Writer 1978: I Need to Give the Literary World a Lesson

Chapter 100 The True National Treasure

After Liu Yimin finished speaking, Old Zhang picked up the jar fragment and examined it, but still couldn't see anything different about it. He only felt that this jar fragment was rougher than the ones he usually saw and was probably useless.

However, seeing Liu Yimin looking at it so intently, he began to wonder to himself, "Could it really be a national treasure?" Compared to others, the curator Zhang Jiuyi had a very important awareness of cultural relic protection, as evidenced by the many cultural relics he had protected over the past ten years.

However, the level of local cultural centers is limited, and the value of some seemingly ordinary cultural relics cannot be seen.

Zhang Jiuyi then called in the cultural relics protection team to investigate. If it really was a national treasure as Liu Yimin said, and they destroyed it in their hands, they would be sinners in history.

Seeing that Liu Yimin was looking at it so intently, the members of the protection team dared not draw any conclusions.

“Old Zhang, this is a fragment of red pottery. You can see the lines are very rough, which means it's not a modern technique; it's quite old. I advise you to have a higher-level cultural relics expert come down and appraise it. First, go to the commune below and protect the jar properly. I've talked to a professor of history at Yenching University, so I know a little bit about it.”

Liu Yimin was leaving this afternoon; otherwise, he would definitely have gone to see the cultural relics in person.

However, after checking the time, Lao Zhang felt that it was still possible to make it there by jeep, so he borrowed the Revolutionary Committee's jeep. When Yang Yushan heard that a national treasure might have appeared, he stopped doing his work at the Revolutionary Committee and decided to go with them.

Three jeeps departed from the Revolutionary Committee and, led by Elder Zhang, arrived at the commune below.

When the people in the commune saw such a large commotion, they thought they were coming to inspect the work. When they heard that they were coming to see the pottery jars, they were all confused. Why make such a big fuss over a few broken pottery jars?

Only one cadre showed excitement and quickly led them into his office.

"This is Comrade Liu Yimin, who was the top liberal arts student in our province last year. He saw these pottery jars and felt that they were not simple objects, so we came to take a look. Old Li, why don't you tell us how you discovered them?"

This old Li is from the commune, his name is Li Jian'an.

Li Jian'an said excitedly, "A while ago, I heard on the street that pottery jars had been dug up in an apple orchard, so I went to see them. I had studied the Zhongshanzhai Archaeological Tomb Complex before, and I felt that these were not simple things. So I dug up more than a dozen of them. It was so tiring that I had to transport them back home in three separate trips."

Later, they found some bones inside, which my family thought was bad luck, so I brought it here again! I was thinking of contacting the cultural center for protection, but nobody knows what it is. Comrade Liu Yimin, do you know anything about it?

Liu Yimin shook his head and said, "I'm not sure either. It feels unusual. Let's lift it up and take a look!"

As Li Jian'an lifted the covers from the jars, one of the pottery jars immediately caught Liu Yimin's attention. His gaze was fixed on the jar, where a "stone axe" and an animal were clearly visible.

It's confirmed, this is it!
Liu Yimin clenched his hands tightly inside his sleeves. The "Stork, Fish, and Stone Axe" painting, which appeared in history books, was an artifact from the Neolithic period. The painting style on the pottery represented the budding of the landscape painting ideas of the ancient Chinese people and was the prototype of Chinese painting.

I never imagined that one day I would be able to touch the treasure that appeared in the history textbook.

"Director Yang, Lao Zhang, report this. It's definitely not simple. Have them find someone to take a look. Look at these lines. They're very simple, but they've already begun to express the essence of Chinese painting. It might be the earliest Chinese painting."

As for why it's not simple, Liu Yimin isn't a professional and can't explain it.

This painted pottery jar with a stork, fish, stone axe, and other ornaments is a national-level cultural relic and was later listed as the first of 64 cultural relics that cannot be taken out of the country.

"I knew it! This thing is something special!" Li Jian'an exclaimed excitedly. He dug it out of the ground, but many people said it was useless, and his family even thought it was bad luck.

He reported it to the cultural center, but they didn't take it seriously. He even wondered if he had dug up a bunch of useless trash.

Zhang Jiuyi looked at Yang Yushan, who nodded. In any case, it was the right thing to do to have someone from above come and take a look.

So they started discussing how to transport it to the cultural center. They were worried that it would rot if they put it on a jeep, so they had the commune hitch up an oxcart, took protective measures, and started hauling it into the cultural center.

