My era, 1979!

Chapter 111 A Tribute (6.1K)

The Writers Association and the Federation of Literary and Art Circles are not the same thing.

The origins of the Federation of Literary and Art Circles can be traced back to the "National Congress of Literary and Art Workers" (referred to as the "First Congress") established in July 1949. This congress marked an unprecedented unity among literary and art workers nationwide under the leadership of the Party.

In 1979, only China and the Soviet Union had a literary and art association; later, Cuba was added to the list.

Many people have a misconception when it comes to the Federation of Literary and Art Circles and the Writers Association.

They believe that the Federation of Literary and Art Circles and the Writers Association are two parallel organizations.

In fact, the Federation of Literary and Art Circles is not an organization for writers.

The Federation of Literary and Art Circles (FCL) is officially known as the Federation of Literary and Art Circles. Its core positioning is as a "united organization of the literary and art circles," rather than a professional association for a single art category.

It typically has 13 professional associations with member units, such as dramatists, literary theorists, musicians, calligraphers, and photographers, with the Writers Association being one of them.

However, due to the fundamental and important nature of literature, in my country, the Federation of Literary and Art Circles and the Writers Association are basically on equal footing, and the chairman of the Federation of Literary and Art Circles is always concurrently the chairman of the Writers Association.

As I said before, you can choose not to be part of any particular social circle, but you can't live without one.

Especially in our country's literary circles.

After a few seconds of surprise, Xu Chengjun accepted the invitation from the Writers Association, represented by Chen Dengke.

From the novella "The Barn" to the short story "The Fitting Mirror" and finally to the novel "The Unbreakable Red Silk".

Xu Chengjun's creative background and foundation are both in Anhui.

Therefore, he naturally carries the identity label of an Anhui writer.

After Xu Chengjun agreed, Su Zhong became unusually hesitant.

Xu Chengjun was puzzled: What's going on?

Chen Dengke nudged him from the side.

"Ahem, Chengjun, it's like this, Comrade Deng Ke and I actually have a favor to ask."

He was only halfway through his sentence when Su Zhong blushed. This old man was the most stubborn man in his life and was not good at asking for favors.

Chen Dengke, unable to stand it any longer, chimed in.

"Comrade Chengjun, it's like this."

Chen Dengke cleared his throat, his tone becoming more serious than before: "The Provincial Federation of Literary and Art Circles is currently preparing a new publication called 'Qingming.' I am the editor-in-chief of the magazine, and I would like to invite you to contribute."

Invitation to contribute?
Xu Chengjun blinked. He knew about "Qingming"; it was considered a top-tier publication in China.

Founded in 1979, Qingming is a large-scale bimonthly literary journal supervised and sponsored by the Anhui Federation of Literary and Art Circles. The journal's title was inscribed by Mao Dun.

The status of literary magazines is difficult to comment on.

However, after excluding People's Literature and the "Four Great Dan" (famous female opera singers), Qingming is basically in the first tier.

It can even be compared with "Huacheng" and "Contemporary", which are relatively lower in the "Four Major Lists", and is slightly higher than "Great Wall", which is sponsored by the Hebei Writers Association.

It's roughly like this: I'm invincible below the "famous actresses," and I'm one for one above the "famous actresses."

"Qingming?"

"Yes, it's 'Qingming,' and it's gaining a lot of momentum in the province right now."

“We plan to release the inaugural issue at the end of September. After reading your novel, Comrade Su Zhong and I discussed putting your novel on the front page of the inaugural issue as the featured work.”

Xu Chengjun became interested.

To be honest, he never considered the magazine "Qingming" at first, even though "Anhui Literature" was ranked much higher than "Qingming".

After all, Lao Zhou is there!

If People's Literature doesn't give it a chance.

Isn't Harvest magazine great?

Aren't the other "Four Great Dan Actresses" good enough?

However, the inaugural issue is a different story.

It's the first time this has been revealed!
It should be noted that in 1979, the core medium for literary dissemination was still print journals, and the number of national literary publications was limited, with fewer than 10 such publications, including People's Literature, Harvest, and October.

As a newly launched large-scale bimonthly magazine, the scarcity and topicality of the inaugural issue of "Qingming" will maximize the advantages of disseminating the works!

Moreover, the inaugural issue will be given priority in collection by libraries, literary research institutions, and writers' associations at all levels across the country, becoming an important part of "literary historical materials of the new era," and the works will thus have long-term archival value.

Simply put, this is an opportunity to "go down in history"!

To know.

