A Literary Life Starting from the First Year of High School

On the 29th day of the twelfth lunar month, before dawn, sporadic firecrackers could be heard outside the window.

Every now and then there would be a "pop" sound, like a child's firecracker. Lin Shubai turned over, reached for his watch on the bedside table, and glanced at it—8:20. He woke up a little later than usual, but not too late.

The living room was already bustling with activity.

Wang Xiulan's voice came from the direction of the kitchen; you could vaguely hear her calling Lin Jianguo—"That window frame hasn't been wiped clean yet! Stand on a stool and reach it!"

Lin Shubai finished dressing and went out the door.

The living room had changed. The sofa had been pushed to the middle and covered with an old bed sheet. The coffee table had also been moved and was now drying freshly fried dough twists and meatballs. Wang Xiulan had covered the Sony TV on the TV cabinet with a red cloth.

Wang Xiulan held a strainer in her hand, her hair casually tied back with a rubber band. "Are you up? Eat breakfast first. The porridge is in the pot, and the salted duck eggs are in the refrigerator. After you finish eating, help your dad put up the Spring Festival couplets."

"it is good."

Lin Shubai went into the kitchen, ladled out a bowl of porridge, and when he was halfway through eating, Lin Jianguo came in from the balcony with a rag in his hand. "Come help when you're done eating. I can't reach the kitchen window, so climb up and wipe it."

"it is good."

Lin Shubai finished the porridge in his bowl, went to the kitchen to wash the dishes, and then moved a chair to the kitchen window. Lin Jianguo held the back of the chair from below and said, "Wipe it clean with more force."

Lin Shubai wiped it again, and the glass became much shinier.

"Alright." Lin Jianguo patted the back of the chair. "Get down. We'll put up the Spring Festival couplets in a bit."

Pasting Spring Festival couplets is a fixed activity on the 29th day of the twelfth lunar month every year. Lin Jianguo took out the Spring Festival couplets from the cabinet. The first line was "May your journey be smooth and prosperous every year", the second line was "May all your wishes come true and may you rise higher and higher", and the horizontal scroll read "May good fortune shine upon you".

Lin Jianguo held up the first line of the couplet and gestured on the doorframe, asking, "Is it correct?"

"A little to the left, that's too much, a little to the right, okay."

After putting up the Spring Festival couplets, Lin Shubai was about to go back inside when his phone rang.

When he took it out, he saw it was Yu Xingzhi.

"Lin Shubai, Happy Chinese New Year! The final drafts for the Campus Story Group have all been finalized, and I just sent them to your email. There are twelve stories in total. Take a look, and let me know if you have any questions."

"Okay, I'll check it later. Thanks for your hard work."

"It's not hard work. Happy Chinese New Year!"

After hanging up the phone, before Lin Shubai could even put it back in his pocket, it rang again. This time it was Zhao Lei.

"Lin Shubai, the final drafts for the Hoshino group are ready. There are six pieces, and I've sorted them by quality. The first one is the most reliable. I've had the authors revise the rest of them. I've sent the files to your email. Take a look. Oh, and Happy Chinese New Year."

"Received, thank you, Happy Chinese New Year."

Lin Shubai sat down at his desk, turned on the old-fashioned computer, and the CRT monitor hummed for a while before the screen lit up. He opened his email, downloaded the attachments, and looked through them one by one. Yu Xingzhi's spreadsheet was the most detailed, with each manuscript marked with its subject matter, word count, initial review comments, and revision details. Zhao Lei's sorting was very clear, and the first one was indeed the highest quality.

About half an hour later, my phone vibrated again. This time it was a text message from Zhao Lin: "The final draft for the Book and Film Review Group is complete. There are six book reviews and two film reviews. The files are sent to your email. I've marked any issues. Happy Chinese New Year, Zhao Lin."

He replied, "Received, Happy Chinese New Year," and then his phone rang again.

This time it's Zhou Yutong.

Her voice was a little louder than usual, but still in a soft, gentle tone, as if afraid of disturbing others: "Lin Shubai, the final drafts of the nine poems for the poetry group are all finalized. I've compiled the revised versions into a document and sent it to your email. Take a look."

"Okay, thank you for your hard work, and Happy Chinese New Year."

I don't know why, but these four people seem to have made a pact.

After reading the other two documents, Lin Shubai leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.

The manuscripts for the inaugural issue of "Hope" are complete.

He picked up his phone and sent a text message to Lao Chen: "Teacher Chen, the final drafts from all groups have been collected. I will send you a summary list after the New Year. Happy Chinese New Year."

Old Chen's reply came quickly, consisting of only one word: "Okay."

In the afternoon, Su Wan arrived.

When the doorbell rang, Lin Shubai was in his room copying the manuscripts from each group into a folder when Su Wan's voice came from outside: "Hello, Auntie, my mom asked me to bring something over."

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

Su Wan changed her shoes and came in, carrying a stainless steel basin covered with plastic wrap. She placed the basin on the coffee table and lifted a corner of the plastic wrap to show Wang Xiulan: "My mom made eight-treasure rice, and the red bean paste is homemade. She said it tastes better than what you buy outside."

Wang Xiulan glanced at it, praised it a couple of times, then went to the kitchen, grabbed a bag of apples, and handed it to Su Wan, saying, "Take this back; it's your mother's favorite."

Su Wan declined twice, then accepted the gift. She glanced around the living room, her gaze landing on Lin Shubai's room, just as Lin Shubai was walking out.

"Are all the drafts from each group complete?" Su Wan asked. Today she was wearing a light pink cotton-padded jacket with a white fur collar around the hood, which made her face look smaller.

"Everything is here."

Su Wan nodded, "That's good. Then we can hand it in to the printing room when school starts."

Just then, Lin Jianguo walked in from the balcony, holding a roll of transparent tape. Seeing Su Wan, he nodded: "Xiao Wan's here? Have you eaten?"

"I've eaten, Uncle."

"Want some more? Your auntie fried some meatballs."

"No, no, I've already eaten."

It got dark very quickly in the evening.

Wang Xiulan was busy in the kitchen making the last dish—braised fish. Jianguo put the dried tableware into the cabinet, folded and threw away the old newspapers on the coffee table, and pushed the sofa back into place. Lin Shubai helped pack the fried dough twists and meatballs into plastic bags, stacked them one by one, and put them in the refrigerator.

At dinner time, Wang Xiulan brought the dishes to the table. There was braised fish, sweet and sour pork ribs, stir-fried vegetables, tomato and egg drop soup, and a plate of sliced ​​braised beef. There were two more dishes than usual, but it wasn't extravagant. Wang Xiulan said, "We'll have a proper meal on New Year's Eve. Today is just a warm-up."

Lin Jianguo poured a glass of rice wine, then poured one for Wang Xiulan as well. He glanced at Lin Shubai's glass and asked, "What would you like to drink?"

"Cola will do."

Lin Jianguo took a bottle of Coke from the refrigerator and placed it in front of Lin Shubai.

The three cups clinked together, making a crisp sound.

After finishing his meal, Lin Shubai helped Wang Xiulan clear the table and then returned to his room.

Tomorrow is Lunar New Year's Eve, the day after tomorrow is Lunar New Year's Day, then school starts, the inaugural issue of the literary society is released, "The Little Prince" is published, "Four Generations Under One Roof" is published, and submissions for "The Wrong Station" are received.

We'll talk about things after the New Year.

Now, let's enjoy the New Year together.