Rebirth 2004: A lone figure in the literary world

Chapter 7: The Tragically Thick Barrier
Early on Sunday morning, Zhang Chao went out with his ID card. He wanted to open a bank account so that he could collect his royalties.

The times have made some things less ceremonial, such as royalties. Zhang Chao remembers that when he published an essay in junior high school, the royalties would be sent to the school in the form of a remittance slip, and then the Chinese teacher or head teacher would take the slip to the class and shout:

"Zhang Chao, your royalties have arrived."

Although the fee was only 5 or 10 yuan, the feeling of standing on the podium and "receiving the award" in front of everyone is unforgettable.

It's not impossible to receive the manuscript fee receipt and then exchange it for cash at the post office, but you have to write down your identity information clearly. Zhang Chao didn't want to reveal his identity before the ID "Midnight Tide" gained a certain level of fame.

While Zhang Chao was busy opening an account, Lan Ting was already slumped on the bed with dark circles under her eyes from not sleeping all night.

Last night, she searched the Internet repeatedly for Zhang Chao's poem "I am one of the many things that make my parents age", and even translated it into English. She also searched it on Google - but couldn't find any similar verses.

She also looked through the recent issues of the Xingxing Poetry Magazine and other literary magazines that her family had subscribed to, but still found nothing.

"Could it be, could it be that he really wrote it?" After all the impossibilities have been eliminated, the remaining option, no matter how unlikely it is, is still the answer.

Lan Ting regards Zhang Chao as her opponent because no matter how well Zhang Chao's composition is written, it is just a composition written by a student.

When Lan Ting saw Zhang Chao write "I am the larger stone in the flowing water, dividing the tears into two parts", she knew that what Zhang Chao wrote was no longer a student's work, but that he was a real poet writing a real poem.

"I am One of the Many Events That Make My Parents Aged" does not have any flowery words, any artificial lyricism, or any deliberate rhyme. It only uses the most ordinary and trivial daily life to construct a son's deepest gratitude and regret for his parents.

Looking at the masterpiece I had written again, I suddenly wanted to tear it up immediately.

As a literature lover with a family background in literature, she knows that there are certain thresholds in writing that some people cannot cross in their entire lives, some people can cross them with some effort - and some people are born into the threshold.

For example, Gu Cheng, a representative poet of the Misty Poetry School (although almost no one admits that he belongs to this school), wrote the following poem when he was 8 years old:
Poplar
I lost an arm.

He opened one eye.

Anyone who has seen poplar tree pruning must understand the beauty of it: after the poplar branches are cut off, the scars on the trunk are like eyes.

Gu Cheng was born at the threshold, but what about Zhang Chao? Lan Ting believes that he crossed the threshold through hard work.

She felt that she knew why Zhang Chao did not participate in essay competitions or writing competitions after entering high school. The competition in the third year of junior high school had already proved that his writing skills had exceeded the ceiling of ordinary high school students. If you want to break through, you can't stay in the original framework.

Not participating in the competition means "cultivating in seclusion", just like those masters in martial arts novels. If they want to break through the realm, they must isolate themselves from the world and concentrate on their studies.

Student essays were too childish for Zhang Chao, and would even hinder his pursuit of literature. It was ridiculous that he had been struggling with it for three years. Thinking of this, and looking at the various trophies displayed in the bedroom bookcase, Lan Ting suddenly felt that she was a joke.

There was already a tragically thick barrier between him and Zhang Chao.

Thinking of this, Lan Ting got out of bed again, went to the living room, picked up the phone, and dialed a number:
"Hello... Aunt, I'm Tingting. Is uncle home?... Great, I'll be there now."

On the other hand, Zhang Chao also got a bank card. Before going home, he stopped by a computer store and bought a 10-inch floppy disk for 3.5 yuan, which made it easier to copy the article from the computer in the broadcasting room to the computer in the computer room. The computer in the broadcasting room was not connected to the Internet.

Although USB flash drives had already appeared in 2004, the old computers in the school only supported floppy disks. A 3.5-inch disk had a capacity of only 1.44M, which could not even store a long novel.

After returning home, he told his parents about his writing, but not everything, of course. First, there was nothing to hide; second, if BlogChina or any newspaper or publishing house called his home in the future, it would not be considered a scam.

Zhang's parents were not too surprised. They knew their son could write, but they didn't expect his level to be so high that he could submit articles to major newspapers. However, they also specifically told him not to let his obsession with writing affect his studies.

Zhang Chao thought to himself, this is like a pillow just when I feel sleepy. Now I have an excuse for failing the mock exam!
Zhang's father was more knowledgeable about this, after all, he was a student of Xiamen University, so he asked, "What kind of articles do you write? Do you have a draft? Let me see it."

Zhang Chao replied, "I didn't keep any drafts. But they were all criticisms, criticisms of the 'New Concept Essay Contest.' Maybe people thought it was a gimmick?" He knew that his father preferred a calm and peaceful writing style, and his three articles were alarmist and too aggressive. After reading them, he was afraid that there would be another quarrel between father and son.