In 1979, the film and television industry was also recovering, and film studios would actively pay attention to the "major works" of literary journals, especially publications with high-quality content, such as the inaugural issue.

Historically, the inaugural issue of "Qingming" in 1979 featured works such as Ding Ling's "In the Cold Days", Chen Dengke and Xiao Ma's "Breaking Through the Wall", and Lu Yanzhou's "The Legend of Tianyun Mountain".

Established figures can leverage their influence to solidify their position, while the middle generation can achieve instant fame.

One of the key reasons why "Legend of Tianyun Mountain" was chosen by Shanghai Film Studio for adaptation was the "phenomenal discussion" it sparked in its inaugural issue, which gave the work an audience base in advance.

Of course, in a sense, the works and the inaugural issue are a win-win situation.

The inaugural issue was still very tempting for Xu Chengjun.

Su Zhong, having recovered from his initial awkwardness, picked up his large pipe: "This publication is a key project for the Federation of Literary and Art Circles this year."

The editors selected were all key personnel from *Anhui Literature*, and the typesetting and printing were done to the highest standards. Whether the inaugural issue can establish itself depends on whether the opening article can command attention.

"After thinking it over, I realized that coming to you is the most appropriate thing to do about this."

To select key members from "Anhui Literature"?

No wonder Zhou Ming disliked Chen Dengke. Why did you take away Zhou Ming's troops?

With Zhou Ming's personality, how could he not try to make things difficult for you?
"Mr. Su, is this article appropriate? Would it be too ambitious for the inaugural issue?"

"Your 'The Unbreakable Red Silk' is a vivid and insightful piece about the camaraderie and camaraderie among the people of Anhui who worked on the Third Front. It is a perfect description of their lives and thoughts."

This also involves another benefit.
As a publication founded during this period.

The selection of works in the inaugural issue of "Qingming" itself carried the strategic intention of "responding to the times," and the works published in it naturally became a concrete expression of the trends of thought in the era.

The works published in the inaugural issue of "Qingming" such as "The Legend of Tianyun Mountain" and "In the Bitter Cold Days" all possess historical depth and contemporary relevance.

In 1979, Qingming was quickly defined by readers and critics as a publication that "focuses on serious issues and combines intellectual and literary qualities," a positioning that continued to attract submissions from high-quality authors.

Jia Ping'ao, Mo Yan, and others published their early works in Qingming.

Saying,

Chen Dengke took out a publication proposal from his canvas bag and spread it on the table: "Look, this is the preliminary column setup. Your novel will take up forty pages, the main text will be printed on the best woodfree paper, and you will have a color illustration on the title page. We will also add an editor's note, which we will try to invite Mr. Mao Dun to write for you personally."

"In addition, the royalties will be calculated according to the highest standard of the Provincial Federation of Literary and Art Circles, which is 8 yuan per thousand words. If it is reprinted later, you will also get the best share of the copyright."

This is considered a very generous offer; even veteran writers rarely receive such treatment.

At that time, a magazine article was about 150-200 pages long, and he alone occupied a quarter of it.

Not to mention the title page illustration, even Lu Yanzhou would have a hard time getting one, right?

but,

Who will write an editor's note for me?

Who?
"Chen ZX, did I hear that right? Inviting Mr. Mao Dun?"

"I can't guarantee it, but we will try our best. Comrade Ding Ling has already been confirmed to have her work published in the inaugural issue. She and Mr. Mao Dun have a relatively close relationship."

Mao Dun inscribed the title for the magazine "Qingming," which is quite a significant connection.

But isn't this just empty promises?
Okay, this pancake does smell pretty good.

Which newcomer could stand this?

Sister Xiaolin, this isn't my fault, is it?
"Chairman Chen, Teacher Su,"

Xu Chengjun hesitated for a moment, "This manuscript was only finished today, so it's not a complete draft yet."

That being said, he actually initially wanted to submit the manuscript to Harvest magazine.

The inaugural issue of the Qingming Festival truly caught him off guard.

"What's there to be afraid of? The quality of your manuscript is obvious to all. Besides, the magazine can't publish all of your content at once. There will be time to polish it for you later."

Su Zhong immediately responded.

"Even Teacher Hanzi approves of your novel. If this full-length novel is published, it will definitely make 'Qingming' an instant success."

Chen Dengke nodded in agreement, his tone earnest.

"Comrade Chengjun, we're not forcing you. You're a writer born and raised in Anhui, and 'Qingming' is also a publication from Anhui. We have to work together to establish this brand."

The literary world is watching to see if Anhui can produce good publications and good works. Your red ribbon is our greatest source of confidence.

