Reborn in 1977

Chapter 635: A Reminder

It was a rare visit, and with no other pressing matters, Chen Fan naturally wouldn't leave immediately.

So, after spending a leisurely half-month in Lujiawan, he changed locations and continued to relax.

This day, like any other, after secretly sneaking back in the morning and sending Jiang Lili, who was learning martial arts from him, out the door, Chen Fan ignored the cooling temperature.

He wore only a self-made, modified sleeveless short jacket and a pair of knee-length shorts, shuffled into slippers, and slowly went up to the third floor.

First, he poured a glass of red wine from the wine cabinet, then took out his treasured Laba Garlic from the top of the cabinet, filled a small dish to enjoy with the wine, and carried the wine glass and dish to the piano.

He opened the piano lid, sat on the piano stool, took a deep breath, and slowly played a short excerpt from "Roman Carnival Overture."

If it were before, this kind of piece definitely couldn't be played casually.

But who told Seiji Ozawa to include this symphony in his collaboration with the Central Philharmonic Orchestra?

It's been performed publicly on television, so why can't I play it?!

Chen Fan not only played it, but he played it with gusto.

After finishing that excerpt, he also played "Symphony No. 2 in D Major," "The Blue Danube Waltz," and "Symphony No. 9."

There were many piano scores on the bookshelf, mostly found in used bookstores, with a few new scores bought from bookstores.

Whether it was a new score or an old score, once he played it once, it would be imprinted in his mind, and he would never need to look at the score again.

This year, changes were happening in almost every aspect of society.

Things that people didn't dare to do before, they dared to do now; things that people didn't dare to say before, they dared to say now.

People had even started playing drinking games in restaurants, and besides the elderly practicing Tai Chi in the park, there were also many young people shaking their heads and dancing in broad daylight.

Disco entered the country for the first time and became popular among these young people.

Without dance halls, they would set up a tape recorder in the park and dance.

If they couldn't buy bell-bottoms and jeans, they would just grow their hair long without spending any money.

That hair wasn't taken care of either, and when it was tossed around, it looked like a monster.

Coupled with the wailing and roaring foreign rock music, it attracted frequent glances from the crowd, and parents with children could only helplessly pull their children, who couldn't move their feet, to take a detour.

Naturally, enthusiastic citizens couldn't help but report it to the neighborhood committee or even the police station, but after they came, they only dispersed the crowd, which was very different from last year.

Many literary and artistic units resumed their establishment and also frequently glanced at this phenomenon, wanting to say something but hesitating.

Forget it, let's just guard our own little territory first.

Moreover, on second thought, the fact that this kind of phenomenon could appear openly didn't it just show that thinking had been liberated?!

Even they were allowed to "perform" publicly, so what problems could our own little business have?

So the little bit of disgust in their hearts vanished, and instead, they looked forward to the dancing people being there every day.

Dancing was, after all, still a minority.

More people loved to study and yearned for progress.

There were more people reading in the library, and many young people, in order to grab a good seat by the window, didn't mind going out and fighting.

When they came back, the good seats had already been taken by others.

In the end, both the winners and losers could only sigh in disappointment and silently find a corner to squat and read.

On the street, SONY posted large advertisements on Nanjing Road, which actually became a tourist attraction for some people to take pictures.

(Street advertisements in 1978)

Some old Shanghai residents stood in front of the advertisements and, regardless of whether the people around them knew them, proudly told them stories about the past, "Back in the Republic of China, there were all kinds of advertisements everywhere; this kind wouldn't even rank."

Many young people had nothing to do, so they gathered around and listened to him brag.

Until a voice emerged from the back of the crowd, "You bad old man, are you missing the Republic of China?"

The old man was so frightened that his liver and gallbladder trembled, and his face turned pale. He immediately turned around and ran away.

Chen Fan had taken a few turns outside in the past two days and felt the changes in Shanghai in "early spring."

After that, he was too lazy to go out again.

Every day, he either played the piano or read, and when he was bored, he would type a few words on the computer, which could be regarded as realizing the life of lying flat that he had dreamed of before time-traveling.

He just had a little expectation in his heart: how much money could his first commercial work earn?

It couldn't be too little, mainly because he wouldn't have the motivation to continue writing.

Considering the earnest hopes he placed on it, he had to become a millionaire, right?

The unit of calculation, of course, had to be US dollars!

The thoughts in his mind wandered in all directions, without hindering his fingers from dancing lightly on the keyboard.

After playing "Für Elise" for a while, he finally stopped.

He picked up the red wine glass and took a sip, then picked up a clove of Laba Garlic and threw it into his mouth, stood up and wiped his hands with a towel, then turned around and picked up the violin on the shelf.

When he was about to go out, he saw the little suona on the other side.

