My era, 1979!

Chapter 54 The mountain has trees, but the trees have no branches.

Before the morning mist had completely dissipated, Xu Chengjun was already hurrying towards the archives room, his feet wet with dew.

Passing by the playground, I saw several boys in vests doing morning exercises around the horizontal bar, the metal frame creaking as it shook.

In front of the blackboard next to the track, someone was using chalk to add the slogan "Marching Towards Science".

"Morning!"

The old gatekeeper in the guardhouse was wiping his bicycle with a rag. When he saw him pass by, he looked up and smiled, "Good luck with your interview! I heard yesterday that a talented poet from Fengyang, Anhui, came here for an interview. I remember you're from Fengyang. I'm guessing that talented poet is you!"

Xu Chengjun waved his hand with a smile: "What kind of talent am I? I still need to learn from Fudan University!"

Yesterday at the library, I couldn't find a few books, so today I decided to check the Chinese department's resource room.

The Chinese Literature Department's archives are located on the east side of the Fairy Boat Pavilion, and the brass door knocker on the wooden door is polished to a shine from being touched so much.

Pushing open the door, a musty smell, a mingled with the scent of camphor, wafted out, and the caretaker, Grandpa Zhang, was sweeping the bookshelves with a feather duster.

"You look unfamiliar, classmate?"

Grandpa Zhang adjusted his reading glasses, his eyes squinting behind the lenses.

"Hello teacher, I'm here at Fudan University for an interview for 'special talents'. Ms. Sun from the Chinese Department's academic affairs office gave me a note, saying I could use it to find some information here."

Grandpa Zhang took the note from Dean Sun and examined it carefully.

He was a bit serious, but his attitude was good.

He told Xu Chengjun, "The archives are not like a library. Some materials are not publicly available. If you want to find something, you can ask me."

“Teacher Sun called yesterday and said that the young writer Xu Chengjun might come looking for materials. You can tell me what books you are looking for.”

Teacher Sun is a very kind person; it seems she had already given prior notice.

Xu Chengjun leaned over and pointed to the bookshelf: "Teacher Zhang, I spent the whole afternoon in the library yesterday, but there's only one copy of 'Selected Works of the Tongcheng School,' and I couldn't find 'Studies on Ancient Literary Theory' either."

"The library wouldn't dare put these books there. But apart from the old professors, students rarely look for them."

Grandpa Zhang put down the duster and moved to the innermost part, revealing a bookshelf with an iron lock. "A few years ago, they said these were 'feudal remnants,' so they were all locked in the archives."

He slowly took out a brass key, opened the box, and said, "The 1958 edition of 'Studies in Ancient Literary Theory' that you wanted is the only copy inside."

Xu Chengjun took the book and thanked Grandpa Zhang.

The yellowed pages still bear the red seal of "Collection of the Department of Chinese Language and Literature, Fudan University".

Perhaps Xu Chengjun arrived early, or perhaps there weren't many people around due to the holiday.

Xu Chengjun found a seat by the window and began to fill in any gaps in his knowledge by comparing it with the materials he had prepared in the library.

The pen tip flew across the draft paper.

The introduction in the first part is written with great fluency and eloquence.

He accurately pointed out the dual predicament of the literary scene in 1979: "excessive emotional venting in 'scar literature'" and "the empty slogans of 'reform propaganda literature'."
The text then shifts to Zhang Peiheng's unfinished thoughts on "literature needing to be rooted in national tradition" and "opposing blind Westernization," and then raises the core proposition of "modern transformation of traditional literary theory." This not only points out a path for local innovation for realist literature, but also cleverly responds to the contemporary need for the construction of "literary subjectivity" in the context of ideological liberation.

After writing the last period, Xu Chengjun looked at the paper and breathed a sigh of relief. His thoughts were clear, and even the air felt smoother.

The second part, the literature review, best showcases the writer's skill.

He first outlined the current state of academia: In 1979, research on traditional literary theory mostly remained at the level of collating and annotating ancient books or rigidly comparing them with Western theories. There were piles of textual research articles on "Wenxin Diaolong," but few people actually used traditional theories to interpret contemporary creations, let alone the far-fetched approach of using "typology" to explain "artistic conception."

The debate on the core issues in the literary world is in full swing: whether tradition hinders innovation and whether Western theories are omnipotent.

Finally, the author abruptly shifts focus to reveal the breakthrough point. Moving beyond the binary choice of "retro/Westernization," the author focuses on "how the problem consciousness of traditional literary theory is transferred to contemporary creation," sketching out a completely new frontier for research with just a few strokes.

