. When the Writers' Association is rebuilt, this should be included in the first batch of important work and reported to the higher authorities in a timely manner."

......

Chen Fan sat in the corner, watching the excited big shots, silently smoking a cigarette, thinking, I haven't finished speaking yet, um, forget it.