Rebirth 2004: A lone figure in the literary world

Chapter 429: Unexpected (Please vote at the end of the month!)

Lin Chusheng was extremely confused at the moment. After being stunned for a while, he put down his bowl and chopsticks and went back to his study with a grim face.

Sitting at the desk, Lin Chusheng tried to calm down and sorted out his situation:

Editor-in-Chief Zhuang Shenzhi will know the video of Zhang Chao's interview at the latest tomorrow. He must think of a good reason to explain why he did not explain the basic fact that Zhang Chao was not the author when the editor-in-chief had a misunderstanding today.
The next step was even more troublesome: if Zhang Chao was not the author, then who was? He had published the manuscript in the name of a "friend", and the only people who knew about it were him and Morgan, who would definitely not care about such trivial matters.

There are only two choices: one is to admit that you are the author; the other is to insist that the "friend" is a low-key person and does not want to show up.

The results of the two choices are the same. I will completely lose the trust of all leaders and colleagues in the "Nan Guo Group". I will definitely not be able to keep my position as deputy editor-in-chief, and I am not sure whether I can even make it to retirement.

Of course there is a third option - that is to really find a "friend" to take the blame.

But this friend cannot be just any random person, and must be someone who makes a living from writing - given the current situation, no one with a broken brain would take the blame for him.

When Zhang Chao said “friendly, peaceful, and full of goodwill”, not a single punctuation mark can be believed!
So for Lin Chusheng, this was a complete dead end. No matter what he did, his future was completely ruined.

It's not that he didn't think about looking for Morgan, but he knew after a quick thought that Morgan would be lucky enough not to add insult to injury and would not help him.

Lin Chusheng looked at the dusk outside the window and began to think wildly. Some sharp questions also inadvertently entered his mind:

Why do you have to go against Zhang Chao?

Was it just Morgan's instigation?
Does Zhang Chao really have his own ideas, or is he as "bad" as Morgan says?
How did I get on board NED?
……

He suddenly thought of a hot summer day more than 20 years ago when he was squeezed in the aisle of a green train, surrounded by a sea of ​​passengers and covered in sticky sweat.

In the endless noise and heat, the only comfort is a magazine in hand.

He still remembers one of the articles. He has almost forgotten the content, but he remembers that it was about traffic jams in the United States. The magazine also included a picture for the article. The picture showed high-rise buildings lined up one after another, with several wide roads crisscrossing between them, and every road was full of cars.

Lin Chusheng, who was just in his early 20s, suddenly became very interested in this country where there were so many cars that the roads couldn't hold them all...

Before he knew it, his wife was standing behind him, gently massaging his shoulders and saying softly, "What's wrong? Are you worried? Tell me about it."

Lin Chusheng looked back at his wife's face, which had experienced many vicissitudes of life but was still gentle. He suddenly felt like he had let go of something in his heart, and he turned around and held her hand.

……

Zhang Chao, who is in Yanjing, has been quite busy in recent days.

Arranging the editors of "Youth" to write articles took up a lot of his energy.

The editors had no idea how to "throw dirty water" on him and were even a little afraid.

It was Zhang Chao who helped them set directions, find materials, and even write outlines one by one, and only then did he barely complete this part of the work.

Then I called familiar newspapers and magazines one by one and asked them to type the manuscripts as soon as possible.

Finally, he leaked the news to the reporter, asking him to meet him by chance at "Tide Culture" and tell him what he said on TV.

The whole process was like a whirlwind and was completed in just one week, leaving the opponent no time to react.

Now he is waiting for the reply from Southern Metropolis Daily.

He believed that since he had already spoken out, Southern Metropolis Daily must give an explanation to the society.

Telling him the true author of "Darkest Day" would certainly satisfy his curiosity; but he didn't mind if the secret was kept, as curious reporters and angry readers would probably trample down the threshold of the newspaper.

Today, Zhang Chaocai took some time out of his busy schedule and came to a middle school in Yenching named with Arabic numerals to give a lecture to the students there.

This middle school is the alma mater of the group of students he met by chance on the plane more than two years ago.

At that time, he promised the students that he would take time to give lectures, but Zhang Chao traveled too frequently in China and abroad in the past two years, so he did not make the trip until more than two years later. All the students at that time have graduated, some have gone to other places, and some have stayed in Yenching.

The most outstanding one among them, Zhou Wanjing, just as he said, went to the south and went to Hong Kong to study.

However, she took a special leave today just to attend Zhang Chao's lecture.

