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

Chapter 156 Memorial Service at Babaoshan Cemetery
Su Min told Liu Yimin the news he had received, and Liu Yimin immediately felt his ears ringing. Zhu Lin, who was next to him, quickly helped Liu Yimin up.

Liu Yimin looked at Su Min, his eyes filled with disbelief. Su Min nodded at Liu Yimin: "It's true. I guess everyone with a little standing in the literary world of Yanjing knows about it now."

Su Min then asked, "Are you two on good terms?"

“He just argued on my behalf!” Liu Yimin said in a very low voice.

When Liu Yimin saw Li Ji again, it was in the hospital. The corridor was crowded with people, including Ai Qing, Zou Huofan, Cui Daoyi, Yan Chen, and some poets he had never met before, such as Zang Kejia.

"Yimin, you've heard the news too?" Cui Daoyi asked.

"I just arrived at the Beijing People's Art Theatre, senior brother. Weren't you doing just fine a couple of days ago?"

Cui Daoyi sighed, tears still glistening in his eyes: "He suffered a sudden heart attack, and the hospital couldn't save him."

The ward was packed with Li Ji's family members, and heartbroken cries could be heard from inside. There were the cries of his children, and also the cries of his wife, Li Xiaowei.

Zou Huofan said sadly, "He was only 58 years old, and would only be 60 in two years. He was so young, and he left us like this. In the past two years, he has devoted tremendous efforts to the restoration of the Writers' Association and the cultivation of young literary talents. The Writers' Association Literary Lecture Hall was just being established and was about to start enrolling students this year, but he left before he could see the establishment of the Literary Lecture Hall."

On the day Li Ji passed away, he was still arranging the hardware facilities for the establishment of the Wenjiang Institute. He specially approved the latest television and tape recorder for the institute to provide good learning and living conditions for Comrade Lin Weimin's enrollment.

This devastating news caught everyone completely off guard!
Then, a group of people rushed over from the stairwell, led by Zhou Yang. Several high-ranking leaders from the Federation of Literary and Art Circles also arrived at the ward, with Zhang Guangnian, who was in the hospital, following behind.

Zhou Yang and Zhang Guangnian nodded slightly upon seeing Liu Yimin, and the crowd automatically parted to make way for him, leading directly into the ward. Inside the ward, Li Ji's son seemed lost in thought, his voice hoarse from crying.

Zhou Yang held Li Ji's wife Li Xiaowei's hand and comforted her for a few words. Then he said to Li Ji's son, "It's not entirely your fault. Don't be too sad, or your father won't rest in peace."

It turns out that the reason Li Ji developed a heart attack was because he mistakenly drank the medicinal wine that Li Ji's son used to treat arthritis.

"Uncle Zhou, Uncle Zhang, I'm so sorry for my father!"

The Writers' Association quickly established a funeral committee to assist the family in preparing for Comrade Li Ji's funeral. Cui Daoyi approached Liu Yimin and told him that the family specifically requested Liu Yimin to attend the memorial service.

"This is the request made by Comrade Li Xiaowei, the wife of Comrade Li Ji, to the funeral committee. Yimin, don't be too sad!" Cui Daoyi patted Liu Yimin on the shoulder and comforted him.

Liu Yimin and Li Ji had known each other for less than a year. Liu Yimin recalled that Li Ji had specifically sought out Liu Yimin to talk to him when Liu went to the Writers' Association to collect his allowance for clothing for his trip abroad.

"When Comrade Li met me, the first thing he said was, 'My little fellow villager has arrived!'"

On several subsequent meetings, whenever outsiders were present, Li would introduce Liu Yimin by saying, "Comrade Liu Yimin, my fellow villager."

"Comrade Li Ji is not among the naturally gifted in today's literary world, but he definitely belongs to the group of people who work on the ground in literature and art. He is a poet of the working people." Cui Daoyi's evaluation should be a common assessment of Li Ji in the literary and art circles.

The memorial service was held at the Babaoshan Revolutionary Cemetery. Because the news of his death was sudden and the memorial service was held in a hurry, none of Li Ji's friends from other places, except for those in Yanjing, were able to come.

Some people sent elegiac couplets through friends, while others may not know this yet.

Zou Huofan read aloud the eulogy for Liu Yimin: "He fought half his life with his pen as a weapon, and was shocked to hear the tragic news and shed tears of grief; he turned ink into a plow and cultivated the land for a lifetime, and carried on his legacy to continue the Long March."

Cui Daoyi urged from the side, "Old Zou, stop reading and let's go!"

As we entered the hall, Li Ji's family members, dressed in black and wearing white flowers, stood to the side. Li Ji, wearing a "48-bar" oil worker's uniform, bid farewell to this world today as an oil worker.
From Yumen to Daqing, he traveled almost all over the oil fields of the new China and was known as the "Petroleum Poet". His poems enthusiastically praised the dedication of oil workers to drilling oil for the motherland. He even slept in a dugout with the famous Iron Man Wang Jinxi.

