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

Chapter 218 Let's not mess with Liu Yimin anymore.
Inside the restaurant, Huang Chunyu generously ordered the most expensive fish in the cafeteria, along with five main dishes and some vegetarian dishes, spending nearly ten yuan.

Liu Yimin advised, "Old Huang, are you not going to make a living this month?"

"What are you afraid of? Be happy! Yimin, let me tell you, if your sales are good, I'll also get a bonus. In the end, it's your treat!" Huang Chunyu said generously.

Liu Zhenyun looked down at Chen Dazhi and chuckled, "The three of us always benefit from Yimin's generosity. When we count the number of times our department has come here to eat, the three of us have done it the most, but we've only taken money once!"

"I'd like to treat you, but unfortunately my writing skills are lacking!" Chen Dazhi sighed.

Liu Zhenyun nudged him: "The way you're talking makes it sound like I don't want to treat you!"

After Huang Chunyu and Liu Yimin sat down, Liu Zhenyun asked how many copies of "The Kite Runner" had been sold!
"We don't know that, and we don't have an accurate number of how many copies the bookstore sold. But I can tell you that of the 200,000 copies we printed, 150,000 have already been shipped out, leaving only 50,000 copies!" Huang Chunyu slammed his hand on the table, practically wanting to put his feet on a stool to show off.

"150,000 copies?" The group thought for a moment, but had no idea what that meant!
Huang Chunyu pointed to the Changzheng Hotel next door and said, "This hotel, from the first floor to the second floor, even if it's packed full, can only hold 100,000 books. Your large classrooms at Yanda University, I mean the large classrooms that seat two or three hundred people, would be filled to the brim! If laid flat, they could cover your school's playground."

Huang Chunyu listed the data in detail, giving the group a general idea of ​​what 200,000 copies would mean.

Liu Yimin didn't really have a concept of 200,000 copies, but when he heard it, it did seem like a lot.

"This is just the initial print run; we'll probably have to reprint soon! The printing plant needs to reschedule, and we don't know when the second batch will be available. But if sales are good, the speed will naturally be faster!"
The above discussion already touches on the issue of publishing houses being responsible for their own profits and losses. If we want to make a profit, we will definitely have to rely on these books. Of course, we will continue to translate and print theoretical works that our academic community urgently needs, even though it will result in a loss. But the publishing house also has its responsibilities; after all, we are the people's publishing house.

Huang Chunyu spoke eloquently to the three of them.

“Since its establishment, the Commercial Press has excelled in translation, and we cannot afford to lose that!” Li Xueqin pondered.

"Of course we won't lose it. Since its establishment in the last century, it has focused on textbooks and introducing Western culture. That generation of publishers wanted to find a way to strengthen themselves by translating Western works. Now, with reform and opening up, we need to introduce Western science, technology and cultural achievements."

When the food was served, Huang Chunyu continued talking. Liu Yimin and the other three ate and listened attentively. Liu Yimin said, "Old Huang, eat more. You'll have more energy to talk when you're full!"

After finishing their meal and standing at the entrance of the Long March Hotel, Huang Chunyu was still talking, and Liu Zhenyun and the other two next to him began to admire his enthusiasm.

Fortunately, it was getting colder outside, and Huang Chunyu shivered before the exciting conversation ended.

Before leaving, Huang Chunyu waved and said, "Comrade Yimin, I'll contact you if anything comes up!"

Goodbye, Lao Huang!

Liu Yimin, Liu Zhenyun, and the other two exchanged glances, then hunched their shoulders and walked into the school.

Withered yellow leaves danced in the air with the cold wind, while black, blue, and gray cotton coats fluttered in the wind.

The school's security personnel constantly patrolled the school grounds, checking for any dangerous areas.

Green and red slogans with black lettering were posted on the walls, and the security department was spreading the message everywhere: "Dry weather, be careful of fire."

Back in the dorm, the four of them rubbed their hands together and quickly closed the door.

Liu Yimin sniffed and said, "It's getting cold, but we still need to open the windows often. What's with this smell!"

Chen Dazhi sat on the bed and opened the lecture notes: "You'll get used to it. Besides, you're often not in the dormitory these days, making this dormitory look like your Eight Great Hutongs."

Liu Yimin walked up to Chen Dazhi and teased, "Old Chen, why do you sound so resentful?"

"It's just a young woman's lament!" Li Xueqin mocked. "The men of Jincheng are acting like women; how can anyone tell if I'm male or female!"

Liu Zhenyun clapped his hands: "Old Chen, when are you going to comb your hair?"

