Traveling back to 1977

Chapter 528 No Award

A few wooden huts, with a few old-fashioned desks inside, some missing arms or legs, pieced together haphazardly, yet still quite sturdy.

A dozen or so people sat around a desk, making it difficult for them to even get up. The desk was piled high with documents and materials, scattered with a few pens, and there were two telephones in the middle.

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

Upon hearing Chen Fan knock on the door, several elderly people who were discussing work turned around together. The others glanced at him, wasted a few seconds admiring the young man's good looks, sighed inwardly, and then continued to bury themselves in their work.

Among the people who turned around, one of them adjusted his glasses and looked at Chen Fan, "There's a Writers' Association here. Which organization are you from? Who are you looking for?"

Besides the Writers Association, the Federation of Literary and Art Circles, the Dramatists Association, and other organizations also have offices here, so it truly deserves the title of "Comprehensive Office".

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

Before he could finish speaking, a man who was relatively young... but actually middle-aged, stood up, took his letter of introduction, glanced at it, then extended his right hand to him and smiled,

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

He turned to introduce them, "This is Zhang Xi, the secretary-general of the preparatory office; these are Zhou Yang and Zhang Guangnian, who are in charge of preparing for the reconstruction of the Writers' Association; this is Chen Huangmei, the director of the Institute of Literature of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences and the person in charge of the reconstruction of the Dramatists Association..."

Chen Fan shook hands with each of these bigwigs with utmost respect, including those outside the Writers' Association.

He is now quite well-known in the literary world. Almost anyone who enjoys reading literary magazines and has subscribed to "Jiangnan Literature and Art" knows him. And since this is the base camp for literary and artistic workers across the country, the emerging "Jiangnan Literature and Art" is naturally among the magazines that are subscribed to.

In other words, everyone here knows him and is very welcoming.

Chen Fan responded politely to each of them.

In retrospect, these people were both good and bad.

Regardless of public opinion, these people currently control the national arts and culture organizations, so it's essential to be respectful when greeting them.

Whether he wants to stay in the game or not, he can't afford to offend any of them, otherwise he'd be considered brain-dead.

After a long exchange of pleasantries, Director Lin led Chen Fan to a wooden chair on the side, poured him a glass of water, and then sat down himself. He smiled and said, "I heard from Mr. Ba Jin that you arrived in Beijing on the 10th. Have you been handling personal matters these past few days?"

Chen Fan took the enamel mug with both hands, blinked in surprise, and thought, "Mr. Ba Jin even specifically mentioned me?"
He nodded and smiled, "Yes, some elders went to visit them in Dashilan."

Zhang Guangnian had stopped working and was sitting in a chair. He turned to face him with a kind expression and asked, "Is this the elder who taught you writing?"

They had all read Chen Fan's information; his family was all gone, leaving him all alone. So they guessed that this elder was most likely a teacher or mentor.

Zhang Guangnian's pen name was Guang Weiran. He was a senior member of the organization, having joined in 29. He lost contact with the organization due to political struggles, but rejoined in 37.

He wrote the lyrics for "Flowers in May" and the poem set for "The Yellow River Cantata," so his academic achievements and professional standing are quite high.

In his later years, he focused his main energy on academic research while also nurturing young writers, which earned him a good reputation.

He was interested in this and really wanted to know who this great talent was who could have nurtured a student like Chen Fan.
Upon seeing that a powerful figure was speaking to him, Chen Fan quickly put down his teacup, sat up straight, and said, "No, he is an elder who taught me other areas of knowledge."

"Oh."

Zhang Guangnian responded, and when he heard that it wasn't related to literature, he didn't press the matter further, but instead asked, "Have you written any new books recently?"

Chen Fan said, "I'm currently writing a story about Yunhu Lake, but it's not finalized yet."

"Love in the Cloud Lake" has naturally been finished, but it hasn't been shown to He Qingsheng yet. How can it be shown to others first? What if he's petty?
Besides those who went back to their work, several others were also very interested in him.

Upon hearing this, Chen Huangmei said, "I heard from Ba Jin that Xia Yan wanted to adapt your 'The Ferryman,' which shows that your creative ability is quite good..."

Before he could finish speaking, Zhou Yang looked up, his face full of astonishment, "Isn't the author of 'The Ferryman' Chen Dong from Shanghai Literature and Art Publishing House?"

The others also looked at Chen Huangmei with curiosity.

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

"one?"

Everyone turned to look at Chen Fan.

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

Liu Xi also joined in the speculation, saying, "A Tomato suddenly appeared in Zhejiang Literature and Art magazine. His writing style is mature and unique, but there's always a sense of familiarity about him. Could it be related to you?"

