1978 Synthetic Writers

Chapter 80 Sudden Progress

Humanities Society.

"Big Feng!"

Jiang Xian knocked on the door of No. 216 in the back building and pushed it open.

Feng Jicai huddled on the bed, looking listless, pale and exhausted. When he heard Jiang Xian's call, he raised his head listlessly and greeted him weakly.

"What's wrong? Are you sick?"

"I'm not sick, I'm just tired from revising the manuscript." Feng Jicai held his waist and sat up, instinctively taking the cigarette box from the table.

"It's like this now, smoke two less cigarettes."

Jiang Xian snatched it and put it in his pocket. "How do you feel now? Dizzy and tinnitus?"

"Ah."

"Five hearts are hot, damp and sweaty?"

Feng Jicai was surprised, "How did you know?"

"You have kidney deficiency."

"You are the one who has kidney deficiency!"

"The most typical symptom of kidney deficiency is a hard mouth."

Doctor Jiang patted her shoulder and said, "In your case, drink more wolfberries. I'll give you a whole bottle of tiger bone wine later."

After visiting Da Feng, Jiang Xian returned to People's Literature.

The whole community was in a joyous mood, as if some happy event had happened.

Wang Fu was very happy when he saw him. "Jiang Xian, I have good news to share with you. With the current trend, there is a good chance that the 9th issue of People's Literature will be reprinted!"

Why is it called hope?

Because the circulation of each issue of "People's Literature" reached an astonishing one million.

That’s right, the number of one million is a huge sum for Capital Literature and Art, but just a drop in the bucket for People’s Literature.

The last time the feat of breaking one million was achieved in the fifth issue of "Director Qiao's Taking Office" in the first half of the year.

"I wonder if Furong Town can also become popular across the country after Director Qiao becomes famous all over the country!" Editor Wang Fu thought excitedly.

On the campus of the Medical University, Zhu Lin had lunch and returned to the large dormitory to rest.

"Why don't you take a nap? What are you looking at?" Zhu Lin took off her sandals, lay on the bed sideways, rubbed her calves, and looked at Fang Zhaodi on the bed opposite.

Fang Zhaodi held up the magazine on the pillow. "It's a newly published novel, a new work by the writer Jiang Xian."

Seeing the words "People's Literature" clearly written on the cover, Zhu Lin immediately guessed: "Furong Town?"

"Well, it's only the first issue now, and it's really well written." Fang Zhaodi introduced, "There's a character in it, whose prototype is the manager of a state-owned restaurant in Phoenix some time ago. What's this called? This means that writer Jiang's inspiration all comes from life!"

As she spoke, she suddenly remembered, "By the way, aren't you filming there?"

"Actually," Zhu Lin decided to introduce Jiang Xian to Fang Zhaodi. She originally wanted to wait until that guy came to find her, but this busy man never came.

"Zhu Lin, someone is looking for you." The roommate who was washing her hair shouted while holding her wet hair.

"Hey."

Zhu Lin agreed, put on her sandals, and hurried out. She glanced outside, her almond-shaped eyes becoming more tender. "Why are you so stupid to come here in the middle of the day? You're tanned like a boiled crab."

"I was originally planning to come over to have dinner with you, but I was intercepted by someone from Xinhua Bookstore halfway."

Zhu Lin blinked and asked, "Why did the people from Xinhua Bookstore intercept you?"

"They are holding a book fair at the Cultural Palace and invited me, a young writer, to go and sign autographs for readers."

"This is a good thing! It proves that you are famous. You don't know how many people are discussing your novels. No matter where I am now, I can listen to "Furong Town". Even my roommate is reading it."

Zhu Lin's eyes were gleaming with excitement, which made Jiang Xian feel very excited.

Her worship is more powerful than tiger bone wine!
"Come to think of it," he suggested, "Let's go to the department store and buy some food. We can share it with your colleagues when we come back, and I can get to know them a little bit."

"Okay, I'll go change my clothes."

When she came out again, Zhu Lin had changed into a floral top, a long skirt, and small round-toed leather shoes made of artificial leather with heels.

She clattered in front of Jiang Xian and asked in a low voice, "Is it okay?" He glanced at her critically, with a clear and sunny look and the grace of time.

"Okay, it's floaty enough."

His Majesty was delighted when he heard this and snapped his fingers.

"Go."

"You also learn English?"

"I've learned a few simple sentences. There are so many foreigners in Beijing now. Who knows when they'll come to ask for directions or something."

"Yes, it's about the national system."

There are quite a lot of foreign tourists at this time. In 1978 alone, more than 10 foreign tourists visited China.

"How's your English?" the girl asked curiously.

"It's OK. I can barely understand foreign books."

"That's impressive." The admiration in His Majesty's eyes was captivating.

"Teach me."

"I'll teach you some simple phrases. I made them up myself."

"You said."

"Nod yes and shake your head no.

god starts gogogo! "

At this moment, there is a great man in Wangfujing Department Store named Zhang Binggui, who is a salesman and was just awarded the title of National Model Worker this year.

In his hands, selling is an art, which is praised as the "Ninth Scenic Spot of Yanjing". When he takes the bus, people give up their seats for him; when he takes a shower, people rub his back. Bing Xin interviewed him in person and wrote a reportage "Ode to "A Ball of Fire"" when she returned. When he was hospitalized for cancer, national leaders came to visit him. After his death, Comrade C Yun wrote an inscription for him: "The spirit of "A Ball of Fire" shines on China!"

There is still a bronze bust of him in Wangfujing, and a Comrade Zhang Binggui Memorial Hall has been set up.

An international friend said with emotion: "Only famous politicians and popular movie stars abroad can encounter this kind of honor, but it is really amazing that an ordinary salesperson in China can enjoy this honor!"

In fact, as long as the social atmosphere is uplifting and every worker has self-respect, no one would have the guts to throw a bag of coffee powder in someone's face.

Jiang Xian and Zhu Lin were caught in the crowded crowd and moved towards the counter where Zhang Binggui was selling candy.

Zhang Binggui had a skill called "grabbing accurately", which meant he could grasp the exact amount with just a handful. He also had another skill called "knowing clearly at one mouthful", which meant he could calculate the price very quickly by just weighing the sugar.

I heard that his counter was often crushed by people coming to buy candy.

In front of Jiang Xian was an old lady in a wheelchair. She opened her mouth for a long time without saying anything to Mr. Zhang.

Zhang Binggui immediately understood and started communicating with the old lady using simple sign language.

The two of them bought five taels of sorghum candy and shrimp cakes, and went to the street to weigh some fruit.

Zhu Lin took out her handkerchief and paid the money.

"I'll pay for the people here."

Jiang Xian didn't fight with her, just holding the net bag and walking a few steps.

"Inspiration [Fruit] Progress +1, Current Progress (1/100)"

Is it so abrupt?
"Jiang Xian?"

"coming."

Carrying the things, he visited Zhu Lin in her dormitory, causing a small sensation.

"How did you two get together?"

“Oh my god, I’m your reader!”

“Is this wedding candy?”

Jiang Xian didn't stay long, for fear of delaying others' afternoon work.

I said goodbye and returned to Renwen Press to start revising the manuscript for the second issue of "Furong Town" to be published in October.

It took several days to revise it, and the book fair arrived.

(End of this chapter)