My era, 1979!

Chapter 44 I request immediate reprint

On July 17, 1979, the plane tree leaves on Changjiang Road in Hefei were curled up by the sun.

When Ye Qing, an editor in the Literature and Art Department of Guangming Daily, walked out of the Provincial Federation of Literary and Art Circles building carrying a canvas bag, the sweat on his forehead had already soaked the collar of his shirt.

His business trip was originally to attend the "Anhui Provincial Symposium on Ideological Emancipation and Literary Innovation" and to investigate the dynamics of grassroots literature. However, he did not expect that the name he heard most often in recent days was that of a Fengyang educated youth named "Xu Chengjun".

On the way from the guesthouse to the venue,

The old man selling popsicles kept repeating, "That song, 'Walking Towards the Light,' really gets people's hearts burning."
In the bookstore, students in school uniforms crowded around the newspaper rack, eagerly passing newspapers around.

Even the local literary and art association cadres at the symposium were discussing during breaks: "This young man's letter perfectly captures the struggles of educated youth."

Ye Qing wondered to himself, what kind of writing could make the hot air of Hefei City filled with waves of discussion?
When he passed by the Mingjiao Temple vegetable market, he saw that the newspaper vendor's tin box was crowded with people, so he reached out and pulled out the last copy of the "Anhui Youth Daily".

The title of the "Youth Observation" column on the front page jumped into my eyes—the poem "Walking Towards the Light" is like a string of sparks, from "when the wind delivers the first fragrance" to "the flowers of the world will bloom one after another". There is no shouting between the lines, but the four words "liberation of thought" have a tangible warmth.

Turning to the letter "To Young Friends," and reading "Cracked hands can write of spring" and "Old grain in the warehouse can sprout," Ye Qing's fingertips paused on the line, "A grain of dust in the era becomes a mountain on an individual's head."

This is not just a collection of essays by educated youth; it is clearly a spiritual portrait of a generation of young people in the wave of reform!
"What a Xu Chengjun!" He stood under the sycamore tree by the roadside, repeatedly stroking the edge of the newspaper, his Adam's apple bobbing.

This poem has Gu Cheng's purity, but it has more of an earthy feel than the Misty Poetry;

This letter contains the pain of scar literature, but it breaks free from the cliché of accusation, using words like "trial and error" and "taking root" to transform confusion into an upward momentum.

At a time when ideological liberation urgently needs a breakthrough, such writing is not only a literary breakthrough, but also an awakening of the spirit of youth.

This is exactly the voice that Guangming Daily should be conveying!

Ye Qing walked quickly to the public phone booth on the street corner, her palms sweating as she gripped the receiver.

When I dialed the newspaper's switchboard and was transferred to the director of the Literature and Art Department, his voice was filled with barely suppressed excitement: "Director, I've discovered a groundbreaking work in Hefei! The poems and letters of Xu Chengjun, a former educated youth from Fengyang, intertwine individual fates with the changes of the times, possessing both literary merit and intellectual sharpness!"

"This is not just a simple expression of youthful sentiments; it serves as a mirror for young people amidst reforms!"

“Listen to these two lines, ‘Being sensible is a deep despair’ and ‘Roads are made by walking them.’ They strike right at the heart!” He recited the lines into the microphone.

“Right now, the whole country is talking about ‘respecting knowledge and respecting talent.’ This work can inspire millions of young people, and it’s more inspiring than ten editorials we publish. I’m requesting that it be reprinted immediately, with a commentary accompanying the poem and the full text of the letter published. The title would be ‘Rooted and Growing in a Changing Era—A Spiritual Monologue by Young Writer Xu Chengjun.’ What do you think?”

The sound of a pen scratching across paper came from the other end of the phone. A moment later, the director's voice came through the static: "Send the original text immediately, with an editor's note. Forget it, just say it over the phone, the publishing house will reimburse the phone bill!"

"You got this article spot on! Xiao Ye, you've done a great job this time!"

After hanging up the phone, Ye Qing stared at the three words "Xu Chengjun" on the newspaper.