Seeing Chen Fan's awkward smile, Zhang Guangnian knew everyone had guessed correctly. He immediately said with great interest, "We already have four provincial literary magazines published in Jiangnan, Beijing, Shanghai, and Zhejiang. I think there must be more. Let's guess which others are his pen names. We must find them all!"

Chen Fan readily begged for forgiveness, "These are all accumulated from previous years. I made some revisions before submitting them. I lacked confidence and thought I should cast a wide net to catch more fish, so I submitted to so many organizations. Please forgive me."

Zhang Guangnian laughed and said, "What's there to forgive? Submitting manuscripts is a matter of course; it's not like you can only submit to one publication. But you, you only submit to provincial journals. 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 unit directly under the Writers Association. You can submit any more good articles to it with confidence."

Many young people today love literature, but there is a severe shortage of talented writers. Whether it's People's Literature or other publications at all levels, they are all struggling to find sources of manuscripts.

He had been secretly marveling at the good fortune of "Jiangnan Literature" magazine, which had produced a talented individual right after its relaunch. Now that this talent was right in front of him, why not quickly invite articles for his unit?

Standing before the powerful figure, Chen Fan could only nod repeatedly, "Yes, yes, yes."

Then, I started thinking to myself, what kind of article can I submit?
But at that moment, what he wanted most was to run as fast as possible.

After chatting for a while, several of my alternate accounts were discovered. If I stay here any longer, what will happen?
Once the big shots stopped asking questions, he quickly got a letter of introduction from Director Lin and went to check into the nearby guesthouse.

Needless to say, the guesthouse belongs to someone else.

Forget about getting a single room or a VIP room here. Anyone who comes out here is probably older than you, whether in rank or age. It's best to just obey.

So we ended up in a double room with no toilet; we had to go outside.

As for bathing, you have to go to the bathhouse connected to the guesthouse. It seems to be a service specifically for the families of the Qiushi magazine staff. Guests of the guesthouse can also go there to bathe, but the cost is separate.

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

However, since we're already here, we might as well make the best of it and settle in for now. We can talk about the rest when He Qingsheng arrives tomorrow.

……

The next day, August 3th.

Chen Fan got up very early and went to see the flag-raising ceremony, which he had always wanted to see but never had time to do.

As dawn broke, two soldiers emerged from Tiananmen Square. One led the way, while the other carried the national flag. The group was small, but solemn.

Previously, there was only one flag raiser, named Hu Qijun. He was originally an ordinary electrician from the power supply department of Haizili. Later, he was also responsible for operating the small elevator in Tiananmen Square. He often ran into Mr. Li and his group, but he never told anyone. He was very tight-lipped. Later, when interviewed by reporters, he was particularly proud of himself.

On the eve of National Day in 51, his department head informed him that he would be the flag bearer starting the next day. From then on, he became a "professional flag bearer," but his daily work remained unchanged, and he did this for 26 years.

The flag-raising ceremony was held for the last time on May 1, 1977, after which two soldiers from the garrison took over the task.

These were the two people Chen Fan saw at that moment.

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

At that time, the flagpole base was surrounded by a white marble railing more than one meter high, with no gaps at all. So, to raise the flag, one had to climb in and out. It wasn't until the flagpole was replaced in 90 that an entrance and exit were added.

Chen Fan leaned on the railing and cheered them on. Two soldiers, about the same age as him, turned around and smiled when they heard him. One of them used the cover of the electrical distribution box next to the base to climb up the two-meter-high base.

Once he had chosen a good spot to stand, the other person handed him the national flag. The person above tied the flagpole to the rope, then jumped down, turned on the power switch, and raised the national flag.

Besides Chen Fan, many early-rising tourists also gathered to watch the flag-raising ceremony.

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

Several newly enrolled college students, in particular, stood tall and proud, their faces flushed with excitement, overflowing with pride.

The informal flag-raising ceremony only ended when the national flag reached the top, the rising sun shone on it, and everyone cheered.

Chen Fan watched as the two soldiers climbed over the fence, waved goodbye, and then turned to queue up at the memorial hall.

It was already 8:30 when he came out of the memorial hall. He thought for a moment, "Since we've come all this way, how can we not go and see Dashilan?"

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

The morning just flew by.

When he returned to the guesthouse at noon, he saw He Qingsheng and Secretary-General Xu Qizhen carrying bags as they entered.

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

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

They then continued with the procedures.

He Qingsheng turned to look at him and smiled, "You've met them, right? How did it feel?" Chen Fan walked up to him and said with a serious expression, "It felt great!"

He and Xu exchanged a glance and knew there was something wrong.