"Hello, students. Two years ago, I met a group of young people who were full of vigor and vitality just like you at an altitude of 30,000 feet. At that time, there was a girl who asked questions next to my seat. She is also sitting in the audience today - Zhou Wanjing."

When Zhang Chao called her name, Zhou Wanjing blushed and nodded to the classmates around her awkwardly.

Zhang Chao smiled as she greeted her classmates before continuing, "I heard that classmate Zhou is also writing in Hong Kong? I remember that he said on the plane, 'I will wait for one of you on the road in the future.'

So today's belated lecture is the most wonderful reunion on this road."

There was applause and cheers from the students in the audience.

After the students quieted down, Zhang Chao continued, "Today I want to talk to you about literature, which is like an old friend but also like a stranger. You may find it strange that the words we see every day in Chinese textbooks are worth discussing.

But please allow me to take off your schoolbags for a moment, and let’s look at the stars hidden in the words together.”

As Zhang Chao spoke, he raised his right hand and bent it slightly: "This is the elbow, you can feel it. Biology tells us that this is a precise combination of the ulna and radius; in mathematics, the elbow was once a widely used unit of measurement.

But in the world of literature, it may be the fulcrum for a mother to support her child, the lever for a basketball boy to slam dunk, or even the flag for refugees to seek help and save their lives in war.

——Of course, it can also be a cozy place for everyone to sleep in between classes.”

Zhang Chao's words made the students present laugh, and he continued, "The mathematics, physics and chemistry knowledge in our textbooks are essentially tools for understanding the world, while literature gives us the ability to reorganize these cognitions.

Although Mr. Lu Xun gave up medicine to pursue literature, he used medical anatomical thinking to analyze social problems throughout his life; although Wang Xiaobo wrote novels, he loved to use the rigor of logic to construct an absurd world.

As I said in my speech at my alma mater two years ago, writing is not something that needs to be rushed. If it is bound to happen in your life, then there is no need to worry about early or late. "

The students became agitated.

They thought Zhang Chao would tell them some great truths about literature and life, or talk about his own creative experience, or just brag - but they didn't expect that he could connect different disciplines from such a tricky angle.

This sense of novelty stimulated the students' curiosity and they began to touch their elbows. Some even started playing with each other, and the scene became a little noisy for a while.

The teachers present hurriedly maintained discipline, and the scene quieted down again. Zhang Chao waved his hand, his eyes sparkling with mischief: "It seems that everyone is very interested in their elbows. This small joint works silently in our body, but under the microscope of literature, it instantly has infinite possibilities.

This is the magic of literature—it is a magnifying glass for feelings. It requires us, or rather, tempts us, to re-examine the trivialities of life that we have long taken for granted. "

The lecture finally got to the point, and everyone, including the teacher, was looking forward to what Zhang Chao would say next.

"The basis of all feelings is a very simple word - 'see'." Zhang Chao turned around, picked up the chalk, and wrote a big word "see" on the blackboard.

After finishing writing, he unconsciously brushed off the chalk dust - although he didn't have any on his body - this action made all the teachers present feel strange, because this was an action that only old-timers who were used to teaching would do...teachers.

Although Zhang Chao graduated from Yanshi University, he is not a teacher. It is really strange that he has such a habitual action.

Zhang Chao himself did not realize it, and naturally continued, "This character is very interesting. The top is '手' and the bottom is '目'. The wisdom of the ancients in creating characters tells us that the real 'seeing' requires not only the eyes, but also the hands - to touch and feel. Literature is such a 'seeing' with warmth.

Let me give you an example. Today I came here by subway, and the carriage was packed with people. If I just look with my eyes, all I see is crowds, fatigue, and haste. But what if I 'see' in a literary way? "

Zhang Chao leaned forward slightly, as if he was really back in that carriage: "I saw a young father using his body to form a small protective circle for the baby in his arms, and his steps were always steady even when the subway was shaking.

I saw a girl wearing thick glasses, insisting on reading in the swaying carriage. The pages of the book were trembling in her hands, but her concentration was not disturbed at all.

I saw a young man silently making a little space for the white-haired old man standing next to him, although he himself was struggling to maintain his balance.

You see, it is the same subway car, but different ways of looking at it present completely different worlds. The former is just information, while the latter is literature. "

At this time, a boy in the front row raised his hand, and the teacher hurried over and asked him to put his hand down, after all, it was not yet the question-and-answer session.

