A Literary Life Starting from the First Year of High School

October 7th, the last day of the National Day holiday.

The sky over Shanghai finally cleared up. A week of continuous rain was like a gray cloth being ripped off, revealing a bright blue sky underneath. Sunlight streamed in through the window, drawing a bright quadrilateral on the living room floor, with dust motes drifting slowly in the beams of light.

The sound of a mailman's bicycle came from outside the window—a clear, ringing bell as it passed by downstairs, then stopped.

Lin Shubai paid no attention; he was writing *Charlotte's Web*. When he got to the part about Charlotte's death, he paused, staring at the manuscript for a few seconds. The large gray spider died alone in the empty market. No one was with her, not even Wilbur.

He took a deep breath and was about to continue writing when Wang Xiulan's voice came from the living room.

"Shubai! There's an email for you!"

Lin Shubai was taken aback. An email?

He put down his pen, pushed open the door, and went out. Wang Xiulan stood in the doorway, holding a brown paper envelope in her hand, examining it closely. Sunlight shone on her face, and her expression was somewhere between confusion and curiosity.

"What is it?" Lin Shubai walked over.

Wang Xiulan handed him the envelope. "I wonder if it was delivered by the post office from your magazine?"

Lin Shubai took the envelope and immediately noticed the red logo in the upper left corner—the three characters "Story Club," with the magazine's address printed next to it: No. 74 Shaoxing Road, Shanghai.

"Yes." Lin Shubai's heart skipped a beat, but his expression remained calm.

"Quickly open it and take a look!" Wang Xiulan's voice suddenly rose eight octaves, and even Lin Jianguo, who was reading the newspaper on the sofa, looked up and pushed his reading glasses down.

Lin Shubai opened the envelope and poured out three magazines. The covers were red, with the words "Story Club" printed on them in large characters, and "October 2010 First Half Monthly Issue" written in the upper right corner. The main picture on the cover was a woman in a red dress standing in front of a window, with the main points of this issue listed next to her.

"Emotional Story" - The Most Precious Gift

"Urban Stories" - Lunch

Both articles are here.

He flipped the magazine over and glanced at the back cover. "Chunhua Noodle Shop" wasn't there; Lü Jia had said that the article that was supposed to be at the beginning of the November issue wouldn't be published until next month.

"Did you receive it?" Wang Xiulan looked over, her hand already outstretched.

"It's out." Lin Shubai handed her a book. "Mom, look, these two are mine."

Wang Xiulan took the book, flipped to the table of contents, and slid her finger down the categories, stopping at the "Emotional Stories" section. Her finger trembled slightly before she turned to the corresponding page.

The title of the article, "The Most Precious Gift," was printed in the upper left corner of that page, and the author's name, Lin Shubai, was printed below the title.

The three characters "Lin Shubai" were in Song typeface, size 5, and were exactly the same as the other characters around them, but in Wang Xiulan's eyes, they were probably bigger than anything else.

She stared for several seconds, then looked up at Lin Shubai, her eyes a little red, but the corners of her mouth were turned up.

"It really is your name," Wang Xiulan said, her voice a little hoarse.

Lin Jianguo stood up from the sofa, walked over, and took the magazine from Wang Xiulan's hands. His habit when reading was to take off his glasses and hold the magazine very close, almost touching the paper.

Lin Jianguo stood there for a while, then suddenly said, "I'm going to buy some groceries so I can cook a few more dishes tonight."

"What are you buying groceries for in the middle of the afternoon?" Wang Xiulan glanced at him.

"Let's celebrate." Lin Jianguo said this with a serious expression, not like he was joking.

Wang Xiulan paused for a moment, then smiled: "Okay, go buy a fish and some spare ribs."

"Okay." Lin Jianguo had already walked to the door to change his shoes.

Lin Shubai watched his father's retreating figure, wanting to say something, but remained silent. Lin Jianguo opened the door, walked out, then poked his head back in: "Shubai, what do you want to eat tonight?"

"Anything is fine."

"Then I'll have braised fish, the kind your mom makes." With that, the door closed.

Lin Shubai stood there, still holding two other sample copies of the magazine. Wang Xiulan sat on the sofa, already flipping to the "Lunch" article, and was looking down at it. She read quickly, but would stop every now and then, frowning as she thought, before continuing.

"How's it going?" Lin Shubai asked.

"This Ms. Zhang has quite the appetite," Wang Xiulan suddenly laughed.

"It's not that they can eat a lot, it's that they 'only eat one dish'."

