My Years as a Copyist in Taiwan

Every day, without fail, I transcribed five thousand words. In my spare time, I would sit for six or seven hours at a time, tucking away at the guitar. The calluses on my right middle finger became hard, and my shoulders and neck were stiff so much that even turning my head made a cracking sound. When I was transcribing late into the night, I often had to hold onto the table to stand up.

"Uncle, is that acupressure parlor a women's room?" Zhao Wen asked the old man who was making him steak, pointing to acupressure parlor in another alley.

Zhao Wenwen didn't come today; he forced her to stay home and do her homework. The teacher visited her home; her grades are terrible and she's skipping class. If he doesn't discipline her, she'll become a delinquent, which will be a real headache.

Hearing Zhao Wen's question, the old man chuckled and replied, "Wenzi, you're still young. Don't go to those shady places like women's rooms. But this restaurant is respectable. The owner and your mother used to be very close!"

Zhao Wen blushed and quickly retorted, "Uncle, don't misunderstand me. My back hurts, and I'm looking for a proper acupressure center."

The old man blinked, giving him an "I understand, I understand" look, and reluctantly believed him.

Zhao Wen was indeed looking for a legitimate physiotherapy clinic. He had liked it in his previous life and had become a member of several sword shops in the neighborhood.

He had his eye on this acupressure parlor for several days, but he didn't dare to go in. After all, the parlor's sign was a red lightbox, and what legitimate health care store would use a red lightbox!

After finishing his steak and taking the rest home, Zhao Wen, with his stiff neck, went to the proper "Meiling Acupressure Center".

The acupressure center is a converted old-style house. As soon as you open the door, you are greeted by the aroma of mugwort and ginger paste, and there are meridian charts with curled edges hanging on the walls.

The boss's real name is Chen Meiling, and she is only in her early forties.

Sure enough, it was an acquaintance—Zhao Wen searched through his memories and finally found a scene from a few years ago where Boss Chen was chatting with his mother at the door of their house.

However, Boss Chen Meiling did not recognize Zhao Wen, the son of her old friend. After the customers she was serving left, she changed his pillowcase and let him lie down.

Having practiced massage for over a decade, Boss Chen frowned as soon as he pressed his knuckles against Zhao Wen's stiff trapezius muscles, his tone full of surprise: "Young man, your shoulders and neck are so stiff! What time do you stay up every day?"

Zhao Wen buried his face in the pillowcase: "I was writing something, and I've been sitting for a while."

"Let me loosen it up for you first, then I'll give you moxibustion, would you like that?"

"Alright! Aunt Chen, bring out all the tricks you think are necessary."

"Oh, young man, do you know me?"

Zhao Wen raised his head and turned to Chen Meiling: "I'm Wen, Aunt Chen."

"Ah Wen?...Xiuya's family?" Chen Meiling exclaimed in surprise, her hands stopping what they were doing.

Zhao Wen nodded: "You came to my house to hold Wenwen three years ago."

Chen Meiling's eyes reddened. She gently patted Zhao Wen's back and rubbed her eyes, saying, "I... I only remember you being so small. You've grown so much in these three years, I almost didn't recognize you!"

"..."

Some comfort doesn't need to be spoken. Seeing that Zhao Wen didn't say anything, Chen Meiling silently began to massage his meridians.

After more than an hour of acupressure and moxibustion, the soreness in my shoulders and back dissipated by more than half. Aunt Chen's skills were far superior to those of the technicians of later generations.

A skilled therapist can be addictive, Zhao Wen thought, he was afraid he would never be able to leave Aunt Chen's care.

Two weeks later, the renovation of Zhao Wen's backyard and house was completed.

The cramped little house has been transformed into a small courtyard with two sections. The two lotus pots in the front yard and the roses climbing all over the wall remained untouched, while the back yard has been renovated into a spacious study, a guest room, and a separate room for Zhao Wenwen.

The little girl also brought home a native Taiwanese tabby cat and gave the chubby kitten the affectionate name "Ah Hu".

With the New Year approaching, Zhao Wen felt it was time to hand over "Love Letter" to Editor Gao, so he picked up his newly installed phone and dialed the number.

"Uncle Gao, you're here. I'll bring the manuscript over in a bit." Editor Gao wouldn't let Zhao Wen call him "Editor Gao" anymore, so Zhao Wen had to call him "Uncle."

"No! You wait at home, I'll be right there, and I'll introduce you to a friend while I'm at it!" Editor Gao was as decisive as ever.

In just about twenty minutes, the sound of a motorcycle sputtering came from outside the courtyard gate.

The friend that Editor Gao brought looked a bit older than him, dressed smartly, with gentle features, and was clearly a cultured person.

"Come on, let me introduce you." Editor Gao took off his helmet and nodded to Zhao Wen. "This is Editor Lou from the United Daily News, Lou as in towering building. He's my senior."

Zhao Wen's heart skipped a beat—it was this newspaper that had been so unethical recently, digging up that aunt's old grievances, comparing and contrasting excerpts, and unearthing her past censorship and scandals. They were openly and secretly going against her, definitely one of their own.

Immediately boosting his favorability, Zhao Wen quickly stepped aside to let him into the courtyard: "Editor Lou, please come in, you are a rare guest."

Editor Lou smiled and cupped his hands in a friendly manner, saying, "I originally came to catch up with Lao Gao today, but when I heard he was coming to see Mr. Snail, I insisted that he bring me along to freeload. I apologize for being so presumptuous."

"How could I be so presumptuous? Editor Lou, you're joking. Please come inside!" Zhao Wen ushered the two inside and saw Zhao Wenwen cutting an apple with a knife again. He quickly went over and took the knife from her. This girl is so clumsy!

When Editor Gao last came, the courtyard only had two old wooden houses in the front yard. The lighting was dim, the furniture was old, and there wasn't even a decent place to sit.

Looking at it again this time—the three wooden houses at the back have all been opened up, the beams and pillars have been renovated and reinforced, the walls have been painted snow-white, and the wooden floors have been polished to a shine.

The living room was filled with a double-door refrigerator, a leather sofa, an air conditioner, and a VCR that I had bought for him from Taipei. There was also a gleaming piano in the corner that was dazzling to the eye.

Editor Gao walked around the living room, tapped the piano lid, and exclaimed in amazement, "Wow, you're something else! Just two months and you've upgraded your equipment so much?"

"So this is Mr. Snail's house!" Editor Lou laughed, looking around and nodding.

"The royalties have arrived, so I tidied up a bit." Zhao Wen brought over two plates of sliced ​​apples. "Sit down, have some fruit first."

Editor Gao touched the beams and pillars of the old wooden house and said with a smile, "You really know how to enjoy life, living in such a nice place. I think sooner or later, this place will become a pilgrimage site for all the young people on the island."

Zhao Wen smiled but didn't say anything.

He has already written about the bluestone path at the alley entrance in "Moon Shadow", "Those Years" and "Love Letter", and he will mention the roses on the wall in "Forrest Gump" and describe the old man's cat at the alley entrance in "Harry Potter"... In all his stories, the shadow of Lane 88, Section 2 of Yongfu Road is hidden.

One day, the "Snail Lane" that he repeatedly mentions in his book will become a literary landmark in the hearts of countless young people, thirty years ahead of schedule.