Zhang Jiuyi took five pairs of cotton gloves out of the jeep. When Liu Yimin saw this, he asked, "Old Zhang, what are you doing?"

"A reward! If it really is a cultural relic, Li Jian'an will have done a great service and deserves a reward!"

Liu Yimin was speechless: "Old Zhang, you only gave them five pairs of threaded gloves? These might be national treasures."

In those days, Li Jian'an's painstaking digging was certainly not for a reward, but Liu Yimin felt it was inappropriate to give him five pairs of cotton gloves. If it weren't for him, these jars might have broken into the ground or been taken away by someone else.

“Old Zhang, I get two yuan a day in writing subsidies at the cultural center. I don’t think this is appropriate.”

Yang Yushan came over and, after hearing what Liu Yimin said, also felt it was inappropriate.

Old Zhang thought for a moment and asked, "Yimin, what do you think we should do?"

"Director Yang, let's protect the scene first. There's definitely more inside. Old Zhang, how about a reward?"

Yang Yushan pondered for a moment and then said, "Then let's give them a material reward, and also present them with a banner. Yimin, what do you think?"

“I think if it is confirmed to be a cultural relic, we can transfer the person to work at the cultural center. Not everyone who sees it has the awareness to protect it.”

Liu Yimin helped this commune cadre secure the benefits he could. Yang Yushan decided that once the deal was confirmed, he would receive a reward of one hundred yuan plus a job transfer.

As they got into the jeep to leave the commune, Li Jian'an grabbed Liu Yimin's arm and asked him again whether what he had done was worthwhile.
"Comrade Li Jian'an, regardless of whether it becomes a cultural relic in the end, you did what you did, so you are more valuable than those who did nothing!"

"Old Li, if it's true, we'll invite you to work at the cultural center, specializing in cultural relic protection," said Director Zhang.

"I hadn't thought of that. As long as you don't cause any losses to the country, that's fine. If you can really contribute to the country, that's enough. I'm just a commune member, I can't do anything big."

Li Jian'an grasped the hand of the curator, Old Zhang, and said honestly.

After getting on the bus, Liu Yimin looked at Li Jian'an, who was starting to help move the pottery jars, and sighed, "When will honest people stop suffering losses? Is Old Zhang wrong? It seems not, it's just a matter of fixed mindset."

In those days, everyone made contributions voluntarily. Later, people might feel it wasn't worth it, since the rewards were too low compared to the contributions made.

Back at the cultural center, Lao Zhang immediately sent a telegram to the higher-level cultural relics department, requesting that a cultural relics investigation team be sent down to investigate.

“Old Zhang, once it’s confirmed to be true, wouldn’t it be a natural progression for you to follow the investigation team and publish some research articles?” Liu Yimin said with a smile.

"Yimin, if it really is a cultural relic, you deserve the most credit!"

"Old Zhang, it's not me, it's Li Jian'an."

In the afternoon, Liu Yimin boarded the train and left Ruxian County. Unfortunately, he could only take a hard seat back to Beijing this time. Throughout the journey, he couldn't contain his excitement, thinking about his involvement in the discovery of a national-level cultural relic.

"Young man, why are you so happy?" an old man nearby asked. Liu Yimin smiled and said, "Grandpa, it's nothing, just made a small contribution to the country!"

"Small contribution? For the country? How can a contribution to the country be small?"

Yenching University's opening ceremony was still two days away, so Liu Yimin went to People's Literature and Art magazine as soon as he arrived in Yenching and personally handed the manuscript to Cui Daoyi.

"Finally finished, Yimin. Sit down, let me pour you a glass of water, let me take a look!" Cui Daoyi crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair to read.

Liu Yimin was sitting in the editorial department looking at the sample copies of the two issues when he ran into Feng Jicai, who had come to communicate with the editor.

"Yimin, you really fooled me last time. I thought you were a newbie, but I never expected you to be Liu Yimin!"

Cui Daoyi took a sip of tea and said without looking up, "Old Feng, compared to you, Yimin is just a new writer. He only published his first article last July, while you started in '74, right?"

Upon hearing this, Feng Jicai said helplessly, "Thinking about it, it's true. It's really frustrating to compare yourself to others. Yimin is exceptionally talented and is destined to be a writer."

Having been in the industry for less than a year, his writing was far superior to Feng Jicai's. Feng Jicai felt that he had truly wasted his life.

Damn it, are you trying to kill us all?!

Seeing that Cui Daoyi would need some time to review the manuscript, Feng Jicai pulled Liu Yimin to the fourth floor where they were revising the manuscript. As soon as they entered, a foul smell hit them.

