My era, 1979!

Chapter 92 Speak Up If You Like It (810 views, please subscribe for the first time)
In Shanghai Station, where everyone was dressed in blue work clothes, Su Manshu stood out strikingly.

Just like the shock that Pierre Cardin himself brought to all of China when he stood in the alley of Beijing wearing a stylish trench coat.

That year, Pierre Cardin's fashion show in Beijing, which was only open to "internal visitors," opened the aesthetic valve for countless Chinese people, and even the name Pierre Cardin became synonymous with luxury goods in that era.

So the seeds of individual liberation were sown long ago, but the drumbeat of the times always precedes us. "The Fitting Mirror" is the suona solo that follows that drumbeat.

This demonstrates Xu Chengjun's grasp and sensitivity to the times.

"Write a letter!" Su Manshu emphasized again, tiptoeing to stuff a small notebook into his bag. "Here, use this as writing paper and for writing in your diary."

No, what respectable person keeps a diary!

"Okay, Teacher Su." Xu Chengjun waved with a smile. "I'll bring you the Fengyang Flower Drum score when I get back. Senior Brother Zhang is urging me to get it."

“Who wants that thing!” Su Manshu blushed. “I want to hear your new story about the leaking barn and sprouting wheat!”

When Xu Chengjun turned around to enter the station, he saw Su Manshu still standing in the same spot.

As the train started moving, he opened the small notebook. On the title page, Su Manshu had drawn three orchids, and next to them was written: "Three letters. If you miss one, you'll be punished by having to bring ten pounds of dried sweet potatoes."

Xu Chengjun chuckled and waved to the figure outside the window.

She couldn't see.

She saw it.

Su Manshu stood on the platform.

I felt like something was missing, and I felt a little lost.

The wind swirled the scraps of paper on the platform.

She touched the red string on her wrist; her ears, which had been stunned by the sound of the whistle, now only echoed with emptiness.

She suddenly remembered the letter Xu Chengjun had left her before he left. She opened it and her face turned red.

"what the hell!"

"Who writes something like this!"

After saying that, he avoided the crowd and secretly read the letter by himself.

An alluring blush rose to her cheeks.

Which young man isn't sentimental, and which young woman doesn't yearn for love?

If you don't count that damned "author Xu Chengjun," the letter only has eight lines including the title:

"Starlight"

One day you will encounter a soul as radiant as the stars.
From then on

Everyone else becomes a dim firefly.

"Exclusive Universe"

To the universe you are a speck of dust.
Can be used by a certain person

You are the whole universe
Author: Xu Chengjun

Xu Chengjun has always understood one principle.

Every bowl of food we eat is one less we have, every meeting with someone is one less we can see, and every day we walk is one less day we can walk.

Life is essentially a subtraction process; the future is not guaranteed.

In his previous life, he was always waiting—waiting for the future, waiting to be less busy, waiting to have money, waiting to buy a house, waiting for a promotion, waiting for career success. But he waited until he had no choice left and only regrets remained. In this second life, he's too lazy to wait anymore.

If you meet someone you like, why not boldly tell them?
Moreover, this person is Su Manshu, who would be considered a top beauty in any era.

"Why is he like this?"

Su Manshu muttered to herself.
-
Following comments from professors and writers from Peking University, Nankai University, and other academic circles within Beijing University.

On the Fudan University campus, Xu Chengjun's senior classmates couldn't sit still.

"Senior Brother Huang, why haven't you written a comment yet! We have to support our junior brother!"

Zhu Bangwei rushed to Huang Lin's office early in the morning, constantly trying to sow discord among the newly promoted associate professors.

"Senior brother, you can't hold a grudge against Junior Brother Chen and Junior Brother Xu just because they didn't go to university!"

Huang Lin, exasperated by her persistence, said, "You care so much about your junior brother, why don't you write a comment!"

"I wrote it! I published it in the internal newsletter! But nobody reads it! It didn't make a ripple at all."

At this point, Zhu Bangwei looked aggrieved.

Zhu Bangwei had been a junior sister for several years, and now that two junior brothers had finally arrived, she was very concerned about their affairs.

As soon as the dinner was over, she rushed to Professor Zhu's study, scratching her head and writing furiously for two hours, finally managing to squeeze out 800 words. Don't blame her for her poor writing skills; although Zhu Bangwei was also a teaching assistant in the Chinese department, her research on contemporary literature was not in-depth. Her main research and learning areas were all concentrated on Ming and Qing poetry, so what she wrote was naturally not very good.

After going through all that trouble, and not wanting to involve his grandfather and senior classmates, the only solution was to publish it in Fudan University's internal publication. This did manage to quell the restlessness among some students criticizing "The Fitting Mirror," but it had absolutely no effect on the wider issue.

Huang Lin shook his head: "Senior Brother Zhang, did you look for him? What did he say?"

Zhu Bangwei quickly said, "Isn't it because I'm closest to you, Senior Brother? That's why I came to you first! I'll go find Senior Brother Zhang in a bit!"

"Hurry up and write, senior!"

Huang Lin laughed: "You really are the type to not act until you see the benefit!"

"I wrote it a long time ago!"

As he spoke, he rummaged through the drawer, took out an envelope, and handed it to Zhu Bangwei.

"I've already spoken to the editors at Wenhui Daily; surely they could run an errand for me?"

"No problem! I knew Senior Brother Huang was the best!"

Huang Lin shook his head: "You! You!"

As soon as Zhu Bangwei left, he shook his head. This junior brother Xu looked like someone who could cause trouble. He figured that he and his fellow disciples would probably be doing this kind of thing quite often in the future.

In early August, the Wenhui Daily's special issue "Literary Review" published reviews of "The Fitting Mirror" by Professors Huang Lin and Zhang Peiheng of Fudan University.

Huang Lin's commentary (in essence):

“Chinese classical literature has never excluded the writing of individual emotions and details of life. The Book of Songs, “The simple-minded man carries cloth to trade for silk” describes the comings and goings of ordinary people in the market. The Dream of the Red Chamber, “The sick man mends the peacock fur coat” records the trivial matters of women in the boudoir. It is these seemingly “trivial” textures of life that constitute the most vivid vitality of literature.

The ideological liberation of 1979 inherently included a reaffirmation of the rationality of individual emotions. The work focuses on the obsession with floral fabrics in department stores and the feelings reflected in the mirror, just like the classical poem's "one leaf falls and the world knows autumn has arrived." It uses micro-imagery to reflect the subtle changes in the spirit of the times, so how can there be any talk of "value deviation"? Classical literary theory emphasizes the dialectical unity of "literature as a vehicle for conveying the Way" and "expressing emotions and beauty".

It emphasizes both the responsibility of "clarifying the Way" and the merit of "expressing emotions and nature." The writing about individual desires in "The Dressing Mirror" does not negate collective values, but rather continues the narrative tradition of "seeing the big picture from the small" in classical literature.

The warmth of the floral fabric on Chunlan's fingertips, the fleeting moment of disorientation before the mirror—these are precisely the natural expressions of humanity's true nature under collective discipline, echoing the folk sentiment of "picking mulberry leaves in the southern corner of the city" in Yuefu poetry. To dismiss such writing as "imitating Western modernism" ignores the profound tradition of Chinese literature itself: "observing humanity to transform the world." Literature's recording of history requires both the framework of a grand narrative and the flesh and blood of individual emotions; the two can complement each other.

In comparison, Zhang Peiheng's comments were much sharper and bolder.

Their status speaks for itself!
Xu Chengjun: After all, this is a "real mentor"! That makes sense!

(End of this chapter)