My era, 1979!

Chapter 148 The Tide, About to Set Sail!
The two were chatting enthusiastically when Li Ziyun suddenly grabbed the phone on the table, spun the dial three times before finally connecting to the editorial department of Harvest: "Xiaolin? Is Xu Chengjun with you?"
We've seen his manuscript of "The Music Box" and would like to invite him to discuss the subsequent revisions, and also... we'd like to ask him his thoughts on "where literature in the new era should go."

Li Xiaolin replied with a laugh on the other end of the phone: "What a coincidence! He just finished revising the ending of 'The Box of Hope' with me and is having dinner at my house right now. I called him to answer the phone—Chengjun, Editor-in-Chief Li from 'Shanghai Literature' is looking for you. They say they love your unpublished book, 'The Music Box,' more and more as they read it!"

When Xu Chengjun took the receiver, his mouth still had some oil from braised pork on it.

He had just finalized the "Letter Box of Hope" with Li Xiaolin when he heard "Shanghai Literature" mention "Music Box," and he quickly put down his chopsticks: "Hello, Editor-in-Chief Li! I have no problem with the subsequent revisions."

"It doesn't need much modification!"

Li Ziyun's voice lit up on the phone, "Let's talk about how to better meet the needs of our readers. But how come your mind is so incredibly relevant to everyday life?"

After hanging up the phone, Li Xiaolin handed him a hot towel: "You're a hot commodity in Shanghai's literary scene now, Chengjun!"

Xu Chengjun wiped his mouth: "We have to be more careful with this hot commodity. We have to write something different to live up to other people's expectations."

In the afternoon, Xu Chengjun followed Li Xiaolin to the "Shanghai Literature" magazine.

The plane tree leaves on Wukang Road have not yet all fallen, and the golden leaves are spread on the bluestone slabs. Ba Jin's residence is not far away. Li Xiaolin pointed to the Western-style house covered with vines by the roadside: "My father often said, 'Literature should tell the truth.' When you wrote 'The Music Box,' you were telling the truth—not avoiding history, nor being harsh on ordinary people."

Xu Chengjun wore an old straw hat, the brim pulled low to cover his sunburned cheeks: "I just don't want to hide from the world when I write about it. Chen Jianguo is neither a hero nor a bad person. He made a mistake to save his mother and then spent his whole life atoning for it—who is there to judge such a person?"

As Li Xiaolin passed by the Shanghai Academy of Drama, she suddenly stopped and said, "This is my alma mater. When I was studying literature, my teachers always said that 'literature should be grounded in reality.' You have achieved that now."

"You studied literature, so how did you end up becoming an editor at Harvest?" Xu Chengjun asked curiously.

"Aren't literature students supposed to help find readers for good manuscripts?"

Li Xiaolin smiled and retorted, "You studied Song Dynasty literature, didn't you also write 'Red Silk'?"

Xu Chengjun shrugged: "You're right, I have nothing to say."

When they arrived at the editorial office of "Shanghai Literature," Zhou Jieren and Li Ziyun were already waiting.

As soon as he sat down, Jay Chou pushed the manuscript of "Music Box" over, which was covered with red circles: "When will this manuscript be finalized? We want to release it in the next issue!"

Xu Chengjun flipped through the manuscript and suddenly looked up: "I want to go to the Hongqi Machinery Factory again and chat with that aunt about the days after the review. Mr. Zhu Dongrun said, 'To do scholarship, one must immerse oneself in the real world.' The same applies to writing novels. If you don't see the real thing, you always feel uneasy."

Li Ziyun and Zhou Jieren exchanged a glance, their eyes full of approval: "That's how it should be! Nowadays, many writers sit at home making up stories, but you're willing to go to factories."

That's why your writing is so moving. If you need help contacting factories, just let us know!

Xu Chengjun: "It would be great if we could have a way to contact each other."

Li Ziyun quickly replied, "No problem, how about I arrange it for you this weekend? It won't interfere with your classes."

Jay Chou: "However, the scenes in your novel are very suitable for making a movie."

Xu Chengjun: "Let's see how it goes after we release it, maybe."
-
The inaugural issue of "The Wave" is scheduled to be officially released on November 25.

During this period, many members of the Wave Literature Society worked through the night to prepare for the release of the inaugural issue.

College students of this era possess not only the daring and enterprising spirit of 21st-century college students, but also the simplicity and diligence characteristic of this era.

A breeze begins with the tip of a blade of grass, and a wave rises from a gentle ripple.

