My era, 1979!

Chapter 49: Everyday Slices

"This sound is not suitable for going with the flow."

He recited it silently in his heart.

Suddenly I understand why the ancients said, "The greatest sound is silent."

Because a truly good tune isn't necessarily a thunderclap.

More likely, it's the first delicate, crisp sound when the spring stream breaks through the ice.

Xu Chengjun paused at the top of the stairs for half a minute.

The first vague image that came to mind was of her wearing a white cheongsam and holding a fan.
He shook his head and laughed to himself, "How could that be in this day and age!"
That's a crime!
At most, she'd wear a pale white polyester shirt, with the cuffs rolled up to her forearms, revealing a delicate silver bracelet on her upper wrist.

She must be a cheerful person; when she sings a playful part, the corners of her mouth will turn up before the melody even begins.

What fills her eyes is not the allure of a play, but the light on lotus leaves after the rain, bright and crisp.

Perhaps he was still holding a well-worn copy of "Selected Song Lyrics" in his hand, his fingertips tapping out the rhythm on the page with the words "Jiangnan is beautiful," the words imbued with the charm of the Wu region.

He suddenly shook his head.

Why think about these things?

Footsteps landed on the stairs again, the wooden steps making a slight creaking sound.

Ascending the steps, each step was taken steadily.

The chalk writing "Welcome New Students" on the blackboard at the corner of the stairs was still fresh.

It was probably prepared in advance by students who went home for the holidays to welcome new students when school starts in September. I guess they'll have to redraw it when the time comes.

That's it.

With important business at hand, I shook my head to clear my mind of all the random thoughts.

410 entrance.

The wooden sign on the wooden door panel that reads "Chinese Department Academic Affairs Office" has been worn shiny.

He knocked gently on the door, and a voice with a strong Shanghai accent responded from inside: "Come in."

Pushing open the door, a middle-aged man wearing black-rimmed glasses sat behind an old-fashioned wooden table. A stack of kraft paper file folders was spread out on the table, and strong tea was steaming in an enamel cup.

The slogan "Education serves proletarian politics" was pasted on the wall and wiped clean.

"Hello teacher, I am Xu Chengjun, from Fengyang, Anhui."

Xu Chengjun placed the canvas bag on the wooden stool by the door, took out the letter of introduction and interview letter from the Provincial Department of Education, and handed them over. "These are my materials. Professor Zhu asked me to come for an interview at the end of this month."

The academic affairs officer took the materials and looked him up and down: "Xu Chengjun from Anhui? The department was quite excited about your case a while ago."

He picked up his pen and made a few marks on the registration form. "The editor-in-chief of 'The Barn,' Zhou Ming, even spoke with our department head on the phone last month about that article."

Xu Chengjun felt relieved; Old Zhou was truly reliable!

He then pulled out a manuscript acceptance notice from Anhui Literature and a manuscript tag from Harvest from his bag: "These are recently published and accepted works, along with recommendation letters from Su Zhong and Liu Zuci."

The academic affairs officer took the materials and carefully examined them, then nodded slightly: "Professor Zhang Peiheng specifically instructed me to look at the revision marks on your original manuscript. It's not easy for a young person to be able to settle down and write about rural themes."

He placed the materials into the file folder in order and tied it with cotton rope. "The school committee actually had quite a few disagreements. Some people said that the educated youth had shallow education, while others said that your writing was qualified to be a 'special talent'."

"understand."

Xu Chengjun smiled and said, "I spent two years working in the countryside, so I know the professors were worried that my theoretical foundation was weak."

The academic affairs officer gave him a surprised look.
These words seem humble, but they are actually full of confidence.

Are you very confident in your theoretical knowledge?
This is quite rare among educated youth.

Therefore, the academic affairs office would intentionally or unintentionally give a few more instructions.

"But judging from your application materials, I think you are absolutely qualified. In previous years, you wouldn't have needed to come for an interview."

"But this year is special. There are rumors that the worker-peasant-soldier recommendation program will be completely canceled in October. Originally, Fudan University was also going to stop this year, but they left an opening. However, there are only a dozen or so places nationwide."

"So please understand the difficulty."

In fact, many times, you can change someone's attitude with just one sentence.

Of course, you also need to know what to say.

"Of course I understand the teachers' good intentions, and I'm also grateful for the trouble you and the professors have gone to," Xu Chengjun replied.

The academic affairs officer looked up at Xu Chengjun and smiled. Perhaps he found this educated youth quite interesting.

Then he took out an interview schedule from the drawer: "The interview is at nine o'clock the day after tomorrow in the conference room on the third floor. I'll make the appointment. Professor Zhu and Professor Zhang will be there, along with three other teachers who specialize in literary research. You should prepare to talk about the creative process behind 'The Barn,' and they might ask about other works as well."

He paused, then added, "If some theories are difficult to explain, then talk more about your actual observations in the production team."