"Where is Editor-in-Chief Zhou?"

“I talked to him and he nodded. Even if he himself wouldn’t let you publish in Anhui Literature, it would be such a waste to put such a good manuscript in a provincial publication!”

Chen Dengke couldn't wait to deliver the message.

Anhui Literature and Qingming have a very deep connection; in Anhui, they are essentially in a competitive relationship where each is intertwined with the other.

However, as a provincial-level magazine, Anhui Literature is positioned at a lower level than Qingming.

The themes and works that attract attention are closer to the lives of ordinary people at the grassroots level.

Therefore, Chen Dengke was the one who most wanted "The Unbreakable Red Silk" to be featured in the inaugural issue.

He is the vice chairman of the Federation of Literary and Art Circles and the editor-in-chief of "Qingming". He benefits the most from the success of "Qingming".

To be honest, Chen Dengke regrets his previous comments about Xu Chengjun. Which famous writer hasn't given a few bad reviews of popular works?
When "The Fitting Mirror" was first published, he genuinely didn't know that Xu Chengjun was a local writer from Anhui and maintained close ties with Zhou Ming, Su Zhong, and their group.

Nobody wants to ruin their own livelihood, right?

After all, these outstanding local writers from Anhui are his biggest source of income.

Xu Chengjun looked at the two men, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Knowing that they wouldn't be able to leave without a result today, these two are now on their way.

He did hesitate a little, but not much.
Remembering his elder brother Xu Jianjun's words, "We need to let more people know Huang Siyuan's story," his hesitation gradually dissipated.

I suppose "Qingming" best reflects my elder brother's thoughts.

Being famous in Anhui can also help protect Siyuan's family.

He picked up his pen and wrote his name on the proposal, each stroke deliberate: "Chen ZX, Teacher Su, I agree. I will revise this manuscript as soon as possible so as not to delay the typesetting of the inaugural issue."

Su Zhong immediately smiled, slapped the table, and said "Good" repeatedly.

Chen Dengke breathed a sigh of relief, took an envelope out of his bag and handed it to Xu Chengjun: "This is a fifty-yuan advance payment for the manuscript. Take it first. If you need any materials for revising the manuscript, just let the Writers' Association office know and we'll help you find them."

In 1979, magazines generally did not pay advance royalties after publishing articles, but there were exceptions.

For example, this situation right now.

Just as Xu Chengjun was about to decline, Chen Dengke pressed his hand down.

"Take it! This is the rule, and it's also our intention. Don't worry, although the Federation of Literary and Art Circles and the Writers Association are not the same thing, this time for 'Qingming,' we have both joined forces to promote the best works and the best writers."

As the sun gradually sank behind the sycamore trees, the lights in the courtyard came on, casting a dim, yellowish glow on the three of them.

Xu Chengjun carefully kept the advance payment. When you are capable...

A circle is not about forming cliques.

Instead, it's like this: seniors guide juniors, working together out of a shared passion and a sense of responsibility to broaden and extend the path further.
-
Xu Chengjun had a "huge sum of money" in his pocket, and coincidentally, the first draft of his work was completed.

Of course, we have to have a good meal.

So he pulled Xu Xiaomei along to revisit "Luzhou Roast Duck Restaurant," but then suddenly remembered Liang Xiaobin from the same dormitory, Ji Yu from the next room, and his roommate Li Pingyi.

He's not short of money now, and he doesn't mind sharing his joy with a few friends.

Li Pingyi is less famous in later generations compared to Liang Xiaobin and Ji Yu.

In 1985, his novel "The Giant Inkstone" was featured as the lead story in Shanghai Literature, and won the "Second Shanghai Literature Award".

Fortunately, everyone is young and has similar personalities and temperaments.

Upon hearing "eating roast duck," Liang Xiaobin didn't even have time to put down his pen. He grabbed his notebook and rushed out, muttering, "Finally, I can satisfy my craving! I've been eating nothing but steamed buns for the past few days, and my mouth is so bland."

Ji Yu and Li Pingyi readily agreed, locking the door and following them over.

As soon as the four entered the roast duck restaurant, a fragrant aroma of oil and steam wafted over them.

Xu Xiaomei had already found a table by the window, with five empty enamel bowls in front of her, her eyes fixed on the glistening roast duck hanging in the counter.

"Boss, give me a salted duck, a roast duck, three baskets of soup dumplings, and seven duck fat sesame cakes!"

Xu Chengjun slammed his hand on the counter and shouted, his voice booming.