The only problem was that the bibliographic annotations were a bit of a hassle. Many of the references he remembered were hard to find in this day and age, so he had to delete or revise a few citations.

The third part, the theoretical framework, was actually the easiest to write.

In this section, Xu Chengjun constructs a theoretical framework of a "triple mechanism" for the modern transformation of traditional Chinese literary theory.

The concept transfer mechanism allows core concepts of classical literary theory to be revitalized in contemporary writing;
The aesthetic balance mechanism uses the traditional "beauty of moderation" to break the polarization of contemporary creation, balances the tragic accusations of scar literature with "sorrow without being painful", and harmonizes the sloganization of reform literature with "holding to the middle and using the two sides".
The practical implementation mechanism points directly to the real-world path for grassroots creation to revitalize traditional literary theory.

Part Four: Case Analysis

Using his own creative practice as evidence, he dissected the key to the transformation of tradition in rural-themed creations in 1979: the natural integration of imagery and narrative with traditional metaphors gave cultural depth to ordinary scenes in the fields; the case verification of Zhang Peiheng's academic thought provided a vivid footnote to the implementation of the theory.

In the fifth part, Xu Chengjun concludes by outlining the innovative value and contemporary implications of this paper.

"The theoretical innovation of this study lies in proposing that 'traditional literary theory is not a historical legacy, but a living creative methodology,' breaking the stereotype that 'tradition equals conservatism.' On a practical level, it provides creators with a path to 'be rooted in local contexts while transcending Westernization,' proving that the combination of grassroots experience and traditional wisdom can foster high-quality works. Academically, it precisely addresses the expectation that 'literature needs national roots,' filling the research gap on the modern transformation of traditional literary theory since 1979, laying the foundation for subsequent explorations of the localization of literary theory, and allowing cultural roots to continue to grow amidst the changes of the times."

After reviewing the entire paper, Xu Chengjun rubbed his eyes, pulled out a stack of graph paper from his bag, and began to formally copy it.

During this period, academic writing and formal manuscripts generally used standardized grid paper.

It is usually 16mo or 32mo, with 16mo being more common in formal manuscripts. Each page is printed with evenly spaced squares, with each square corresponding to a Chinese character, which facilitates counting and typesetting and also meets the requirements for manuscript standardization at the time.

Xu Chengjun picked up the pen, and the nib hovered in the first space for half a second before falling.

This job doesn't require much brainpower to formulate arguments, but it doesn't tolerate the slightest carelessness.

Misspelled words should be drawn with a proper diagonal line, line breaks should be aligned with the vertical grid, and even punctuation marks should occupy a full grid space.

The pen made a scratching sound as it glided across the paper, and the occasional pause was to check the original manuscript.

It wasn't until his stomach growled softly that he realized the manuscript paper he was writing had already piled up into a thin stack, and the last period fell right at lunchtime.

Man is made of iron, food is made of steel!
A later play was composed, which is quite fitting for this occasion.

The title is "The Phoenix Hairpin - Out of Stock".

"Braised pork, Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor). Spring rolls and fried chicken strips all over the place; it's cold in the middle of the night, no food left, a cup of cold water, half an apple, hungry, hungry, hungry!"

He was bending down to pack his canvas bag.

Suddenly, a very light footstep sound came from beside my ear, mixed with the unique camphor wood scent of old books, as if a cloud had quietly drifted into the room.

He subconsciously looked up, his gaze passing over the gap in the bookshelf and landing directly on the source of the sound.

The girl standing against the light wore a pale white cotton shirt that was made translucent by the sunlight, with a loose bow at the collar.

Her skin was as white as fine Xuan paper, gleaming with a delicate luster in the 1979 sunlight. Her jet-black straight hair fell over her shoulders, the ends of which were gently lifted by the wind outside the window, creating a natural curve.

She was tall and slender with bright almond-shaped eyes. The slight drooping at the corners of her eyes naturally exuded gentleness. Now, facing the light, her eyes seemed to hold tiny stars, shining just right.

Beneath her high, straight nose, her cherry lips were gently pursed, and her oval face, softened by the light and shadow, resembled a traditional Chinese ink painting.

It possesses both the natural beauty of "lotus emerging from clear water" and the refined elegance of "poetry scrolls carried with you."

"Excuse me, classmate, I'm sorry to bother you."

The girl looked at him, her eyes filled with apology.

His voice was warm and gentle, with the last note as light as a feather brushing against the heart.

(End of this chapter)