"They ordered five or six dishes one after another, and they still have the nerve to say they'd only eat one." Wang Xiulan shook her head and turned to the next page. "This young man is something else. He's treating people, fine, but he's just putting on a show. He'll run out of living expenses for the last month. How much does he even earn in a month? To treat people like this."

"That's why the story is ironic. Ms. Zhang kept saying she didn't eat lunch, but then she ordered one dish after another, and after ordering, she said, 'I only tried a little bit.' The young writer's monthly living expenses were gone just like that, and he was too embarrassed to say anything."

That's why the story is ironic.

Wang Xiulan glanced at him: "How could a high school student like you write something like this? What do you know about treating people to dinner?"

Lin Shubai paused for a moment: "I heard it from someone else."

"Who told you that?"

"I overheard the adults talking about it." This excuse wasn't very clever, but Wang Xiulan didn't press the matter and continued reading her magazine.

After finishing "Lunch," she went back and read "The Most Precious Gift" again. This time she read it more slowly than the first time, and when she read the part where Cuifang cuts off her braid, she touched her own hair.

"This Cuifang looks like your maternal grandmother," Wang Xiulan suddenly said.

"Like your grandmother?"

"Your maternal grandmother also had a long braid when she was young, and she kept it until she got married. Later, her family became poor, so she cut off her braid and sold it to buy a piece of cloth to make a garment for your maternal grandfather." Wang Xiulan said this in a very calm tone. "Your maternal grandfather wore it for several years, and he couldn't bear to throw it away even when the collar was worn out."

Lin Shubai was stunned for a moment. He hadn't expected that the story he adapted would overlap with his grandmother's experiences.

Wang Xiulan looked at Lin Shubai and said, "So although your story is made up, these kinds of things are true. People in the past had hard lives, but their hearts were warm."

She closed the magazine, placed it on her lap, and looked out the window. Sunlight shone on her face, making the fine lines appear even deeper.

"If your grandfather were still alive, he would be so happy to see this."

Lin Shubai didn't reply, but a thought struck him. His grandfather—the young man standing in the sorghum field, the one who said, "One should be like sorghum, standing firm when the wind blows." If he were still alive, what would he say if he saw his grandson's article printed in a magazine?

I guess I'll just say "okay".

"Mom, what do you think of my writing?" Lin Shubai asked.

Wang Xiulan thought for a moment and said seriously, "The writing is very clean. There are no fancy adjectives or forced parallel sentences. Some of your classmates write essays with 'ah' and such all the time, which looks fake. Yours is different. You write what you should write and don't add a single extra word where you shouldn't. Many adults can't do this kind of restraint."

She paused, then added, "But your 'The Most Precious Gift,' with that line at the end, 'Of all those who give gifts, these two are the wisest,' is really well-written. But do you even believe it yourself? They sold their most precious things, and the gifts they got were useless, yet you still say they are the wisest."

"Do you think they're smart?"

Wang Xiulan thought for a moment: "Whether they are smart or not is hard to say, but they are sincere. Sincere people are never foolish no matter what they do."

After listening, Lin Shubai felt that his mother knew more than he did.

The phone rang. Lin Shubai picked it up and saw it was a text message from Su Wan.

"Are you home? I came back from Grandma's today. My mom bought a lot of oranges, shall I take some upstairs for you?"

Lin Shubai typed: "I'm at home. Just come up here."

About three minutes later, the doorbell rang. Wang Xiulan went to open the door, and Su Wan's voice came from outside: "Hello, Auntie, my mom asked me to bring some oranges over."

"Oh, your mother is too kind. Please come in."

Su Wan changed her shoes and came in, carrying a red plastic bag full of oranges. Her eyes lit up immediately when she saw the "Story Collection" magazine on the coffee table.

"Are we here yet?!" She almost dropped the orange in her hand.

"We're here." Lin Shubai walked over, picked up the magazine, and handed it to her.

Su Wan took it, flipped to the table of contents, and when she found the name "Lin Shubai," her expression was like that of someone who had won the lottery.

"It's really printed!" She held the magazine up to her eyes, examining it closely. "Lin Shu-bai—it's you!"

"Who else could it be?"

Su Wan ignored him, turned to the main text, and began to read while standing. She read very quickly, her eyes scanning the pages. When she read about Cui Fang selling her hair, her expression changed, and she touched her own ponytail.

"Did she cut it?" Su Wan asked.

"It's cut."

"That must be so heartbreaking, after keeping it for so many years." Su Wan's tone was tinged with regret as she continued reading.