Wang Jinxi once commented on Li Ji, saying that compared to Li Ji, Li Ji was the true hard-working ox of the revolution.

Liu Yimin followed the crowd to Li Xiaowei, Li Ji's wife. Li Xiaowei looked grief-stricken. Upon seeing Liu Yimin, she wiped away her tears and said:

"Yi Min, right? Old Li always mentioned you when he was alive. He was happy that there were successors in the literary world and that a young writer had emerged from Henan Province. He would be very happy that you could come and see him off."

Hearing Li Xiaowei's words, Liu Yimin felt even more distressed: "Mr. Li, just a few days ago you said you would personally present me with the award. He is a good senior and a good poet, a true people's poet, and a good cadre of the Writers' Association. Please accept my condolences!"

Liu Yimin hugged Li Xiaowei, and Li Xiaowei said, "Come visit us at home sometime."

At the memorial service, many people spoke to express their condolences for Li Ji, lamenting the loss of Comrade Li Ji to the literary and artistic front. Liu Yimin met many professors from Yenching University at the event, including Xie Mian and Wu Zuxiang.

In the days that followed, newspapers and magazines frequently featured articles commemorating Li Ji.

After watching "The Flames of War in Beiping," the international students at Foreign Language Teaching and Research Press were extremely excited. They often gathered together to discuss how wonderful "The Flames of War in Beiping" was, and how the scenes in it matched their understanding of old Beiping.

Some people regretted only watching it once. Their Chinese is only so-so, so watching it once was like Pigsy eating ginseng fruit – they didn't even get to taste it before it was gone.

They all requested to see it again when they had the chance. Liu Yimin asked them to study "The Flames of War in Beiping" carefully, so that it would be much easier to understand when they watched it again.

Under Li Congren's leadership, students at Foreign Language Teaching and Research Press began a surge of enthusiasm for studying "The Flames of War in Beiping".

"Liu, how's your 'Green Book' coming along?" Li Congren asked with concern. When he went back home this year, he specifically bragged to his friends that there was a Liu Yimin in the East who had written a book for Americans, and more importantly, it was exceptionally well-written.

No one believed him, but he waited for the novel to be published so he could finally vent his anger.

"It's being translated. I estimate it won't be long before it's finished!" Liu Yimin replied.

It's been a few months now, and Comrade Xu should be almost done translating. Compared to when he was in France, Comrade Xu has become more lax.

Li Congren then shared his frustrations about studying Chinese history: "After a year of study, I thought I had finally understood a little bit, but when I looked up, I realized that the history of the Wu Zhou dynasty only occupies a very small part of the entire history of China. If I really finish studying it, I don't know when it will take."

Li Congren's complaints resonated with many, who shared their own feelings. They felt they were gaining a deeper understanding of China each time they encountered something new, but soon after, they felt ashamed of their shallowness.

“American history is still better!” Li Congren said, frowning.

“You call that history? It’s only been around for a short time, not even as long as the history of our Han Dynasty,” Liu Yimin said.

Li Congren wanted to refute, but after carefully calculating the timeline, he realized that the Eastern Han and Western Han dynasties combined were indeed roughly the same length as American history. "However, your American history also has its good points!"

Li Congren hurriedly asked which part was good, and Liu Yimin gestured with his thumb and forefinger: "It's short, you don't need to memorize so much. When we Chinese students learn it, we have to divide it into ancient history, modern history, and contemporary history. You only need to learn contemporary history."

Mulla, the earth god, added insult to injury, recounting that American history was all about bloodshed and plunder.

Li Congren was not angry. Instead, he talked about how the US government and capitalists fooled the people, used "democracy" and "freedom" as a pretext to participate in the war, and ultimately made huge profits for themselves.

"And us? We've suffered from the aftereffects of war!"

Furthermore, using Hemingway as an example, it recounts numerous anti-war statements.

After Li Congren finished speaking, Xiao Meihezi stood up, walked to Liu Yimin's side, bowed deeply, and began to apologize for the crimes they had committed. What was supposed to be an event turned into an apology meeting between the US and Japan.

"I hope that after you return, you will be able to engage in activities related to friendship with China," Liu Yimin said.

……

In the dormitory, Liu Zhenyun expressed his gratitude to Liu Yimin in a low voice. After watching the play, his relationship with the junior female student from the law department became even better. The two would often go to the pavilion by Weiming Lake to discuss literature and recite poetry.

"Don't get carried away, keep a good balance," Liu Yimin warned with a smile.

"Don't worry, our relationship is purely for the sake of literature!" Liu Zhenyun said, patting his chest.

"How's your novel coming along?" Liu Yimin suddenly remembered that they had been preparing their novels for several months, and by now they should have made some progress.

“I submitted my paper to Yenching Literature and Art Publishing House, but I haven’t received a reply yet,” Li Xueqin said.

