My era, 1979!

Chapter 168 Is it still far off given the current situation?

There was no air conditioning in the exhibition hall. There were only two metal radiators in the corner, covered with dark gray knitted covers. A faded blue cloth was draped over the radiators, probably used by the staff to wipe off the dust.

Su Manshu was very interested.

Xu Chengjun lost interest after watching for a while.

Several incandescent bulbs hung from the ceiling, each bulb covered with a frosted glass shade.

The display frames were mostly made of dark brown wood, with some dents on the edges. Narrow metal hooks were nailed to the outermost edge, and even the ropes for hanging the paintings were made of thick cotton thread.

The exhibition format is monotonous, consisting mostly of static hanging paintings with handwritten labels and no supplementary explanations or multimedia guides.

At that time, the Shanghai Art Museum was still a symbol of elite culture and bore the political function of "promoting socialist literature and art".

In Xu Chengjun's view, the content of the exhibition was out of touch with the lives of the general public. Ordinary citizens knew very little about Western art. During the French art exhibition in 1978, some viewers mistakenly thought that Millet's "The Gleaners" depicted a "labor scene in the People's Commune".

There is no public rest area inside the museum, and most visitors leave directly after viewing the exhibition. There is also a lack of supporting cultural facilities in the surrounding area.

He turned to observe the people in the exhibition hall.

Be a quiet observer of humanity.

There weren't many people in the exhibition hall; most were wrapped in coats and scarves, and no one had taken off their coats—the heating was really limited, and the white breath they exhaled dissipated as soon as it floated in front of their eyes.

The museum's visitors are mainly professionals and groups organized by organizations; ordinary citizens need to present a letter of introduction to purchase tickets for entry.

Ticket price is approximately 0.1-0.2 yuan.

The exhibition hall was quiet, with most visitors wrapped in coats and scarves, silently observing the paintings. Occasionally, an elderly person would use a magnifying glass to study the details of the brushstrokes, while young people would copy the patterns of the ladies' clothing in blue notebooks.

The museum allows public copying, and painters such as Chen Yifei and Han Xin have even stayed up all night copying famous French paintings after the museum closed.

The management is also relatively relaxed; visitors can touch the display frames and even knit sweaters in the corners of the exhibition hall.

Xu Chengjun and Su Manshu stopped in front of a painting titled "Solitary Angler on a Cold River".

The main issue is that Su Manshu needs to stop.

The river in the painting is depicted with just a few strokes of light ink. The fisherman, wearing a straw raincoat, sits on a small boat with his fishing rod dangling in the water.

Su Manshu took out a neatly folded white handkerchief from her pocket, wiped her glasses, and turned to Xu Chengjun, saying, "Look at this fisherman's raincoat, it's black with a bit of ochre mixed in, it looks like it's covered in snow."

She doesn't usually wear glasses.

The prescription isn't high, and I only wear it occasionally, but it always adds a strange kind of charm when I wear it.

Xu Chengjun nodded.

He had just bought an art exhibition poster, which featured a simplified version of a painting of a lady.

He planned to ask a staff member if he could get a stamp from the art museum after he finished looking at the exhibits.

He shook his head again, thinking that things were a bit risky these days.

Not far away, a young man in a light gray shirt was holding a small tin biscuit box with a piece of white paper lining the lid. He was using a pencil to trace the plum blossoms in the picture on the paper, his brow furrowed, occasionally looking up to compare them.

The staff member next to him walked by without stopping him, only saying softly, "Don't get too close, be careful not to bump into the display frame."

The young man quickly stepped back and said with a smile, "I understand, comrade. I'll just trace a few strokes so I can practice when I get back."

In the far corner of the exhibition hall, there is a dark green enamel spittoon with the words "Pay Attention to Hygiene" printed on it, and a wooden stool next to it.

An old lady sat on a stool, holding a ball of yarn in her hand, knitting a sweater while listening to the old man next to her talk about painting.

The old man wore a dark blue cotton-padded jacket with a small teacher's badge pinned to his collar. When he got excited, he would use his fingers to gesture the shades of ink in the air, and the old woman would nod along. The sound of knitting needles was particularly clear in the quiet exhibition hall.

