My era, 1979!

Chapter 57 "See?" (Thanks for the donation, please continue reading)

Su Manshu's face suddenly turned red. She lowered her head and carefully folded the last page of annotations: "I have to go to the department to submit materials later. You can look at these for now."

"Mark any questions you don't understand, and I'll come back tonight."

As she slung her canvas bag over her shoulder, she suddenly remembered something, took a White Rabbit candy from her pocket, and placed it on the table. "Replenish my energy and keep fighting."

Xu Chengjun picked up the White Rabbit milk candy wrapped in transparent candy paper.

Laughed.

Yes, White Rabbit Creamy Candy already existed in 1979.

The predecessor of White Rabbit Creamy Candy can be traced back to "ABC Mickey Mouse Candy" produced by Shanghai Aipish Candy Factory in 1943.

After the public-private partnership in 1950, it was merged into Shanghai Guanshengyuan and renamed Aimin Candy Factory.

In 1959, the "White Rabbit Milk Candy" with the image of a white rabbit was officially launched as a gift for the 10th anniversary of the founding of the People's Republic of China.

During Nixon's visit to China, White Rabbit candy was presented as a state gift to the delegation.

This year, White Rabbit won the National Silver Award for its outstanding quality, further solidifying its position as a national brand.

As he watched Su Manshu's hair flutter as she turned away, he suddenly recalled the phrase "thoughts and circumstances in harmony."

I jotted it down in my notebook.

"Thanks."

He spoke softly to her retreating figure, his voice somewhat ethereal.

Su Manshu paused, but didn't turn around; she simply raised her hand and waved.

They ran away as if fleeing.

The wooden door creaked shut, bringing back the tranquility of the archives room, leaving only the soft scratching of pens on paper.

Xu Chengjun unwrapped the milk candy and put it in his mouth, the milky aroma spreading on his tongue.

Mmm, very sweet.

He looked down at the annotations; Su Manshu's handwriting was delicate and beautiful.

Next to the section on "the beauty of harmony" it says "can be compared with the chapter on fixed patterns in 'The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons'", and next to the pencil writing there is a small arrow pointing to the location of the metal cabinet in the archives.

"You're quite thoughtful."

He chuckled and shook his head.

Suddenly, she noticed that on the last blank page, she had drawn a tiny orchid with a pencil, the petals delicate yet each stroke distinct.

It was kept quite well hidden.

Xu Chengjun tucked the annotations into the paper chapter by chapter, recalling Su Manshu's mention of the typewriter on the third floor.

He carried the manuscript paper and walked down the corridor. The wooden stairs creaked softly under his feet. As he passed the meeting room, he glanced inside.

The long table was covered with a blue cloth, and an old-fashioned floor fan stood in the corner, its blades covered with a thin layer of dust.

The typewriter was hidden in a storage room at the end of the corridor, with "Made in Shanghai" printed on its metal casing.

Xu Chengjun tried pressing a few keys, and the "click" sound startled the sparrows on the windowsill.

It's a mechanical printer.

These days, printers are considered "expensive office supplies" and are not for ordinary people to use. This one is an old machine that is about to be phased out.

Without a doubt, this was probably a favor that Su gave him.

From that Shanghai brand watch to his not-so-simple clothing for that era, and his broad knowledge and familiarity with the Chinese literature department,

This girl is extraordinary.

The printer is old, but it's still usable.

He spread out his manuscript paper and began typing. The mechanical sound echoed in the empty corridor, making the words "modern transformation of traditional literary theory" particularly clear.

He only stopped when dusk crept into the corridor.

The logic behind using a mechanical typewriter is actually quite simple, even more "intuitive" than early computers.

In my past life, when I was taking inventory of the warehouse at my workplace, I had the good fortune to take inventory of an old machine from the 80s with my colleagues.

The layout of a typewriter keyboard is basically the same as that of a modern keyboard. When you press a key, the hammer strikes the ribbon to leave characters on the paper, which is exactly the same logic as "typing" on a keyboard.