With fifty yuan in hand, I feel confident.

The owner, a middle-aged man with a thick beard, recognized him as the "great writer" who had come a few days ago and replied with a smile, "Alright! I'll pick out a fat one for you!"

While waiting for the food, Liang Xiaobin took out a notebook from his pocket, turned to a page filled with poems, and pushed it in front of Xu Chengjun: "Chengjun, can you take a look at these lines for me? The one about 'losing the key' feels like the ending is missing something."

Just as Xu Chengjun was about to take it, Ji Yu leaned over first, pointed to the sentence in the notebook and laughed: "Your metaphor of 'key' is brilliant, but it lacks a bit of everyday life. Why not add a local Anhui expression, such as 'searched both banks of the Huai River but couldn't find it,' to make it more down-to-earth."

Li Pingyi nodded in agreement. He was slow-paced and spoke gently: "I think so too. Literature loses its soul without its earthy flavor."

Liang Xiaobin stroked his chin thoughtfully, then suddenly slammed his hand on the table: "That's right! Teacher Hanzi said 'writing should be grounded in reality,' and that's exactly the point!"

"What? I was just making that up!"

Ji Yu, who was usually playful, suddenly felt a headache coming on when he saw Liang Xiaobin taking it seriously.

Liang Xiaobin looked at her suspiciously, then looked up at Li Pingyi, who nodded and spread his hands.

Xu Xiaomei and Xu Chengjun couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Goodness, so you guys were all ganging up on me! Okay!"

Liang Xiaobin made a move as if to strike!
Fortunately, the owner brought over the duck at that moment, with oil dripping down the edge of the plate. Xu Xiaomei quickly picked up her chopsticks, but Xu Chengjun pressed her hand down: "Give it to the older brothers first. You're the youngest, so eat last."

Xiaomei pouted, but still obediently withdrew her hand.

"No, our sister has to eat first!"

"It is! It is!"

Xu Xiaomei burst into laughter.

"Speaking of which, Cheng Jun, did you really give 'Red Silk' to 'Qingming'?"

Ji Yu took a bite of the duck leg and asked indistinctly.

"They should give it to us!"

Xu Chengjun nodded, about to speak, when Liang Xiaobin exclaimed, "Wow! The inaugural issue's front page! And we even got Mr. Mao Dun to write an editorial? Your treatment is so much better than ours, the 'small fry'!"

"That's perfectly normal. If you could write something like 'Red Silk,' even People's Literature would be begging you to do it!"

Ji Yu's rebuttals to Liang Xiaobin were always spot-on.

"Don't be envious,"

Xu Chengjun smiled and picked up a soup dumpling, "If you guys have any good manuscripts, I'll help you next time—"

Everyone looked up, their eyes filled with anticipation.

"Would you like to offer some suggestions?"

"cut!"

Xu Xiaomei finally couldn't hold back any longer. She grabbed a duck fat sesame flatbread, took a big bite, and mumbled, "You guys can talk about literature, but can you at least not interrupt our meal? The roast duck is almost cold!"

Everyone then realized what was happening and quickly started eating, filling the table with the sounds of gnawing on bones and laughter.

As Liang Xiaobin was eating, he suddenly looked up and said, "When we're all famous, let's come back to this roast duck restaurant for a get-together. We'll order two roast ducks and ask the owner to reserve the best seats for us!"

Ji Yu smiled and nodded: "Okay! If I write a work that can rival 'The Legend of Tianyun Mountain,' I'll treat everyone to Peking duck for a year!"

Xu Chengjun was still very happy looking at the lively scene before him.

The literary world of young people lacks the convoluted schemes of old-school writers; it's filled with straightforward advice and heartfelt friendships.

Of course, it's because Xu Chengjun is too strong~
The light of the setting sun fell on the glistening roast duck and on the five young faces. Each of them had a gleam in their eyes, much like the turbulent year of 1979, when hope was bursting forth everywhere.

Of course, this is also because Liang Xiaobin doesn't know what he'll be like in his later years.
"Don't just talk the talk, walk the walk!"

Xu Chengjun raised his enamel mug, which was filled with Kouzi liquor.

Kouzi Liquor was originally Suixi People's Winery, which was renamed Suixi County Winery in 1970, and then Suixi County Kouzi Liquor Factory in 1979.

It was rated as a national high-quality wine at the Third National Wine Appraisal Conference in 1979, and has won numerous awards since then, and is very popular in the Anhui market.

"Come on, let's drink! I wish we can both write things that satisfy us in the future, and I also wish this roast duck restaurant a prosperous business, so that we can eat such delicious duck legs again next time we come!"

