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

Chapter 51 Zhu Lin (Please continue reading)

Cui Daoyi thought about it and realized it was true. If the news got out, not to mention anyone else, Zhou Yanru from *Yanjing Literature* would have already come running over. Zou Huofan walked in, picked up the manuscript on the table, glanced at the general plot of the story, and smiled at Cui Daoyi: "Looks like another good manuscript!"

"Of course! When has our Chinese Department at Yenching University ever disappointed us? I heard that Yimin even wrote a poem for you yesterday. We're even now. We can share room 306."

Zou Huofan said calmly, "How can they be the same? How many words are in a poem, and how many words are in a novel?"

"Hey! I'm telling you, old Zou, you're too greedy! You're planning to get Yimin to write tens of thousands of words of poetry for you? Besides, a poem only costs a few dollars, at most a hundred. Our editorial department always pays Yimin two or three hundred dollars for his work."

Cui Daoyi's words struck a chord with Liu Yimin: poetry brings fame quickly, while novels bring money quickly.

Writing novels with poetry is incredibly fast!
“The novel will take a long time to write, and it will require a lot of effort, paper, and ink, so it’s only right to pay more,” Zou Huofan said indignantly.

"Old Zou, do you really think everyone's inspiration is as fast as Yimin's? Most people take about the same amount of time to write novels and poems."

Zou Huofan couldn't refute it, and finally stubbornly said something about how a poet's work couldn't be measured by money, etc.

Cui Daoyi left happily, not only having found an excellent manuscript on the first day of October, but also having left Zou Huofan speechless with his sharp retort.
The moment he stepped out of the guesthouse, he was filled with boundless energy...

After he left, Zou Huofan solemnly instructed Liu Yimin: "Yimin, don't listen to his nonsense. You should know that I have only heard of people reciting poems in the street, but I have never heard of people reciting novels in the street. The speed at which novels spread is far slower than that of poems."

Liu Yimin nodded, "Yes, yes, you're all right!"
Not long after Cui Daoyi left, Liu Yimin followed Zou Huofan to the editorial office of "Poetry Journal". There were sacks lying in the corridor leading to the editorial office. Zou Huofan told him that these were all submission letters, and the ones marked at the other end of the corridor were all rejected manuscripts.

"Compared to novels, most people feel that poetry creation has a lower threshold. Anyone can become a poet just by uttering a few lines. This is why our Poetry Journal receives far more manuscripts than People's Literature. Since the Poetry Journal resumed publication, the poems published have caused a huge sensation in China. Now, the letters of submission are like snowflakes, and we can't even read many of them in time."

Zou Huofan explained.

"It seems I'm quite lucky; my submissions didn't just disappear among the others."

"A sharp awl in a bag will naturally reveal its brilliance. Even if we haven't seen your poems, other magazines won't let them slip by. These other magazines are different; we don't look down on them, and neither do the others!"

As Zou Huofan spoke, he walked into the editorial department and introduced Liu Yimin to everyone with a smile. Immediately, many people greeted him.

"This is our editor-in-chief Yan Chen and deputy editor-in-chief Shao Yanxiang."

"Hello everyone!"

"Young man, young poet, the literary world needs people like Yimin." Yan Chen shook hands with Liu Yimin with his right hand and patted Liu Yimin's biceps with his left, praising Liu Yimin to everyone in the editorial department.

After everyone had gotten to know each other, Yan Chen asked Liu Yimin with a smile how he viewed the current and future state of the poetry scene. Yesterday, Zou Huofan had shared some of Liu Yimin's remarks with everyone, and they all felt that Liu Yimin's views on the current poetry scene were very insightful.

That's why Yan Chen asked the question today. "Editor-in-Chief Yan, I'm just showing off my limited knowledge. You certainly know more about the poetry scene than I do. I've only analyzed the poets and expressions in the recent issues of Poetry Journal. There are two types of poets in the poetry scene now: one group is young people, and the other group consists of poets who have lived through the past ten years or even since the founding of New China. Their thoughts on poetry creation are bound to be different, so disagreements are inevitable."

In the 1980s, the Returning School poets, led by Ai Qing, and the Misty School, represented by Bei Dao and Shu Ting, vied for the mainstream position in the poetry scene. The term "Misty School" might not be noticed unless one carefully studies the background of its emergence. In fact, it was a critique of these younger poets by an older generation of poets, who considered them "obscure, bizarre, and deformed products."

In 80, the eighth issue of the Poetry Journal published "The Suffocating Obscurity," which is how the Obscurity School got its name.

Liu Yimin didn't say much, but turned the topic to the current state of the poetry scene in Beijing. His fellow townsman, Ge Luo, began to introduce him to the current state of the poetry scene.

“Yi Min is generally right; we all feel that way. But this is in line with the policy of letting a hundred flowers bloom and a hundred schools of thought contend. Bei Dao and Mang Ke will probably know about your arrival in Yanjing soon, and they are eager to see you. The Yanjing poetry scene is currently in a frenzy.”

In a simply furnished but impeccably clean apartment in Xidan, Beijing, a man who appears to be a professor is sitting on the sofa flipping through a magazine. Electronic gadgets that are rarely found in ordinary homes can be seen here.

The tables in the hall and the various items in the rooms were arranged neatly. Behind the entrance door, several clothes and a freshly washed white coat hung on a wooden hook. The owner of the house must be a doctor.

Men are meticulous when reading magazines, sometimes even pondering over certain parts repeatedly, and they might even mutter a polite curse under their breath when they encounter a bad article.

As he turned to the next page, his eyes suddenly lit up. After reading for a while, he shouted into another room, "Linlin, there's a really good article in People's Literature today!"

A slightly languid and tired voice came from inside the room: "Dad, what kind of subject matter?"

"It's about the college entrance exam, and it's called 'The College Entrance Exam 1977'!"

Inside the room, the girl who was reading medical books rubbed her eyes wearily and said without turning her head, "Look, I didn't pass the college entrance exam to go to university, I'm not reading!"

The girl held a fountain pen in her hand, marking out anything she didn't understand. Her fair fingers were rosy from gripping the pen. Her name was Zhu Lin, a student at the Chinese Academy of Medical Sciences.

"It was written by Liu Yimin! You really aren't going to read it?"

As soon as Mr. Zhu finished speaking and looked up, he found his daughter standing right in front of him, her eyes fixed on the magazine in his hand.

“AUV, Liu Yimin’s name is more effective than your father’s. This is his third work, right? He wrote it really fast. I just read a few thousand words, and it’s very well written. Come on, let’s read it together, father and daughter.”

“Dad, you’re wrong. Including poetry, this is the fourth volume. Have you forgotten ‘A Generation’ on the cover of ‘Poetry Journal’? Besides, it’s not only fast, but also of high quality!” Zhu Lin said, and then began to read it carefully. The sunlight outside the window fell on her long eyelashes through the mottled glass.

While reading, he secretly took out a candy from his pocket and put it in his mouth to suck on.

Inside the editorial office of Poetry Journal, Liu Yimin had just come out when several people approached him, shouting, "Where is Comrade Liu Yimin?"

(End of this chapter)