The literary era since 1979

Diaoyutai State Guesthouse.

A grand celebration banquet was being held in the private room. Fang Yan, Teng Jinxian, Xie Jin and others were toasting each other and chatting happily.

"Yanzi, can you write a report on the suggestion about the Shanghai International Film Festival?"

Teng Jinxian was full of expectations, just like Fang Yan had previously written reports on mainstream films, entertainment films, and the reform of theater distribution systems.

Fang Yan said: "If Director Teng doesn't mind me showing off my skills in front of you, I would be willing to do it."

"You're being modest again!"

Xie Jin couldn't help but sigh that the new generation is always pushing the old generation forward, and in today's film industry, probably no one understands Chinese-language films better than him.

"That's absolutely true."

Teng Jinxian even felt that Fang Yan was fully qualified for the position of director of the Film Bureau.

"Goodbye."

Fangyan declined politely. After all, he would soon return to Renwen Press and take over People's Literature.

“It’s such a shame.”

Teng Jinxian sighed and at this moment, a familiar voice suddenly came from behind him.

"What do you mean by pity? Today is such a rare day, what is there to be regretful about?"

"Teacher Wang (Minister Wang)!"

Fang Yan, Xie Jin and others looked at Wang Meng at the same time.

After Wang Meng got a general idea, he put his hand on Fangyan's shoulder and said in a disgruntled tone:
"Yanzi is the beloved of our literary community. Director Teng and Director Xie, you can't take our beloved away from us!"

"Hahaha."

Xie Jin was not annoyed. He smiled and said, "A gentleman does not take away what others love," and then gave the space for chatting to Wang Meng.

Fang Yan clinked glasses with Wang Meng, and then drank the Fenjiu in one gulp. Nowadays, Fenjiu is the liquor served at drinking parties, not Maotai.

"You have spent much more energy on movies than literature in recent years."

"I swear to God, Mr. Wang, although I have invested a little more in movies, it has not affected my literature at all."

"You!"

Wang Meng shook his head and laughed: "This year's Nobel Prize will be announced in a few days, did you know?"

Fangyan nodded, and I heard him express regret for Shen Congwen's passing. In just a few months, the Chinese literary world will usher in its first Nobel Prize in Literature. What a shock and excitement it will be for the declining literary world!

"Teacher Wang, please don't think like that."

"There are talented people in every generation, and each of them leads the trend for hundreds of years. We Chinese writers are so talented that they will win the Nobel Prize in Literature sooner or later."

"Only you can say that."

Wang Meng said that apart from the older generation of writers, the most promising new generation to win the Nobel Prize in Literature is the dialect.

"Well, I think I'm still a little bit off."

Fangyan smacked his lips. Although his works had been translated into French, German, Japanese, Italian, English and other languages ​​and circulated and read all over the world, sparking a "dialect fever" and attracting worldwide praise, most of them were popular literature rather than serious literature.

"Didn't Farewell My Concubine win many awards, especially the Grinzane Carver Literature Award?"

Wang Meng let out a light exclamation.

"Well..."

Fangyan hesitated for a moment. The Grinzane Cavour Prize is the highest award in Italian literature awarded by the Italian Literature Foundation.

Because previous writers such as Peruvian writer Vargas Llosa and Polish writer Sowohl won the Nobel Prize in Literature after winning this award, this award is also regarded as a barometer of the Nobel Prize, and is known as a weather vane of the Nobel Prize together with the Kafka Literature Prize established in the early 21st century.

It was also because of this that when the news that Farewell My Concubine won the award came out, the literary circles in the East and the West were immediately in an uproar.

Not only is Fangyan the first Chinese writer to win the award, he is also the youngest winner in Asia. Of course, he is also qualified to be shortlisted for the Nobel Prize in Literature. The only thing he lacks is a classic masterpiece that will determine his success, which can be said to be extremely difficult.

Haruki Murakami has always been a favorite for the Nobel Prize in Literature, but he always ends up being a runner-up every year. The reason is that although he has written youth scar literature such as "Norwegian Wood", he has not written a definitive novel like Yasunari Kawabata's "Snow Country".

Besides, the judging criteria for the Nobel Prize in Literature are entirely based on personal preference, otherwise the prize would not have been awarded to folk singer Bob Dylan.

"But at least there is a chance!"

Wang Meng sighed.

"Don't hold your hopes too high."

Fangyan explained that the Nobel Prize in Literature is actually, to a certain extent, the same as the International Hans Christian Andersen Award, both of which are lifetime achievement awards. They are basically awarded in the middle or late stages of a writer's creative career. At his current age, it is almost impossible for him to win the award.

