My era, 1979!

Chapter 80 I missed you all so much!

"Speak properly, Comrade Xu, be more confident!" Lin Wei's single ponytail bounced up and down.

A single ponytail, tsk~
How am I supposed to be confident, junior?!

“I’m speaking very nicely. I quite like books like ‘Xu Mao and Their Daughters’ and ‘The General’s Song’.”

"And then what!" Lin Wei and Xu Lu stared at him intently.

You tell me! Idol!

Xu Chengjun shrugged: "The value of 'scar literature' lies in its courage to openly discuss those painful things that were once too painful to touch, which is remarkable in itself. Just like the struggle in 'Maple' and the separation of mother and daughter in 'Scar', no one dared to write about these things before, but now they can be printed in black and white, which is progress in itself."

Lin Wei crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow: "Is progress all there is to it? We didn't cry for nothing."

"Of course it wasn't for nothing."

Xu Chengjun smiled, but his tone became serious. “But after crying, there has to be something else. Nowadays, some works seem to regard ‘pain’ as their only skill. They write about suffering to the extreme, and the characters cry and wail from beginning to end. After reading them, all that’s left is a feeling of tightness in your chest. It’s like a person who has fallen down and just keeps hugging their wound and crying in pain, forgetting to get up, dust themselves off, and keep going.”

The two girls frowned instantly; they were still a bit too familiar with these two freshmen.

The key difference lies in the fundamental discrepancy between their understanding and the content.

Xu Lu clutched the corner of the book and whispered, "But the suffering was real..."

"The suffering is real, but people don't live just to complain."

Xu Chengjun leaned back against the wall. “Look at Lu Danfeng and Li Honggang in ‘Maple’. They were passionate young people at first, but later they became victims. That’s painful enough, isn’t it? But just writing about the pain isn’t enough. Why did they end up like this? If these questions aren’t answered, readers will only feel bad and won’t gain any insights.”

He paused, then looked at the two of them: "I'm not saying you can't write about suffering, but you have to have a backup plan when writing about suffering. Now that everyone has just come out of the hard times, they need to know 'how to live from now on' instead of constantly dwelling on the past hardships."

The two stared at Xu Chengjun for a long time, dumbfounded.

This person makes a lot of sense; they're quite impressive!
After a short while, Lin Wei suddenly laughed: "So you think we're too busy crying to figure things out?"

"That's pretty much it."

He winked at the two of them: "Besides, isn't it boring to always be a 'crying reader'?"

"I suggest you try writing it yourselves."

The two women's eyes lit up, "Try it and you'll die!"

"I understand!"

"Me too!"

Xu Chengjun: ?

What do you understand?

Why don't I understand?
It's true that pretty girls always seem to end up together. If Su Manshu is a 98, then these two are an 80.

Although not as beautiful as Su Manshu, they are still well-proportioned with regular facial features.

It's pleasing to the eye to chat with them, isn't it!

Something seems off?
Talk about it.

Xu Chengjun is not averse to scar literature; what he dislikes is scar literature written only by intellectuals, as if their scar literature is the only literature.

Actually, it doesn't matter whether it's popular literature or serious literature.

When they were written, it was all for the sake of making a living, for popularity, and for distribution.

But in 1979, who would read newspapers, who would read those pretentious literary things?
Who is the audience?

It certainly wasn't those poor, struggling farmers and workers.

They can't understand.

Some "scar literature" is essentially writers using literature as a medium to lament their rapidly declining status in this era.

However, they did not descend.

In ancient times, there was a term for this type of person: "clan clique"; in modern times, there is a term: "academic clique".

Ms. Dong has recently become well-known.

However, we shouldn't overly distort the "scar literature." Anyone who has truly read it knows that most of the famous works don't depict much about "intellectuals being sent down to the countryside to suffer."

On the contrary, most of the "scar literature" works, while painful in the first half, mostly turn positive and uplifting in the second half.

Within any given genre, there are always some outstanding works and some utterly nonsensical ones.

We cannot judge the whole by the individual, nor can we judge the individual by the whole, right?
What truly hindered the development of "scar literature" and caused this type of book to disappear in the 21st century was its lack of literary merit.

It's not good enough for a high-class audience.

As for Mo Yan's Nobel Prize-winning books and Yu Hua's books, frankly speaking, they don't qualify as "scar literature" at all. They're just minor examples.