Chen Dazhi looked up and said, "I submitted my paper to Contemporary."

Liu Yimin finally looked at Liu Zhenyun, who said, "I haven't submitted it yet. I plan to submit it to People's Literature and Art."

Li Xueqin's manuscript has been submitted for almost a month, and he has not received a reply or been rejected. He feels that it is probably hopeless.

"If that doesn't work, I'll submit my work to a local magazine. I refuse to believe that a local magazine is no good. I can't afford to lose face like this and not even get published," Li Xueqin said helplessly.

Chen Dazhi fiddled with the wooden stool in his hands: "Yimin, publishing novels is as easy for you as drinking water. I'll be satisfied when I can achieve even one or two of your level. When people mention me, they can say that he is a writer who started as a carpenter."

Li Xueqin quipped, "Nonsense, publishing a work is not as difficult as drinking water, is it?"

"Everything is difficult at the beginning, but once you get started, you'll find that it's even more difficult later on!"

Liu Zhenyun's humor amused the three people in the dormitory. Seeing that they were all laughing at his own jokes, Liu Zhenyun felt that his humor skills had finally taken another step forward.

Liu Yimin encouraged them, saying, "Every hurdle is difficult, but you'll overcome it!"

The four were chatting in the dormitory when Zhou Yanru knocked on the door. Liu Zhenyun, seeing this, exclaimed in surprise, "Editor Zhou, what brings you here?"

"I've come to find Yimin!"

"Editor Zhou!"

Zhou Yanru quickly said, "Why call me Editor Zhou? Call me Old Zhou. With our relationship, calling me Editor Zhou sounds too formal!"

"What's our relationship?" Liu Yimin thought to himself.

"Comrade Zhou, what brings you here?" Liu Yimin immediately jumped off the bed and invited Zhou Yanru to sit down and talk.

"I've come to thank you. Comrade Wang Zengqi's 'Receiving the Precepts' is indeed a very good novel. After reading it, Comrade Li Qingquan excitedly told me that we must come and thank you, otherwise we would feel bad."

Zhou Yanru spoke politely, hoping to rekindle her relationship with Liu Yimin through gratitude. Otherwise, if their relationship faded, it would be difficult to commission articles from him in the future.

In the end, Zhou Yanru brought up the topic of whether she had any articles to write recently.

Liu Yimin spread his hands and rummaged through his empty pockets, then said with a smile, "Comrade Zhou, there really isn't anything."

Zhou Yanru's gaze lingered on Liu Yimin's bed and the table next to it for a while: "Really nothing? Then do you have any ideas to share? I've been an editor for so long, I can still offer some suggestions."

Liu Yimin gritted his teeth and said no: "Comrade Zhou, how can such a big magazine as 'Yanjing Literature' be short of manuscripts?"

"Who doesn't need good manuscripts? Yimin, sigh, don't be fooled by my glamorous job as an editor; it's actually a bitter experience inside!"

When Zhou Yanru recounted the arduous journey of launching the journal and the difficulties in soliciting manuscripts, she almost wanted to tell Liu Yimin a story for three days and three nights, with tears streaming down her face.

In short, it's tough, but it's even tougher not being able to get Liu Yimin's manuscript!
Liu Zhenyun, Li Xueqin, and Chen Dazhi, who were standing nearby, were dumbfounded. Had they seen wrong? Zhou Yanru, the famous editor of Yanjing Literature and Art, was actually playing the victim in order to get Liu Yimin to write a manuscript?
These editors, who are usually so arrogant, have such an unknown side? The three of them felt that their values ​​and even their physical appearance had been completely shocked!
Even Liu Yimin couldn't withstand Comrade Zhou Yanru's ability to cry her heart out, so he quickly said:

"Comrade Zhou, take a look at my roommates. They write very well too. Chen Dazhi is from the same hometown as your magazine's former editor, Zhao Shuli. His novels are in the same vein as Mr. Zhao Shuli's. I think Liu Zhenyun's novels are excellent. Li Xueqin's has been submitted to your magazine, but we haven't received a reply yet."

The three of them looked at Liu Yimin gratefully. It was truly a good introduction if there were any benefits!

Zhou Yanru gave a emotionless "hmm" and took out a letter, saying, "There's another matter I'm here for today, which is to bring Comrade Li Xueqin's manuscript and rejection letter along with it. Our 'Yanjing Literature' magazine didn't use the manuscript."

Li Xueqin was immediately devastated. With her eyes downcast, she took the manuscript and sat down to lick her wounds.

Chen Dazhi's manuscript was not available, and Liu Zhenyun's had not been sent out. At this point, they simply went through the back door, skipping the submission process.

Liu Yimin patted Li Xueqin on the shoulder, and Li Xueqin's lips twitched slightly: "I'm fine, I can still submit after some revisions!"

(End of this chapter)