My era, 1979!

Chapter 139 "Reply 1979"

If you were to ask where the balance of the national team's fortunes lies, where does that balance lie?
Xu Chengjun probably has a girlfriend.

Xu Chengjun's gaze was serious as he scanned the letter from the NJ Military Region.

"In 'Red Silk,' Huang Siyuan's use of a wooden comb to express his feelings and Chunyan's use of red silk to express her aspirations fuse individual dignity and patriotism amidst the flames of war. Many veterans who experienced the war were moved after reading it, saying that it 'captured the concerns we kept hidden in our gun holsters back then.' Young officers and soldiers, on the other hand, deepened their understanding of their mission and responsibility through the work's interpretation of 'defending the land and protecting people.' Currently, the entire army is deeply studying the Fourth Plenary Session of the 19th CPC Central Committee and urgently needs works like 'Red Silk,' which combine ideological and artistic merit, to enrich the carriers of ideological and political education in the armed forces and inspire the officers and soldiers' spirit of defending the border and protecting the country."

Therefore, we sincerely invite you to visit the units under the Nanjing Military Region at your convenience. During your visit, we will arrange for you to have discussions with veterans who participated in the Huaihai Campaign and the Crossing the Yangtze River Campaign, visit border outposts and grassroots companies, and listen to officers and soldiers recount their stories of military life in the new era—we believe that these vivid materials from the barracks will inject new inspiration into your writing. At the same time, our military region's newspaper, *People's Frontline*, plans to launch a "Battlefield Literature" column, and we hope you can contribute articles or authorize the reprint of *Red Silk* and your writing notes, allowing more officers and soldiers to experience the power of literature.

Enclosed with this letter are a recent bound volume of the People's Front newspaper and a handbook for literary and artistic creation from the military region, for your reference.

If you would be so kind as to reply to this address, we will make the necessary arrangements. Best regards!
XX Ministry of Culture

October 7, 1979

This sensitivity is truly remarkable.

In my previous life, the military region's cultural department was the first to react after the publication of "Wreath at the Foot of the Mountain".

With the active promotion of the relevant military regions.

"Garland at the Foot of the Mountain" was later adapted into various forms such as film (1984), stage play, and storytelling. Due to its "realistic and profound" qualities, it has become a fixed teaching material for ideological education, combat spirit cultivation, and traditional education in the army.

Xu Chengjun held the letter from the Nanjing Military Region, reading the words "The old soldier was moved after reading it" and "The concern in the holster".

Write a reply.

In any case, people in this country have great respect for the military profession.

Besides, his older brother was also a member of the front line.

He recalled listening to the old team leader from his time working in the countryside in Xujiatun, Fengyang last year, tell stories about the Huaihai Campaign. The old team leader said, "Back then, we fought with letters from home, and the letters were soaked in sweat and became mushy." These words later became the source of inspiration for Huang Siyuan's hidden wooden comb in "Red Silk".

Looking at the words in the letter, I suddenly felt that those fictional characters seemed to have a real connection with the soldiers in reality.

He raised his hand and placed the letter on the sample copy of "Qingming".

The fact that "Red Silk" caught the attention of the military region was not just due to the luck of the writing, but also because of the "truth" hidden in the story—Huang Siyuan's wooden comb and Chunyan's embroidery marks were never just fabricated romances, but the concerns of countless soldiers hidden in their holsters.

This meets the military's current needs for culture and art.

A two-way harmony between personal emotions and collective narratives.

He got up and took a bound volume of the People's Front newspaper from the bookshelf in the archives, randomly flipping to a page.

Seeing the "outpost diary" written by the border guards, the perseverance between the lines inexplicably resonated with the underlying theme of "Red Silk," and a smile involuntarily crept onto my lips.

Without much hesitation, Xu Chengjun pulled out a piece of stationery from the drawer. He paused for a moment as he dipped his pen in ink, first writing a line of small characters in the corner of the paper: "Reply to NJ Military Region, October 10.7th," before officially starting to write.

Letter from Xu Chengjun to the Cultural Department of the NJ Military Region
Cultural Department of the Political Department of the Nanjing Military Region of the Chinese People's Liberation Army: Greetings! Your letter dated October 7th has been received. Having read your interpretation and invitation regarding "Red Silk," I feel both honored and inspired. The narrative of Huang Siyuan and Chunyan's fates in the work originated from respect for revolutionary predecessors and ordinary soldiers. It is a great fortune for the creators to have their work recognized by your officers and soldiers, bringing the "concern within the holster" into reality.

