My era, 1979!

Chapter 59 Old-fashioned Soup
When we returned to the Federation of Literary and Art Circles' guesthouse.

Xu Chengjun had just walked to the corner on the second floor with his canvas bag when he heard a slight cough coming from room 201.

Pushing open the door, I saw Wang Zengqi sitting on a wooden chair by the window, holding a small purple clay teapot in his hand.

His demeanor was composed, giving the impression that "his writing reflects his personality."

In a literature appreciation class in my past life, a professor who particularly admired Wang Zengqi described his works in this way: "His writing is like it's been boiled! Boiled! Boiled!"

This moment is quite interesting.

But then again...

Wang Zengqi's early works from his time at Southwest Associated University, which were initially sharp and unconventional, are like slow-cooked broth.
In his later years, the works "Receiving the Precepts" and "Dried Tea" became like a slow-cooked, delicious soup.

The seemingly casual phrase "Minghai has been a monk for four years" actually incorporates the essence of the eight-legged essay into the flesh of vernacular Chinese.

There are two levels of writing in the past, one of which is Wang Zengqi.

The writing is very plain, without any memorable phrases or grand words, yet it allows the reader to immerse themselves in it.

After all, the words that can still be read calmly in this turbulent era of the past are all written with the heart of a bodhisattva.

Wang Zengqi, like the doctor Wang Danren in his writing, used words to prescribe a "heat-clearing and detoxifying prescription" for the masses.

The other extreme is represented by Lu Xun, who frequently uttered memorable quotes with profound and insightful meanings and thoughts. He could penetrate the eye of a needle and compose a sentence or two from his writings, framing it as a famous saying that could deeply impress people.

There were some tea stains on the teapot.

"came back?"

Wang Zengqi looked up and smiled, his gaze behind his glasses sweeping over the grass-covered cuffs of Wang's trousers, a hint of mockery in his eyes.

"Is the accommodation at Fudan University more comfortable than here?"

See, they've arrived, haven't they?
How can you say you're comfortable here?

Xu Chengjun threw his bag onto the bed, the canvas strap making a soft thud against the bed frame: "What's so comfortable about it? The iron bed frame is so hard it could leave a bone mark. Last night, I almost collapsed the bed frame when I turned over."

He sat down on the wooden stool next to the rattan chair, and without even thinking, he immediately started flattering her.

"Your place is much better; at least it doesn't hurt my butt."

Wang Zengqi poured more hot water into his teacup and laughed even more heartily: "If you think it's too hard, just come back and stay here. Anyway, you're under the care of Harvest Magazine."

This is not over yet,

While picking his teeth with a tea stalk, Mr. Wang said, "I bet you ate so well at Fudan University that you didn't want to come back."

"Your eyes are like radar."

Xu Chengjun chuckled and scratched his head, then pulled a package of oil paper from his bag. "So I wasn't hungry. My friends from Fudan University gave me some sweet cakes. They're cloyingly sweet. Want to try some?"

As soon as the oil paper package was opened, the aroma of osmanthus sugar filled the room.

Wang Zengqi picked up a piece, brought it to his nose, and smelled it. He raised an eyebrow and said, "Suzhou-style sugar cake? This craftsmanship doesn't seem to be from the cafeteria."

After a pause, a hint of gossip appeared in the old man's eyes: "A young girl gave it to you?"

Xu Chengjun pursed his lips, knowing that the conversation would end there.

"No, I'm focused on my studies and working hard to get into Fudan University. I should learn from you."

"You've missed your chance with Southwest Associated University, but you have a chance with Fudan University, so you should definitely try your best to get in."

These days, there are only three top-tier Chinese literature departments: Peking University, Fudan University, and Nanjing University.

We can't be Peking University gatekeepers, we can't study economics at Peking University, and we can't manage the Peking University library.

As a second-best option, I can make do with the Chinese Department at Fudan University!

Don't underestimate the reputation of these people.

Wang Zengqi didn't stand on ceremony with Xu Chengjun either; the two had a lively chat the night before last.

They have similar personalities, and Xu Chengjun's words always seem to resonate with Mr. Wang's literary creations.

Their interactions had a certain degree of intimacy despite the age gap.

I took a small bite, and some sugar crumbs stuck to the corner of my mouth.
"Wow, these sugar cakes are pretty good! But I have to remind you, you didn't come to Shanghai just to trick girls into eating sugar cakes."