He took out his pen and wrote a note in the blank space of the newspaper: "Literature should portray the times, and even more so, inspire the youth."

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the sycamore leaves, casting dancing patches of light on the handwriting.

It's just like the line in that poem: "All the unspoken tenderness grows into fluffy periods."

This time, Xu Chengjun's "poisonous chicken soup" may really be heading to the national stage.
-
In July, in Anhui, the article "Walking Towards the Light" and the letter to young people blossomed like a silent spring thunder along the banks of the Huai River. The printing presses of the Anhui Youth Daily ran from morning till night, and the smell of ink permeated half the street.

The original print run of 10,000 copies was reprinted three times in three days. Newspaper vendors rode bicycles through the city and countryside, and whenever their bicycle bells rang, people would gather around holding up grain coupons: "Save me a copy of Xu Zhiqing's newspaper!"

Every day before dawn, the bulletin board at Mingjiao Temple in Hefei is packed with people.

The students stood on tiptoe to copy the poems, the pens scratching softly across their notebooks.
Some people have carved the words "Being sensible is a deep despair" on their desks.

Some people copied the saying "Roads are made by people walking" into their labor handbook.

The classrooms of the Chinese Department at Anhui University became temporary discussion spots, where girls with red eyes recited "Two shadows are planted under the moonlight".
The young men pounded on the table, arguing that "trial and error is the essence of youth."
Even the canteen staff squatted by the stove with newspapers in their hands, adding firewood while muttering, "Cracked hands can write about spring."

This enthusiasm spread along the highway to the county town and the commune.

In the Xinhua Bookstore in Fengyang County, the newspapers were curled up from being turned over so many times.

The wooden walls of the educated youth settlement were covered with newspaper clippings. Someone drew an arrow next to "foxtail grass in the crack of the rock" pointing to his worn-out cloth shoes.
In the factory workshops of Bengbu, workers gathered together to read letters during their lunch break. An old fitter, with his oily hands, pointed to the line "Even old grain in the warehouse can sprout," and said to the apprentices who had just entered the factory: "See? We machine operators can also make a name for ourselves."

Even on the ridges of the fields in western Anhui, the farm women delivering meals were reciting poetry to their husbands. The rice porridge dripping from the rim of the rough porcelain bowl onto the newspaper spread out the four characters "walking towards the light," like a bright star adorning the yellow earth.

The newspaper's phone lines are ringing off the hook!

A commune secretary wanted to reprint the entire article for commune members to study, and a middle school teacher asked for more copies to be sent as teaching materials.
Even the provincial women's federation called: "The spirit in this poem can inspire girls to think big and act boldly!"

The printing workshop workers rubbed their sore and numb arms and laughed: "We've printed newspapers all our lives, and we've never seen a single article that everyone in the province is chasing after. Xu Zhiqing's words contain the light in everyone's hearts!"
-
No. 675 Julu Road.

Xu Chengjun had no idea how much prestige his poems and letters left behind made in front of his fellow villagers in Anhui.

But he knew,

It seems to be the same as Li Xiaolin in front of me.
He overdid the pretentious act.

When the conversation turned to the college entrance exam and literature, they couldn't stop talking once they started.

From Foucault's mirror theory to Borges's labyrinth narrative,
He even recited a few lines from the original Spanish version of "One Hundred Years of Solitude".

Looking at Li Xiaolin now, her gaze never left him.

It's not romantic love between a man and a woman.

It's like a gambler holding their cards in a casino!
His eyes were filled with the excitement and certainty of "I bet right"!
Xu Chengjun touched the tip of his nose somewhat awkwardly.

Fortunately, Xiao Dai, who had finished reviewing the manuscript, came to his rescue.
Then I heard him laugh and say, "Excuse me for interrupting your conversation! Professor Xu, to be honest, 'The Fitting Mirror' must have been controversial among the editorial board, but the controversy is precisely because it's sharp. Editor Wu just said, 'The value of literature is never to please everyone, but to wake up those who need to wake up.' He's right, this manuscript—"

"We want it!"

(End of this chapter)