My era, 1979!

Chapter 128 A Study on the Literary Connotations and Vital Consciousness of Song Dynasty Literati's Colophons

For several days in a row, Xu Chengjun and Su Manshu's relationship continued to heat up.

Every evening, you can see the two of them walking hand in hand on the Fudan University campus, in front of the library, and in front of the Chinese Department teaching building.

Xu Chengjun, carrying the "History of the Song Dynasty" he had just borrowed from the library, had just stepped out of the Xianzhou Pavilion when he saw Su Manshu standing under the sycamore tree. Her pale yellow dress was adorned with a few golden fallen leaves, and she was clutching a copy of "Economic Research" in her hand.

A virtuous woman dwells in Liangxi, standing alone against the overgrown thickets.

Her brows, like autumn mountains, were like dark eyebrows; her eyes, like snow in the morning light, reflected her beauty.

Her clothes were lightly touched by the morning dew, her shadow faintly visible, detached from the clamor of the world.

Even a thousand beautiful scenes cannot compare to even a fraction of her beauty.
-
"I've been waiting for you for ages,"

She came up to him and straightened Xu Chengjun's collar. "I was just reading the supplement to your book, 'Modern Transformation of Traditional Literary Theory,' in the archives. I never expected you could explain the connection between 'metaphor and allegory' and rural reform so thoroughly."

Xu Chengjun tucked the book into his arms and teased her, "What, is Teacher Su going to test me on economics again? I haven't explained the 'marginal utility' you mentioned last time."

Su Manshu's eyes crinkled as she pulled him toward the stone steps of Xianghui Hall: "I'm not going to test you, I just want to tell you something. Yesterday, the department was discussing the 'dual-track pricing system,' and a teacher said that 'unplanned transactions are speculation,' but I just don't agree with that. You said before that 'the market is like water, it's better to guide than to block,' could you tell me more about that?"

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the sycamore leaves, casting shimmering spots of light on her open notebook.

The two sat side by side on the stone steps, with Su Manshu gently resting her head on Xu Chengjun's shoulder.

Xu Chengjun pointed to her draft filled with arrows: "Take cloth coupons as an example. City girls secretly exchanged grain coupons for printed cloth. This is the most primitive market demand. Now, state-owned enterprises are piloting 'profit retention,' and rural areas are implementing 'household contract responsibility system.' The essence is to let 'demand' speak. The so-called dual-track system is just opening a small channel for the flow of water. In the future, the channel will become wider and wider."

Su Manshu paused on the word "speculation" with her pen, then suddenly looked up: "But the teacher said, 'Capital's pursuit of profit will disrupt order.'"

"Order is not dead,"

Xu Chengjun picked up a petal of osmanthus and placed it on her notebook. "Just like these osmanthus flowers, last year you could only see them in the botanical garden, but this year they're everywhere on campus. When demand comes, supply will naturally follow. In the future, there will be more 'printed fabrics without ration coupons,' and there will be privately run small restaurants. This isn't chaos; it's a sign of life."

Su Manshu stared at the petals and suddenly smiled: "It has to be my teacher Xu. He can always make profound truths sound like a story."

"Even writers have to serve their loved ones!"

“Last time you said ‘China will have its own car factories in the future,’ I argued with my classmates. Now I think it might really come true.”

Su Manshu is actually very sensitive to economic principles and market demand. She is good at math and will take the initiative to ask questions about "market demand". She will fill her notebook with supply and demand curves. This sensitivity to knowledge is indeed rare.

Xu Chengjun studied social sciences and had some understanding of economics. Even if he didn't, he knew about the overall macroeconomic situation in the future and could guide Su Manshu in a relatively correct direction.

On a weekend in Nanjing Road, the latest Dacron shirts are displayed in the shop windows of department stores, and the counters are crowded with customers holding measuring tapes.

Su Manshu stood in front of the "Shanghai" brand watch counter, and gently touched the Roman numerals on the watch face through the glass: "Teacher Xu, it would take three months' salary to save up for this watch. Do you think it will be easy for ordinary people to buy it in the future?"

Xu Chengjun followed her gaze and saw a saleswoman behind the counter using tweezers to hold a watch and demonstrate it to a customer: "Yes, it will. I think there will be more factories and cheaper parts in the future, and watches will be as common as fountain pens are now. Maybe there will even be 'watches' that can make phone calls, so you can carry them in your pocket and talk to people thousands of miles away."