Regarding the People's Frontline newspaper's proposed reprint of "Red Silk" and its author's remarks, I fully agree. However, it should be noted that "Red Silk" was first published in the inaugural issue of Qingming magazine. Copyright matters need to be coordinated between your department and the editorial office of Qingming (161 Anqing Road, Hefei). I have already written to the editor-in-chief of Qingming, Chen Dengke, requesting his cooperation to ensure a smooth reprint.

As for visiting your esteemed institution for research and discussions, I would gladly agree. Since the Fudan University curriculum is nearing its midpoint, if it is convenient for your institution, we could schedule the visit for mid-November. At that time, I can temporarily leave the campus to travel to Nanjing to interact with veterans and visit outposts.

When writing "Red Silk," I relied heavily on secondary sources. Hearing officers and soldiers recount their stories of military life in the new era will undoubtedly benefit my subsequent writing. Enclosed is a copy of my manuscript discussing the creation of "Red Silk" for your reference. If there are any adjustments to the itinerary, please reply to the address provided in the letter, and I will cooperate accordingly.

Wishing you peace and safety, soldiers!

Xu Chengjun, October 7, 1979

Mailing Address: Room 201, Songzhuang Building, Handan Road Campus, Fudan University
After writing the last stroke, Xu Chengjun folded the letter and stuffed it into the envelope.

The letter from the military region said that "Red Silk" can be used as a vehicle for ideological education, which made me feel somewhat proud.

His writings took root and flourished in this era.

May words empower those who guard this land; that is my heart's desire.
-
mid-October.

The entire Fudan University campus was filled with celebrations, and students everywhere sang the national anthem.

"Get up, you don't want to do it."

On this day, at a meeting in Nagoya, Japan, the International Olympic Committee passed a resolution by an overwhelming majority, recognizing the legitimate seat of the Chinese Olympic Committee and ushering in a new chapter for the Olympic Games.

China officially recognizes the Olympic Committee of the People's Republic of China as the sole legitimate Olympic Committee representing China, and adopts its national flag and national anthem.

This resolution ended China's 21-year vacancy in the International Olympic Committee.

This completely broke the international sports community's isolation of China.

This laid the fundamental foundation for China's full return to the Olympic family and participation in subsequent Olympic Games (such as the 1980 Moscow Olympics and the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics), and truly opened a "new journey" of deep integration between China and the Olympic Movement.

That morning, the campus radio broadcast a news flash from Xinhua News Agency about "the International Olympic Committee recognizing the legitimate seat of the Chinese Olympic Committee."

The broadcast, accompanied by explanations such as "This is a major breakthrough in the history of Chinese sports," attracted passing teachers and students to stop and listen.

The bulletin boards in the school cafeteria, library, and dormitories were urgently plastered with clippings from the People's Daily and Liberation Daily by the student union's publicity department.

The title was circled in red, and soon a group of students gathered around, some reading the contents quietly, others craning their necks to look at the details of the "Nagoya Conference" in the newspaper.

Their eyes were red.

In the teachers' office, instructors passed around the newspapers they had just received, discussing how "China can finally participate in the Olympics normally."

Even in the afternoon class, Wang Shuizhao mentioned, "There's good news today: the International Olympic Committee has recognized our legitimate seat, which is a great thing for the country's image and the development of sports."

His tone was impassioned!
Most of the lecturers and students at Fudan University in 1979 had experienced the "post-pandemic era" and had a strong emotional resonance with the country's return to the international stage.

During this period, universities were highly open, and students actively offered suggestions and advice.

People in later generations may not be able to feel it.

But in this day and age.

The leap from zero to one brought tears to the eyes of many who experienced it firsthand.

Their lifelong dream was for their motherland to once again stand on the world stage.

Xu Chengjun was deeply moved by this environment.

He looked back on what happened in 1979.

Spring tides surge, time leaves its mark.

He picked up his pen and wrote an essay.

His writing is exquisite.

The title is "Reply 1979".

When the wind silently sweeps across the yellow earth, it feels heavy; it will turn, bringing new life with it. The past years are now sealed away. I feel a deep sense of gratitude for this sealed-away history, because through it I know that it once stirred the earth.

The dust of time has left its mark, and I feel a deep sense of emotion about this mark, because it tells me that it is not nothingness.

The soil of the times surged across the land, not growing old mounds, but only new seedlings; this was the choice of history.

The spring tide surges and roars underground; once the floodgates are opened, it will sweep away all old ailments and fortifications, and then nothing can stop it.

But I am at peace, I am glad. I will gaze into the distance, I will follow the path.