The room was like a roadside inn, with a large dormitory-style room that could accommodate more than a dozen people. Opposite the beds was a table, and next to the table were stacks of cardboard boxes. There were many people smoking.

"Come, come, let me introduce you all. This is Comrade Liu Yimin!"

Feng Jicai clapped his hands happily to quiet everyone down. As the applause rang out, the room fell silent, and everyone looked at Liu Yimin with curiosity.

After watching for a while, I realized that this guy didn't have a third eye either. He was just like them. How come he wrote novels and poems so well?
"Comrade Liu Yimin is here to revise the manuscript too?" someone asked.

Feng Jicai recalled the question he had asked in the editorial department, so he mimicked the editor's tone and said, "Comrade Liu Yimin does not need to revise the manuscript!"

"Yimin, the writers here are all very warm and welcoming, like family." Feng Jicai warmly introduced everyone, shaking hands with each of them.

After the introduction was almost finished, Feng Jicai took out his manuscript and asked Liu Yimin to take a look. Liu Yimin said, "Old Feng, I'm not an editor, I can't give you any advice!"

"Look, my writing is not good. When I first came here, I didn't even know how to use punctuation."

Liu Yimin glanced at the title, which contained only one word—"Ah!"—with an exclamation mark. Without even reading it, Liu Yimin knew what kind of content it contained; it was definitely a work of "scar literature."

After reading part of it, it was indeed true. Feng Jicai explained the general plot of the article to him: the journey of a cautious intellectual who falls into a disaster of fear, doubt, exposure, and confession because of an imagined lost letter from home.

After reading it, Liu Yimin put it down and said, "I think your story is almost finished. It's very complete. Is this the revised manuscript?"

Feng Jicai looked at Liu Yimin in surprise: "You have sharp eyes! It was indeed revised. I submitted it to Harvest, and when Harvest editor Li Xiaolin sent it back to me, she gave me a lot of suggestions. I revised it according to her suggestions and submitted it again after the revision."

"Publishing is definitely not a problem."

"Yimin, what have you been writing about lately?" Feng Jicai asked curiously.

"It describes the life experiences of old Beijing residents from before and after liberation."

"Did you write about events that occurred over the past ten years?"

"Written"

"What is it written about?"

"The working people still have to work during the ten-year period!" Liu Yimin said with a smile.

"Didn't you write about the persecution you suffered?"

"Who would persecute an elderly worker in his sixties? The real person was taken care of by the neighborhood committee. He couldn't do heavy work, so the neighborhood committee arranged for him to stay at the writers' association's guesthouse. We talked about it."

After Liu Yimin finished speaking, the writers present clicked their tongues in amazement, feeling that Liu Yimin's writing style was different from theirs, and that if they were writing, they would definitely add it.

After a long pause, Feng Jicai said, "Yimin, I've read your novel. It's not in line with the current mainstream novel style. Everyone is writing 'scar literature' now."

"I haven't experienced that many things!"

Someone said, "Yimin, you're a romantic, while we writers tend to be realistic."

Feng Jicai also said, "Yimin, do you think writing should be romantic or realistic?"

"From a philosophical perspective, there is no imagination detached from reality. No matter how fantastical our ideas may be, they always carry the shadow of reality. Literature is naturally based on reality, as is Romantic literature. I don't think the two are mutually exclusive."

You call it romanticism, but on the contrary, my writing is full of descriptions of reality. "The College Entrance Examination 1977" even chose a real historical event, using this historical process to observe the changes in society as a whole.

After Liu Yimin said that, the room fell silent. The writers here varied in skill level; most were just there to revise manuscripts, and in the end, they would pack their bags and leave with their manuscripts.

My understanding of the controversy surrounding literary schools is only superficial, gleaned from various book reviews and articles by influential figures.

“Yimin, do you mean you’re neither a realist nor a romantic?” Feng Jicai asked.

"I strive to uncover the brilliance of humanity from real life, without deliberately depicting darkness, but without ignoring it either."

"Just like your Lao Xue, he wrote a deeply moving story in the face of cruel nature and reality!" After saying this, Feng Jicai looked at his manuscript and asked, "Did I go too far?"

"Whether it passes or not, you certainly know yourself; everyone has a different writing style."

The way Feng Jicai and others write is a product of the overall environment, and such manuscripts are popular. Starting this year, the literary world has seen increasingly heated debates about literature, with these authors expressing their stances through their works.

(End of this chapter)