Even if they saw it after it was published, they were not at home and could not cause a quarrel.

Father Zhang said, "Didn't you like this competition very much before? You even bought more than a dozen books."

"People change. In recent years, their games have become more and more utilitarian, and their writing has become more and more stereotyped. I couldn't help but criticize them."

"Why are you suddenly interested in writing again? After entering high school, you haven't asked me to write essays, and you haven't brought home essay competition trophies anymore."

Zhang Chao remained silent and did not answer.

"If you don't want to talk about it, forget it. Just pick up the pen and rewrite it." Father Zhang did not ask any further questions, but comforted him.

Zhang Chao thought, I wanted to say it, but I really forgot... Time can erase many memories. Twenty years have passed, and I really can't remember why I was so immature and unwilling to participate in the competition.

At this time, the phone at home rang. Zhang's mother went to answer it. After a while, she came out and said to Zhang Chao: "A man named Dongfang Xing contacted 'Midnight Tide' and said it was about the publication of an article." Her tone was happy. She probably didn't expect that what her son said would be proven so quickly.

Zhang Chao went to the living room to answer the phone: "Hello... Mr. Dongfang Xing, I'm 'Midnight Tide'. It's our first call, and I'm honored. Have you received any feedback from the newspaper?"

Dongfang Xing on the other end of the phone was stunned. Zhang Chao's voice was unexpectedly young, and it had the unique clarity of a man who had just passed the voice change period. The other party was only in his early 20s? But he quickly adjusted himself and continued:

"You sound really young. Excuse me, are you still a college student?"

“Age doesn’t affect publication, right?”

"It doesn't matter... Heroes emerge from youth. I've asked for you, and Southern Weekend is willing to publish your article exclusively."

"What is the standard for manuscript fees?"

"The standard remuneration for Southern Weekend is 80-120 yuan per 120 words. This time, they are using your manuscript exclusively, so they are willing to pay 1200 yuan. For three articles, which are about words, the total is about yuan. The payment will be made the month after the manuscript is published."

Zhang Chao was not surprised, as the remuneration for newspapers and magazines was about the same around 2004. The one with the highest average remuneration was actually Story Collection, which paid about 300 per thousand words, because of its high sales.

Of course, these are all authors who are not very famous. If they are famous and invited by magazines, the price will be different. Once a women's magazine invited Wang Shuo, a "rogue writer" from Yenching University, to write a column. Wang Shuo offered 5 yuan per word and scared the writer away. This happened around 2001.

Zhang Chao was not famous yet, so naturally he did not receive any special treatment, so he readily agreed.

But Dongfang Xing had something else to talk about: "Why didn't I see your update yesterday?"

Zhang Chao replied: "It's the weekend, so I have to take a break. I should be able to resume updating next Monday. I plan to write 2-3 articles a week in the future. After all, social public events like the 'New Concept' competition that can be evaluated from multiple angles don't come around every day."

"Are you going to go the social criticism route specifically?"

"Of course not. I can write literary criticism, novels, essays, poems... I can't just write criticism. I can't be Xun Weng."

"Haha... Even if you don't want to be one, there are many people who want to be one. 'Contemporary Xunweng', I don't know how many people are vying for this title." "Whoever wants to wear this title can wear it, but I won't wear it. Just tell me what you want to say."

"You are a straightforward person, so I won't be polite. The editor of Southern Weekend wants me to tell you that if you are interested, you can become their special writer, and you can give them priority in submitting your manuscripts in the future. They are very optimistic about you."

"..." Zhang Chao did not comment. Dongfang Xing was the helmsman of BlogChina, how could he make wedding clothes for others?

Dongfang Xing heard Zhang Chao didn't respond, so he could only continue, "In fact, I'm also optimistic about you. So this time I specially recommended two of your articles on the homepage. Southern Weekend also saw your articles on the homepage of our blog China."

Now comes the meat of the story. Zhang Chao first expressed his gratitude to Dongfang Xing again, and then asked, "Are you worried that I will submit my manuscripts to Southern Weekend in the future instead of posting them on my blog?"

"Although Southern Weekend has a great influence, it is a traditional media after all, and its audience is always limited. But our Blog China is different. The Internet has a far-reaching reach. Any netizen can see your article with just a click. Do you know how many netizen there are in China now? One hundred million!..."

Dongfang Xing kept on talking to Zhang Chao about the Internet pie he had created, but he didn't know that Zhang Chao came from 20 years later and had long been immune to it. He just listened quietly to Dongfang Xing pretending to be a boy.

Dongfang Xing spent ten minutes making plans, and found that Zhang Chao's response was always indifferent, so he couldn't help but ask, "What do you think?"

Zhang Chao thought about it for a moment and replied, "Of course I am willing to continue posting on BlogChina, but blogging does not bring in any direct income after all..."

Dongfang Xing said: "As long as the quality of your article is good, we can recommend it. And through our platform, your article can also be seen by more traditional media. If they reprint it, they will also pay you. But..."

"But what?"

“I hope that when traditional media reprint your articles, they can include Blog China, for example, the signature can be ‘Blog China·Midnight Tide’.”