The only thing to note is that after printing one line, you need to turn the "line feed knob" on the right, and the paper will automatically move up one line.

I never imagined that one day I would actually use this thing to type out a paper.

He heard the whistle signaling the start of lunch at the canteen in the distance. He took out a cornbread from his canvas bag and ate a couple of bites with tap water.

His gaze fell back on the paper next to the typewriter.

A gentle evening breeze drifted in through the window, carrying the scent of fresh grass from the playground. Xu Chengjun neatly folded his completed thesis.

I encountered that mirror in the lobby on the first floor again.

It looks like someone wiped it this time.
It's much cleaner now.

When the wooden door was pushed open, people were already sitting in the dim light.

Su Manshu was lying on the table writing something, her hair hanging down on the manuscript paper, and an enamel mug was next to her.

Seeing him come in, she looked up, her surprise quickly turning into a smile: "You finished so quickly?"

"Thanks to you."

Xu Chengjun placed the paper on the table and said with a smile, "I just discovered your orchid painting. You hid it quite well."

Su Manshu's ears turned bright red, and she hurriedly stuffed the manuscript paper into the drawer: "It was just a quick sketch... Did you thoroughly research your thesis?"

He wasn't the type to play pranks on people.

She let Su Manshu change the subject.

It's best not to reveal a girl's little secrets.

Otherwise, you'll be the one who suffers in the end.

“Basically,” he said, pointing to the paper, “but the section on ‘the tradition of metaphor’ feels like the argument is a bit lacking.”

Moonlight streamed in through the high window, falling on the manuscript paper between the two men.

Su Manshu picked up a pen and drew circles. Xu Chengjun leaned over to look, and their hair accidentally touched.

She suddenly looked up and smiled: "Look at this moonlight, doesn't it look like wet ink on the manuscript? The ancients said 'there is painting in poetry,' and it turns out that such scenery is also hidden in literary theory."

Xu Chengjun followed her gaze to the window frame. Moonlight shone through the carved iron bars, casting fine grid patterns on the manuscript paper.

The evening breeze, carrying the scent of camphor wood, drifted in through the cracks in the window.

The wind blew through Su Manshu's hair that was hanging over her shoulders, and when the ends of her hair brushed against the back of his hand, both of them recoiled as if they had been burned.

The air suddenly became so quiet that you could hear each other breathing, mixed with sporadic laughter coming from the distant playground.

Xu Chengjun looked at her reddened ear tips and then glanced at the orchid hidden at the bottom of the page on the manuscript paper. He suddenly felt that he should record this moment.

Not the research in academic papers,

It's not a term from literary theory either.
It's just the moonlight, the evening breeze, and the gentle ripples in my heart at this moment.

When tiny ripples merge into a vast expanse...
I think I heard a faint sound of waves.

He picked up the pencil on the table and wrote the words "See?" in the corner of a blank sheet of paper.

The pen paused for a moment, then added a line of smaller text: "For you."

Look!

--for you

Author: Xu Chengjun

Look,

Waves washed over the sandbar.

The footprints are growing, shrouded in mist.

/
Look,

Gold fragments in the wind
It spread from the tips of the hair toward the direction of the stars.

/
Look,

Our gazes overlap with the same tide.

The shadows swayed in the evening breeze.

/
Look,

My heartbeat wasn't swept away by the waves.
We went to retrieve the amber-like luster formed by the solidification of light.

Xu Chengjun was staring intently at the words "amber light formed by condensing light" on the manuscript paper when he suddenly felt an itch on the back of his neck.

He subconsciously turned his head, his nose bumping into a soft, warm scent of hair.

Su Manshu had come closer at some point, the cuff of her pale white shirt brushing against his ear, her breath carrying a faint minty scent, and she was staring at the poem in his hand.

Their breaths met, and the heat from their exhaled breaths rose on their faces.

(End of this chapter)