When she read about Jian Guo selling his pocket watch, she paused, looked up at Lin Shubai, and asked, "Did they both sell it?"

"Um."

"What about the gift? Was it all bought for nothing?"

"Look down."

Su Wan continued reading. When she got to the part where the two returned home and found that the gifts were useless, she paused for a few seconds, then closed the magazine.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing much," Su Wan said, clutching the magazine to her chest. "I just think they're a good couple."

She said "It's fine" in a very soft tone, but it sounded more powerful than any praise.

Wang Xiulan watched from the side, smiled, and went to the kitchen to wash the fruit.

Su Wan stood in the living room for a while, flipping through the other two sample magazines, and asked, "Why are there three identical copies?"

"We usually send three sample copies: one to the author, one for our records, and one as a backup."

"Then give me one." Su Wan's eyes lit up.

"Okay, take one."

Su Wan quickly stuffed a book into her schoolbag, as if afraid Lin Shubai would change his mind.

Su Wan left with the magazine. As the door closed, Lin Shubai heard her humming softly in the hallway. The tune was indistinct, but her voice was as light and cheerful as the sparrows outside the window.

In the evening, Lin Jianguo bought a sea bass and two pounds of pork ribs. Wang Xiulan spent more than an hour in the kitchen preparing a feast: braised sea bass, sweet and sour pork ribs, stir-fried vegetables, and tomato and egg drop soup.

"That's quite a feast," Lin Shubai said, looking at the dishes on the table.

"It's a rare treat." Wang Xiulan brought out the last soup, took off her apron, and sat down.

Lin Jianguo poured himself a glass of rice wine and poured one for himself and one for Wang Xiulan. He picked up his glass, looked at Lin Shubai, and then at Wang Xiulan.

"Come on, have a drink."

Wang Xiulan picked up her cup and clinked it against Lin Shubai's. Lin Shubai, using tea instead of wine, also clinked their cups.

"Shubai," Lin Jianguo put down his cup, picked up a piece of fish and put it in Lin Shubai's bowl, "I read your article. It's very well written."

When he said "It's fine," his tone was very serious, unlike his usual casual manner.

"Your dad read those two articles three times this afternoon," Wang Xiulan added from the side. "He didn't say anything the first time he read them, he smiled a little the second time, and he said to me the third time, 'They're really well written.'"

Lin Jianguo felt a little embarrassed by what was said, picked up his glass, took a sip of wine, and didn't reply.

"Mom, what about you? How do you feel?" Lin Shubai asked.

Wang Xiulan thought for a moment and said, "The essay 'The Most Precious Gift' was very emotional, but it was written a bit... how should I put it, too mature. It didn't sound like something a high school student would write."

Lin Shubai's heart skipped a beat: "What's not quite right?"

"That's the feeling. Writing about two people selling their most precious possessions to buy each other gifts—that kind of sacrifice and selflessness is something most high school students can't write. It's not a matter of writing style, it's... a matter of life experience."

Wang Xiulan has taught Chinese for over a decade, and her eye for judging essays is indeed sharp.

"However," she changed the subject, "good writing is good writing. Who cares if it sounds like something a high school student would write? Anyway, it's printed in a magazine, and nobody knows how old you are."

Lin Jianguo chimed in from the side, "When will that article be published next month?"

"The first half of November, around the beginning of November."

"Then we'll buy a few more copies," Lin Jianguo said. "We'll send one to your grandma and one to your uncle too."

"Okay." Lin Shubai nodded.

After finishing his meal, he returned to his room. He sat down at his desk, flipped through the sample magazine again, and then put it in the drawer.

Outside the window, it was already dark.

Just then, Su Wan called.

"I've finished reading."

"How do you feel?"

"When I read the part about 'The Most Precious Gift,' I almost cried when I read about Jian Guo taking out the watch chain."

"Didn't you say they were great?"

"It's nice, but it's also heartbreaking. They're so poor, yet they still think about buying each other gifts. And then they can't even use them. Don't you think they're being foolish?"

Lin Shubai thought for a moment and replied, "They're not stupid. What they received was more valuable than the gift."

"What is it?"

"Love. Think about it, what do you get from someone who's willing to sell their most precious thing for you? Not the gift, but the person. So what if you can't use the gift? The person is still here."

The other party remained silent for a while.

"you're right."

After a while, she asked, "Will you continue writing? Write more stories like this?"

"meeting."

"Then I'll wait and see."

"it is good."