“It’s good to be shortlisted, and it can also boost the current literary world.”

Wang Meng said that he would retire from the cultural department next year, but before leaving, he could not bear to see the literary world going downhill.

Fang Yan comforted him, "Teacher Wang, don't worry, you will be fine!"

"From now on, it's up to you guys."

Wang Mengshuo Fangyan’s appointment as deputy editor-in-chief of Renwen Press and editor-in-chief of People’s Literature will be announced by the end of the year.

Fang Yan said: "That is to say, he will take office next year."

Wang Meng nodded and said that his old subordinates Wang Fu, Zhu Wei and others were still in People's Literature and would be able to take over the work seamlessly.

Fang Yan smiled and said, "I have cleaned up the mess in Hong Kong. I will take up the post as soon as the appointment letter arrives."

"Your first task at People's Literature is to boost the morale of the editorial department and stop the downward trend in sales."

Wang Meng patted him on the shoulder and said, "In fact, the simplest way is just like you wrote a few articles for People's Literature back then."

Fangyan also considered this issue. The initial plan was to serialize the second and third parts of the "Da Qin" series in "People's Literature", namely "The Great Qin's Vertical and Horizontal" and "The Great Qin's Rise". After all, the achievements of "The Great Qin's Fission" were there.

"Besides these, do you have any other plans?"

Wang Meng hopes that he can write more serious literature, like his previous "hallucination realism", "military fantasy literature", "root-seeking literature" and "new realism", and create a new writing style or genre, so as to compete for the Nobel Prize in Literature.

“I have no idea about this yet.”

Fangyan spread his hands and smiled bitterly.

"Then don't talk about it."

Wang Meng knows very well that if you push people too far, it will not bring out creative inspiration and will be counterproductive.

So, he clinked his glasses again and said, "I hope your name will be nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature this time!"

"Then I'll borrow Teacher Wang's good words!"

Fangyan drank the wine in one gulp, his face flushed and his heart pounding.

As a result, when the celebration banquet was over, Zhang Guorong, Wang Jiawei, Xie Jin and others were all drunk. Fang Yan was also drunk, staggering, with his right arm tightly grasped by Gong Xing, and struggling to be helped to the bedroom.

At this moment, Zhu Lin lent a hand, supported the other half of Fang Yan's body, and cooperated with Gong Xing to move forward.

Gong Xi smiled and said, "Thank you."

Zhu Lin smiled back, "I didn't see him drink so much even at the Venice Film Festival. Why did he drink so much today?"

"Who knows?" Gong Xing rolled his eyes unhappily, "Maybe he's happy."

Zhu Lin glanced at Fangyan, who was so drunk that he could not open his eyes. He could smell a strong smell of alcohol. Although it was pungent, he did not feel disgusted.

As the saying goes, a man will turn into a pig when he is drunk, and Fangyan is just like a drunk pig with excellent drinking habits. He neither acts crazy nor makes trouble. He is quietly carried to the bedroom by Gong Xing and Zhu Lin, and then thrown onto the bed, forming a big "木" character.

"Zhu Lin, can you do me another favor?"

Gong Xing was covered in sweat and panted for more than ten minutes.

"You said."

Zhu Lin was extremely surprised.

"Help me keep an eye on him for a while. I'm going to take a shower first, and then clean and wipe this stinky pig."

Gong Xing said embarrassedly.

"No problem, leave it to me."

Zhu Lin agreed readily.

While Gong Xing was thanking him, he glanced at Fang Yan who was soundly sleeping. This should have been a night of celebration and the couple had even planned to have some rare fun, but it was a pity that such a good day was wasted. He felt angry at heart and walked towards the bathroom helplessly.

There were only two people left in the huge room. Zhu Lin stared quietly at Fangyan, who looked drunk and naive, his heart pounding.

When he heard the sound of water splashing, he tiptoed to the bedside like a thief and looked at Fangyan from a closer distance.

Then he squatted down and considerately helped him take off his shoes. Suddenly, a soft shout came to his ear.

"Water, water..."

Dialect moves the lips.

Zhu Lin heard it clearly, and hurriedly went to get the thermos and poured a cup of water into it. The water was steaming hot, and obviously could not be drunk immediately.

Fangyan smacked his lips, but still no rain came, so he had to open his drunken eyes and force himself to get out of bed.

"The water is still hot. It needs to dry for a while."

Zhu Lin put the cup of water on the bedside table, then took out a pillow and placed it behind his back.