But Zhang Chao stopped the teacher and asked the staff to give the microphone to the boy. The boy was surprised and happy, but also a little nervous. After a long while, he said, "But Teacher Zhang, isn't it too tiring to watch like this? You have to think so much about everything."

Zhang Chao laughed and said, "Your question reminds me of what I thought when I was your age. Indeed, when I first came into contact with literature, I felt so tired, as if I had to give meaning to everything and dig deep into everything.

But slowly you will find that this is not a burden, but a gift."

He walked down from the podium and approached the boy: "What's your name?"

“Li Feng.”

"Student Li Feng, do you like playing games?"

Li Feng nodded, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Are you tired when playing games? You have to constantly think about strategies, make choices, and face challenges, but do you feel tired?”

Li Feng shook his head: "Not tiring, very interesting."

Zhang Chao immediately responded, "That's right! Because you have found the fun. The same is true for literature. When you really fall in love with it, you won't feel tired. You will feel that the world has suddenly become three-dimensional, layered, and more exciting."

Zhang Chao returned to the podium while speaking: "Last year I lived in the United States for a while, in a small neighborhood in New York. Every afternoon I would go to a small cafe to have a cup of coffee and a snack.

A few days later, I noticed that a local old man would come at about the same time, order the same coffee, sit in the same seat, and look at the street outside the window. At first I thought he was just a lonely old man killing time.

"But one day, I couldn't help chatting with him, and I found out that he used to be a retired postman for this neighborhood. He told me that he had delivered mail to every house on this street.

The house with flowers on the windowsills is home to a couple who survived the war; the house with bicycles always parked in front of the door is home to a single mother and her three children; the house with an ordinary-looking blue door is home to an old lady who has written poetry all her life but has never published it.

The students listened very attentively, and it seemed that such a kind old man really appeared before their eyes, drinking coffee and whispering to a young man from a foreign country, telling his story.

"When he sits here every day, he is not actually looking at the street, but reliving the life stories he has participated in. Every letter is a transmission of emotion; every knock on the door is an intersection of life.

Although this old postman is not a writer, he possesses the most beautiful qualities of literature - he pays attention not only to the mailbox at the door, but also to the family behind the door, and their joys and sorrows.

I hope everyone can remember one thing - the ultimate goal of literature is not to make us writers, but to make us better people. It teaches us sympathy, teaches us understanding, and teaches us to keep our hearts rich and pure in this complex world. "

Zhou Wanjing looked at Zhang Chao on the stage with admiration and respect.

Objectively speaking, today's lecture was not difficult to understand, and it even seemed a bit "childish" to her - but she knew that Zhang Chao was not speaking for her or those enthusiasts in the school's literary club.

He spoke to all the students in the school. Most of these students had no special interest in literature, and some were obviously more interested in Zhang Chao than literature.

In this situation, it is difficult to strike a balance between preventing the lecture from becoming a sermon or a show-off.

But it was clear that Zhang Chao had grasped it, and it could even be said that he was extremely good at it. Four words emerged in Zhou Wanjing's mind: "Control and release freely!"

Zhang Chao's speech came to an end and the question-and-answer session began.

Several hands immediately went up from the audience. Zhang Chao pointed at a girl in the back row.

The girl took the microphone and asked excitedly and shyly, "Teacher Zhang, do you think the writings of people of our age are too childish?"

"Childish?" Zhang Chao repeated the word before answering, "I think this word has been misunderstood. What is childish? It means immaturity, naivety, and lack of depth. But at the same time, childishness also means purity, intuition that is not polluted by the world, and the courage to express one's true feelings."

"You know, the biggest problem for many adults when writing is that they think too much and worry too much, which makes them lose their natural expressiveness. Your 'naivety' may be the most precious thing.

Of course, this does not mean that you do not need to learn and grow, but it means that while learning skills, you must protect your original sincerity. "

……

After nearly two hours, the event ended with the students' protests; Zhang Chao did not stay to sign books, but directly gave a batch of signed copies to the school.

Zhou Wanjing neither asked any questions nor asked Zhang Chao to sign the book. Instead, she left quietly after the lecture.

She suddenly felt that Zhang Chao two years ago and Zhang Chao today seemed to be standing at a different height...

If you really want to meet him on the "road", you may have to work twice as hard.

Surrounded by school leaders and teachers, Zhang Chao did not notice Zhou Wanjing's disappearance.

At this time, he received a phone call. After listening to the caller for a while, Zhang Chao widened his eyes and said in disbelief: "What? The author is a foreigner?"

(End of this chapter)