My era, 1979!

Chapter 121 "Waiting for Your Return in the North" (6K)

Lu Qi was even more confused: "Why should I know about him?"

The students on the other side looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Xu Chengjun is the most popular young writer and poet this year. Go back and catch up on your studies, Comrade Lu Qi."

Lu Qi frowned slightly, but still remembered the name "Xu Chengjun".

But what's the point of a writer singing?
Can you sing well?

At this moment, Xu Chengjun was helplessly pulled up by Lin Yimin and Zhou Haibo, those two beasts.

"Can I not sing?" Xu Chengjun asked expectantly.

Instructor Liu: "Do you think it's possible?"

"cannot!"

"cannot!"

The roar was deafening and the sound was quite powerful.

However, it's not that Xu Chengjun can't sing. In his previous life, he won over the prettiest girl in his department by playing guitar in college. The only difficulty is that songs from this era are really not his forte, so there's nothing to copy.

That can only
"Can I go to the dorm to get my guitar?" Xu Chengjun asked.

"Guitar?"

Everyone was shocked. What was going on?
Many students from rural areas have never even heard of the guitar!
Even those in the city have only heard of guitars, but have never actually played them!

In 1979, the guitar was an even smaller niche!
In 1979, the guitar was often associated with European and American folk songs and the "underground singing and playing" of educated youth sent to the countryside. For example, it was popular among educated youth to play "Troika" and "Katyusha" on the guitar. For Fudan University students, playing the guitar was not only about playing an instrument, but also implied a hidden meaning of contacting diverse cultures.

Comrade Xu Chengjun is so trendy?
She can also play the guitar!?
"Our great writer can also play musical instruments!"

"Classmates, would you like to hear Comrade Cheng Jun play something else?"

"Yes! Yes!" Lin Yimin shouted the loudest among them.

This guitar is also related to him. He has a cousin who runs a secondhand shop on Jinling East Road. He found a secondhand 793 guitar produced by the Shanghai National Musical Instrument Factory. He is tone-deaf, so he naturally doesn't need it. However, once when he was chatting with Xu Chengjun, he learned that Xu Chengjun could play the guitar, so he specifically asked Xu Chengjun if he wanted it.

Xu Chengjun felt that guitars were rare these days, and he genuinely liked them. Besides, it was a referral from an acquaintance, the condition was good, and the price was relatively reasonable.

In the end, Xu Chengjun bought the guitar from Lin Yimin's cousin for 26 yuan. He has tuned it a few times, but hasn't used it yet.

"Can everyone wait?"

"Must be able!"

The excitement of the Chinese Literature Department reached its peak immediately. They had the opportunity to hear writer Xu Chengjun play guitar and sing, which sounded very interesting!
Fudan University did not hold public guitar lectures until 1984. In 1979, there were neither guitar clubs nor group singing and playing activities. Playing guitar was basically an individual or small-circle activity.

This means that playing the guitar is an extremely rare thing.

Someone plays guitar and sings for you; it's Xu Chengjun.

Why aren't you listening?

Upon hearing this, Xu Chengjun, with the instructor's permission, jogged to Songzhuang to retrieve his guitar, a round trip that took more than 10 minutes.

When he returned, he found that the center of the playground had already been surrounded by a circle of three layers.

The Chinese literature students sat in the front row. Some of them had specially brought a long bench from the cafeteria as a "VIP" seat. Lin Yimin and Zhou Haibo were standing on the bench waving. When they saw him, they shouted at the top of their lungs, "Chengjun! Over here! Did you bring the guitar?"

There are more people outside the circle.

Physics majors huddled under the basketball hoop, clutching unfinished lab reports in their hands.

A girl from the Foreign Languages ​​Department, with her hair in braids, took out a notebook from her bag, waiting to write down the lyrics.

Even several students from Tongji University next door rode over on their Forever brand bicycles, with notes hanging on their handlebars.

After all, that's Xu Chengjun!

Xu Chengjun, who is on par with Bei Dao and Gu Cheng!
As soon as Xu Chengjun squeezed into the center of the circle, he heard a commotion from the crowd.

Looking up, he saw Su Manshu standing in the second row, accompanied by two girls from the economics department. She was wearing a light yellow dress and clutching a white handkerchief in her hand. When she saw him looking over, she secretly gave him a "good luck" gesture, her face flushed.

My two roommates were just teasing me: "Who knew the ice queen was going to date writer Xu Chengjun, huh!?"