The sky outside the window gradually darkened, and the light from the incandescent bulb grew warmer, shining on the paintings on the wall and on people's smiling faces.

After looking at one painting, someone would quietly move on to the next; no one made a sound, and even their footsteps were very soft.

After viewing the art exhibition, the two were about to leave.

They encountered a hunched-over old man who greeted Xu Chengjun warmly.

"Comrade Chengjun, it's been a long time!"

Xu Chengjun was slightly taken aback, and it took him a while to remember who this was.

Yu Lian, the fourth chairman of the Shanghai Writers Association, is a senior playwright and cultural activist. "Night Shanghai" is one of her works.

This year, I just took over the leadership of the Shanghai Writers Association from Ba Jin.

Xu Chengjun, as a core young writer, was invited to participate in the Shanghai Literature and Art Symposium held in September. The two met briefly at the symposium, but he never expected that this 70-year-old man would still remember his appearance.

"Chairman Yu, it's been a long time! You've come to see the art exhibition too?"

"I definitely have to take a look!"

Yu Lian looked at Xu Chengjun with a teasing expression, which looked somewhat comical given his hunched figure: "You should be focusing on artistic life, right? Are you out shopping with your little girlfriend?"

Born in 1907, he was 72 years old at the time. He devoted himself to revolutionary literary and artistic work for a long time and experienced the hardships of war and political movements.

During the War of Resistance Against Japan, he risked his life many times for his work, and was even forced to drink three large bowls of liquor to protect the members of the drama troupe, which damaged his liver and caused him to develop a hunched posture in his later years.

"Yes, Chairman Yu."

Xu Chengjun introduced her generously: "This is my girlfriend, Su Manshu, who is also a student at Fudan University."

Su Manshu gave Xu Chengjun an encouraging look and greeted him generously: "Hello, Chairman Yu. You can call me Xiao Su or Manshu."

Showcasing the grandeur of a large room~
"Oh my, Su Liancheng's daughter! You're so lucky, kid! She's really beautiful! Mr. Dongrun mentioned her to me the other day!"

The fourth council appointed a group of senior artists as advisors, and Zhu Dongrun was one of them.

Xu Chengjun slapped his forehead speechlessly: "You really have a great memory! You can even remember such trivial things about me~"

Yu Lian laughed heartily: "Your matter is no small matter! I haven't read the second half of your 'Red Silk' yet, but I just overheard people talking about it. Some people are praising your novel as the best of Chinese literature in the 70s, and a pioneer of Chinese modernist literature!"

"Praise to death! Absolutely praise to death!"

Xu Chengjun declared righteously, "My clumsy work is utterly unworthy of serious consideration! Someone is trying to put me in an unjust position! Chairman! Investigate thoroughly! Investigate thoroughly!"

Yu Lian: "."

"Don't listen to his nonsense!"

Su Manshu pinched Xu Chengjun. This rascal was sometimes so composed that he didn't seem like a 20-year-old, and sometimes so playful that he seemed like a 12-year-old.

"You'd better hurry up and die! You're such a gossip!"

Oh, and they even used Wuxi dialect!
Xu Chengjun shrugged: "If you're praised too highly, you'll fall too hard. They were cursing me a while ago, and now they're praising me. Let's just take it easy. I'll write what I want, and I don't care what everyone says."

"What spirit!"

Yu Lian chuckled and said, "You two seem to have a very loving relationship~ This old man won't disturb you while you're enjoying the exhibition! Come visit me sometime, I'd really like to see what's going on in your head!"

"Easy to say! Easy to say!"

Su Manshu: "Why didn't you refute his claim of deep affection between husband and wife?"

Xu Chengjun: "Is there a problem with what he said?"
-
It was 4:30 p.m. when Xu Chengjun returned to school.

Instead of going straight back to his dormitory, he went directly to his workstation in the office on the second floor of Xianzhou Pavilion.

That's right.

Professor Xu now has his own workstation at Fudan University! The newly appointed Director Zhang gave him a small perk and some care, and his workstation is in the same office area as the one he interviewed, Professor Sun, and next to him is his senior, Zhu Bangwei.