"Believe in the power of demand."

"You're talking nonsense again,"

Su Manshu playfully pushed him, but couldn't help asking, "Can it really be like that?"

"Of course, wouldn't modern sewing machines and watches be considered divine possessions by the Song people?"

Xu Chengjun pointed to a newly opened individual food stall on the street corner. Steam was rising from the steamer, and the aroma of meat buns wafted over in the white mist.

"Look at that steamed bun vendor. He used to hide in alleys to sell his wares, but now he dares to set up a stall at the street corner and even hangs a wooden sign that says 'Wang's Steamed Buns.' Times are changing, and there will be even more changes in the future. In the future, we will not only be able to make phone calls, but also eat dishes from all over the country, such as Sichuan hot pot and Cantonese morning tea, without having to ask someone to bring us canned food."

"Is the great writer planning to write a science fiction novel?" Su Manshu asked with a sly look in her eyes.

"Then let's write Teacher Su as a robot, the kind with an AI chip in its brain!"

What is a smart chip?

She looked up at Xu Chengjun, her eyes filled with confusion, her appearance somewhat naive.

Xu Chengjun was taken aback, forgetting that the concept of smart chips didn't even exist at that time.

The first mention of an artificial intelligence program called "Spartacus" was in James P. Hogan's 1979 science fiction novel, "Two Faces of Tomorrow".

"You can think of it as the brain of a robot. These elements have already appeared in foreign science fiction novels."

Xu Chengjun explained the science fiction elements that Su Manshu could understand in 1979 to her. Su Manshu was sometimes confused, sometimes asked questions, and sometimes looked at Xu Chengjun with a little pride in her eyes, as if to say: How amazing my teacher Xu is!
"Xu Chengjun!"

He was taken aback. What's going on?

I like you so much~

"what?"

"Ok?"

"Me too!"

"Hahahaha~"

A silvery laugh drifted across her vision.

The two walked slowly along Nanjing Road. When they passed Xinhua Bookstore, Su Manshu suddenly stopped.

The latest issue of "Shanghai Literature" was displayed in the shop window, with Ru Zhijuan's name printed on the cover.

She pulled Xu Chengjun inside, pulled a book from the shelf, and turned to the chapter of "The Story That Was Edited Wrong": "This book is about the old Party Secretary who squatted on the threshold to calculate work points. He made a mistake and recalculated. He didn't say that it was hard, but it made people feel sad. This kind of writing about 'small days' is really touching."

Xu Chengjun took the book, his gaze falling on the passage describing the distribution of grain among the commune members: "Teacher Ru is good at finding the era in small things. The old Party Secretary poured the extra half-scoop of rice into the collective granary. This is the perseverance of ordinary people. They don't need to shout for the collective, but they keep the collective in their hearts. When I wrote about Xu Laoshuan in 'The Granary,' I also wanted to write about this kind of person who 'does without saying a word.'"

Su Manshu suddenly looked up, a hint of slyness in her eyes, and gently hooked her finger around his palm: "Then tell me, if I wanted to make an 'unconventional' floral dress like Chunlan in your book, would you help me hide the fabric, just like in the book?"

Xu Chengjun rolled his eyes.

"What, you're not going to help, huh!"

Su Manshu's voice rose slightly, and her almond-shaped eyes narrowed slightly.

With more human presence and less ethereal charm, Xu Chengjun was momentarily stunned.

"You!"

He closed the book, looked at her intently, and gently held her hand: "I won't let you secretly hide fabric. In the future, there will be more floral fabrics that don't require ration coupons, and I will openly buy them for you so that you can dress like a flower, without worrying about others saying 'it's against the rules'."

The ceiling fan in the bookstore turned gently, and amidst the rustling sound of pages turning, Su Manshu's face slowly flushed, and she gripped his hand tightly.

The two quietly moved closer together, and he was reading Nie Luda's "Twenty Love Poems and Songs of Despair" to her with his head down, his voice very soft, as if afraid of startling the sparrows that had landed on the windowsill.

Love is too short, forgetting is too long.

As Xu Chengjun read this sentence, he looked up and met Su Manshu's gaze.

