My era, 1979!

Chapter 5 Final Draft
When the wheat awns turn yellow.

Xu Chengjun tucked the last page of the manuscript into the pile.

In the past two months, I've used three reams of toilet paper, filled a small tin box with pencil stubs, and even the slate given to me by Xinghua has turned white from writing on it.

The manuscript papers on the wooden box were neatly stacked, their edges slightly curled by the night wind.

He was also filled with a sense of accomplishment from finishing a novel.

The pen writes history.

Indescribable.

"Finished writing?"

Qian Ming was holding a copy of "High School Mathematics," and the tape on the temples of his glasses had been replaced again.

"Has Xu Chunsheng's father finally sorted out his account?"

Xu Chengjun leaned back against the earthen wall, his 1.83-meter frame standing out prominently in the low-ceilinged educated youth house.

Farm work had tanned him to a deep wheat color, and the muscles in his arms were faintly visible under his faded shirt.

"I've sorted it out pretty much, and I've left myself a little bit of room to breathe."

He pulled out the top sheet of paper and handed it over.

"Look at this part, it's much more practical than just showing off."

Qian Ming flipped to the first page: "Is it all about the barn?"

"It was revised five times before it was finalized."

Xu Chengjun gazed at the dark green wheat fields outside the window, the moonlight making the wheat ears look as if they were sprinkled with silver powder.

“Rural people recognize granaries. When Xu Chunsheng was helping his father, Xu Laoshuan, dry the grain, he discovered that the carvings on the granary wall, the way the keychain was hung, and the tilt of the jujube wood scale were all telling. The old keychain on the east wall always wobbled towards the third plot of land, and the scale beam could never hold the weight down when weighing public grain. There were tricks to it all.”

"This is more practical than anything else!"

Qian Ming was a good straight man, slapping his thigh and cheering, but the wooden bed board made a "creaking" protesting sound.

"The slogan says 'Full warehouse' on the back, but the warehouse is practically empty?"

"Ah."

Xu Chengjun tapped his knee lightly with his fingertips.

"His father hid a cloth ledger in the lining of a cigarette box, on which he wrote with a brush, 'Thirty-seven jin of wheat were lost in 1977, but the harvest from the private plot was one hundred and twenty.' He wrote 'full granary' to prevent it from being discovered."

Qian Ming stroked the page with his fingers, which read "Trial Planting Record".

He suddenly remembered something and glanced outside the door: "Officer Liu is coming to the commune today. I'm also going to the commune to handle household registration. I'll give him the manuscript while I'm at it."

Xu Chengjun sat up straight and nodded, saying, "Thank you for your help! Don't say too much, let him see for himself first."

"And let's not mention that I'm Xu Zhiguo's son."

"rest assured."

Qian Ming rolled up the manuscript paper and stuffed it into his military satchel. "Just say it's a rural story written by educated youth Xu Chengjun. If he doesn't like it, I'll brag about your other skills."

The two of them laughed.

In the dim light of the kerosene lamp, Zhao Gang's snoring mingled with the distant sound of threshing grain.

I can't really say which sound is louder.
-
The next morning, Qian Ming took the manuscript to the commune.

Xu Chengjun pulled out the "Summary" at the top and stuffed it into his bag: "Show this to Officer Liu, so he doesn't have to flip through it from the beginning."

The outline was written while staying up all night:
"The story of 'The Granary' is based on Xujiatun in Fengyang, Anhui in 1978. Xu Laoshuan, the granary keeper, holds a copper key engraved with '1958'. He has been guarding the collective granary for twenty years, but he has carved tally marks all over the granary walls to show the amount of wheat that was leaked. The cloth-covered private ledgers hide the secret that 'the collective land yields 300 per mu and the private plot yields 500 per mu.'"

"Xu Chunsheng, the son of a returned educated youth, brought back news of land redistribution in Xiaogang Village and secretly used the leaking wheat from the bottom of the granary to try planting it on wasteland. Xu Laoshuan was afraid of being criticized for privately dividing the land, but he also secretly helped his son. The father and son were torn between 'conservatism' and 'seeking change'. When the yield per mu of the trial plot far exceeded that of the collective land, Xu Laoshuan smashed the copper lock, melted the key into a plowshare, and carved the words 'land redistribution' on the granary wall."

Qian Ming rode his creaking bicycle, his satchel swaying behind him.

As I passed by Xinghua's house, she was squatting at the door picking green beans. I looked up and asked, "Brother Chengjun, have you finished your manuscript?"

"I'm sending it to Officer Liu." Qian Ming stopped the car.

“There’s a character in it who’s just like you, he’s really good at it.”

Xinghua blushed, her hands moving faster as she bent down to pick the green beans, the stringy beans strung together in crooked lines on the ground: "How would I know anything about this..."

