My era, 1979!

Chapter 169 discusses the leveraging effect of the household contract responsibility system on adjusting the ratio of agricultural, light, and heavy industries.

There were already signs of opening up this year.

However, it is the overseas Chinese remittance housing project that has started the pilot program for commercial housing.

Earning foreign exchange~
In 1979, Shanghai Zhonghua Enterprise Company developed the Overseas Chinese New Village on Wanping South Road in the XH District, and launched 20 residential units for sale to the families of overseas Chinese.

This is the first commercial housing project in Shanghai to be sold through market transactions.

However, it wasn't until 1988 that there were truly formal commercial housing units.

In 1987, the "Shanghai Municipality Measures for the Compensated Transfer of Land Use Rights" were promulgated, establishing supporting systems such as land transfer and real estate registration.

Subsequently, Shanghai auctioned off plot 26 in the Hongqiao Economic and Technological Development Zone through international bidding. The Japanese company Sun Group won the 50-year land use right for US$2805 million and built Sun Plaza.

Therefore, buying a house now is just a dream.

Waiting for the assigned rooms is more realistic.
At the end of December, on the third floor of Fudan University Library, the cold wind blew through the cracks in the wooden windows, while the coal in the stove burned bright red.

Doing research in the library has become a regular activity for Xu Chengjun.

He is too busy.

As a result, research on Song Dynasty literature has been temporarily set aside.

In this day and age, five core papers would be enough to qualify someone as a lecturer at Fudan University.

Now it's time to pay back the debt I owed from my Fudan University interview.

One is to publish a general book for Chinese literature majors, but this can't be rushed; he's still slowly conceiving the content.

Another project is to conduct a genealogical study of contemporary literary history with Wang Shuizhao.

This is a tough job.

A combination of high workload and groundbreaking achievements.

Currently, they are in the initial stage of collecting articles from "People's Literature", "Poetry Journal" and "Literary Gazette" over the years, and he and Wang Shuizhao have set the duration of this research at one year.

In the medium term, we also plan to collaborate with some graduate or undergraduate students to process some historical materials and conduct some interviews.

It's difficult to do.

But should we do it?

Definitely.

Having completed this research, one could become a core scholar in contemporary literature studies in the 80s, and early findings might be included in university textbooks or even attract attention from overseas sinologists.

In the long run, he may be able to establish his status as "one of the founders of contemporary literary studies".

Opportunities to be both a referee and a player are rare.

Xu Chengjun had just put down the 78 issue of "People's Literature" magazine.

Su Manshu looked at him from the side, speechless.

"What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Look at you, you're no good!"

Su Manshu smiled, and in an instant, the room was filled with blooming flowers.

"Have you encountered any problems with your research?"

"I'm alright, it's all hard-earned skills, there are no shortcuts, it's just a bit mentally taxing."

Xu Chengjun glanced at Su Manshu's desk and immediately understood. She probably had a problem and wanted to ask him, but was too embarrassed to.

"Teacher Su, have you encountered another problem?"

The 1979 National Bureau of Statistics Bulletin was spread out on Su Manshu's desk.

Her hand, gripping the pencil, paused on the column for "Fertilizer Consumption in Anhui Pilot Program," and she looked up with a conflicted expression in her eyes.

"This is a bit tricky."

Since August, Su Manshu has focused her paper on urban economic reform, but Xu Chengjun is aware of the current focus of economic development and domestic economic research.

The first draft of the paper is definitely aimed at getting things done and gaining recognition.

Most importantly, it's relatively easy to get started, making it a good tool for practice.

The core logic of economics papers in this era was to use data to speak for themselves and offer suggestions for reform. This required both aligning with the eight-character policy of adjustment, reform, rectification, and improvement, and breaking through the limitations of traditional theories. Coincidentally, this year Comrade Chen clearly pointed out that "the ratio of agriculture, light industry, and heavy industry is seriously imbalanced," with heavy industry investment accounting for 55.7% and light industry only 5.7%. The central government is stabilizing agriculture by "importing 2000 million tons of grain and raising agricultural product prices," in addition to agricultural reforms in Anhui.