Her face had turned red without her noticing, the blush spreading from the tips of her ears all the way to her chin, like peach petals dyed by the sunset. She even secretly tightened her grip on his hand, unwilling to let go even a little.

Xu Chengjun could feel the warmth of her palm, which was slightly sweaty.

"Stop reading."

Su Manshu gently pulled her hand away, her voice barely audible, but she didn't actually pull away. Instead, she moved closer to him, shoulder to shoulder, and he could smell the faint scent of soap in her hair. "Let me tell you some things about my childhood."

Xu Chengjun closed the book and nodded in agreement: "Okay, I'm listening."

Su Manshu's gaze drifted to the window, landing on the old locust tree opposite the bookstore. Her eyes softened, revealing a gentle warmth characteristic of the Jiangnan water towns: "My mother was a young lady from the Su family of Wuxi, the Su family that used to run a cloth shop in Wuxi. It was a prominent family. She was a famous beauty in her youth, skilled in all the arts, including music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. My grandfather doted on her and wouldn't even let her travel far."

“But my dad was a poor boy back then. His family lived in a rural area of ​​northern Jiangsu. He didn’t even have a decent jacket.”

At this point, she smiled gently, her eyes crinkling with pride for her father. "But he was ambitious. He studied hard on his own and got into Southwest Associated University, where he studied Chinese literature. After the war ended, he followed his teacher to Shanghai and worked his way up from teaching assistant to professor at Fudan University before finally settling down in Shanghai."

The ceiling fan was still spinning, and the wind made her braids sway, the ends of her hair brushing against Xu Chengjun's arm, causing a slight itch.

“My maternal grandfather has always disliked my father, feeling that he was not good enough for my mother. Even now, whenever my mother goes back to Wuxi for holidays, my maternal grandfather will not let my father come with her. My father is also stubborn. Since he got married, he has never been back to Wuxi. But every time my mother comes back from Wuxi, he will secretly sit in the study for half the night, looking through the clay figurines that my mother brought back.”

At this point, Su Manshu's voice softened, and her eyes slowly reddened: "When I was little, I went back to Wuxi with my mother. The children from my relatives' families would always surround me and call me a wild girl, saying that I was a child without a father. I was too young to understand, and all I knew was to cry. I would run home and ask my mother why my father didn't come back to Wuxi with us. Every time, my mother would hug me and cry, saying that my father was busy and would come back with us when he was done."

Xu Chengjun looked at her reddened eyes and felt a pang in his heart. He gently rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, said nothing, and just squeezed her hand tighter.

Su Manshu sniffed, wiped her eyes, and quickly smiled, revealing dimples that masked her slight grievances: "But I have two good older brothers! They're much older than me and have protected me since I was little. Back in Wuxi, if anyone dared to bully me, my eldest brother would chase them down two streets with a wooden gun; my second brother is even more thoughtful. Every time I cried, he would secretly give me some candy and say, 'Manman, don't cry. When your brother grows up, he'll take you back to Shanghai to find Dad.'"

"Later, when educated youth went to the countryside across the country, my eldest and second eldest brothers could have stayed in Shanghai, but they volunteered and went to the countryside to work."

She touched the wood grain that had glided across the corner of the table, her voice tinged with nostalgia, “I was only ten years old then. Every day after school I would wait for my parents at the school gate, and at night I would sit in the study and read the letters my brothers sent me. They always talked about how well the wheat was growing in the countryside and how much work points they could earn, but I knew they were just trying to keep my parents from worrying.”

“Until the college entrance examination was reinstated in 77, I studied desperately, hoping to get into Fudan University, be with my parents, and also to let my brothers see that I had become a student of Fudan University when they came back.”

At this point, Su Manshu turned to look at Xu Chengjun, her eyes sparkling, "Now it's all good, not only did I get into Fudan University, but I also met you."

"Your father is Professor Su?"

"how do you know?"

"When you were interviewing me and bringing me things, he practically killed me with his eyes."

Xu Chengjun shrugged, looking completely innocent. "Pfft."

Su Manshu nestled in Xu Chengjun's arms, laughing without any regard for her image.

"At the time, I was wondering what I had said that offended this professor."

"You lied to his girl!"

"Teacher Xu, tell me about your first twenty years too."

"Me? I also have an older brother named Xu Jianjun and a younger sister named Xu Xiaomei, you know. I was sent to the countryside in Xujiatun, Fengyang at the end of 76."