The check-in process was completed quickly. As expected, He Qingsheng and Chen Fan shared a room, while Xu Qizhen had another room. Her roommate was probably a female writer from another province.

She went back to her room to put down her luggage first, and then went to Chen Fan's room.

Inside the room, He Qingsheng took off his cotton-padded coat while asking Chen Fan, "Feeling good? How so?"

Chen Fan poured tea for the two of them, speaking in a local dialect, "Have you been there? I mean the Writers' Association office."

He Qingsheng shook his head. "No, we came directly from the train station. Today is the last day to register. Comrades from other provinces will also be coming. The meeting will officially start tomorrow."

Chen Fan walked over with a cup of tea and said with a smile, "I have seen it. The Federation of Literary and Art Circles, the Writers Association, the Dramatists Association... a whole bunch of organizations are crammed into a few wooden houses to work. They say they're going to rebuild, but how are they going to rebuild?"

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

"This is not a matter of whether it is difficult or not."

Chen Fan placed the two teacups on the coffee table beside the two people, took a step back and sat on the bed, and said with a smile, "To be honest, I went to see the Taoist Association the day before yesterday. Oh, I mean the Taoist Association. Although they live a bit hard, at least they have a proper building to live in."

At the time, I thought, "People have different fates, and their lives are incomparable to ours." But when I arrived yesterday to report for duty, well, it was even worse than theirs. There were only a few wooden shacks, and everyone was crammed into them to work.

The toilets and canteen had to be borrowed from other units; there was nothing else available.

He spread his hands, his smile growing increasingly strange. "In this state, they still called us here for a meeting? I still don't know where the meeting is? With the Writers' Association's resources, it shouldn't be like this, right?"

After Chen Fan finished speaking, He Qingsheng and Xu Qizhen exchanged a glance, both of them able to see the surprise in each other's eyes.

When the Jiangnan Provincial Writers Association branch was rebuilt, the province provided great support. Not only did it allocate a cultural guesthouse specifically for meetings, but it also vacated two small buildings for office use, so that it no longer needed to be squeezed together with the Jiangnan Literature and Art magazine.

Listen to what Chen Fan has to say. I never expected the conditions at the headquarters to be so bad.

After a while, a look of understanding flashed in He Qingsheng's eyes, clearly indicating that he had figured something out.

He picked up his teacup, blew on it twice, lowered his head, and said softly, "It's alright if the conditions are tough. We also went through tough times back then. Now we can at least have stable jobs. What more could we ask for?"

Chen Fan raised an eyebrow, blinked at him, and wondered about his attitude.

But since he was intelligent beyond the average person, a sudden inspiration struck him, and his eyes widened in astonishment.

Could they have done this on purpose?

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

Chen Fan chuckled and didn't say anything more.

Xu Qizhen glanced at the two of them, a thoughtful look in her eyes, "Is this some kind of strategy of biding their time?"

He Qingsheng chuckled twice and said to her, "Our magazine, Jiangnan Literature and Art, has a monthly circulation of about 50 copies, each priced at 0.45 yuan, with a monthly net income of about 5 yuan. The magazine keeps a portion of this money, and the rest is handed over to the Writers Association, including a share."

People's Literature has a much higher circulation and revenue than us. Their direct supervisory unit is the Writers Association. They want to rebuild the Writers Association, but they can't even afford to buy a house.
Even if it's inconvenient to use the magazine's money, aren't all the big writers in the association already quite wealthy? How much is a courtyard house worth? Didn't Zhao Shuli donate a large courtyard house to the Writers' Association for office space back then?!

"Everyone's been through tough times these past few years, and now nobody dares to step forward. Everyone's just sticking to their jobs. Is working in a few wooden shacks really worse than cleaning a livestock pen?"

Xu Qizhen immediately understood and said with a start, "We must obey whatever the leader arranges; we can't accept it!"

He Qingsheng shook his head and smiled, "Of course you can take it, but you can only take what your superiors give you. You can't make decisions on your own, and you shouldn't be the first to stick your neck out."

He turned to look at Chen Fan, his eyes filled with a complex expression. "Little Chen, you're young and haven't experienced many things, so you don't have a deep understanding of them. But you're very smart; I only said one sentence, and you understood the intricacies of the situation."

I won't say anything more. In short, it's okay to be a little flamboyant in Jiangnan Province, our own territory, as long as you don't make any major mistakes. I can cover for you.

But in the capital, you must always remember one word: 'caution'—extreme caution!

Chen Fan made a hand gesture and nodded solemnly, "Understood."

Then he thought of the large villa that he had already started construction on.