Zhang Chao thought about it and said, "Why not 'Midnight Tide (Blog China)'?"

“……” Dongfang Xing was speechless for a moment.

"Signature is related to copyright, even for pen names. Although I believe in your credibility, I hope it can be more formal. For these three articles, I can verbally promise you that when Southern Weekend publishes them, you can add the words 'Blog China' in the quotation or at the end. If there is such an opportunity in the future, I can also entrust you with the agency rights for reprinting articles. As for how to jointly sign, I need some legal guarantees."

Dongfang Xing didn't expect that this young man with a childish voice would have such a strong sense of rights protection. In the early days of the Internet, copyright awareness was very weak, and some people even thought that the spirit of sharing was equivalent to plagiarizing other people's works at will. Many talented authors wrote and posted casually, and others reposted and plagiarized them casually, and they didn't care.

"Why, is my request too much?"

"Not too much, not too much. You are very forward-thinking! I will ask a lawyer to draft an agreement to clearly explain the rights and obligations of both parties. But I need to know your real name and delivery address, otherwise the agreement will not fly to you by itself."

Zhang Chao then told Dongfang Xing his name. He hesitated for a moment before deciding to tell him his school address—after all, he only stayed at home less than one day a week—and of course he didn't tell him which class he was in. He also told Dongfang Xing his new card number. After both parties confirmed that all the information was correct, they ended the call.

After hanging up the phone, Zhang Chao turned around and saw his parents standing behind him. They must have been listening in on the whole process, so they looked stunned. They probably didn't expect that their son could negotiate with others so calmly and safeguard his rights.

"Where did you learn all this?" Zhang's mother asked puzzledly.

"...You may not believe this, but I got hit on the head by Chen Huan's pass last week, and then I learned it."

"...Guess whether we believe it or not"

"..."

Dongfang Xing, who was far away in Yanjing, looked at the small notebook with Zhang Chao's name, address and card number, and thought that he was a young teacher. He must work until late at night every day to have time to write articles. No wonder he always posted blogs in the middle of the night and his ID was "Midnight Tide".

Before he knew it, it was Sunday afternoon. After lunch, Zhang Chao returned to school early to play ball with Chen Huan.

When Chen Huan saw Zhang Chao's new look, his eyes widened and he wanted to touch Zhang Chao's head, but he opened his hand.

Chen Huan said with a sigh, "You're almost as handsome as me. Where did you get your hair cut? I see. You're trying to pick up girls while you're still young. Tell me, which girl do you like?"

Zhang Chao took a step around Chen Huan and threw the ball in. Then he said, "If you don't fall in love, you don't need to take care of your personal image? I'm young and I'm not in a hurry. - This new ball from the locomotive is too hard. You can't get good quality at a cheap price."

Chen Huan was not willing to give up and continued to guess: "Is it Lan Ting? She is a little short, but she is pretty. The key is..." As he spoke, Chen Huan drew a semicircle in the air with both hands, "Tsk tsk, you are really ambitious!"

"Big idiot, who are you calling short?" Lan Ting appeared at the side of the court at some point, glaring at Chen Huan angrily, and even used her hand to imitate the gesture Chen Huan had just made. "Tell me, what does this mean?"

Chen Huan was shocked. He was a talkative person, but he only dared to show his affection to boys. He would never dare to do that to girls, let alone a top student like Lan Ting who was very much favored by the teacher.

Zhang Chao helped Chen Huan out of the predicament and explained to Lan Ting: "He didn't mean anything else, he was just joking. Why did you come so early?"

Lan Ting stared at Chen Huan fiercely, but did not pursue the matter further. She replied, "I need to sort out the submissions for this essay contest."

"Oh. Did you find the 'original' version of my article?"

"..." Lan Ting thought to herself that you were just bringing up all sorts of issues, but she was not one to shy away from her mistakes, so she simply admitted generously, "I really didn't find it. I underestimated you."

Zhang Chao smiled and said, "Can I go to the broadcasting room to use the computer today?"

Lan Ting said: "Of course you can... But you have to tell me, how did you become so powerful? What book inspired you, or... did any expert give you guidance?"

Zhang Chao was stunned. Why did you ask that? So he answered again: "You won't believe it, but last week, my roommate Liu Xuyang punched me. Suddenly, my mind became clear, and I started writing."

Then he pointed at Chen Huan and said, "No, ask him if it's true."

Of course Chen Huan nodded vigorously and said, "I can testify that this kid was enlightened by Liu Xuyang's punch!"

Lan Ting said angrily: "Do you think I'm a fool? If you don't want to, just say it." Then she left the court angrily.

Zhang Chao threw the ball away and followed Lan Ting, asking, "Don't cheat. We already agreed. I want to write something now, so open the door for me now..."

"If you don't want to open it, then don't open it. You said you would start next week."

"Well, we'll need it anyway, so what if we bring it one day earlier..."

"You took me for a fool!"

"What I said is real……"

The young voice echoed throughout the empty campus and melted into the surprisingly blue sky.

(End of this chapter)