Then ~
Focusing on the core issue of "agricultural reform and adjustment of the ratio of agriculture to light industry and heavy industry" naturally leads to a high degree of policy relevance.

Xu Chengjun spent two hours persuading Su Manshu to write this paper.

Su Manshu himself has a very solid foundation in economic theory and is extremely capable of information gathering and statistical analysis.

This is perfect for papers that require empirical evidence.

"Look at this set of data."

She pushed the bulletin over and clicked on the line that read, "In 1979, the proportion of self-purchased chemical fertilizers in rural Anhui was 35%".

"The total national fertilizer production only increased by 20%. Logically, one should say that the 'contract system exacerbated resource shortages.' However, the yield per mu in the pilot villages actually increased by 60%. How can this logic be explained? I previously wrote that 'the state allocates fertilizers to make up for the shortfall,' but the professors in my department said it was too far-fetched."

Xu Chengjun was flipping through the "Anhui Rural Reform Ledger" he had borrowed from the archives.

Upon hearing this, he looked up and underlined the page on "Xiaogang Village's Sideline Income in November 1979": "You overlooked the farmers' own ability to generate income."

The note on the paper reads, "The whole village earned 1.2 yuan from selling rapeseed, 8000 yuan was used to buy fertilizer, and 2000 yuan was used to buy agricultural machinery."

"This is not about seizing national resources, but about the return of income from sideline businesses to agriculture. In 1979, the output value of sideline businesses in rural Anhui increased by 32%. This money was not deposited in banks, but was all invested back into agriculture, which actually saved the country the pressure of resource allocation."

Su Manshu's eyes suddenly lit up, and she quickly scribbled on the manuscript paper with her pencil: "So we should add 'the supplementary role of farmers' self-purchased agricultural materials in the national supply'? That way the data will be complete!"

She paused for a moment, then added, "Before, I only focused on 'agriculture needing resources,' without thinking that agriculture could create its own resources. You're the one who sees things clearly."

Xu Chengjun blushed.

It's hard to draw outlines when perspective is enabled, right?
"But it can't just be transparent, it also has to be smooth."

Xu Chengjun took out a notebook from his canvas bag, which contained his "Logic of the Agricultural, Light and Heavy Industry Cycle," but he only talked about what he could talk about in 1979.

He hadn't brought it out because he hoped Su Manshu would complete the logical thinking herself.

Fortunately, Su Manshu was a true academic, and she spent some time completing the work from scratch.

He was curious about everything.

Why didn't I hear of an economist named Su Manshu in my previous life?

“再看四川广汉的数据——承包后农民人均收入从68元涨到135元，农村棉布消费增18%，直接把四川纺织厂产能利用率从72%拉到85%。”

He tapped on the line in the communique that read "Light industry output increased by 11.8%".

"The contract responsibility system is not just about saving agriculture, but about finding a market for light industry; only when light industry thrives will it force heavy industry to shift its production—for example, if the demand for textile machinery increases, heavy industry can no longer focus solely on steel, but must allocate production capacity to textile machinery, thus adjusting the ratio of agriculture, light industry, and heavy industry."

Su Manshu: "I only considered the one-way calculation before, not the two-way cycle! Now I understand the core logic of the 'leveraging effect'!"

The old professor peeked out from behind the bookshelf next to them, saw it was the two of them, and waved his hand with a smile: "Young people can have their discussions, but don't disturb the ancient books on the shelf."

Xu Chengjun took a closer look.

It was Shi Cunzhe, whom I had met once before.

The two quickly lowered their voices, but Su Manshu did not stop writing. Instead, she pushed the manuscript paper toward Xu Chengjun and said in a suddenly solemn tone, "Chengjun, you should be the first author of this paper."