The literary lectures and art salons organized by Xu Chengjun during this period have played a certain role in disseminating modern literary writing concepts.

The inaugural issue of "The Wave" brought together a wide variety of student literary works from this period.

The poem "Let's Go to the Summer Swimming Pool Together" was written by Shao Pu, a freshman in the Chinese Department of Fudan University.

With its delicate description of "a swimming pool in summer / rippling with a clear longing / where one can stretch one's limbs freely / and happily take off / all kinds of restrictive clothes", Hsu Te-min decided to include it immediately.

"We Met Vice Chairman Deng," written by Zhu Ping, Sheng Xiaoming, Zhu Yong, and Fang Guofu, students of the Biology Department of East China Normal University in 1978, was originally published on the front page of the university newspaper on September 11, 1979, and was later widely reprinted by newspapers such as the People's Daily.

However, it was "influenced" by The Wave and included in the inaugural issue of The Wave.

Lin Yimin's science fiction short story "2023," inspired by Xu Chengjun's "time loop" concept, still has room for improvement in terms of narrative literary quality, but given the creative environment at the time, its science fiction concept was already quite remarkable.

In addition, Zhang Weiwei's reportage "What I Saw and Heard", Jing Xiaodong's poem "Youth", and "We Went to the Girls' Dormitory on the Weekend", originally published by Fudan Poetry Society, are also included.

These diverse and heartfelt student works come together to support the literary depth of the inaugural issue of "The Wave" and vividly demonstrate its unique attributes as a "student journal".

Of course, this is also inseparable from Xu Chengjun's contributions.

There are three poems, which were written after Xu Demin urged me to submit them when I returned from "Shanghai Literature".

He paused for a long time after picking up his pen, letting his thoughts wander.

The wheat fields of Xujiatun in Fengyang, the sweet potatoes the team leader gave him, Xu Xiaomei's profile as she squatted by the stove tending the fire, and the flour stuck to Su Manshu's sleeves when she was making paste yesterday.

These moments of "contentment and lack of desire" still move him deeply even now.

Thus, the lines from "I Like to Live So Calmly and Without Demands" flowed from the tip of the pen: "Like a cloud surrendering itself to the blue sky / A leaf surrendering itself to spring and autumn."

What he wanted to write about was not detachment, but a cherishing of the ordinary.

Just as Chen Jianguo spent his whole life atoning for his sins, just as the commune members stayed up all night pasting envelopes, these "things that grow in life" are the ones that deserve the most praise.

When he wrote "Give half of my feelings to passionate encounters / Give the other half to partings", he recalled the first time he met Su Manshu in the archives. She was holding "Selected Song Lyrics" and standing in the sunlight, her hair smelling of osmanthus.

I recalled the letter my elder brother Xu Jianjun sent from the front lines, saying, "Guarding the border is like guarding the red silk at home."

Meetings and partings are the underlying colors of life; accepting them with equanimity is the essence of living.

He moved the manuscript aside, his gaze sweeping over the line "Walking with fervor on the paths of time," and suddenly felt his eyes welling up with tears.

This passion isn't written for others to see; it's written for those who live earnestly through the years, including himself.

Writing poetry can sometimes be that simple.

When love reaches its deepest point, it becomes an unwavering and profound affection.

I like living this way, without any desires.

Author: Xu Chengjun

Like clouds surrendering themselves to the blue sky
A leaf is given to spring and autumn.

Like bees and butterflies surrendering themselves to the flowering season.
The dew entrusted its dreams to the morning grass stems.

It's as if the snow has surrendered itself to the vast wilderness.
The wilderness entrusted the story to sunrise and sunset.
And so I surrendered myself to a small town, surrendered myself to it.

Morning and evening
Give half of your feelings to a passionate encounter.

The other half is given to separation

I like living this way, without any desires.
Walking with enthusiasm along the paths of time

I sing praises to what can still grow in my life.

Like embracing some unexpected gifts with a smile.

/
I put down my pen to take a break, but my gaze fell on the first draft of "A Study of Colophons by Song Dynasty Literati" on the corner of the table.

Recently, many people have been asking him, "Why don't you write popular 'scar literature'?"

But he remembered what Mr. Zhu Dongrun said: "To do scholarship, one must immerse oneself in the subject matter," and the same applies to writing poetry.

Many people in the literary world are learning from the West’s “stream of consciousness” and “magical realism”, but they have forgotten who they are.

