Writer 1978: I Need to Give the Literary World a Lesson

Chapter 33 Amazing, Yimin (Please continue reading)
It seems that everyone was motivated by Liu Yimin's manuscript fee standards. For several days in a row, the writers in the entire cultural center's creative team sat motionless on the office chairs, letting their clothes and bedding be soaked with sweat. Under such ruthless dedication, the average daily output of poems per person reached three.

Such speed left even Liu Yimin speechless.

Old Zhang sat to one side, watching these people recite his poems, feeling a bit overwhelmed, but the comrades' enthusiasm was commendable. Then he looked at Liu Yimin, who was holding their poetry manuscripts, looking utterly distressed.

After they finished writing, they would always read it aloud to themselves in their office first, and then send it to Liu Yimin for comments.

When other members of the cultural center passed by the creative group's office, they heard the arias and couldn't help but stop and eavesdrop for a while. After listening for a few lines, they shook their heads in disgust and left.

The creative team is truly insane.

The other members of the cultural center secretly joked that they should never pass by the creative group's door recently, or they might get force-fed shit.

"what!

山，
It's still that same mountain!
Ah!
people,
It's not that person anymore!

"Yimin, what do you think of this poem? I think it's the best I've written today!" Old Li asked excitedly. Old Li was in the best spirits these past two days. His gray hair was neatly combed back, and his white short-sleeved shirt was spotless. He looked more like the curator than Old Zhang.

Liu Yimin wanted to cover his ears, but then felt it would be impolite. He sighed and looked up, saying, "It's alright, quite similar to a poem by an old Zhang I used to know."

Old Li didn't ask who Old Zhang was, but just said to himself, "I think so too. Can you tell what this means? It means things have changed."

"The green hills will never grow old, but a person will only last a hundred years before turning into a handful of yellow earth," Liu Yimin sighed.

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean! Yimin understands me best. You guys are still a bit less capable than Yimin. Lao Zhang, I'm thinking of submitting my work to the Poetry Journal. What do you think?"

Old Zhang, the curator, was dozing off when he heard Old Li's words. He just groaned and fell silent. In the past, he would have definitely offered some words of encouragement. Lately, Old Zhang had been thinking that as the curator of the cultural center, perhaps he shouldn't focus all his energy on the literary creation group.

Sigh! If only Yimin could stay at the cultural center!

While everyone was discussing, Liu Yimin left the creative team's office and strolled around the small garden of the cultural center for a while. After his mindset had calmed down a bit, he turned around and went back to the office.

Suddenly, Liu Yimin realized that it was a skill in itself for experts and scholars to praise Miss Jia's poem about urinating in a pit as spirited, unconventional, and innovative without causing laughter. He felt he didn't have that skill.

As soon as Liu Yimin arrived at the studio entrance, he saw a girl standing next to Old Sun's table; it was his granddaughter, Sun Yihong. Seeing Liu Yimin enter, Old Sun smiled and said, "Yimin, this is reed root tea that Yihong brewed. I'll pour you some to drink."

Summer is tough. Reed root water quenches thirst, clears lung heat, and reduces internal heat. The best part is, reed roots aren't valuable; you can just dig them up anywhere.

Liu Yimin then noticed that Sun Yihong was holding a thermos, which looked like she had been carrying it for a long time, her fingers were red from the pressure. The cups on the other people's tables were filled with reed root tea.

Old Li kept praising how delicious it was. Sun Yihong glanced at Liu Yimin and said with a smile, "If Grandpa Li wants to drink it, I'll brew a pot every day and bring it over. Anyway, my workplace is in the guesthouse next door, and I've been working the day shift lately."

I dug these reed roots myself; brewing a pot and sending it over wasn't difficult at all.

"Have a few more drinks, you young people have too much energy," Old Li joked.

Before Liu Yimin could speak, another series of footsteps sounded outside, followed by the voice of an old gatekeeper: "Young comrade, Comrade Liu Yimin is inside. You can go over there yourself." "Thank you, sir!"

Liu Yimin was startled when he heard the voice. Wasn't that Li Lanyong's voice? He quickly turned around and saw Li Lanyong tiptoeing into the doorway. He didn't see Liu Yimin immediately, but instead peeked out and said to Old Zhang, "Hello, sir, is Liu Yimin here?"

"Lan Yong!"

Just as Old Zhang was about to speak, Liu Yimin's laughter interrupted him, so he simply watched with a smile and ignored him.

"Director, this is my friend. Let's go outside and talk."

Old Zhang said with a smile, "Go ahead, go ahead!"

Liu Yimin led Li Lanyong to his dormitory. Li Lanyong looked him over and said enviously, "Wow, Yimin, you've even made it into the dormitory." Then he curiously touched the wall, plopped down on the bed, and shook it vigorously; it was quite sturdy.

"I'm just staying here temporarily. Come and have some water. It's so hot today, what brings you here?" Liu Yimin poured Li Lanyong a glass of cool water from the kettle and asked curiously.

“It’s been hot lately, and there’s not much going on in the team, so I came to the county town for a stroll and also to inquire about the conscription information at the county revolutionary committee. The commune hasn’t received any notification yet, but according to my dad’s friend at the county revolutionary committee, there are more conscription slots this year than last year.”

"One person, this means I have a chance." Li Lanyong said, his face flushed with excitement as he held the dented enamel mug tightly in his hands.

It was only then that Liu Yimin noticed that Li Lanyong was not only wearing a sailor shirt and green military pants, but also a military cap that he usually couldn't bear to wear. The sailor shirt had a hole in it, which had been patched up with grayish-white cloth. The hole was right near the collar, so it was still quite noticeable.

"I told you you had a chance, believe me!" Liu Yimin patted him on the shoulder and said with a smile.

"My aunt asked me to bring this. Is this package for you? It was sent by People's Literature and Art magazine. When did you mail it again?"

"No, I haven't submitted anything to People's Literature and Art recently, so I don't know what it is." Liu Yimin opened the package with a puzzled look. Inside the package was another layer of oiled paper tightly wrapped around the package, and it was tied very tightly with thin hemp rope.

After several steps, a stack of letters lay quietly in the middle of the kraft paper. One of them was a letter from Cui Daoyi requesting manuscripts, informing Liu Yimin that he had heard about his poetry and hoped to receive more manuscripts, and also sending over a few selected letters from readers received by "Donkey Water".

The remaining letters were from readers; I counted eight in total. One of them had the words "Zhang Yu" written on it, and the delicate handwriting made it clear that it belonged to a girl.

"Wow, Yimin! Your readers are writing to you?" Li Lanyong exclaimed in astonishment.

Liu Yimin put the letter in the drawer, pulled him along and said with a smile, "Come on, Lan Yong, I'll treat you to dinner."

"We'll have to give you a good meal, Dongfanghong, let's go eat at Dongfanghong!" Li Lanyong said excitedly.

"no problem!"

Downstairs, Li Lanyong looked at the brand-new Phoenix 28-inch bicycle that Liu Yimin had pushed out and subconsciously said, "Impressive, Yimin!" Now, saying "Impressive, Yimin" is as natural as drinking water.

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(End of this chapter)