Xu Chengjun was helping her label the data sources when he heard this and paused, stunned: "What did you say?"

"From topic selection to data logic to policy recommendations, you are in charge of everything."

Su Manshu counted on her fingers, "In October you proposed the direction of 'agriculture, light industry, heavy industry + contract system', in November you helped me find pilot project ledgers, and just now you solved the problem of fertilizer and recycling - I am at most an executor, you should be the first author."

Xu Chengjun laughed and pushed the manuscript back: "How can there be so many firsts and seconds? Besides, you're the one who went to the library to find the data, and you're the one who interviewed and compiled the pilot cases. I just offered some ideas."

He picked up a pencil and wrote "Su Manshu" in the "Author" column on the title page of the manuscript, and then added "Xu Chengjun (Advisor)" after it. "I'll just put 'Advisor' on it, or 'Second Author,' don't argue with me."

"This won't work!"

Su Manshu gripped his pen anxiously, "The guidance is too lenient, this is a core contribution! I saw a paper in 'Economic Research' before, where two people were listed as co-first authors, so let's list them as co-first authors!" Xu Chengjun tried to push it away, but Su Manshu pressed the pencil down on the paper, her eyes as stubborn as a calf: "If you don't agree, I won't revise this paper—anyway, the core logic is yours, and I won't feel at ease if I publish it alone."

"Go, go, go!"

"I'm also taking advantage of your reputation as a professor at Soochow University to gain exposure in the field of economics."

It's true.

Despite Xu Chengjun's eloquent explanations, he's actually incapable of doing this job. He's a liberal arts student who can only talk about macro-politics and economics.

But if you really want to prove it, he's a fool.

"The rest is up to you! I'll just offer some suggestions~"

Su Manshu smiled instantly, her eyes curving into crescents: "No problem! Don't worry, I'll definitely check the data three more times and refine the policy recommendations to try and get them published in 'Economic Research'!"

"Not just the Economic Research Journal."

Xu Chengjun shrugged: "This paper just happens to solve the urgent problem of 'how agriculture can drive industry,' and it might even get published in Xinhua News Agency's internal reference."

He paused, then added something that made Su Manshu's heart race: "Next year, the National Agricultural Commission will hold an agricultural reform conference, and they might invite you to be their consultant—that's how Liu Guoguang's article 'Planning and Market' went viral."

Su Manshu looked down at the two names on the title page and suddenly felt the manuscript paper in her hand gain weight.

Wow! These two names even look a bit like a married couple!
"I'll go check the textile data in Sichuan right now!"

She grabbed the bulletin and ran to the archives, turning back to shout as she passed the bookshelves, "I'll show you the revised draft tonight!"

Xu Chengjun watched her retreating figure, then smiled and shook his head.

"If you don't understand, don't come to me!"

Thesis Title: "On the Leveraging Effect of the Household Contract Responsibility System on the Adjustment of the Proportion of Agricultural, Light, and Heavy Industries: An Empirical Analysis Based on Pilot Projects in Anhui and Sichuan"
-
Peking University.

At this time, Weiming Lake was covered with a thin layer of ice, and the shadow of Boya Pagoda was reflected on the ice, swaying slightly in the night wind.

In Room 302 of the girls' dormitory at the School of Economics, the honeycomb briquettes in the coal stove were burning brightly, and the enamel kettle on the stove was bubbling away, the white steam from the spout carrying the scent of ink from the second issue of "Qingming" magazine, swirling in the warm room.

Song Yuange had just returned from the library, her cotton shoes still covered with bits of snow from the shore of Weiming Lake.

Their dormitory is very famous at Peking University.

They are all optimistic and cheerful, and all beautiful, and are jokingly called the "Five Golden Flowers".

Although Cha Jianying said in "Interviews in the 1980s," "The beauty we pursue is the power to change the world."

However, it is undeniable that beauty is an instinctive pursuit of human beings in any era.