Just as the wind only wants to be the wind, he only wants to write what he understands and believes.

Then the lines from "Pure Me" suddenly popped into my head: "Man wants to be a mountain or a sea / Insects want to have armor / Horses dream of becoming thunder / But the wind wants to be nothing but wind."

The "purity" he wanted to write about was not about being detached from worldly affairs, but about not pandering or blindly following others.

When writing "Red Silk," he didn't shout the slogan "Defend the country and protect the homeland," and when writing "Music Box," he didn't portray Chen Jianguo as a "bad guy."

The same applies to writing poetry; don't pile up fancy words, just speak from the heart.

then
"Pure Me" - People Want to Become Mountains or Seas

The insect wanted to have armor.

Ma dreamed of becoming Benlei.

But the wind doesn't want to be anything other than wind.

Every wisp of wind is a pure wisp of wind.

From the tips of my hair to the very tip of my heart
—To Freedom
/
The third poem, "The Unopened Window," was written after I agreed to go to the Hongqi Machinery Factory.

That night, he sat on the steps of the Shanghai Academy of Drama, watching the students coming and going at the school gate: some were running with scripts in their hands, some were huddled together reciting poems, and there was a boy in bell-bottoms who was playing the guitar for a girl and singing "Young Friends Come to Meet" off-key.

When Li Xiaolin said this was her alma mater, he suddenly thought of the "two windows" in his life.
One is the path of a civil servant in a past life, stable and respectable, but like a window "disappearing into the folds of buildings," you can see the end, but you can't see yourself.

The other is the current literary path, like that window that is "dappled with light and shadow, very quiet and secluded," where few people stop to look, but it holds the poetry he truly desires.

It's not some abstract, abstract philosophy; it's the worn-out gloves Chen Jianguo wore while atoning for his sins, the sunflowers on his aunt's windowsill, and the real lives hidden within these "untold" stories.

He trembled slightly as he took out a piece of scrap paper and wrote, "But I chose another window."

The Unopened Window

Two windows separated by gray buildings

Unfortunately, I cannot go and look out at the same time.
I lingered at that street corner for a long time.

I gazed intently into a window.
Until it disappears into the folds of the building

But I chose a different window.
Its light and shadow are mottled

Very quiet
It appears more poetic and mellow.
Although in front of this small window
They rarely attract the attention of onlookers.

/
In the storage room of the boat house, the scent of ink from the mimeograph machine mingled with the bitter fragrance of sycamore leaves in the air.

Lin Yimin was squatting on the ground checking the list of manuscripts for the inaugural issue. His fingers flew across the yellowed pages, and sweat dripped from his forehead onto the words "Layout Confirmation" on his chin.

Xu Demin, holding the manuscript of "2023" that he had just finished proofreading, with the tip of his pen still stained with red ink, was discussing with Xu Qian whether to add an editor's note to the science fiction short story.

Lü Shu and Zhang Lei were huddled around the mimeograph machine on the corner of the table, figuring out how to make the font size larger so that the words in the poetry section would stand out more.

With only half a month left until the release date of November 25th, the entire literary society was immersed in the fervor of "rushing to finish the work".

"Stop for a moment, everyone!"

Xu Demin suddenly raised his voice, clutching three neatly folded sheets of paper in his hand, "Chengjun has handed in the poems, three in total!"

These words were like a pebble thrown into water. Lin Yimin jumped up from the ground, ignoring his knee hitting the table leg, and snatched the manuscript paper: "Let me see! Last time he said he wrote a poem called 'I Like Living So Calmly and Without Desires,' I thought he would only publish it after 'Poetry Journal' commissioned it—"

Before he could finish speaking, his voice suddenly stopped, his eyes widened, and his fingers pressed firmly on the line "like a cloud surrendering itself to the blue sky / a leaf surrendering itself to spring and autumn," even his breathing became soft.

Two seconds later, he suddenly slammed his fist on the table and shouted, "Holy crap! Cheng Jun's dropped a nuclear bomb in the student magazine! Look at this sentence, it's even more powerful than those poems he published in 'Poetry Journal'!"

The villagers who had gathered around immediately erupted in chaos.

Xu Qian got closest and snatched the page from "The Unopened Window." After reading "But I chose another window / Its light and shadow are dappled / It is very quiet and secluded," she remained silent for a long time before her eyes suddenly reddened.

Xu Chengjun used only a window to vividly portray all the thoughts she hadn't fully expressed.

"This doesn't sound like a poem written for a journal."