Hmm, I'm in a good mood today, so let's go with that.

Putting the violin back, Chen Fan picked up the suona and went out, walking to the outdoor terrace.

As the saying goes, the sun rises in the east, and the suona is king.

Facing the 9 a.m. sun, Chen Fan swallowed the Laba Garlic in his mouth and gently bit the reed.

The next second, the high-pitched sound of the suona resounded through the heavens and the earth.

After playing only 30 seconds of "The Little Knife Society Suite," cheers such as "Yoshi," "What," and "Sanna" faintly came from a distance.

As a first-class Shanghai dialect player, Chen Fan could only sigh softly, take the suona and enter the house, muttering, "You have no musical cells at all."

He finished a glass of wine with Laba Garlic, and he was about to take it to the bathroom to wash it off when he suddenly turned his head to look at the door.

Light footsteps came from the stairwell.

A few seconds later, Jiang Tiantian walked in with a smile on her face, "You played very well just now, why did you stop?"

Chen Fan's expression didn't change, "I wasn't paid, so I won't play for them."

After a pause, he asked, "Why did you suddenly come back today? Is there something wrong?"

Jiang Tiantian glanced at the wine glass and dish on the piano, walked over and took them in her hand, turned around and walked to the bathroom, and said at the same time, "When I was at the publishing house today, I ran into Mr. Ba coming to inspect the work.

He asked what you were doing now, and I said that you came to Shanghai a few days ago..."

After washing the glass and dish, she wiped them clean with a dry cloth, walked out and said, "Mr. Ba said he had something to ask you, and asked me to tell you.

It's slow to call, and the distance isn't far, so I came over to call you."

Putting the cup and dish away, Jiang Tiantian turned to look at him and smiled, "Fortunately, you didn't go out today, otherwise I would have to wait until tomorrow."

Chen Fan curled his lips, "There's nothing good to see when I'm alone."

Then he asked, "Did Mr. Ba say what it was about?"

Jiang Tiantian shook her head, "No, but I think he doesn't seem to be anything important.

If it was important, he would have come to me long ago."

Chen Fan snapped his fingers and walked down, "I'll change my clothes and go over."

A few minutes later, he changed his short clothes into long clothes and trousers, and to avoid being so prominent, he added a thin jacket on the outside.

Then he drove the car, took Jiang Tiantian with him, and went to the Writers Association.

When getting out of the car, Chen Fan looked at her and asked, "Do you want to come with me?"

Jiang Tiantian thought for a while and shook her head gently, "Forget it, Mr. Ba has something to ask you, it's not good for me to go over."

Chen Fan didn't care, and while walking towards the office building, he said, "Old An said he wanted to learn to drive last time, do you know if he learned it?"

Jiang Tiantian followed beside him, shaking her head, "Usually, Ying-jie and Lili communicate more, so Lili might know. I'm not too clear."

They had all stayed in Lujiawan. Yu Keying and An Quan even lived at Chen Fan's house for two months, so naturally, they were more familiar with Jiang Lili. They really didn't have much to say to Jiang Tiantian; they were just barely acquaintances.

After hearing this, Chen Fan didn't say anything more.

He was still thinking that if An Quan's side had the means, he could ask him to help send both sisters over to learn to drive. Since she didn't know, forget about it.

Moreover, now that Old Ba was looking for him, perhaps it was to give him some work. Finding an opportunity from this side would also be a good choice.

Entering the office building, Jiang Tiantian went straight to the Literary Publishing House to continue learning how to run a magazine well.

Chen Fan went directly upstairs.

Reaching Old Ba's office, he gently knocked on the door. A voice from inside said, "Come in," and he pushed the door open.

Old Ba was working at his desk. He looked up and saw it was him, immediately putting the documents aside, standing up, and pointing to the sofa next to him, saying, "I've figured it out. You kid only visits when you have an agenda. You've been in Shanghai for over a week this time, and you didn't even think to come see this old man."

Chen Fan picked up the kettle to pour water for himself, also filling Old Ba's cup, and said with a smile, "I know you're busy. Day in and day out, from morning till night, you don't even have a Sunday off. How would I dare come and waste your time?"

Old Ba sat down on the sofa, tossed a pack of cigarettes onto the coffee table, "Help yourself."

Then, he picked up his pipe, lit it, looked at him, and said, "I heard from Old He that you're like a donkey, leading you doesn't work, and hitting you makes you go backward. You have to dangle a carrot in front of you to get you to work hard.

What's up? Now that you're successful, selling a combined 700,000 to 800,000 copies of 'Yunhu Love' and 'Shanghai Spy Shadow' domestically, and receiving high royalties from the Japanese side overseas, are you planning to lie flat?"

