Rebirth 2004: A lone figure in the literary world

Chapter 383: The Last Lesson

Cheng Yongxin's face darkened, and he said to Liu Pengtao, "Didn't you see I have guests here? What's the manuscript? Let Editor Xiao and the others review it first."

Liu Pengtao then saw clearly that the person sitting opposite Cheng Yongxin was the famous writer Bi Feiyu. He immediately broke out in a sweat and quickly apologized, "Teacher Bi, I didn't know you were here..."

Bi Feiyu didn't mind and said gently: "It's okay. As a literary editor, it's inevitable to get excited when seeing good works. Whose manuscript did you receive?"

Cheng Yongxin wasn't really unhappy. Seeing that Bi Feiyu didn't mind, he asked, "Yes, whose manuscript is it that's causing such a fuss?"

"Harvest" is one of the "Four Beauties" of domestic pure literature. Over the decades since its founding, it has produced countless famous masters. Logically speaking, even a new editor like Liu Pengtao should not behave so out of control.

Liu Pengtao calmed down at this time and said, "Zhang... Zhang Chao's manuscript is called "The Last Lesson"."

Cheng Yongxin frowned and asked, "Zhang Chao? I haven't heard of him. Is he a celebrity, host, artist or something?"

It is a trend for celebrities to write books these days. A few years ago, Ni Ping published a book called "Days", which was also included in Zhao Benshan's Spring Festival Gala sketch.

If a big star or host suddenly decides to contribute to Harvest, an inexperienced young person like Liu Pengtao might get excited.

However, these people usually contact the editor-in-chief or senior management of the publishing house directly, and are unlikely to submit their manuscripts through public mailboxes. So Cheng Yongxin was a little puzzled.

Liu Pengtao quickly explained: "It's not Zhang Chao, it's Zhang Chao. Zhang means bow length, and Chao means tide."

Cheng Yongxin couldn't help but repeat: "Gong Chang Zhang, Chao as in tide - Zhang Chao? Which Zhang Chao are you talking about?"

Liu Pengtao said helplessly: "Which Zhang Chao can there be now? That Zhang Chao. The Zhang Chao who wrote "Hometown", the Zhang Chao who wrote "Crime Police Glory" and "Star Chaser"."

Cheng Yongxin found it hard to accept for a moment, but thinking that Liu Pengtao had not lied to him, he could not help but stand up and said in shock: "Zhang Chao? You said he submitted an article to our magazine? Or through a public mailbox?"

Bi Feiyu was also surprised when he heard it. He turned sideways to look at Liu Pengtao, wanting to hear more clearly.

Liu Pengtao nodded and said, "I can't believe it either. But the pinyin address on the email is his, the signature on the work is also his, and the quality of the work... also looks like his, so I rushed here to report to you."

When Cheng Yongxin heard the first two sentences, his eyes lit up with anticipation; but when he heard the last sentence, he restrained himself and asked, "What do you mean by 'looks like his'? Is it really his?"

Liu Pengtao felt a little aggrieved and said, "The email address is the most ordinary Sina email address, and there is only one name signed. The novel is written... quite well, so I need you to judge it!"

When accepting manuscripts, magazines generally require "real name", "pen name (if used)", "telephone number" and "correspondence address". Only one name is not standard.

Liu Pengtao originally wanted to click the X in the upper right corner, but the beginning of the work really attracted him. After reading on, he felt more and more that it was Zhang Chao's own work, so he exclaimed.

Cheng Yongxin knew that this matter was very important. Whether it was Zhang Chao himself who submitted the work, or it was just a coincidence - there was an author named Zhang Chao, or his pen name was Zhang Chao - since the quality of the work could "confuse" Liu Pengtao, he must take a look at it himself to avoid missing it.

You should know that although Liu Pengtao is just a young new editor at "Harvest", he is also a graduate student of the Chinese Department of Nanjing University. He has published works in many newspapers and magazines. He has solid theoretical level and writing practice.

There are probably not many works that can make him "exclaim".

Cheng Yongxin looked at Bi Feiyu with some embarrassment. Bi Feiyu said sympathetically, "I'm also very curious. Do you mind if I take a look together?"

Cheng Yongxin was relieved, laughed and said, "It's a good opportunity for you to check and see if this 'Zhang Chao' is real or a fake."

At this time, the commotion in the editorial office had attracted the attention of others. Many editors were looking in from the door. Cheng Yongxin hesitated for a moment and said to Liu Pengtao, "Xiao Liu, how long is the manuscript? Please print two copies and bring them in."

Liu Pengtao responded excitedly: "It's not long, a short story of more than 10,000 words. I'll type it right away!"

After saying that, he went out to type the manuscript, and even his body was three points straighter than usual.