Of course, the benefits are only a tiny bit.
After passing his professional course exams a while ago, he no longer needed to attend undergraduate courses with the freshmen, unless he was interested in a particular professor's course, such as Professor Feng Qi's "Principles of Marxism," Professor Hu Quyuan's "Chinese Philosophy," Professor Quan Zenggu's "Western Philosophy," and Professor Zhu Weizheng's "History of Chinese Historiography." In particular, Quan Zenggu's discussions on the differences between Western and Chinese philosophy in his class aroused Quan Zenggu's appreciation for his talent.

They practically dragged him to attend many philosophy classes, and even considered having him pursue a second degree in philosophy!

In addition, he officially became a teaching assistant to Zhang Peiheng and Zhu Dongrun as a graduate student, mainly to Zhang Peiheng. The professor's classes were really limited, after all, he was getting old, and the courses and functions were gradually shifting to younger professors like Zhang Peiheng.

Xu Chengjun's current situation of having an office and workstation while being a student is special.

But no one objected, especially with the tacit approval of the school leaders.

After all, no one wants a young "scholar" who, at the age of 20, has published five front-page articles in core Chinese journals and whose literary creation ability is unmatched among his peers, to go to another school.

Especially if one goes to a university with equally strong Chinese literature departments, such as Peking University, Nanjing University, or Wuhan University, the consequences would be unimaginable.

Consider it a way to let him get used to the school environment in advance.
I had just walked to my workstation.

Just then, Zhu Bangwei, the senior student who had just returned from a business trip to Nanjing, called out, "Junior brother is back!"

In early December, the radiators at the Fairy Boat Pavilion were just starting to get warm.

Zhu Bangwei's shout made everyone in the office look up.

"Wow, the hottest writer in Shanghai is back!"

"Welcome back to work, great writer!"

"Comrade Chengjun is back!"

Wang Shuizhao paused his pen on the collated manuscript of "The Collected Poems of Su Shi," and pushed up his glasses: "Cheng Jun is back? Perfect timing. I just heard from the Shanghai Writers Association this morning that the second issue of 'Qingming' sold out on Nanjing East Road."

Your novel, *Red Silk*, reads like Mao Dun's early work, *Midnight*—it has the makings of a master!

"Yes, congratulations! Chengjun!"

Congratulations on the great sale!

Congratulations, Teacher Xu!

There are also many teaching assistants in the office who are undergraduate students.

Calling someone Teacher Xu is a sign of respect and admiration.
Everyone looked up and congratulated Xu Chengjun on the great success of his new work.

Sun, the academic affairs officer, took out a piece of milk candy from his drawer and tossed it to Xu Chengjun: "That's right! My wife works at Shanghai High School. Yesterday, she said that the students were talking about Li Xiaoman and Gu Daqiang during breaks, saying that your novel has thoroughly captured the human heart in war. This is something that can truly pioneer modern literature!"

"You've written it all out? You're probably just calling me heartless!"

Xu Chengjun had just caught the milk candy.

"Haha, you've really gone all out with the criticism, but it's so engaging! I'll critique your work later~"

"Please take a look and give me your feedback."

"I don't have that ability!"

As soon as the topic was dropped, Zhu Bangwei leaned over and said, "By the way, have you heard? The Riverside Building is going to add three floors, supposedly for cadres and senior intellectuals. Professor Sun, did your sister-in-law get an apartment at the school this time?"

On his way back, Xu Chengjun also saw that the Riverside Building (formerly Riverside Mansion) was undergoing an expansion project, increasing the number of floors from 8 to 11. The scaffolding and tower cranes on the construction site broke the tranquility of the Bund skyline.

At the time, Xu Chengjun was thinking that if he could buy a house here, the value of the house might increase significantly later.

Sun, the academic affairs director, sighed: "We were allocated three apartments, but it's not our turn—Shanghai High School only had two spots, and they were both given to veteran teachers who teach graduating classes. Now it's difficult to find a spacious place to live!"

During this period, key schools such as Shanghai High School were among the main units allocated to the Riverside Building.

The Riverside Building holds a similar status to the diplomatic apartments in Beijing, both being "luxury residences" built during a special period.