As soon as she sat down, her roommate Liang Fangfang leaned down from the upper bunk, holding a copy of "Qingming" magazine. Her voice was low but couldn't hide her excitement: "Yuange! Do you want to read 'Qingming'? I snagged the second half of 'Red Silk' this morning. I flipped through a couple of pages, and the part about Li Xiaoman and Gu Daqiang made my nose tingle!"

Song Yuange's eyes lit up, and she quickly put down the book in her hand.

She had borrowed the first issue of "Qingming" from a classmate. Ding Ling's work was still solid, and "The Legend of Tianyun Mountain" was quite surprising.

But what shocked her the most was "The Unbreakable Red Silk".

As a freshman at Peking University, she considered herself to have read quite a few books, but this one was in a league of its own.

"I'll watch for a while, and you can contact me anytime you want to watch!"

"Oh dear! You go ahead and look, I just happen to have something to do~"

Song Yuange spread the magazine on the table, and the stove light fell on the three words "Xu Chengjun". Her hand holding the pen paused for a moment.

She skipped over the other works and went straight to "Red Silk".

When she first read it, she intended to make annotations as she read, but as she read, her pen hovered in mid-air.

Reading about Li Xiaoman hosting "Friends of Life" on TV, wearing a suit and skirt from Guangzhou and a Shanghai brand watch on her wrist, smiling as she teaches "scrambled eggs with tomatoes" in front of the camera, but turning around backstage to wipe away tears from the corners of her eyes in front of the mirror—those tears were not for herself, but for seeing the words "Gu Daqiang" mentioned in a reader's letter. She suddenly remembered when she was a new recruit in 1978, Gu Daqiang said on the platform, "I'll wait for you to come back," and the wind was sweet.

Song Yuange's breathing slowed slightly, and she unconsciously touched the enamel mug on the corner of the table.

The chrysanthemum tea in her cup had long since gone cold, but she didn't notice.

When Song Yuange saw Gu Daqiang post photos of Li Xiaoman from a TV show on the wall of the shoe repair shop, glancing at them every day while repairing shoes, but never mentioning her name again, her knuckles, gripping the book pages, suddenly turned white.

She had read too many war novels, which either depicted heroes dying on the battlefield or lovers finally getting together, but Xu Chengjun insisted on writing about "missing out".

It's not that we don't love each other, it's that the times push people along, and as we go along, we drift apart, like the ice on Weiming Lake, which looks solid but hides an unmelting coldness underneath.

"Why don't you speak?"

Liang Fangfang peeked out from the upper bunk and saw Song Yuange staring blankly at the pages of the book. "Did you get to the part about Gu Daqiang? I cried for ages when I got to that part, and I didn't dare to read any further."

Song Yuange shook her head, moved the magazine closer to the stove, and turned to Ruan Wenxiao's chapter by the brighter light.

When she read about Nguyen Van Hieu asking Xu Jianjun after being captured, "You helped us fight the Americans in 1965, why are you fighting us now?", she suddenly stopped—

The coal in the stove crackled and sparked, but she seemed not to hear it, the phrase repeating itself in her mind.

In the war novels I read before, the "enemy" was always portrayed in a vague way. But Ruan Wenxiao, the character in Xu Chengjun's novel, would clutch the cloth bag woven by his mother and would be confused about "why to fire the gun". He was not a "bad guy" but an ordinary person who was swept along by the times, just like Xu Jianjun and Huang Siyuan.

"It turns out that war is not simply black and white."

Song Yuange wrote quickly in her notebook, her handwriting more hurried than usual: "Ruan Wenxiao's confusion is... is that no one wants to fight, but fate pushes people to stand on the opposite side."

She recalled her previous short stories, in which she always drew lines between "good people" and "bad people." At this moment, she suddenly felt that her perspective had become too narrow, like walking on the frozen surface of Weiming Lake, afraid to step too deep.

The more she read, the heavier the magazine felt in her hands.