"You two, stop teasing me. Isn't it you who said that Yimin doesn't live in the dorm anymore, and that our literature discussions in the dorm have become so low-brow!"

Chen Dazhi straightened up and threw something at Liu Zhenyun, who skillfully dodged it.

“That’s true. The three of us had a rather dull chat last night, but we really benefited from Yimin’s insightful opinions!” Li Xueqin said.

Liu Zhenyun laughed and said, "You all want to hear how Yimin argues with people, right? Yimin, I want to hear it too!"

"Hahaha!"

The four chatted for a while, and Liu Zhenyun handed his novel to Liu Yimin to take a look. The other two also took it.

The four of them chatted until around midnight, and only after the northwest wind picked up outside did they curl up in their blankets and go to sleep.

The next day, as the four of them walked down from the dormitory building, Zhang Manling rode her bicycle with difficulty in the autumn wind, holding the handlebars in one hand and carrying a newspaper and magazine in the other.

She jumped out of the car with a smile when she reached the four people. Because of the cold weather, Zhang Manling's dark face turned pale from the cold.

"Yimin, I haven't offended you, have I?" Zhang Manling asked.

Judging from the tone, which sounded like someone was looking for trouble, Liu Yimin said, puzzled, "No!"

The other three were also wondering if there was some misunderstanding. Liu Zhenyun wanted to say something, but Zhang Manling interrupted him.

Zhang Manling leaned against the bicycle with her waist; otherwise, the wind would have easily blown her over. She patted her chest to catch her breath and said, "I was just checking. Luckily, I didn't offend you. If I had, you would have scolded me to death."

Zhang Manling placed the newspaper in front of Liu Yimin and waved it, but unfortunately the wind was too strong, and she didn't get a chance to show it.

"You really dare to insult me! If I were the other person, I'd probably be so angry I'd vomit blood. Angry Birds? A monkey that just squawks? Hahaha, how did you come up with that?"

Zhang Manling laughed wildly, and Liu Zhenyun and the other two took the newspaper and started reading it, giggling as they read.

"Yimin, thankfully I didn't offend you!" Liu Zhenyun recalled their interactions, and the only unpleasant thing seemed to be on the bus when freshmen started school.

I can still remember that smile he gave me; I'll pay him back sooner or later!
Li Xueqin and Chen Dazhi said, "We two have even less."

"Very good, keep it up in the future!" Liu Yimin teased, "Zhang Manling, you came running over in such a hurry, I thought you were here to interrogate me!"

Zhang Manling said, "I wouldn't dare, hahaha. Today I passed by the school bookstore and saw everyone discussing newspapers. I was curious, so I bought a newspaper, and a magazine too."

"I won't offend others unless they offend me!"

The five of them pushed their bicycles toward the dining hall. Zhang Manling had originally planned to have breakfast while there were fewer people, but unfortunately, she was delayed because of the newspaper.

Inside the large dining hall, the steam from the porridge mingled with the aroma of the dishes as students ate in small groups, engaging in lively discussions. Zhang Manling winked at Liu Yimin: "Look, so many people are holding today's *China Youth Daily*, talking animatedly. The headline this reporter came up with is quite interesting: 'Young Writer Liu Yimin: You Can't Become a Poet or Writer Just by Shouting!'"
Who wouldn't want to take a second look at this title!

"It's still not quite there in my heart!" Liu Yimin laughed.

Zhang Manling asked curiously, "If it were you, how would you write it?"

"A certain poet said that the poetry world is full of howling monkeys!"

Liu Yimin left Zhang Manling frantically standing there and ran over to get a bowl of corn porridge, stir-fried potatoes, and steamed buns.

In those days, there wasn't much preservation technology, and vegetables were scarce in winter. School cafeterias mainly served potatoes and cabbage; colorful vegetables were a rare sight.

The group placed the dishes on the table and began to eat, listening to many students nearby discussing the China Youth Daily.

"This guy just says what he thinks, I have to say it. This Comrade Liu Yimin, his scolding was really satisfying! He brought out the old tradition of Yenching University students that has lasted for decades!"

"Yes, well said! If whoever has the loudest voice can be a poet, then I can be one too!"

"Exactly! Let me explain in detail! I've read all the poems written by the people who were criticizing Liu Yimin. When I read them, I felt a nameless anger, and I read them with great passion. But after thinking about it carefully, what were they writing about? Nothing at all!"
It's just the same few lines over and over again; they don't even understand basic common sense. The only time I could satisfy my craving for poetry was before we had any!

When it comes to having an interesting way of speaking, it has to be the people of Tianjin! Liu Yimin chuckled as a few more people squeezed in from the side.