Are you going or not?

"Of course I'll go! That's Xu Chengjun!"

Su Manshu hadn't expected Xu Chengjun to be able to play the guitar so well. Lin Yimin hadn't told her about taking Xu Chengjun to buy the guitar.

But Xu Chengjun has really given her too many surprises. As an ordinary educated youth sent to the countryside in 1979, it goes without saying that he has achieved such fame in writing poetry. But he is also fluent in English and has been praised by Americans. He can understand Latin American literature in Spanish and has always been confident in the country's development and economic trends.

Is this something an ordinary college student could do?
That evening, she was taking a walk on the playground with her roommates Liu Linlin and Qi Yueru when she suddenly heard someone shout, "The great poet Xu Chengjun is going to play guitar at Xianghui Hall! If you want to hear it, hurry up and go!"

Before she could react, Liu Linlin pulled her and Qi Yueru towards Xianghui Hall.

It is worth mentioning that as soon as the Poetry Journal was published, Liu Linlin became a "fan" of Xu Chengjun, and her devotion to him was extremely high.

"Give it! Give it!"

Two student council officers wearing red armbands squeezed in, holding megaphones in their hands.

"Everyone, quiet down! Don't crowd the girls! Comrade Xu Chengjun is about to perform!"

Looking at the student council members, Xu Chengjun wasn't surprised. In this era, the attitude of universities towards playing guitar was mostly "not prohibited, but not encouraged; it's allowed in private, but not in public." It was a vague state where no one explicitly said it was forbidden, but no one said it was allowed either.

They're here to maintain order, and also to see if you, Comrade Chengjun, are engaging in vulgar behavior, right?

Lu Qi stood on the periphery of the crowd, looking at Xu Chengjun who was surrounded, and then remembered what his classmate had just said about the "most popular young writer." His brows furrowed even more, but he didn't move.

He wanted to see what tricks this person, who could draw half of Fudan University to watch, could pull off.

Xu Chengjun sat on a makeshift wooden crate.

A quick glance around gave me the feeling of being transported back to my past life, singing and playing music in the lecture hall of Jinan University. Besides Su Manshu and Lin Yimin, Lin Wei and Chen Yang were also watching the excitement from outside the playground.

They were also worried for Xu Chengjun.

Guitar, ah, it sounds so difficult.

As soon as Xu Chengjun touched the guitar strings after tuning them, the playground fell silent.

When the first guitar note drifted out on the evening breeze in 1979, someone couldn't help but exclaim in a low voice: This sound is even clearer than "Moscow Nights" on the radio.

"So this is what a guitar sounds like!"

"Comrade Xu Chengjun looks so handsome playing the guitar!"

"What's so great about it? It's just a few strings!"

"Then you go ahead!"

"I don't care!"

"Chengjun, keep it up!"

"Comrade Xu Chengjun, keep it up!"

Xu Chengjun smiled as he looked at the various figures under the wooden crate: "I'll dedicate a song, 'Waiting for Your Return in the North,' to everyone!"

The next moment, Xu Chengjun's deep singing voice resounded in everyone's minds, carrying emotions they had never felt before.

It hits right in the head!

It evokes deep emotions within!
His voice was neither passionate nor loud; instead, it was filled with the soft, low singing of a deep male voice, like a gentle murmur flowing from the depths of the brain.

The effect of this moment was explosive.

Everyone turned their attention to Xu Chengjun, who was singing softly on the stage.

Lyrics and music may be influenced by their time, but emotions are not.

This song transcends time and touches the minds and hearts of everyone.

"You gripped your rifle tightly amidst the smoke of war in southern Xinjiang."
I stand beneath the locust tree in the northern countryside, longing for your return.

If there's still time before the spring breeze arrives, I'll sew my longing into the stitches to get through these days and nights.
Waiting for a return date

How do you describe folk songs?
It was like a breeze passing through the hall, gently turning ordinary days and endless conversations into songs.

The guitar strings were still vibrating slightly, but Xu Chengjun's singing was like a pool of warm water, slowly spreading across the entire playground.

What song is this?

I don't think I've ever heard of it?
Is it original?
Can songs be sung like this?
It sounds kind of nice!
Instructor Liu was originally standing outside the circle with his hands on his hips, his hands unconsciously tapping the seams of his trousers in time with the beat.

He had only been discharged from the army for less than two years when he heard the words "the smoke of gunpowder in the southern borderlands" and "grip your steel gun tightly." He suddenly stopped, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he quietly moved two steps to the front of the crowd.