After all, an editor's status mainly comes from what kind of manuscripts he can get. If he can get in touch with Zhang Chao from now on, Liu Pengtao's status in "Harvest" magazine will be completely different.

After Liu Pengtao left the office, Cheng Yongxin and Bi Feiyu looked at each other and saw surprise in each other's eyes.

Cheng Yongxin hesitated and said, "If it is really Zhang Chao's work, why is it "Harvest"? Shouldn't all his manuscripts be published by "Youth School"? "

Bi Feiyu pondered for a while before saying, "Maybe he wants to find some 'excitement'? Anyway, he should not be too obsessed with making money anymore."

Cheng Yongxin nodded, agreeing with Bi Feiyu's guess. Nowadays, most famous writers, especially top writers, have basically withdrawn from the single-article submission market.

For them, submitting their works to literary magazines is a very "loss-making" thing.

Even if it is short stories or novellas, if they are collected together and published directly as a book, the income will be much higher than the few thousand yuan in royalties from a magazine.

After all, magazines like "Harvest" also implement the remuneration standards of the 90s, with the highest being no more than 500 yuan per thousand words.

The reason why literary magazines can still receive manuscripts from great writers is simply because the editors and writers have a close relationship and a long-term cooperative relationship; secondly, these great writers have a fixed readership, and even if their works are published in magazines, it will not affect the sales of single books much.

The unspoken rule beneath the surface is that new works published in literary magazines, especially domestic "top magazines" such as "Harvest" and "Contemporary", are more likely to be favored by literary awards.

People may not care about a few thousand or tens of thousands of dollars in royalties, but they still pay more attention to "fame".

While they were talking, Liu Pengtao came in with two stacks of printed A4 documents and handed them to Cheng Yongxin and Bi Feiyu respectively. But he did not leave. He stared at the two of them, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

Cheng Yongxin knew what he was thinking, so he said with a smile, "Just go ahead and do your work. Don't worry, if it does appear on the news, you'll still be the editor."

Only then did Liu Pengtao happily respond "OK" and left the editor-in-chief's office.

The editorial office was already bustling at this moment. Every time Liu Pengtao passed by a seat, a colleague would ask him: "Is it really from Zhang Chao?" Liu Pengtao just smiled and said: "Whether it is or not, we have to wait for Editor Cheng and Teacher Bi to read it before we can decide. I have no say." He had just read the manuscript again while printing it, and he became more and more certain that this novel was really from Zhang Chao.

"You're still keeping me in suspense!" The impatient editor couldn't wait any longer and went straight to Liu Pengtao's desk to look at the document open on his computer.

Soon, a group of people gathered around the small desk, chattering:
"Turn the pages slowly, I've only read half of it!"

"You're so slow, no wonder you're the slowest in every group review!"

"Hey, turn it up a little, let me take a look..."

……

Listening to the noise coming from the editorial office outside, Cheng Yongxin and Bi Feiyu smiled at each other. Bi Feiyu said, "It's no wonder that Zhang Chao wrote this."

Cheng Yongxin sighed, "Yes. Speaking of which, it seems that the only manuscripts he 'lost' were published by Huacheng and Youth Literature, one each. Oh, and the spy novella published in People's Literature, but he was named second."

Bi Feiyu raised the manuscript in his hand and said, "Let's start reading. I can't wait any longer."

Cheng Yongxin nodded, lowered his head and began to read.

This novel, titled "The Last Lesson", attracted the attention of both of them at the beginning:

[All choices are belated echoes: a resignation letter in his pocket that is still warm from the printer; a divorce agreement sent by his wife; a 2-yuan note and four 4-cent coins as change from the breakfast shop; half a pack of cigarettes; a lighter; a ball of napkins; two keys on a key ring; a wallet as thin as a card; a half-piece of chalk that was accidentally stuffed in. Any one of them can summarize Zhang Chao's life, which is as barren as the Gobi Desert.]

Bi Feiyu smiled: "It's really his style, specific and precise, trivial and messy but still orderly."

Cheng Yongxin just nodded and continued reading patiently:
[The morning mist in spring is like a rag soaked in vinegar, sticking wetly to the face. From the age of 24 to 40, the climate here has never changed, like a calibrated clock, which will spit out the air and sunshine at any time of the year. Zhang Chao, who is already a Jiangcheng native, has not felt any discomfort for a long time, except today. Zhang Chao is not sure whether he has changed, or the climate has changed - or this small town has sensed that he is leaving, so it is as harsh as a mean landlord to a tenant who has moved out.

"You'll have good luck in Jiangcheng!" Dad straightened Zhang Chao's shirt collar, just like his mother straightened his red scarf when he was in elementary school. "Jiangcheng has the Wulong River, and your name has the word 'Chao' in it. The river will always rise, and your life will rise with it." At that time, Zhang Chao's face was so clean that it looked like it had just been waxed. Today's weather is too hot, and the wax gradually melted, revealing the bumpy mud and dark blue bushes. 】

Cheng Yongxin concentrated for a moment and discovered that the novel did not provide any hints between recounting the past and returning to reality. Instead, the novel switched naturally according to the extension of thoughts and the advancement of the plot, forming a seamless reading experience.

