My era, 1979!

Chapter 85 Hey, Bomb! (110 First Subscription Request)
Fudan University Library.

Chen Yang, who had just come to study, noticed that many of his classmates were holding copies of the magazine "Harvest".

Especially Lin Wei, that little firecracker, holding the magazine "Harvest" and crying and laughing at the same time.

No, girl, you're being a bit of a pervert!
"Chen Yang, come and take a look! This issue of Harvest has a piece by our future junior!"

"Who is it? There's no junior student here."

“Xu Chengjun, the great poet!” Xu Lu popped up from the side.

"Xu Chengjun? He passed the exam?"

Chen Yang: Why are there people like this everywhere!

"Of course! He'll definitely pass the exam!" Lin Wei proudly lifted her ponytail.

No, what's your relationship with him? Why are you so proud of him?

Chen Yang was a little depressed.

"But this description of the fitting room mirror is really well done! Chunlan's thoughts are just like... just like..."

“Just like our thoughts.” Xu Lu said with a determined look in her eyes.

"Anyway, it's brought to life!"

"Yes, we are also spring orchids."

Chen Yang ignored the two "perverts" and, disregarding Lin Wei's murderous glare, picked up a copy of "Harvest" magazine and started reading.

"Our junior is really amazing!"

"Yeah yeah!"

As their discussion unfolded, news spread throughout the campus that Xu Chengjun, a new batch of "junior students" from the Chinese Department of Fudan University, had published a short story in Harvest magazine.

Beijing, People's Literature Editorial Office.

As soon as Liu Xinwu arrived at work, a colleague handed him a copy of "Harvest" magazine: "Brother Liu, you're amazing! This is another masterpiece!"

Liu Xinwu waved his hand with a smile: "It's just colleagues showing their support, it's nothing!"

His colleague pursed his lips behind his back!
He opened the magazine, and the first article was his novella. Without reading it, he flipped through the pages. Guo Xiaochuan, Ye Xin, and Chen Baichen were all familiar names in the literary world. He could easily tell what they wrote by flipping through the pages. You should know that he was not only a writer but also a professional editor, and his sensitivity to words and the market was far stronger than that of the average person.

His fingers paused when he turned to Xu Chengjun's short story "The Fitting Mirror".

Xu Chengjun?

New author?
I had heard about this person from a colleague a long time ago. His poem "Walking Towards the Light" was very popular, but he has never been a fan of modern poetry, feeling that such works cannot reflect a person's true level.

Yesterday, while browsing through the "Liberation Daily" that my workplace subscribes to, I came across Xu Chengjun's article, "Wild Roses Bloom in My Hometown," which is quite well-written, from an essay perspective.

A good essay, like a cup of refreshing tea with a lingering sweetness or a blank ink painting, can always touch people's hearts unexpectedly.

The excellence of an essay does not depend on the accumulation of fancy techniques, but is hidden in the warmth of emotions, the texture of language, the blank space of imagery, and the lingering charm of thought.

Xu Chengjun's article was successful, but he's a newcomer! He needs some guidance!

So he wrote a commentary, which I guess has been published by now?

He shook his head; he needed to take a look at the newcomer's latest work.

In the literary world, new talents replace the old, but new talents need guidance and care from veterans to ensure the continuation of their lineage!

After staring for a while, his eyes widened!

What the hell is this!
In the faculty dormitory of Fudan University, at Su Liancheng's home, Su Manshu had just bought a copy of "Harvest" magazine and returned to her study to read it.

We absolutely have to support Master Xu's first short story!
Su Manshu is extremely serious about reading. Her father taught her from a young age that reading should be deep, engaging with the reader's eyes, mind, and heart.

Moreover, this is backed by a masterpiece from the magazine "Harvest".
She had only watched half of it when her heart felt heavy and painful.

Spring orchids and a dressing mirror.

What girl these days doesn't have a full-length mirror like this?
Which girl doesn't love to look beautiful?

Who doesn't want to live freely?

When her mother taught her "The Scenery of Wuxi", her father always shook his head.

Mother said: "Can't you just sing at home?"
The father said: You can only sing at home.

But "Wuxi Scenery" is clearly a folk song passed down from our ancestors.

How did it become decadent music?
She didn't want to understand.

Fortunately, Master Xu doesn't seem to think so?

Do I like him? I think so. It's not just about how I feel when I'm with him and his talent.

Instead, after listening to "Wuxi Scenery," his eyes were filled with admiration and praise; he understood her.

When she saw the person in the mirror smile, the curve of their lips exactly the same as hers: "It's the cloth you hid under the bed, the red ribbon you couldn't burn, and the words you dared not utter—'I want to dress like a flower.'"

She felt a little horrified; how could he see what she was thinking?
Su Manshu wasn't the only woman who shared this feeling. Across the country, young women who read "The Fitting Mirror" in one go felt a warm, slightly bittersweet feeling in their hearts, as if something had gently bumped into them.

This isn't a novel! It's clearly the thoughts of us girls working behind the counter, following the rules, hidden beneath our work jackets!

A girl from a Shanghai department store wrote to Xu Chengjun: "What brought tears to my eyes the most was what the person in the mirror said—the words you dared not utter aloud: 'I want to dress like a flower.'" The autumn winds of 1979 were blowing; cloth ration coupons were still tucked in our pockets, but outside, there were already printed fabrics that didn't require coupons, and hawkers with daring voices. We called it "speculation and profiteering," but in our hearts, we longed for that touch of red to drift closer.

When Chunlan smashed the mirror, countless versions of herself shimmered within the shards. Those in work clothes, those in floral dresses, those with red hair ties—these weren't just shards; they were the selves we'd been disciplined for so long, finally daring to piece together. Finally, she walked out of the mall stepping on the broken glass, the moonlight making the flowers on her dress bloom—this wasn't just flowers blooming; it was the little hope we dared not show, finally daring to stand tall against the wind.

This novel isn't just about Chunlan; it's about us girls who hid red ribbons under our gray-blue cotton jackets, about the rules printed on cloth ration coupons, and the thoughts that quietly peeked out from beneath those rules. Reading it is like standing in front of that old dressing mirror, seeing your own reflection slowly straighten, your braids loosen, and a light appear in your eyes. We're all the same, hoping our lives can be as vibrant and bright as that floral cloth.

I'm angry!

This issue of Harvest magazine is spreading across the country with an unbridled trend!
Xinhua bookstores and newsstands across the country are calling Harvest Magazine to urge them to reprint the magazine.

The editors-in-chief, editorial board members, and editors of "Contemporary Literature," "October Literature," "People's Literature," and "Shanghai Literature" all got to know a newcomer's name in one day—Xu Chengjun!

A rookie who's like a monster!

Using Kafkaesque stories, it pierced the hearts of the entire nation like a knife! It dissected the difficulties and unspoken words in everyone's hearts, bit by bit!
You dare not say it's okay!
I'll speak for you!
I, Xu Chengjun, was the first mouth double in 1979!

The fire started rather inexplicably.

But it became a hit.

As a result, literary critics and writers began to get involved.

They knew all too well that a knife might not kill, but a pen could.

After taking a nap, Xu Chengjun went to Zhu Lao's house to "mooch a meal"!
No, that's called visiting and comforting elderly people living alone!

"General!"

"No, no, I made a mistake on this move!"

"That won't do, teacher! Even if you're my teacher, it won't work!"

(End of this chapter)