He no longer spoke of the long nights in the trenches to anyone.

The letter home is filled with longing and expresses unchanging feelings.

He always carried that half of the faded photograph with him.

When I miss you, I lie to myself.
He said that even the warmest smoke from the chimneys of his hometown couldn't compare to the goodbye you said when you saw him off.

Time slowly turns around the tip of the gun, but the flames of war have not yet ceased.
If the world could stand side by side, safe and sound, I would gladly spend my life guarding it, in exchange for your peace and safety year after year.

Holding onto this wish, I say goodnight.

The wind carried the lyrics to everyone's ears on the playground, and their restless hearts gradually calmed down with the song, carried by Xu Chengjun's guitar and deep male voice to the longing of a soldier on the southern battlefield.

“He no longer talks to anyone about the long nights in the trenches,” Xu Chengjun said in an even lower voice, as if he were whispering.

As soon as the words "always carrying that half-faded photo in his pocket" were uttered, Instructor Liu subconsciously touched the inside pocket of his shirt—there was indeed a photo there, taken last year when he sent his comrades to Vietnam. The person in the photo was smiling and making a peace sign, and he had not yet received news of their return to the unit.

He originally thought that writers playing guitar was just a fun activity for young people.

But as he listened to the lyrics, "Enduring day and night, waiting for a return date," his eyes suddenly tightened, and he quickly turned his face away, pretending to adjust his military cap.

Lin Yimin stood on the long bench, originally intending to shout a few words, but now he opened his mouth without making a sound, forgetting to hand over the enamel cup in his hand.

Hu Zhi, who was next to him, came from the countryside and had never seen a guitar before, but she understood the song "Under the Locust Tree in the Northern Countryside".

There was an old locust tree in front of his house. Last year, when his father brought him to Fudan University, he said under the locust tree, "Study hard, and we'll wait for you to come home."

He suddenly remembered the cloth shoes his mother had sewn before he left home, with the words "Peace" stitched on the soles. His eyes instantly welled up with tears, and he quickly lowered his head, pretending to tie his shoelaces. Lu Qi, standing on the outskirts of the crowd, was still clutching his unfinished university physics textbook, but he couldn't concentrate on reading a single word.

He initially thought that "writers singing" was just a publicity stunt, but when he heard "there is no way back, and we have never been afraid of anything," his Adam's apple suddenly tightened.

His cousin is a soldier stationed in Xinjiang. When he visited his family last year, he said, "Guarding the border is like guarding the warm kang (heated brick bed) at home." At the time, he thought it was just empty talk, but now, in Xu Chengjun's song, there are no slogans, only the real feeling of "After enduring these days and nights, we'll wait for the day of return."

He was suddenly speechless and could only stand there, frozen in place, staring at the figure holding a guitar in the center of the circle.

For the first time, I felt that the name "Xu Chengjun" really stood alongside "Bei Dao and Gu Cheng".

Even the students from Tongji University next door forgot their earlier banter. The boy riding the Forever bicycle put his feet on the ground, his hands on the handlebars, and swayed gently to the melody.

One of them, wearing blue overalls, took out a small radio from his schoolbag. He originally wanted to record it to show off later, but when he recorded "The good news has finally arrived, fulfilling a lifelong dream," his hand trembled.

His brother is a communications soldier stationed in the Northeast, where he is under a lot of pressure. Just last week, he sent a message saying that "the situation in the south has stabilized." Now, listening to the song, he suddenly felt like writing a letter home and saying, "Brother, I heard someone singing a song about the south."

Xu Chengjun's singing voice still echoes, still softly and gently, still touching people's hearts.

In this environment, what kind of music can evoke more empathy than folk music?
All you need is a guitar and a good song.

He heard someone singing an old song from back then.
Singing about the ongoing battle in southern Xinjiang

The homeland he saw in his eyes

There was no way back, and I was never afraid of anything.

You gripped your rifle tightly amidst the smoke of battle in southern Xinjiang.

I stand beneath the locust tree in the northern countryside, longing for your return.

If there's still time before the spring breeze arrives, sew your longing into the stitches.

"Enduring day and night, waiting for a return."

By the time the second chorus began, Su Manshu's fingers, which were gripping the handkerchief, had turned white.

The hem of her pale yellow dress swayed gently in the evening breeze. Beside her, Liu Linlin had lost her earlier teasing tone. The lyrics in her notebook were crookedly written, and tears fell onto "Southern Xinjiang, Northern Hometown Sorrow," blurring a small black mark.