"I don't care about young people's affairs, but don't let this interfere with your interview."

"How could I?" Xu Chengjun pulled the canvas bag to his lap and started taking things out. "I have an interview at nine o'clock the day after tomorrow. I've been researching and writing my thesis in the Chinese Department's archives these past two days. I'm thinking of not staying here tomorrow. I'll stay at Fudan University for one night to save myself the trouble."

He spoke lightly, but he seemed somewhat guilty.

Then I realized, what am I feeling guilty about?

I'm really going to write my paper!
Wang Zengqi sipped his tea without replying, his gaze falling on the clutter he was tidying up: the chipped rim of the enamel mug, the polished fountain pen, and a few unfinished milk candies.

When Xu Chengjun produced the accommodation slip from Fudan University's academic affairs office, he suddenly laughed: "So you've come here to say goodbye? Staying for only one day and then leaving? What, do you think this old scholar isn't popular?"

"Can't run away!"

Xu Chengjun slammed the note on the table. "I'll have to come back and bother you again after the interview. I'll have to stay at Fudan University tomorrow night for convenience."

Wang Zengqi still had that same smiling expression, and Xu Chengjun could tell at a glance that this "old guy" was up to no good.

"You'll be a Fudan student when you come back, huh? I might even benefit from your success!"

"You're joking. I'm just a sent-down youth; people might not even be interested in me."

“What’s wrong with being an educated youth?” Wang Zengqi picked up half a sheet of paper and wrote with his head down. “Back then, when I was running air raids in Kunming, I survived by eating potatoes.”

The handwriting on the paper was warm and graceful: "This is my address in Beijing. If you pass the exam, send me a New Year's card; if you don't pass..."

He deliberately dragged out his words, "Send one too, just to make me happy."

"Are you hoping I'll fail the exam?" Xu Chengjun folded the address into a square and stuffed it into his shirt pocket.

"Don't worry, I'm the type to only report good news, not bad!"

"Once 'The Fitting Mirror' is published in 'Harvest,' I'll send you a sample copy as soon as possible. But please don't find any mistakes; my writing skills are only so-so, so you won't laugh at me."

"I don't have your skills."

This was foreshadowing; aside from his joking, the old gentleman most often mentioned being scolded and suffering under Shen Congwen's tutelage.

as predicted.

"Pointing out your mistakes is actually helping you."

Wang Zengqi glared at him, saying, "Back then, when Mr. Shen Congwen revised my manuscript, he circled more words in red pen than there were actual characters. Young people have to be able to withstand criticism, otherwise how can they improve?"

He laughed as he said it.

"You little brat, you're waiting for me here again."

He suddenly remembered something and stuffed a small cloth bag into Xu Chengjun's hand, saying, "Take this."

The cloth bag contained two small packets of tea, with paper labels that read "Huangshan Maofeng".

Just as Xu Chengjun was about to decline, Wang Zengqi said, "During the interview, you might have the chance to make the professor a cup of tea. Writers all have this habit; when they drink good tea, their tempers are calmed down a bit."

A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes. "If I don't pass the exam, I'll just keep it to myself as a treat."

"You've brought out all your most treasured possessions."

Holding the tea bag, Xu Chengjun felt as if all the words he had read about this old man in his previous life had come alive at this moment.

Where is this?

Wang Zengqi glared at her again.

Xu Chengjun decisively admitted defeat.

"Then I won't stand on ceremony. Once I've established myself in Shanghai, I'll invite you to the Old Restaurant; their local Shanghai cuisine is absolutely superb."

Shanghai Old Restaurant, formerly known as "Rongshun Restaurant", was renamed "Old Rongshun Restaurant" at one point. It was founded in the first year of the Guangxu reign of the Qing Dynasty and is an outstanding representative of Shanghai cuisine.

“Rongshun Hall?” Wang Zengqi raised an eyebrow.

"Do you know how expensive it is there? Last time Mr. Ba treated me to dinner, one basket of xiaolongbao cost me the equivalent of three days' worth of meals."

He waved his hand with a smile, "No need to spend so much. Once you've really made it big, writing a couple more good articles will be better than anything else."

"However, if you invite me to Youlian Shengjian for some pan-fried buns, I'll definitely go!"

Youlian Shengjian is located opposite the Xihai Cinema. It is famous far and wide for its high-quality products and affordable prices. People line up to buy it from morning till night, and some even need to be issued a ticket to receive their goods.

(End of this chapter)