The heavens and earth are so still and silent that I cannot sing freely. Even if the heavens and earth were not so still and silent, perhaps I still would not be able to. With this new sprout, at the juncture of destruction and construction, preservation and change, past and future, I offer myself as a witness before the nation and the family, the scholars and the people, the dreamers and the observers. For myself, for the nation and the family, for the scholars and the people, for the dreamers and the observers, I eagerly await the swift arrival of this new sprout's flourishing and luxuriant growth.

Otherwise, I wouldn't have experienced it firsthand, and this is even more regrettable than stagnation. The wind comes from the South China Sea, sweeping over factory chimneys, over the new green of the fields, and over the first light lit by a small business in the alley. In that lamplight, there are the college entrance exam review materials clutched tightly by educated youth returning to the city.
The pendulum of 1979 trembled between the gap of "past" and "future." Some wandered in the shadows of old factory buildings, listening to the roar of machines gradually fade from deafening to sparse—the iron rice bowl of state-owned factories had given way to the echoes of the market economy; some ran barefoot on the mudflats of the south, letting the salty sea breeze fill their trousers, where a new city would rise, but at this moment there was only desolation and the footprints of pioneers; some recited the old words "democracy" and "science" with new meaning in the classrooms of Peking University, while the poplar leaves outside the window rustled as they shook off the frost accumulated over ten years of winter.

Every grain of dust in this year has been tossed about by the torrent of the times.

We are dust, and also drops of water propelling the surging torrent. When the old order cracks like ice, and new hope sprouts like spring buds breaking through the soil, the individual's wasted time becomes a magnificent footnote to the era. A young intellectual, A-Ming, in the workshop.
We stood at the crossroads of 1979, with the ashes of a decade of decay behind us and a desolate landscape awaiting reconstruction before us. Wild grasses had once grown rampant on the ruins; now, new seedlings were ready to take root in fertile soil. The silence and cries, the sealing and the rebuilding of that year, all questioned: Where are we headed?

The answer lies in the footsteps of everyone, in the first blast of gunfire in the Shekou Industrial Zone, in the red fingerprints left by the farmers of Xiaogang Village, and in the laughter and tears of the first batch of college students after the resumption of the college entrance examination.

1979 was a year that knocked on the door of a new era, and also an epic of youth for each of us. Though there were setbacks and moments of confusion, as the spring tide rises and new seedlings grow into a forest, we will ultimately hear the magnificent and profound echoes of this era in the long river of history.

It took him a long time to come back to his senses after finishing the article.

I folded the envelope and prepared to mail it to the "An Intelligence" column.

Xu Chengjun no longer needs the influence and benefits brought by the Anqing Daily.

Editor-in-Chief Zhang wrote at the beginning of the month, indicating that the column contract could be cancelled at any time.

Xu Chengjun simply ignored him. People looked up to you when you were at your lowest point, but now that you've climbed to a higher position, you've discarded them like trash.
It makes no sense!

Xu Chengjun folded the manuscript of "Please Answer 1979" neatly.

Su Manshu, who came to find Xu Chengjun, first looked at the five words "Please answer 1979", and stopped in her tracks, even her breathing became lighter.

"Did you just write this?" Su Manshu reached out and gently touched the edge of the manuscript, as if afraid of disturbing the sense of the times between the lines.

Xu Chengjun nodded and handed it over, and she sat down next to him, her body close to his.

He gently put his arm around her waist.

Slender waist.

A beautiful woman of sixteen or seventeen, her body as soft as butter, with a sword at her waist to slay foolish men.

Well-deserved reputation!

Fortunately, Xu Chengjun is 20 years old this year!

Xu Chengjun's thoughts raced, but Su Manshu remained completely unaware.

"Let me read it~"

She read it aloud word by word, her light blue skirt trailing on the ground, swaying gently with her breath.

When Su Manshu read the lines, "The wind comes from the South China Sea, sweeping over factory chimneys and the new green of the fields," her eyes slowly began to light up.

“You’ve brought the ‘movement’ of 1979 to life. Last week I was talking to a professor in my department about the dual-track pricing system, and I was still thinking about ‘what exactly is reform’.”

Now, looking at your writings on "The First Light Sparkled by Individual Businesses" and "The Red Fingerprints of Xiaogang Village," I have concrete images. Reform is like these tangible "new seedlings" growing.

She looked up at Xu Chengjun, her lips curving into a smile, her dimples brimming with joy: "And that line, 'We are dust, but also drops of water that propel the torrent,' when I heard on the radio this morning that the IOC had recognized our seat, my nose felt a lump in my throat—"

Our generation is both a witness to a decade of hardship and a journeyer rushing towards the arrival of spring; you've captured this feeling perfectly.

"Just jotting it down."

