1979: My fiancée is a goddess

Chapter 31 Ye Shengtao cried

Chapter 31 Ye Shengtao cried (please read it later)

"Ha~ nice tea."

An old man and a young man sat in front of the coffee table, drinking tea, and their minds relaxed.

"To be honest, I brought my work here today, and I hope you can give me some advice on it."

Cheng Kaiyan put down the teacup, covered it and said.

"Well, I knew that a long time ago. I want to see what kind of educated youth novel you can write."

Ye Shengtao nodded, and then he saw Cheng Kaiyan handing him a briefcase.

Made of black leather, this is a very popular style right now.

It is generally used by teachers, editors, and clerical staff. It is loved by many people for its durability and large capacity. Ye Shengtao himself also has one.

But now the briefcase is stuffed full, and you can vaguely see bulges on the leather surface caused by the manuscript paper inside.

The rough hand took it, and the palm sank, which startled Ye Shengtao. He looked at Cheng Kaiyan in surprise and asked, "How much is this? This is at least a long novel, right?"

"Not much. I've only written one and a half volumes of this novel. I've finished the first volume, and I've written a little more than half of the second volume. There's still nearly half left to write. No more, no less, a total of 130,000 words."

Cheng Kaiyan lowered her head, took a sip of tea, and explained.

When Ye Shengtao heard this, his eyelids jumped. Wow!
Lu Xinhua's Scars only has 8,000 words, and Liu Xinwu's Class Teacher only has 10,000 words. Twenty or thirty thousand words is considered a long novel.

130,000 words is only half of what was written?
Are you going to write a magnum opus?

Let’s not talk about the quality of the novel for now, but the word count is over 100,000 words. How long will it take to finish reading it?
Mr. Ye couldn't help but worry about himself. He was old, and it was a bit too much for him to concentrate on reading hundreds of thousands of words.

Cheng Kaiyan didn't know that her action had caused this elderly man in his eighties to be very worried.

But since he had agreed, Ye Shengtao took out a thick stack of manuscripts, took out his reading glasses from his collar pocket and started to look through them seriously.

What catches the eye are the majestic and timeless handwriting written in pen, arranged neatly with very few ink blobs. Even if there are writing mistakes, they are crossed out with two horizontal lines.

After coarse filtering, it feels very refreshing.

This made Ye Shengtao nod his head in relief. Someone had asked him to read manuscripts before, but the handwriting was messy.

It's true that you can tell a lot about a person by his handwriting. Comrade Xiao Cheng is very good.

Then look down.

"Fragrant grass? Fragrant grass... Why is there no spring? Because there has never been spring here..."

Ye Shengtao repeated a few words, pondering the meaning of them in his mind.

Soon, the old man was holding the manuscript, completely immersed in the story.

Cheng Kaiyan knew that this was not an easy task, as there were tens of thousands of words, so she stood up and left the study to Mr. Ye, saying, "Mr. Ye, I'm going to go out for a walk. You can continue reading. Call me when you're done."

"Uh-huh……"

Ye Shengtao looked a little solemn and waved his hand casually.

……

After Cheng Kaiyan came out of the study, she walked around the yard. When she reached the garden, she saw Ye Zhicheng and his wife watering and pruning branches in the garden.

"Didn't Comrade Xiao Cheng bring a novel? Why did it come out?"

Ye Zhicheng is actually an old man. He was born in 1926 and is now in his fifties. His wife, Yao Cheng, is a drama artist.

“Still watching.”

Cheng Kaiyan explained: "Maybe there are too many words."

"How many words?"

"Hundreds of thousands of words."

"That's going to take a long time."

The three of them were watering and trimming the flowers while chatting, and soon it was time for lunch.

His wife Yao Cheng was previously a drama artist, but now she is a housewife. Because Ye Shengtao has been ill for many years, she has been taking care of him at home.

She looked at her watch and said quickly, "Oh~ It's time for lunch. I'll go ask Dad what to eat today. By the way, Xiao Cheng will eat here at noon, right?" "Yes, it's not easy to come here. I guess the old man will finish watching after lunch."

Ye Zhicheng also advised that it was normal for writers to be fascinated by reading manuscripts. He himself was also the editor of "Yuhua", a publication under the Jiangsu Literary Association.

But you have to know that the old man is a literary master. Even Ye Zhicheng’s own manuscripts have never been read by the old man for so long!

However, he still couldn't help but feel a little curious. What kind of good manuscript did Xiao Cheng write that made the old man so fascinated?
"Okay, sorry to bother you then."

Cheng Kaiyan pondered for a moment and agreed.

……

Yao Cheng walked into the study and asked what would be for dinner today.

As soon as I entered, I saw the old man slumped on a stool, holding a thick manuscript in his hands, muttering to himself: "How many times will I look back at the road I have walked... Sincerely bless you kind girl, how many times will I look back at the road I have walked, you are standing next to the village."

Seeing such simple yet emotional words really made him feel uncomfortable.

Yao Cheng walked closer and saw the old man's red eyes filled with crystal tears. He was shocked: "Dad? What's wrong with you? Why are you crying?"

"Huh... I didn't expect that at my age, I could still be moved to tears by a novel."

Ye Shengtao took off his glasses, took a long breath, and tremblingly wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes.

When Yao Cheng heard this, she immediately realized that it was Xiao Cheng's manuscript, but she could never have imagined that a manuscript could make the old man cry.

It’s incredible!
Although there are all kinds of reactions when encountering a book you like, it is rare to cry directly like this, especially if you are a man.

As the saying goes, men don't shed tears easily...

Yao Cheng had mixed feelings and slowly left the study.

She walked into the courtyard and whispered a few words in her husband's ear.

"what?"

"Is this true? Dad actually cried?"

"Yeah, I really cried. What Xiao Cheng wrote should be a tragedy."

Upon hearing the news, Ye Zhicheng couldn't help but widen his eyes, looked at his wife in shock, and then looked at Cheng Kaiyan.

"What's wrong?" Cheng Kaiyan asked, why are these two people so mysterious.

"It's okay, Xiao Cheng, sit down for a while. Your Aunt Yao will go cook now. I'll go see the old man."

Ye Zhicheng said, then turned and went into the study.

"Dad? Why did you cry? Is it so touching? What exactly did Xiao Cheng write?"

“A novel that has the potential to become a masterpiece!”

After Ye Shengtao pondered for a moment, he said in a decisive tone.

"what?"

Ye Zhicheng's heart trembled. How good could this novel be to hear such an evaluation coming from his father's mouth?
He quickly picked up the manuscript and started reading, slowly getting into the state.

Until his wife came and woke him up.

He finally understood why his father was crying.

This is not a tragedy, it’s fucking! A fictional world made up of countless tragedies.

What is even more shocking is that such a tragic world already exists and is even happening right before our eyes, in every corner, big and small, of this land.

Ye Zhicheng has not forgotten the quote he saw at the beginning of the novel:

This story is based on real events.

Why is there no spring...Because there has never been spring!

I am speechless. The words “mass layoffs in the 1990s” should not appear, right?



(End of this chapter)

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