The Riverside Building serves as a residential haven for high-level talent, housing many experts and scholars from research institutions such as the Shanghai Academy of Social Sciences. Individuals like Wu Qingxia, an expert from the Shanghai Academy of Chinese Painting, and Tang Zhen, a Shanghai history expert, are among those who have earned their place through their professional achievements.

Cultural elites enjoyed certain housing benefits during the planned economy era.
That's why so many people miss the 70s and 80s.

"It would be great if we could open up the market for commercial housing."

Zhu Bangwei stroked the pen barrel, her tone filled with anticipation, "No need to wait for assignment, just pay for it yourself, how convenient."

My senior sister has plenty of money, but she doesn't care about living in a nice place.

"you do not say."

Xu Chengjun suddenly interjected, unwrapping a milk candy and stuffing it into his mouth, "I'm also waiting to buy an apartment, so I won't have to squeeze into the dorm."

The office fell silent the moment those words were spoken.

Sun, the academic affairs officer, was the first to react, pointing at him and laughing: "You're a first-year graduate student, how are you going to buy that? Your monthly stipend is only thirty-five yuan, not even enough to buy half a brick!"

Wang Shuizhao nodded in agreement, but stopped abruptly just as he was about to speak.

My eyes swept over the second issue of "Qingming" in Xu Chengjun's hand, and the small print on the cover, "The final chapter of 'Red Silk' with 30 words," stung my eyes.

He stopped talking.

Zhu Bangwei hissed, "30 words... and your royalties..."

The rest of the sentence was left unsaid, and no one in the office laughed anymore.

Anyone can calculate that a manuscript of this size, if calculated according to the rules, is far more valuable than a student subsidy.

No, this is far beyond what their salaries can compare to!
Li Jiming, who hadn't spoken until now, leaned over. He had only been transferred to Fudan University for half a year, and being young, he didn't have many reservations: "Chengjun, tell us the truth, how much is the royalties for 'Red Silk'? I've been curious about it for a long time!"

Li Jiming, at 35, is considered a young and middle-aged man who has returned from abroad, and has become the youngest lecturer in the Chinese Department besides Zhu Bangwei.

At that time, the Chinese Department of Fudan University was still centered around older scholars such as Chen Wangdao, Guo Shaoyu, and Zhu Dongrun. Most of the young teachers were "old five classes" who graduated around the 1960s, such as Zhang Peiheng, Jiang Fan, and Chen Yunji. They interrupted their academic careers during the Cultural Revolution and returned to teaching positions after 1978.

Scholars like Liu Yuanyou and Chen Shangjun, who later became well-known scholars in the Chinese Department of Fudan University, were in the same batch of graduate students as Xu Chengjun.

He stayed on to teach at the university after graduating with a master's degree in 82.

Xu Chengjun leaned against the edge of the table, casually saying, "Not much, eight yuan per thousand words."

"I rely on!"

Sun, the academic affairs officer, nearly slammed his enamel mug on the table: "Eight yuan per thousand words? 30 words is... two thousand four hundred yuan?"

Wang Shuizhao was also stunned. His monthly salary was only 182 yuan, and this manuscript fee was almost two years' worth of his income.

And this is after he was just promoted to associate professor!

After the salary reform in 1956, the average salary of teaching staff at Fudan University was 238 yuan per month, with professors earning an average of 238 yuan, associate professors 182 yuan, lecturers 118 yuan, and teaching assistants 67 yuan.

Zhu Bangwei's eyes widened: "You're not writing a novel, you're printing money!"

Xu Chengjun waved his hand with a smile: "It just happened that there were a lot of words. Besides, what if I can't write anything at all in the future!"

Li Jiming swallowed hard: "You haven't stopped writing all year! This is more than my annual salary... I should have started writing novels back then!"

Zhu Bangwei pursed her lips: "What, you've never written one?"

Li Jiming gave an awkward laugh.

The atmosphere in the office livened up again, and Dean Sun pressed, "So you're really planning to buy a house? There aren't even any commercial apartments in Shanghai right now, when are you going to wait?"

Xu Chengjun shrugged: "Given the current situation, opening up commercial housing is not far off!"

(End of this chapter)