Seeing that Huang's mother put Huang Siyuan's wooden comb at the bottom of the box and took it out to wipe it every year when airing the quilts;
Seeing Xu Jianjun carrying a jar of pickled vegetables on the road in Huangjia Village, the scar on his left shoulder glowed red in the sunlight;

When I saw the ending, "Xu Nian'an tugged at Xu Jianjun's clothes and asked about the comb," the line "Death is not the end, forgetting is" suddenly struck my heart.

Song Yuange's eyes suddenly welled up with tears. She quickly turned her face away, afraid that Liang Fangfang would see, but she accidentally knocked over the chrysanthemum tea on the table. The water spilled onto her notebook, blurring the words she had just written.

"Be careful!"

Liang Fangfang quickly handed over a rag, "You can cry over this book? I thought someone who writes short stories like you could find fault with everything."

Song Yuange: "I'm just a small-time writer, I haven't even published a few short stories yet, how can I compare to a genius who can write such a magnificent masterpiece!"

Liang Fangfang: "Sometimes it's infuriating to compare yourself to others. He's only 20 years old, the same age as us!"

"Yuan Ge, I think you should get to know her! You're so beautiful~ I'll have something to brag about later, Xu Chengjun's girlfriend is my roommate~"

"What?! Speak properly! Fangfang!"

"Why don't you ask Zhou Lili to introduce you? With a reputation like 'Wang Xifeng' from Peking University Medical School, do you think she'd just get it for free?"

After laughing and joking around for a while, the two lowered their heads and immersed themselves in the world of the novel.

Song Yuange recalled hearing from a classmate in the Chinese department that "there is a young writer in Shanghai who brought the war to life."

Reading it again now, I have a slightly different feeling.

This isn't just about bringing war to life; it's about bringing the people in war to life—those who cry, feel guilty, and feel lost. They aren't just symbols; they are neighbors, friends, and brothers whose warmth you can feel.

When she read the lines, "Steel guns can defend homes, but they cannot protect departed souls; red silk can bandage wounds, but it cannot soothe the wounds in one's heart," Song Yuange suddenly closed the book, leaned back in her chair, and stared at the flickering flames in the coal stove. She had been writing short stories for three years, always trapped in "small emotions and sentiments," feeling that it was enough to write well about one person's joys and sorrows. But "Red Silk" showed her that good literature can bear the weight of an era, and can make the stories of ordinary people reflect the folds of a great era, like the frozen surface of Weiming Lake, beneath which lies the story of an entire winter.

"I want to write a novel."

She suddenly said to Liang Fangfang, her voice not loud but firm, "Write the stories of our generation, like Xu Chengjun wrote 'Red Silk,' without hiding from suffering or losing hope."

Liang Fangfang was taken aback for a moment, then laughed: "You finally figured it out? Who said before that 'short stories reveal true writing skill'?"

Song Yuange did not refute.

The book "Red Silk" was still lying on the table, and Huang Siyuan's wooden comb, Gu Daqiang's shoe repair machine, and Ruan Wenxiao's cloth bag seemed to come alive before her eyes.

Why did "Red Silk" cause readers in Shanghai to line up to buy it, and make students at Peking University forget the cold night?
Because Xu Chengjun uses words to tell everyone that even the grandest era is supported by the joys and sorrows of ordinary people; even the cruelest war contains glimmers of humanity. And this ability to "see the little people" is the most precious literary skill.

As night deepened, the fire in the coal stove weakened, but Song Yuange didn't feel cold.

She carefully placed "Qingming" on the bookshelf, next to "And Quiet Flows the Don"—before, she thought Sholokhov's writing was profound enough, but now she felt that Xu Chengjun's "Red Silk" had a uniquely Chinese gentleness, like a fire in a coal stove, not fierce, but warming the whole winter night.

As she touched the notebook, a voice inside her said: Next time I write, I should be like Xu Chengjun, putting my heart into the words so that readers can feel the warmth of the story.

(End of this chapter)