"Manshu, these lyrics..."

Qi Yueru's voice trembled as soon as she opened her mouth. The letter her older brother sent last month said "All is well," but she still remembered the meaning between the lines.

Su Manshu didn't speak, but just looked at Xu Chengjun in the center of the circle.

Is it a folk song?

The dim streetlights shone on him, illuminating the wood grain on the guitar neck. When he sang "If the mountains and rivers of the world could stand shoulder to shoulder without harm," he paused slightly, as if he was restraining something.

She suddenly remembered that Xu Chengjun had said, "My elder brother is in the south." The patriotism hidden in his words had long been incorporated into his melodies.

The wind carried the song over, and she quietly raised her hand to wipe the corner of her eye. There was a damp spot on her handkerchief, but she didn't feel embarrassed—because she saw several Chinese literature majors in the front row secretly wiping their faces with their sleeves.

"The good news has finally arrived, fulfilling a lifelong dream."
South of Xinjiang, north of the land mourns; in the south of Xinjiang stands a monument.

The south wind whispers, the north moon shines, the northern countryside awaits your return.

Beixiang awaits your return.

The guitar music gradually faded, and the last note fell on "Waiting for You to Return to Beixiang". Xu Chengjun looked up and realized that the playground was so quiet that he could hear the evening breeze rustling through the sycamore leaves.

He laughed and said, "I'm sorry for making a fool of myself. This song is dedicated to the most lovable people who are fighting in the south right now."

This song is actually about Huang Siyuan, who never returned in the end.

After finishing "Red Silk", I was still caught up in the emotions, so I adapted Teacher Ma Di's "South Mountain South" into this version of "Waiting for You to Return to the North Village".

Unexpectedly, it actually came in handy.

He won't copy the lyrics, and as for the melody, sorry!

After all, it's easy for Mr. Ma Di, a man from Beijing, to write "South of the Mountain."
He had barely finished speaking when someone suddenly shouted, "Good!"—it was Instructor Liu.

Then came a chorus of cheers and applause from the audience.

Then came nearly a minute of thunderous applause.

Instructor Liu strode to the center of the circle, slapped Xu Chengjun on the shoulder with such force that he staggered: "Your song really hit the nail on the head!"

He shouted loudly, "Did Xu Chengjun sing well?!"

"it is good!"

"Great!"

He didn't mention that he had three comrades still in Vietnam, nor did he mention that he clenched his fists every time he watched the news.

The line "There are monuments in the southern borderlands, and we await your return in the northern countryside" moved him deeply.

Someone curious asked, "Is this song an original work?"

Xu Chengjun nodded: "It really is my first time singing."

The surrounding students seemed to be ignited, and applause erupted once again. Lin Yimin jumped off the bench, holding up his enamel mug and shouting, "Cheng Jun! Sing it again!"

"Yes! Sing it again!"

The Chinese literature students joined in the commotion, with one holding up a notebook and shouting, "The lyrics aren't finished!"

The girls from the Foreign Languages ​​Department tossed their braids behind their backs and hummed along to the chorus, their voices soft and gentle, yet growing more and more synchronized.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Su Manshu squeezed to the front row, took out a military green water bottle from her canvas bag, and handed it to Xu Chengjun: "Drink some water first, your voice must be hoarse."

The students in dormitory 201 and the male students from Fudan University who were in their second year or above felt their hearts break when they saw this scene.

It also broke the hearts of half of the female students majoring in Chinese literature.

The other half?
There will always be those who refuse to give up.

Xu Chengjun took the kettle and touched her hand, which was still a bit cool from the evening breeze.

It also carries the shattered hearts of countless young men from Fudan University.

Su Manshu, the most beautiful girl in the Economics Department and even the whole school, has fallen for the writer Xu Chengjun!?

He had just unscrewed the cap when he saw Instructor Liu shouting into the megaphone: "Students! Comrade Xu Chengjun's song is about us soldiers, and it's also about the concerns of us ordinary people! Consider today's rehearsal a half-hour break for everyone. Those who want to listen, please be quiet!"

These words made the playground even more lively.

Some of the students who had previously questioned Xu Chengjun stood there, watching him pick up his guitar again and see Su Manshu standing beside him, and suddenly felt that their previous doubts were a bit ridiculous.