Chen Jiangong, along with several students from the literary society, saw Liu Yimin while holding a newspaper and exclaimed, "Yimin, you've been hiding here! Let's eat together, let's eat together! You're furious!"

“We felt sorry for those people after seeing this. They insulted others without using any vulgar language, and they even did it in a novel way. That takes skill!” said another student from the literary society. Liu Yimin had been to the literary society a few times, but he had never seen this student before. He must be a new member.

"This winter morning is unusual; seeing a newspaper like this warms everyone's blood."

"Exactly, it exposed some strange phenomena in the poetry world. Although I like modern poetry, some of it is really indescribable. They even write a poem about choking on food. What they choked on wasn't a steamed bun, but something else, I forget!"

Several people were shouting loudly, and more and more people gathered around. Chen Jiangong seized the opportunity and said, "Yimin, while we're eating, why don't you tell everyone your understanding of poetry?"

Zhang Manling egged them on, saying, "Tell us about it!"

Liu Yimin quickly finished the steamed bun in his hand, then smiled and nodded.

Chen Jiangong said, "Students in the front row, please bend down so that students in the back row can also see."

Someone came from behind and said that a tin megaphone was being used by the canteen staff to maintain order.

Classmates, many of you have read today's newspaper. I'll say it to everyone: you can't become a writer just by shouting.

My attitude towards so-called new and old poetry is that old poetry has its strengths and its own beauty; it's not entirely worthless. Should we condemn old poetry as garbage just because of modern poetry? Then why should we study Tang poetry or Song lyrics? We should learn from each other's strengths and make up for our own weaknesses.

Every era has its own things to write about; this is determined by the times. The times create heroes, and they also create poets and writers! We should look at issues dialectically, rather than reacting angrily to a single criticism.
What kind of qualified poet can maintain anger? Does that mean you can't write without being angry? If you're angry every day, every moment, every instant, you might as well just call yourself "Anger"!

】

After finishing his speech, Liu Yimin seized an opportunity to leave the dining hall amidst applause, without even washing his lunchbox. Outside, many students were still rushing towards him.

Upon seeing this, the person in charge of the canteen hurriedly shouted at the entrance, "Don't push in! Don't push! Comrade Liu Yimin has already left!"

"How could that be? It's so noisy inside!" a student said without turning around.

"Oh my, that's the sound of cheers!"

Inside a courtyard house, there were many manuscript papers and various other materials on the table.

On large sheets of red and blue paper, there were clumps of black writing.

There were four or five people sitting inside, holding newspapers in their hands; this was the location of the Enlightenment Poetry Journal.

Sitting in the middle was a young man with dark skin and long hair, resembling the long-haired art students often seen in later generations.

His brows were constantly furrowed, and he looked like he had a deep grudge. He gripped the newspaper tightly with both hands, so tightly that his fingernails pierced through it.

After a deathly silence, a furious voice rang out, slamming the newspaper to the ground: "This is outrageous! Fine, fine! They actually dared to call us Angry Birds, monkeys from both sides of the Yangtze River! Fine, I'll curse them, I'll curse them terribly!"

He ran to the table, picked up a brush and started writing. After a flurry of strokes, he felt his writing was not good enough, so he angrily crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it on the ground.

After tearing off a few more sheets, crumpled pieces of paper were scattered everywhere.

"Old Huang, stop tearing! We don't have much paper left, we're almost out!"

"Ah, I was just angry, so I went to the China Youth Daily to scold us. Comrades, do you think we can tolerate that?"

A girl next to her said softly, "Actually, if we don't say anything, people won't know we're the ones being insulted! When we come out and insult others, it's like we're really Angry Birds."

Upon hearing this, the group looked at the ferocious Old Huang and slowly began to embody the image of a little bird.

"What are you looking at me doing?"

"I think we'd better not provoke Liu Yimin. If we anger him, he'll really start yelling at us!"

"I think so too. You guys didn't see those people at 'Today' magazine; they didn't even mention it, but I heard they used to be secretly competing with each other!"

“I’ve heard that. Today magazine initially invited Liu Yimin, but he declined. Later, they discussed Liu Yimin’s views on poetry in the magazine and even competed for a vote among young writers in China Youth Daily, but they lost both times.”

"Are we just going to let this go? What will others think of our Enlightenment Poetry Society? Ai Qing even said we're a generation you can't mess with, but I think Liu Yimin is the generation you can't mess with!"

"Just bear with it!"

"Just bear with it!"

"Just bear with it, anyway...sigh...they're disbanding soon anyway."

(End of this chapter)