Buying this large courtyard house was both a coincidence and an inevitability. Having come all the way to Beijing, how many people could resist such an affordable courtyard house right next to Shichahai Lake?

Unlike others who like to buy courtyard houses, frankly speaking, he doesn't really like them.

While the historical value of the old courtyard is undeniable, it certainly wouldn't be as comfortable as a modern building if used for actual living.

Otherwise, why did the people living in the courtyards all want to "move upstairs" from the founding of the People's Republic of China until the early 90s?

The exorbitantly priced courtyard houses of later generations were built on "location" and "status," and they had all undergone infrastructure renovations; otherwise, living there would have been truly inconvenient.

So he never thought about buying a courtyard house. Even though he "coincidentally" bought a large courtyard this time, he wanted to build a comfortable modern villa, not a traditional courtyard house.

As for cultural significance and collectible value, I can always buy a large courtyard house for my collection when I have spare money in the future.

However, he knew that building a large villa would attract attention, so he cut off a small portion to build a garden-style complex that integrates offices and residences.

Putting everything else aside, once the cars from Yunhu Machinery Factory successfully roll off the production line, they will definitely open a Beijing office, which would be a good opportunity for them to set up shop here and provide cover for themselves.

When the environment becomes more open, we can ask them to leave. We can keep the building for ourselves, whether to open a company or use it as a private club to entertain friends.

But when he thought about what the Federation of Literary and Art Circles and the Writers Association had done, he suddenly felt that there were still some problems with their approach.

If the machinery factory's Beijing office opens here, with people coming and going, will my big villa still be able to hide it?
I'm afraid even more people will know this!

With a quick glance, Chen Fan had a new idea.

Starting today, I will not show my face anymore. As soon as the meeting here is over, I will rush back!

If anything happens at the house, let Master Zhang handle it. After all, he's a towering tree, and he'll be a perfect shelter for me, a junior.

Moreover, this "storm" was just his imagination. For a long time to come, apart from a brief "mind-clearing" session that lasted less than a month, nothing else happened.

Moreover, with his presence, people like Director Li would absolutely not dare to reveal it, thus enhancing the secrecy.

A few years later, in the 80s, a large amount of foreign capital will flood in, and high-rise buildings will be under construction. My own courtyard will be nothing compared to that. I guess no one will even glance at it.

Everyone's looking at the skyscrapers, who cares about these two small buildings anymore!
……

With representatives from several other provinces arriving, the Writers Association reconstruction discussion finally began the following day.

Chen Fan's premonition was correct.

The meeting was held in one of the wooden huts.

There weren't many representatives, only about ten people from five provinces. Chen Fan was the only young writer, and he attracted a lot of attention sitting in the room.

The meeting was chaired by Liu Xi, with prominent figures such as Zhou Yang, Mao Dun, and Ba Jin present to assist.

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

Chen Fan sat in the corner listening intently; at that moment, he felt as if he were participating in history.

As he had predicted, from now on, many of the functions of the Writers' Association will be handed over to the leadership, and its powers and responsibilities will be limited to "serving writers and serving literature" itself, with the most important role being to provide ideological guidance.

Chen Fan sat in the wooden shack, smoking and listening to the words pouring into his ears. Thinking about the Writers' Association later on, he couldn't help but feel a little emotional.

The older generation's cautiousness ultimately failed to be passed down, and the future of this organization is a long story.

Just as he was lost in thought, he suddenly heard a voice.

"Xiao Chen, as the young writer who has published the most articles and has the highest profile, what are your thoughts?"

Chen Fan snapped out of his reverie, racked his brain to recall their earlier conversation, and immediately coughed, saying, "I wouldn't call it an opinion. I haven't been involved in literary writing for very long, so I don't have much experience in this area. I can only offer some of my own humble opinions."

Regarding the cultivation of young literary talents, the seniors and leaders have already spoken extensively, in great detail and comprehensively. I would like to offer my own thoughts from my personal perspective.

Currently, my country does not have any awards specifically for encouraging literary creators…

Before the conversation had even ended, the previously quiet cabin suddenly became lively, as if a ladle of water had been poured into a frying pan.

Mao Dun: "This is a very good suggestion. At present, we do not have an authoritative literary award in China. I think it is very necessary to establish one."

Ba Jin said, "There is no such thing as a policy for young people or for all literary creators. I think it is necessary to establish one for both."

Zhang Guangnian said, "I agree with this suggestion. When the Writers Association is re-established, we will include this in the first batch of important tasks and report it to the higher authorities in a timely manner."

……

Chen Fan sat in the corner, watching the excited big shots, silently smoking, thinking to himself, "I haven't finished speaking yet, um, never mind."

(End of this chapter)