Fangyan looked around with the little clarity he had left, "Why are you..."

Zhu Lin briefly explained, "What do you think?"

"I'm a little thirsty and my head hurts a little." Fang Yan forced a smile, "Thank you so much for troubling you."

"If there really is trouble, it should be me who is troublesome to you." Zhu Lin's tone was full of concern.

Fangyan's voice was slightly hoarse: "Why do you say that?"

Zhu Lin said that he was involved in rumors while on the set of Journey to the West, and if they hadn't been so kind as to take him in, he really didn't know how it would have ended.

Fang Yan did not take credit for it. He felt that even without him, the rumors would eventually pass. With Zhu Lin's ability, he would surely be able to make a comeback.

"But without you, none of this would have happened."

Zhu Lin expressed more and more gratitude. Without Fangyan and Gong Xing, he would not have been able to experience the life and filming environment in Hong Kong which was different from that in the mainland, he would not have been able to have a second spring in his acting career, he would not have been able to star in In the Mood for Love and win the Best New Actor Award at the Venice Film Festival.

There is even less chance of him returning home in glory, or even using this celebration party to clarify rumors and restore his reputation!
"Did Xiaoxiang tell you that?"

Fangyan narrowed his eyes.

"You said it was your idea."

Zhu Lin nodded, and there was a different kind of affection in his grateful eyes.

"The past is the past, look forward, your blessing is yet to come!"

As the alcohol started to take effect, Fangyan suddenly felt dizzy and his speech became intermittent, but he still tried to comfort himself.

Zhu Lin remained silent, recalling every little detail of their time together. She felt blessed every time he was by her side.

When I thought of this, I almost blurted out, "Actually, you are my blessing."

"Wha...what?"

Fangyan had a splitting headache and felt drowsy, and the last bit of clarity he had was gone.

Zhu Lin was startled and realized that he had said something wrong. He was secretly glad that he didn't hear it, but he was also a little disappointed.

But when I think of "Zhou Moyun and Su Lizhen" in "In the Mood for Love", there is a little more awareness in my eyes.

When you truly fall in love, this love is not simply an overflow of emotion, but learning to restrain yourself in deep affection in order to protect and fulfill each other.

Fangyan was so drunk that he was completely unaware. He only felt his mouth was dry and his throat felt like it was on fire.

Zhu Lin picked up the water cup and tested the temperature. It was still hot enough to burn his tongue. However, seeing Fang Yan opening his mouth and constantly calling for water, he became more and more anxious. Finally, he made up his mind and held the saliva in his mouth despite the scalding heat. After the water temperature dropped, he bravely poured it into Fang Yan's mouth.

Dialects are like finding a source of water in the desert, and people frantically pursue it as if it were drinking magical wine.

Zhu Lin's cheeks were flushed, and the burning sensation on her slightly swollen lips was replaced by a feeling of shyness and joy.

Especially the sound of flowing water coming from behind me, the feeling of cheating in "In the Mood for Love" lingered in my heart.

However, Fangyan, who was already extremely drunk, thought that it was Gong Xing who fed him water, and when he woke up the next day, he didn't take it seriously at all.

Instead, I am very concerned about the Nobel Prize in Literature mentioned by Wang Meng. The Nobel Prize is usually announced in October every year.

The award ceremony is held on December 12th every year to commemorate the day of Nobel's death.

Time passed by unknowingly, and the nomination lists for various Nobel Prizes were released one after another, and dialects appeared prominently on the list.

All of a sudden, it caused a sensation and attention at home and abroad. Although there was no distinction between high and low in the ranking of the entire literary award nomination list, some casinos abroad that were interested in doing good had already opened a handicap for the dialect, and the odds were second only to those of the Spanish national writer Camilo José Cela.

Domestic mainstream literary newspapers, large and small, such as the Literary Newspaper and the Art Newspaper, also vied to report on the event.

But in fact, the confidentiality period for the Nobel Prize in Literature nomination list is 50 years. The nomination list and other related details will not be announced until the confidentiality period expires. This also means that, unless relevant people take the initiative to "decrypt" the information, if you want to verify whether the writers mentioned in the news are nominated, the only way is to wait for the official announcement of the Nobel Prize 50 years later. What can be found now is only up to 1949.

As for the Nobel Prize in Literature "nomination list" mentioned by the media, its authenticity is actually questionable.

But ordinary people don’t care about the truth. After all, there is only one Chinese writer in Asia who has been shortlisted for this year’s Nobel Prize in Literature!

Chinese literature is awesome! (End of this chapter)