“Just scribbling again, how come I can’t write anything like that!” Su Manshu frowned.

"you"

Just as Xu Chengjun was about to speak, Su Manshu flipped to the end of the manuscript and pointed to the sentence "Dedicated to the country and the family, scholars and the people": "Even though big magazines like Harvest and October are praising you now, you haven't lost your column in Anqing Daily."

If Editor-in-Chief Zhang saw this, he'd be incredibly excited! With *Red Silk* magazine so popular right now, this column alone would be a bestseller!

"I just feel that I can't forget the people who helped me."

"My man has to be like this!" Su Manshu gave a sweet, soft hum.

"That is!"

Xu Chengjun's heart skipped a beat. This girl was exceptionally beautiful; every smile and frown was captivating.

He forced a smile and handed her the envelope, saying, "Could you check if the address is correct? Don't send it to the wrong address."

Su Manshu took it and suddenly remembered that when she first met him in the archives, he had a sample copy of the "Anqing Daily" in his hand.

Some people, no matter how far they go, never lose sight of the path they came from.

"You! You're treating me like a laborer, aren't you!"

"Did you pay me?"

"I can't afford it anymore, so pay me with your body!"

"Go to hell!"

When Xu Chengjun returned to his dormitory in the evening, he found Zhou Haibo, Lin Yimin, Hu Zhi, and Cheng Yongxin gathered around his desk, eagerly reading the manuscript of "Please Answer 1979".
Even Li Jihai, the older brother, was standing nearby, carrying a sweet cake he had just bought from the cafeteria.

"Wow! 'The pendulum of 1979 trembles between the past and the future'—Cheng Jun, your little essay is brilliant!"

Zhou Haibo was the first to exclaim, "I wanted to cry when I heard the news from the Olympic Committee this morning. Now, seeing what you wrote, 'Behind us are ten years of ashes, before us lies a field waiting to be rebuilt,' the way you used those words!"

"The Red Silk is not finished yet, and you're already stirring things up again?"

"How do you think you're so smart? Can I borrow your brain?"

Hu Zhi glanced at what she had just written: "The voice of the only legitimate Olympic Committee came, and we cheered and jumped for joy, even..."

I glanced again at Xu Chengjun's words: "Every grain of dust this year has been tossed about by the torrent of the times."

"Damn it, I can't stand it anymore!"

He tore the paper up in a flash, leaving the others stunned.

Lin Yimin snatched the manuscript from Zhou Haibo's hand, pointing to the sentence "The first blast in the Shekou Industrial Zone": "My dad works at the Shanghai Machine Tool Factory. Yesterday he told me that 'the factory is going to implement profit retention.' What you wrote, 'The iron rice bowl of state-owned factories has given rise to the echoes of the market economy,' is exactly what it is now! I have to copy this down and send it home so my dad can see it too!"

His father was the factory's first secretary.

I won't go into detail about its high value.

Hu Zhi adjusted her glasses, unusually refraining from arguing with Zhou Haibo, her tone full of agreement: "Your previous works, 'The Granary' and 'Red Silk,' were stories of individuals, but this essay is different—"

You've connected the footsteps of educated youth, farmers, and workers, like taking a panoramic photo of 1979. If anyone ever asks, "What was China like in 1979?" just show this article, and you'll be remembered in history!

"How can a novel be the same as an essay? You're wrong about that!"

Cheng Yongxin leaned closer: "But Cheng Jun! Are you really planning to send it to the Anqing Daily again? There are so many big publications vying for your manuscripts now, and the fees they offer aren't even enough for you to buy a hardcover book."

“Not there.” Xu Chengjun didn’t even turn his head: “Editor-in-Chief Zhang gave me a column when I was unknown. Now that I’m in Harvest magazine, I can’t just forget about him.”

Furthermore, this article depicts the lives of ordinary people in 1979, and its publication in the *Anqing Daily* ensures that young people, workers, and farmers will see it more quickly—they are the true protagonists of this article.

No sooner had he said that than Zhou Haibo patted him on the shoulder and exclaimed, "Chengjun, I admire your loyalty! If you ever start a publication, I'll be the first one to help you find a printing plant!"

Lin Yimin rolled his eyes at him: "What, you're not going to help me now!"

"When did I say I wouldn't help?"

"Xiao Zhou, you need to respect your superiors and have a sense of hierarchy. I'm your superior now!"

That's true. The two of them are in the same group, and Lin Yimin will temporarily take the position of Minister of the Organization Department!

"Leader my ass! You little brat need a beating!"

"You little rascal, do you know how strong your uncle is?!"

"You know nothing! Speak Mandarin!"

(End of this chapter)