Of course, impatient readers will find the clues confusing; but mature writers and editors like Cheng Yongxin will find it extremely smooth.

"Zhang Chao's writing skills have improved again!" Although Cheng Yongxin only read the beginning, he had already determined in his heart that this was written by Zhang Chao - even if it was not the "real Zhang Chao", it was equivalent to discovering a new star in the literary world.

As he read the book, The Last Lesson gradually became more interesting.

【On the windowsill of the school entrance, the security guard, Old Zhou, stuck out half of his shiny face and said, "Teacher Zhang, the developer has sent another purchase coupon." He handed over the big red coupon. Zhang Chao did not take it, but lowered his head and said, "Thank you, I don't need it." He hurried into the crowd. The footsteps and voices of the students, the tire noise and whistles of the traffic, and the recording that played in a loop at the school gate every morning: "Be careful, no fighting." They buried the low laughter that Old Zhou might have squeezed out of his hoarse throat.

Before giving birth, Huang Ling was the female teacher with the best voice in Jiangcheng No. 1 Middle School. Listening to her talk was like being pressed against an iron and pushed back and forth. Over time, no matter how deep the wrinkles in your heart were, they would be ironed out; but at the same time, other branches would grow out of the gaps. Zhang Chao had imagined more than once what it would be like if he didn't hear Huang Ling's voice in the classroom, preparation room, conference room, auditorium, playground, cafeteria... Of course, more than one male teacher thought so. Zhang Chao was even one of the more gentle ones. He would only laugh along when others expressed their fantasies. Everyone said that Huang Ling's voice was damaged when she gave birth, and now it quacks like a duck; her face was getting yellower and darker day by day. She disappeared from the male teachers' chats. Only when they walked into the school gate every morning and heard the "Be careful, no fighting" she recorded that year, would they vaguely remember that there was such a woman with a beautiful voice. ...】

As the narrative slowly progresses, the half-life of a frustrated teacher in a small county comes to mind.

As a teacher who "goes from school to school", Zhang Chao has spent 16 years proving his incompetence. In school, he cannot get a job title and his superiors look down on him. At home, his wife has left home for a long time and asked for a divorce.

At a gathering of college classmates, Dong Chao, who was once looked down upon by himself, was working as a tutor in Shenzhen, had a car, and bought a house in his hometown. After a hearty drunken party, Dong Chao patted Zhang Chao on the shoulder and asked him to come to Shenzhen to help him.

"Three years, brother. Just three years and you can return to Jiangcheng in glory."

With these words, Zhang Chao made up his mind to resign and leave the school. He didn't even want the position or the last month's salary, and he didn't even have a transition period to find other teachers to take over as principal.

He wanted to leave cleanly, like a knight, "when the work is done, brush off the clothes and leave without leaving a trace for a thousand miles."

Today he was about to teach his last class to the senior high school students, then he threw his resignation letter on the principal's desk and left everyone with a lonely back.

In just 45 minutes of the last class, he was caught in the double entanglement and pressure between reality and his soul.

He felt that his "last lesson" at school should be to tell his students some "important words" in the hope that they would be impressed by him. He even fantasized that one day, one of his students would become a writer and remember him fondly in his works.

But the students were only impatient with his stale preaching and urged him to quickly explain the test papers, or simply asked them to study on their own, which made him very embarrassed.

He also thought that he would proudly and courageously hand in his resignation letter to the principal who always looked down on him. The principal would be surprised and even shocked, and would make a hypocritical attempt to retain him, but he would resolutely refuse.

But the principal actually seemed relieved. He readily agreed to his resignation and quickly found another teacher to take over, which made him very disappointed.

He thought that after his colleagues learned the news, some of his close friends would come to persuade him to stay, but in the end, no one did, and the news didn't even get out. In the end, he was very disappointed...

Zhang Chao was like a bubble, bursting with a "poof" and disappearing without a trace in the campus of Jiangcheng No. 1 Middle School.

The tragic feeling of the "last lesson" he imagined did not come true. Instead, reality taught him the "last lesson".

The novel adopts a technique that mixes realism with a mild stream of consciousness, flowing back and forth between "reality", "imagination", "memories" and "emotions", forming a structural form of "one chant and three sighs" and "repeated verses" that is almost poetic.

Of course, this is only the first half of the novel.

However, Cheng Yongxin and Bi Feiyu both stopped flipping through the books and looked at each other. Although they did not speak, their eyes had communicated with each other:
"Is it him!?"

"of course!"

(End of this chapter)