You can't exactly call a "veteran" who joined the Kuomintang in 49 a "wise general," can you?

That's dark humor.

After saying goodbye to Xu Lu and Lin Wei.

Xu Chengjun still couldn't figure out what the two girls had figured out.

During the conversation, the up-and-coming poet and writer Xu Chengjun was calm and composed, commanding the scene with his words, which were surprisingly insightful and even better than what their teacher had said.

The two girls' eyes were already glaring at each other.

The level of admiration is a bit too high.
Not good.

Forget it, let's get down to business.

I promised Zhai Ying and Lao Chen I would mail the postcards they sent.

The bus stop gradually became more crowded, and the trolleybus No. 37 made a hissing sound as its overhead wires swept across the power lines.

The green-painted wooden door of the post office was ajar, and a stack of kraft paper envelopes sat on the glass counter, while postcards were piled up in a metal box next to it.

To be honest, those postcards truly carry the memories and tears of a bygone era.

In his essay "Shanghai Street Scenes" published in 1979, Shanghai writer Ke Ling mentioned that "there are always people buying postcards at the post office entrance, choosing a scene of the Bund to send to relatives and friends far away, with the words 'Shanghai autumn, the wind is warm' written on the back."

See how romantic that is!

The most romantic thing I can think of is sending you a postcard!

Influenced by these literary figures, many young men and women in the early 21st century still regarded this as a way to express their longing and romance.

As for those born after 00
They'll ask you: What's a postcard?
A saleswoman in blue overalls was calculating accounts with an abacus, the beads clicking and clattering.

"Want to send a postcard?" The clerk looked up, her attitude nonchalant. "Four cents for Shanghai residents, eight cents for those from other areas. Just put it in that mailbox over there."

State-owned, nothing special!
The postal service won't go bankrupt, will it?
Small temple, big demon wind, hey~
Xu Chengjun leaned over the counter, picking out postcards, his eyes scanning over the yellowed cardstock.

Some had the Bund clock tower printed on them, others had the Yu Garden Nine-Turn Bridge painted on them, and the one in the far corner had the Fudan University gate printed on it, with the four characters "Fudan University" embossed in gold on the lintel, exactly the same as the one he saw during his interview.

"Just these few."

He picked out a few that were distinctly Shanghai.

To Lao Chen, Zhai Ying, Xiao Ma, Lao Zhou, Su Lao, and Liu Zuci.

We also need to give to the young people of Xujiatun, to Qian Ming, Zhao Gang, Xinghua, Erwa, and Zhuzi.
"this one."

On the back of a postcard to friends in Hefei, he wrote: “I miss you guys’ spicy soup in Hefei. I’ll bring you pancakes when I get back. — Xu Chengjun, Shanghai”

The handwriting was flamboyant and elegant, and a crooked smiley face was drawn at the end.

For his friends in Xujiatun, he wrote a tribute to his hometown:

"Imagination"

Author: Xu Chengjun

I think
Become the guardian of the wheat field

Stacking rows of straw by hand

Subsequently
Watching over the long season

When the frost season arrives
Look at the rows of haystacks covered in silvery-white fluff.

In the wind as dusk settles
Quietly getting hot
I think
To become a late-harvested grain of wheat
In the cold wind, in the frozen soil

In every dawn and dusk

Quietly awakening in the embrace of the earth.
Growing up with a stubborn look

Breaking through the shell of the remnant winter

The warmth stored in the earthen cellar
Kissing the Earth
He thought Zhao Gang would look at this and say, "What is this?! Who is he kissing?! I can't understand it!"

"Shanghai is so beautiful!"

"Big cities are great!"

If you don't understand it, you don't understand it!

　On a side note, I watched the Asian Cup men's basketball game on Sunday night. They lost, but it was a satisfying defeat. From Cui Yongyuan to Yang Hansen to Yu Jiahao's 2000-yuan-a-month salary move to Europe, this Chinese men's basketball team is full of hope. The hope isn't just about increased ability, but about a renewed spirit, fighting will, and character. At this moment, everyone suddenly thought of one person: Yao Ming, who left the Basketball Association in disappointment last year. How would you evaluate Yao Ming? His early career had already elevated him to a level unprecedented and unparalleled in Chinese basketball. Later, his basketball reforms were met with mixed reviews, and after his disappointing departure, only two years later, we seem to see the effects of those reforms.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)