Outside the window, Nanjing Road is bustling with traffic. The sounds of bicycle bells, vendors' shouts, and customers' laughter blend together like a lively symphony of the times. And in their clasped hands, there lies a heartbeat that only they can understand.

At dusk on the banks of the Huangpu River, the evening breeze, carrying moisture, tousled Su Manshu's hair.

Xu Chengjun draped his coat over her shoulders, the warm fabric of his body wrapping her in it and shielding her from the chill of the river breeze.

The two sat on the stone steps by the river, watching the ferry slowly pass by in the distance, its whistle spreading in the twilight, like humming a slow, leisurely song.

“You weren’t finished talking at the bookstore today,”

Su Manshu suddenly spoke, gently resting her head on his shoulder, her voice as soft as ripples on a river, "You said literature should be close to people's hearts, so when you write novels in the future, will you always write about the lives of ordinary people?"

"Yes,"

Xu Chengjun gently touched the top of her head and brushed the stray hairs behind her ear. "Just like when you study economics, you don't just look at the GDP; you also have to see if ordinary people's wallets are full. When I wrote 'The Dressing Mirror,' I wrote about Chunlan wanting to wear floral fabric; when I wrote 'Red Silk,' I wrote about Huang Siyuan wanting to go home. These are all ordinary people's little thoughts, but hidden in those little thoughts is the grand era. In the future, I want to write more, about how individual business owners open their first restaurants, about how farmers grow their first acre of cash crops, about how young people like us look forward to the future."

Su Manshu leaned on his shoulder, her fingers gently tracing the cuff of his coat, her voice tinged with a sleepy slur: "We're so alike! You write literature, I study economics, and we both want to figure out how people can live better lives. We can do research together in the future, okay?"

"You write about people, I'll do the accounting, let's watch China get better together, okay?"

"it is good,"

Xu Chengjun's voice was soft but firm: "Together we watched more printed fabrics that didn't require ration coupons appear, together we watched private restaurants open all over the streets, together we watched China have its own car factories, together we watched our lives, like the waves of the Huangpu River, always get stronger and stronger."

The ferry on the river was lit up, casting its light on their clasped hands.

Su Manshu held his hand and suddenly remembered the first time she heard him play the guitar on campus. He was sitting under the osmanthus tree, singing "Waiting for You to Return to the North Village," his eyes full of seriousness.

Now his shoulder feels warm, his voice is steady, and this is the tacit understanding between the two of them.

Without saying much, you can tell what the other person is thinking and what they are hoping for.

It seemed to reassure her more than any promise.

"Sing me a song?"

What should we sing?

How about singing "Wuxi Scenery"?

Su Manshu stared blankly at Xu Chengjun, but didn't say anything.

Xu Chengjun picked up a small stone and threw it on the river, skipping it across the water.

"Actually, when I heard you sing, I wondered what kind of girl you would be. Would you be artistic? Romantic? Or beautiful?"

"So what happened in the end?"

Su Manshu rested her chin on her hand, her gaze fixed on Xu Chengjun's eyes.

"At first, it was stunning, it was the way you looked standing in the sunlight."

"Later came joy, the feeling of 'soulmate' that arose when you talked to me about literature."

"now what?"

"Now everything is blurry, because you are exactly how I like you."

Su Manshu was somewhat mesmerized.

"Teacher Xu, shall we walk together?"

"Like the Huangpu River, it will forever move forward."

As dusk deepened, the waves of the Huangpu River gently lapped against the embankment, as if playing a tender rhythm for this slowly warming love.

Xu Chengjun returned the notebook to Su Manshu. Their faces drew closer, but neither of them looked away; they simply smiled at each other.

The fragrance of osmanthus still lingers in the wind, and stars have already filled the night sky. Their story, just like the autumn of 1979, is slowly unfolding, carrying expectations for the future and tacit understanding between them, quietly shining in the passage of time.

I have a past relationship.
Sing for the Lords
Gentlemen, please calm down and quiet your minds.
Let me sing a song about Wuxi scenery.
The spring water is clear and blue
Tea leaves steeped in hot water
Xishan Mountain is opposite Huiquan Mountain.
Open a clay Buddha shop on each side of the foot of the mountain.
"Open a clay Buddha shop!"
-
The next day, Xu Chengjun went to the Chinese Department's archives.