Xu Chengjun took the flowchart, which had four steps marked in red: interpretation of the work, understanding of the policy, literary theory, and on-site writing.

"Thank you for reminding me. What kind of topics are you writing on-site?"

"Hard to say."

The academic affairs officer was tidying up the files. "Last year's exam was on 'My Hometown,' and the year before it was on 'A Labor Day.' Both were related to life. Just write about how you usually observe life."

The topic is in line with literary trends, and it's not difficult either.

He pointed out the window, “The guesthouse is located in the educated youth building at the back gate. With this slip, you can stay until the interview is over. It’s 80 cents a day, paid through the school.”

Xu Chengjun took the accommodation slip but didn't intend to stay.

The Writers' Association Guesthouse is so nice!

Inside, he's like Wang Zengqi; outside, he's like Chen Rong!

How long does it typically take to get the interview results?

"I can tell you right here that Professor Zhang is the key this time. If you are admitted, the admission notice will be sent together with the high school graduate."

The academic affairs officer placed the file folder into the metal cabinet, and the "click" of the lock turning was particularly clear.

"By the way, if you pass the application process, you should report for duty in early September. You need to bring your household registration transfer certificate and proof of grain and oil ration. The educated youth's household registration will be transferred to the school, and the grain ration will be 32 jin per month, which is more generous than in the countryside."

"Thank you, I'm sorry to trouble you." Xu Chengjun shook hands politely with the academic affairs officer.

The academic affairs officer smiled and pointed behind the door, "Don't be shy. You can go to the library or the department's resource room when you have time. Take the note I gave you and tell the administrator you're looking for 'References for Rural-Themed Creative Writing,' and they'll find relevant journals for you."

"My name is Sun Shuqi. Just call me Teacher Sun. If you are admitted to the school smoothly in the future, you will have to deal with me a lot."

Xu Chengjun greeted him with a smile: "Hello, Teacher Sun. I've already troubled you a lot."

When passing the third floor on his way downstairs, Xu Chengjun deliberately slowed his pace.

Amidst the soft creaking of the stair treads, the female voice singing "Wuxi Scenery" did not return.

He paused at the corner, the breeze under the eaves carrying the scent of grass and trees brushing past his nose, with a touch of the gentle warmth of Jiangnan.

He shook his head and walked out with a hint of regret.

At the corner on the second floor, a large mirror covered with a thin layer of dust was embedded in the wall, with some of the mercury peeling off the edges.

Xu Chengjun stood still. The figure in the mirror was tall and thin, with a bit of dust from his journey on his shirt collar. The scholarly air in his eyes revealed the certainty of having lived two lives.

He raised his hand to wipe the dust off the mirror, but stopped abruptly as his fingertips touched the cold glass.

The fingertips in the mirror and the real fingertips are separated by a transparent membrane; they are so close, yet they can never touch.

Just like Chunlan in his novel "The Fitting Mirror," her shadow tries on a floral dress in the mirror, but in reality, her hands can only tremble as she clutches the corner of the fabric.

Life has always been like this: between reality and imagination, there is always an invisible pane of glass that can be seen but not touched.

A gust of wind slipped in from the end of the corridor, rattling the strap of his canvas bag.

He seemed to be deep in thought.
Those songs we didn't finish listening to, those mirrors we didn't wipe clean, those words we didn't fully express—that's what life is all about.

Just like the mottled marks on a mirror that hold stories, imperfections are what make them most real.

So he took out a pen from his shirt pocket and a piece of scrap paper from his canvas bag.

As the pen tip hovered over the paper, those fragmented thoughts suddenly strung together into a line.

With a flourish of his pen, a short poem was written on the paper.

/
Everyday Slices

Author: Xu Chengjun

When the mirror is not polished
Days are a blurry road.

The moment the wind stopped on the branch
The fallen leaves forgot the distant place they were going.

You count the moonlight filtering through the window.
The moonlight outside the window shattered into stars.

　I've been reading everyone's comments from yesterday, and I'm still very touched that so many people are willing to support this book. To be honest, the writing style of this book is quite unconventional, incorporating elements of a physical book while being entirely original. The beginning was indeed a flop, with poor readership, but the monthly votes were decent, which shows that there are still readers who resonate with me. To live up to everyone's support and to be true to myself, I will definitely continue writing this book. Don't worry, the recent revisions, the haphazard postings during the new book period, and a period of low morale have resulted in a lack of drafts. I'll start building up drafts from tomorrow (I also have a full-time job, so I'll try my best to write), and strive to update more for everyone when it's officially released. Thank you again for your support! If you really like it, please vote and comment! All suggestions for this book are also welcome! Later, original novels like "The Barn" and "The Fitting Mirror" will be released when I have the time; whether to release them in the reader group or as separate chapters will be discussed later. Thank you again, I'm truly moved by your support! "Daily Slices" is dedicated to you all, let's encourage each other~
　　
　
(End of this chapter)