"cheers!"

The four enamel mugs clinked together, making a crisp sound that was particularly loud in the smoky roast duck restaurant.

Back in the dormitory that night, Xu Chengjun and the others helped the dazed Li Pingyi back to bed.

They exchanged a helpless glance.

Who would have thought that this guy with thick eyebrows and big eyes, who doesn't talk much, has the worst drinking manners?

In the end, he simply lay down at the store and took a nap.

They were all quite tired after that meal.

Xu Chengjun thought that once he got to Fudan University, he would have to start training.

It's a small matter if he can't lift Li Pingyi, but it's a big problem if he can't lift the girl!
Back in his dorm, Liang Xiaobin was inspired to write poetry and started rambling on and on.

Xu Chengjun sighed and rubbed his forehead in exasperation. What kind of people had he run into?!
Who would believe that this person could write "The Snow-White Wall," which was selected for high school Chinese textbooks!
However, what he was humming did give Xu Chengjun some inspiration for writing poetry.

This poem was not written for anyone in particular.

Just for the heroes in his books.

Or rather, ordinary, average people.

pay tribute
Author: Xu Chengjun

The endless mountains of Sichuan and Guizhou
Tunnels and railway tracks

Countless tool patches
Hammer and chant

On the canvas of the Third Front construction

Sparks burst forth from the clanging of the rocks.

Blood flowed amidst the roar of explosives.
Time lies hidden in the shadow of the safety helmet.
/
They hugged me tightly.
The countless stories are testaments to unwavering dedication.

What is silent is sacrifice.
A swarm of mosquitoes hovering over the cat ear hole

It was his cracked palms gripping the steel gun tightly.
As the bugle call to charge trembled in the morning mist
I have too many words, too burning loyalty.
/
I want to use the rubble from the landslide and the makeshift work shed
I will use muddy trenches and blood-soaked bandages

I want to embrace you with everything, you—

My homeland, which I cherish day and night.

A nation that stands firm amidst hardship, a resilient nation.

I will hold you tight with a blood-stained vow.
Because a belief has already been formed.

/
A soldier, his young chest standing tall amidst the flames of war.

He was a mother's child, the hope of many.

How many storms rose and fell on his shoulders?
And he was burdened with glory and longing.

He always resolutely followed the red flag in the charge.
He trod across the same land, the land that buried his comrades.
The same resolute spirit is etched into the soul of the military.

/
Countless times, stirring shouts echoed through the sky along the border defense line.
How many times has it been a test of life and death?
In the celebratory hall, people cheered, paid tribute, and felt proud.
But he didn't; he simply put down the cold steel gun.

Once again, I held that red silk tightly, imbued with the love of the people.

steadfastly, he watched himself blend into Peace Lane.

And such a road is infinitely long.
And he will not stop.
He never stopped, because that belief had already been forged.
/
In the embrace of the motherland, under the vast sky
When spring and autumn passed by his post

The most fervent feelings are hidden in the quiet night.

An old soldier longs for peace.
Countless people are looking forward to happiness.

And persevere in the struggle
The bright red flag was still fluttering beside me.
/
What remains the same is an undying faith.
What remains the same is the soil on the earth that nourishes hope.

He moves forward without ever looking back or becoming lost.
/
For him, I will embrace every inch of the mountains and rivers.

For him, I cherished the warmth of the red silk.
Because of him, we are able to enjoy the sweetness of peace.

Rejoice! Let us rejoice in his glory!
Because that belief has already been forged.
/
What remains the same is the spirit of this fervent era.

They all emerged from under this brand-new national flag, just as before.

Endless hope and strength

It echoed through the prosperous towns.
It swept across the vast fields, the ripples of rice paddies, and the whistles of pigeons.

What remains the same is the inherited spirit that belongs to soldiers.

/
As I walked by, I stood before the monument and gazed at it.

I gaze upon those immortal names.

Still waiting in this magnificent landscape.

Our profound respect for those who have been waiting for us is beyond words.
However, that belief had already been forged.

However, that belief had already been forged.

After finishing writing, Xu Chengjun shook the paper.

Lying in bed, preoccupied with worries.

I suddenly woke up again in the middle of the night.
Hmm, did I forget something?
at this time,

Inside the faculty and staff dormitory of Fudan University, Su Manshu hugged her quilt and thought of the three lines of poetry Xu Chengjun had given her before he left, and her face turned red with embarrassment.

Hey, his letter should be arriving soon, right?

(End of this chapter)