I found some materials on Song Dynasty literature and current cutting-edge papers.

In fact, it wasn't exactly cutting-edge. In 1979, Song Dynasty literature research faced an extreme predicament: insufficient supply of documents.

Large anthologies such as "Complete Prose of the Song Dynasty" and "Complete Poetry of the Song Dynasty" have not yet been compiled, rare editions and unique overseas copies are difficult to obtain, and unearthed documents (such as bamboo and wooden slips and stone inscriptions from the Song Dynasty) have not been systematically organized.

Xu Chengjun reviewed and understood the cutting-edge materials published in journals such as the Peking University Journal and the Social Sciences Edition of the Fudan University Journal over the past few years.

He also found that Song Dynasty literature studies in 1979 were still limited by both traditional textual research and class analysis.

Most studies focus on biographical research on writers and class interpretations of the themes in their works, lacking diverse theories and interdisciplinary tools.

Some renowned scholars even categorize Su Shi's poems as "the idle sorrows of the landlord class."

At the beginning of the semester, Zhu Dongrun asked him which dynasty's literature he would choose as his research focus.

He chose Song Dynasty literature without much consideration.

A comparison with Tang Dynasty literature.

The study of Tang poetry had already formed a solid foundation from the Republican era to before the founding of the People's Republic of China, such as the textual research on Tang poetry by Wen Yiduo and Zhu Ziqing.

By 1979, there had been considerable progress in interpreting "Three Hundred Tang Poems," researching the lives of Li Bai and Du Fu, and elucidating the grandeur of the Tang Dynasty, leaving relatively little room for further breakthroughs.

A comparison of Ming and Qing literature.

Although Ming and Qing novels have received widespread attention, in 1979, research on Ming and Qing literature still focused on ideological content, with insufficient attention paid to stylistic details, such as the musical meter of Ming and Qing legends, niche areas such as Ming Dynasty literati essays and Qing Dynasty parallel prose.

However, the collation of literature in these fields, such as the collation of Ming and Qing dynasty anthologies, was not yet complete in 1979, making the research even more difficult.

As for the literary content of other dynasties, Xu Chengjun was completely unfamiliar with it in his previous life.

Moreover, he had Chen Shangjun, a renowned scholar of Tang Dynasty literature, by his side.

Song Dynasty literature is the best choice.

Last weekend, Zhu Dongrun inquired about the progress of Xu Chengjun's research on Song Dynasty literary documents. Xu answered truthfully but also received new "assignments".

Write a research paper on Song Dynasty literature.

Not to mention that Zhang Peiheng, the "death trap," is behind it all.

"I'll only give you half a month to form an army."

"So urgent?"

“I don’t care about anything else, but I know you’re capable of giving me a first draft within two weeks.”

"What are your research interests?"

"You decide for yourself; I don't study Song Dynasty literature!"

Well, you're really open-minded, aren't you?
He spent four or five days deliberating and consulted a lot of materials, especially rare copies of "Dongpo Zhilin", "Shangu Tiba" and "Quan Song Wen" that are treasured by Fudan University.

The chosen topic was one that, in this era, researching the history of Song Dynasty literature was most likely to amaze the academic community—

A Study on the Literary Connotations and Vitality Consciousness of Colophons by Song Dynasty Literati—Focusing on the Colophons of Su Shi and Huang Tingjian

It is small and specific, and is suitable for a first-year graduate student.

It is both novel and profound, capable of breaking existing perceptions and accurately addressing current academic gaps.

In 1979, the understanding of "colophons" in Song Dynasty literature research was almost entirely limited to academic appendices.

It is either used as historical research material, such as using Su Shi's postscripts to supplement historical events, or it is considered as fragmented essays with no independent literary value, and no one has ever studied it as an independent literary genre.

Xu Chengjun began writing.

The opening statement states: "Postscripts are not 'attachments,' but rather the freest 'vessels for the soul' of Song Dynasty literati—they are short in length but rich in meaning, free from the constraints of classical prose's 'carrying the Way' and the paradigm of 'expressing emotions' in classical poetry. They are a direct presentation of the 'true self' of Song Dynasty literati and possess independent literary and aesthetic value."

Breakthrough!

(End of this chapter)