Lying flat was something he had heard from Chen Fan, which he found very descriptive, so he said it naturally. He even planned to use it in his articles.

There were several similar words, such as 'involution,' 'handsome,' 'backpacker,' etc. Basically, they didn't need explanation; you understood them as soon as you heard them, which made him marvel at how quick-witted young people were, actually creating new words.

Chen Fan took out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and before he could light it, he immediately cried out in distress, "How could I be? Creating is very difficult, okay? You know, many writers spend more than ten years on a book, and the short ones also take two or three years. Every work is carefully polished.

Look at me, how many books have I written this year? And you call that lying flat? There's no one more diligent than me, okay?"

After a pause, he took out a lighter, lit the cigarette, and continued, "Last time, didn't I tell you that the previous stockpile had been used up, so I would interrupt contributions to most magazines? Except for Jiangnan Literature and Shanghai Literature, I only submit one article every few months to the others.

Even so, I still have a headache. I really don't have that much to write, and I can't just make things up..."

Old Ba leaned back on the sofa, glancing at him, "Making up, keep making up."

Chen Fan looked speechless, "How am I making it up?"

Old Ba snorted twice, stood up, walked behind his desk, found a newspaper from a pile of materials, walked over, and threw it in front of him, then returned to the sofa and sat down, "Don't tell me you didn't write this novel."

Chen Fan picked it up and saw that it was the New York Times published a few days ago.

The mainland naturally didn't have overseas newspapers and magazines distributed, but there were specialists who collected authoritative newspapers and magazines with a certain influence and then regularly transported them back through Hong Kong. But it wasn't made public, only circulated within a small circle, as a window to understand the outside world.

This kind of thing had never stopped, even in torrential rain.

There was a need to understand the world.

Old Ba looked at him and said, "Last time, you gave me an outline to look at, and as a result, your book was published in the United States in just a few days. Don't argue; you acted first and reported later.

I'm telling you, no one will say anything if you write some leisure books, but don't lose the right path. Does your teacher know that you haven't written serious literature for a long time because you're writing leisure books?"

Calculating the time, excluding the perfunctory short stories, the most recent full-length novel was "Shanghai Spy Shadow," and that could also be considered a popular novel, so he hadn't written a full-length serious literary work for nearly half a year.

No wonder Old Ba called him over.

However, if it was just this, it wouldn't be so strict, right?

Chen Fan looked at him, then at the report in the newspaper.

"The Legend of the Dragon Knight" (renamed to avoid misunderstandings, although Dragon Knight is also easy to cause misunderstandings) This new book, I believe many people are familiar with it, although it has only been on the market for a week, its sales are breaking records every day.

From the enthusiastic recommendations of dozens of bookstore owners on Fourth Avenue in Manhattan at the beginning to the word-of-mouth of all readers, in one week, this book has set a sales record of more than 300,000 copies.

From the first day of its release, what limited this book was never publicity or anything else, but the printing speed of the printing factory.

Experts predict that given that ninety-nine percent of readers have expressed the desire to collect it, which greatly reduces the speed and proportion of circulation, its sales are very likely to create a new record.

And Versailles Augustus, this new author who has never appeared, has become the new darling of the media. Countless newspapers and television stations have sent invitations to the previously unknown Meihua Publishing House, but all have been rejected. Augustus's identity has become a mystery..."

Seeing the sales figure of 300,000 copies, Chen Fan couldn't help but grin.

He quickly scanned the rest, and basically, there was no need to read the rest.

He rolled up the newspaper and stuffed it into his pocket under Old Ba's glare, "I'll take it back to study and have Tiantian bring it back to you tomorrow."

Then he coughed and asked curiously, "This report doesn't have my name on it. How did you know I wrote it?"

Old Ba said with a dark face, "Your uncle's publishing house, and the story's plot is exactly the same as the outline you wrote before. With such obvious problems, if I still couldn't guess, would you think I'm stupid?"

Chen Fan moved his butt closer to him, grinning, "Who would dare say you're stupid? That would be really stupid."

After a pause, he added, "But, Old Ba, this matter isn't a big problem, right? Why do you seem so serious?"

Old Ba stared at him intently, then suddenly laughed, "You kid, I really can't scare you."

Chen Fan patted his chest, looking like a scared little boy, "So you were scaring me. Scaring people can scare them to death."

Old Ba waved his hand with a smile, "Chen boy, I called you here today to give you a reminder. Your work is causing such a big impact in the United States; your identity will be exposed sooner or later. You can't hide it.

You need to be mentally prepared. In the future, there will definitely be some foreign exchange activities that you need to participate in. When that time comes, don't be like before, making excuses and pushing back. You should change your lazy nature, and you still need to take on the responsibilities that you should shoulder."