Qian Ming was oblivious and rode his bicycle towards the commune.

The wheat on both sides of the road was mostly golden, the ears of grain rustling as they collided. Under the locust tree in the commune, Liu, the cadre, was squatting on the stone mill, eating a steamed bun.

He wore a faded polyester shirt, his trousers were covered in mud, and he had a copy of "Anhui Literature" tucked in his pocket. The four characters "Ideological Liberation" were damp with sweat.

"Uncle Liu!" Qian Ming leaned the car against a tree, grabbed his bag, and ran over.

Officer Liu looked up, his glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose: "Little Qian, how's your dad doing lately? Last time, the secretary even praised his speech for having a 'rustic' feel to it."

"My dad is great, he always talks about you."

Qian Ming placed his satchel on the stone mill. "I brought you a manuscript, written by Xu Chengjun, an educated youth. It's all about rural life. Could you take a look and give it your opinion?"

Officer Liu wiped his hands, then paused for a moment as he took the manuscript: "Xu Chengjun? Xu Zhiguo's son from Dongfeng Middle School?"

"It's him, but don't mention that."

Qian Ming quickly waved his hand, "He said he just wanted you to review the article."

Officer Liu opened the outline and initially chewed his steamed bun casually, his gums making a "crunching" sound, but he didn't pay much attention to it.

He had met Xu Zhiguo's two sons when they were young, and the eldest was a capable man.

The second child.

To be honest, he's a bit of a coward!

But this article seems to have something... about it!

When he saw the words "the marks on the warehouse wall correspond to the amount of wheat that leaked," the steamed bun stopped in his mouth.

Upon reading "Old Xu scattered wheat seeds in the corner of the granary at night," he suddenly sat up straight, the folds of his shirt stretched open.

Turning to the page about "528 jin per mu yield in trial planting," he suddenly stuffed the steamed bun into his pocket, grabbed the manuscript paper, and ran to the office, his cloth shoes making a "patter" sound on the muddy ground.

"Come inside and look! The lighting here is bad!"

Qian Ming followed behind and saw that Officer Liu had drawn a heavy line under the line "The cloth account is hidden in the interlayer of the warehouse beam".

"This is what real rural life looks like!"

He slammed his hand on the table, splashing tea from the enamel mug.

"Old Xu was afraid of being criticized for dividing the wheat privately, yet he secretly let it sprout. This contradiction is vividly portrayed!"

The typist next door peeked out, and Officer Liu waved his hand, saying, "It's nothing, it's nothing. I'm just looking at a good article!"

He looked up and asked Qian Ming, "Is Xu Chengjun going to work in the countryside in Xujiatun?"

"Did he really write this?"

"Yes, he harvested wheat during the day and wrote at night. He worked on it for two months. I watched him write the manuscript word by word!"

Qian Ming recalled Xu Chengjun's bloodshot eyes, "He said you're an expert, and he'll immediately change anything that's not suitable."

"Wait a moment, let me take another look." Officer Liu lowered his head again.

Time passed slowly, and Officer Liu would sometimes ponder and sometimes frown.

Qian Ming was also extremely anxious.

Then, Officer Liu suddenly looked up, slapped his thigh, and exclaimed: "Brilliant! The 'crack' in the barn has revealed a glimmer of hope for reform!"

Qian Ming also caught his breath, and when he heard Officer Liu slap his thigh, he laughed too.

Following the discussion, we should also add co-creation, or if that doesn't work, we should add a second author.
Officer Liu rolled up the manuscript and stuffed it into his briefcase, then patted Qian Ming on the shoulder: "Tell Cheng Jun that this manuscript doesn't need any revisions! I'll send it to Editor-in-Chief Zhou of Anhui Literature right now. If he doesn't publish it, I'll personally go to Hefei and confront him!"

His eyes showed approval. "This kid has potential. This manuscript will get him out of Xujiatun!"

He added, "Tell Chengjun that I underestimated him. Don't take it personally, and don't look down on Anhui Culture for being a small publication. It's a good starting point for him."
-
When Qian Ming rode his bicycle back to the village, the setting sun had already dyed the wheat fields golden red.

He hummed an off-key song, and his satchel seemed to still smell of ink.

As we approached the educated youth settlement, we saw Xu Chengjun turning over wheat in the threshing ground. His tall figure swayed beside the wheat pile, and the chaff kicked up by his wooden shovel flew like golden mist in the sunlight.

"Chengjun! Officer Liu said the manuscript is amazing and he wants to send it to Anhui Literature!"

Qian Ming shouted from a distance.

Xu Chengjun straightened up, wheat chaff falling onto his dark face.

He smiled.

This is the first step we've taken!
(End of this chapter)