He can write about the human heart in "The Fitting Mirror" and sing about the homeland in "Waiting for You to Return to the North Countryside." Such a person truly deserves so many people to surround him.

When the song started for the second time, some people began to sing along. At first, it was just a few people, but later more and more people joined in.

No student could resist the melodies of guitars and the richness of folk songs in the evening breeze on campus.

This is a resonance of youth, and also a unique emotion of youth.

Even Instructor Liu hummed along, "In the smoke of war in the southern border, you grip your steel gun tightly," his voice rough but exceptionally earnest.

Looking at the scene before him, Xu Chengjun suddenly remembered what his elder brother Xu Jianjun had said before he left: "To guard the country is to guard the people in the family." He gently pressed down on the guitar strings, and the song became even more powerful.

There was no megaphone, only a simple loudspeaker.

There were no complicated tunings or accompaniment, only the gentle singing.

But this secondhand guitar, which cost 26 yuan, performed a function worth 260 yuan.

The song captivated Fudan University tonight.

The evening breeze carried the song out of the playground. Teachers passing by stopped in their tracks, the cafeteria staff leaned out to listen, and even the old man selling popsicles at the school gate moved his popsicle box closer to the edge of the playground.

Su Manshu stood beside Xu Chengjun, watching his profile as he bent down to play the guitar, and looking at the crowd around her humming along. Suddenly, she felt that the autumn of 1979 was even more fragrant than the osmanthus blossoms in Shanghai.

The students on the playground had a completely new experience, realizing that beautiful singing could be so simple.

It turns out that some emotions don't need fancy words or rousing melodies; as long as they resonate in the heart, they can be remembered by everyone.

I remember the smoke of war in southern Xinjiang, I remember the waiting in the northern countryside, and I remember someone using a guitar to sing their longing into a song.

When Xu Chengjun finally put down his guitar, the applause and cheers almost knocked over the sycamore leaves.

Lin Yimin rushed up and grabbed his neck: "Chengjun! I'll copy this song for my cousin tomorrow, and it'll definitely be all over Shanghai!"

"Stop joking, this song is only for private singing."

Zhou Haibo retorted, "Cheng Jun! Your song is amazing! We men of Beijing are impressed!"

Hu Zhi, Li Jihai, Cheng Yongxin, Lin Wei, and other familiar faces from the Chinese Literature Department all rushed over: "Cheng Jun sang so well!"

"That's amazing!" "Wow, Cheng Jun, you could be a singer!"

Instructor Liu also came over, patted him on the shoulder, and smiled for once: "Next time the troops hold a performance for the troops, I'll invite you to sing!"

Su Manshu quietly tugged at his sleeve and handed him a slip of paper with her delicate handwriting on it: "Is this a folk song? The lyrics are really well written. Could you give me a complete copy?"

Xu Chengjun looked at her reddened eyes, smiled and nodded, handing the kettle back: "It's folk music, I'll give it to you tomorrow."

Lu Qi, who was in the distance, silently put away his physics exercises and turned to walk back to his dormitory.

The tune of "Waiting for You to Return to Beixiang" still drifted in the evening breeze. He suddenly remembered what his classmate had said about "the most popular young writer," and for the first time, he felt that perhaps this Xu Chengjun really was a little different.

The streetlights on the playground stayed on for a long time, and even as night deepened, people were still humming that song.

The lingering notes of the guitar seem to have melted into the wind of 1979, blowing past the plane trees of Fudan University, past the secondhand shops on Jinling East Road, blowing towards the distant southern Xinjiang, and blowing into everyone's heart, remembering that young man holding a guitar, and the words "There are monuments in the southern Xinjiang, and we await your return in the northern countryside."

Students from Fudan University and some Tongji University were introduced to folk music for the first time in 1979.

In later years, an up-and-coming content creator called Elephant Screening Room serialized a documentary called "The Turbulent Forty Years" on a certain website, which recorded the framework of the era over nearly 40 years.

There's a line from the 1979 film that audiences remember.

"The autumn wind of 1979 carried a different atmosphere than in previous years—no longer just the ripe fragrance of rice paddies, but also a few melodies never heard before. Xu Chengjun, a student at Fudan University, who was also a writer and poet, sat there with his guitar and played the first note of 'Waiting for You to Return to the North Countryside.' No one could have predicted that this folk song, full of the warmth of life, would be like a light yet resilient key, quietly prying open the door to domestic music creation that had been bound for so long."

The next one will be "Hometown Love" at the end of the year.

(End of this chapter)