Xu Qian's voice trembled as she held up the manuscript for everyone to see. "The line from 'Pure Me,' 'The wind wants to be nothing but wind,' was mentioned by Professor Ru Zhijuan during her last lecture—that's exactly the kind of unyielding purity that's lacking in the literary world right now! This poem should have been featured on the front page of 'Poetry Journal,' so how did it end up in our 'Wave'?"

Lin Yimin laughed heartily: "He's our president, why can't we give him 'The Wave'!"

Clutching the poem "I Like Living This Way, Unburdened and Content," Lü Shu said, "When I wrote 'Wheat Harvest,' I was always afraid I wouldn't be able to write a good farewell poem. Now, reading this poem, I realize that you don't need to say 'goodbye'; just giving away your feelings is enough. The editor-in-chief has really brought out all his best stuff!"

Zhou Haibo curled his lip: "He said, 'Pure Me'? That's an easy poem to write!"

Zhang Lei didn't speak, but suddenly turned and walked towards the mimeograph machine, still clutching the manuscript paper in his hand: "I'll go test print it now! The font size has to be the largest, and the poem borders have to be the widest possible. Such a good poem shouldn't be wasted!"

Seeing that everyone had calmed down, Lin Yimin grabbed the layout sheet on the table and moved closer to Xu Demin, drawing three circles in the "Poetry" column.

"We need to add an editor's note to these three poems! Just say, 'Written by the editor-in-chief, dedicated to each and every one of us who lives life with equanimity!' Also, should we add a small print line on the cover? 'Contains three new works by Xu Chengjun,' that'll definitely please everyone!"

"I'll write the editor's note!"

Xu Qian immediately raised her hand, pulled out her notebook, and started writing a draft. "I'm going to include the line 'the folds of buildings' from 'The Unopened Window.' Many classmates have talked to me about 'the confusion of choosing a path,' and this poem will resonate with them!"

"I wrote!"

"Impossible, I definitely have to write it!"

Looking at the chaotic scene before him, Xu Demin suddenly felt his eyes welling up with tears.

He recalled that when he talked to Xu Chengjun about the journal last week, Xu Chengjun only said "to give the members some confidence", but did not say that he would produce such a heavyweight work.

This isn't about adding confidence; it's clearly about treating "The Wave" as their own "literary sanctuary," planting their truest thoughts here.

Don't get too excited!

Xu Demin clapped his hands to bring everyone's attention back. "The president gave us the poem because he trusts us to do a good job. Lin Yimin, go and contact the printing factory to print an additional three hundred trial copies."
Lü Shu, you and Zhang Lei oversee the mimeographing to make sure the punctuation in every poem is correct;
Xu Qian, once you've finished writing the editor's note, let me take a look. We need to let the readers know that these three poems aren't 'charity,' but rather the collective literary aspirations of us in the Wave community!

"good!"

Everyone responded in unison, and the sounds of footsteps, page turning, and the scratching of pens on paper blended together, making it even more lively than before.

Outside the window, sunlight filtered through the leaves and fell onto the manuscript paper, making the line "I like to live this way, without any desires" shine brightly.

Everyone is living freely for their ideals.

The wave is about to set sail!
As Lin Yimin ran out the door, he could still hear Xu Qian reciting poetry to Lü Shu: "Walking with boundless enthusiasm along the paths of time."

He couldn't help but laugh.

With such poetry and such a group of people who are so dedicated to literature, the inaugural issue of "The Tide" will surely stir up the warmest wave in the autumn of 1979.

At this moment, Xu Chengjun walked into the storage room, bringing back a lot of snacks from the canteen.

"Cough cough!"

Everyone's eyes immediately turned to them.

"There are only two weeks left, everyone give it your all and use every last bit of strength! I brought some food for everyone, so come over and get it if you get hungry!"

"Holy crap, long live the president!"

"President, you're awesome!"

Xu Chengjun smiled and handed two more pages of manuscript paper to Xu Demin.

"Brother Demin, you've worked hard these past few days."

Xu Demin waved his hand with a smile: "What's so hard about it? This isn't just your wave, it's the wave of all of us!"

He glanced at the two pages and saw that they were two essays signed by Xu Chengjun.

His gaze was blank: "They even submitted this to 'The Wave'?"

Xu Chengjun nodded matter-of-factly: "Of course, I wrote it today while rushing to finish it."

"Rushing to finish?"

Xu Demin: You damn dog! You think you're so great just because you're talented!

(End of this chapter)