A Literary Life Starting from the First Year of High School

On Saturday morning, construction was still underway at the construction site outside the window.

He went to bed too late last night, and his head was still a little heavy. He lay there for a while, going over his plans for the day: go to the department store with his parents in the morning, come back in the afternoon to write "Lunch," and mail it out together at the post office tomorrow.

Wang Xiulan's voice came from the living room: "Shubai, are you up yet?"

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the curtains, casting a bright line on the floor.

Breakfast consisted of porridge, fried dough sticks, and salted duck eggs. Lin Jianguo had already finished eating and was sitting on the sofa flipping through the newspaper, waiting to leave. Wang Xiulan was clearing the dishes in the kitchen, muttering, "There will be a lot of people in the city today, so you two stay close and don't get separated. Shubai, keep an eye on your dad; he gets completely lost when he goes shopping."

Lin Jianguo put down the newspaper and hurriedly tried to defend himself: "When did I lose my bearings?"

"Last time we went to the department store, you circled the electronics section three times before you found the exit."

Lin Jianguo fell silent.

Lin Shubai peeled the salted duck egg, picked out the yolk with chopsticks, and ate it with porridge. The fried dough sticks were a little cold, but still crispy.

"Dad," he looked up and asked, "which department store?"

"The No. 1 Department Store on Nanjing Road," Lin Jianguo said. "Your mom said they have a lot of autumn clothes there, so she wants you to pick out a couple of good ones. You've grown taller now, and last year's clothes are too short."

Lin Shubai looked down at his T-shirt, which was indeed a bit too short. Sixteen is a time when one should be growing taller, and the original owner of this body had grown almost ten centimeters in the past six months.

After finishing their meal, the father and son went out. Wang Xiulan saw them to the door and instructed them, "Come back early, don't stay out too late."

Downstairs, there was no sound from Su Wan's family; they were probably still sleeping in.

The bus wasn't crowded; it was a weekend morning, and there weren't many people heading into the city yet. Lin Shubai sat by the window, and Lin Jianguo sat next to him, clutching his wallet.

"Dad, why isn't Mom going?" Lin Shubai asked.

The street scene outside the car window changed little by little, and the scene of the urban-rural fringe was gradually replaced by increasingly dense buildings and shops.

Nanjing Road Pedestrian Street was packed with people.

The No. 1 Department Store stands at the street corner, its glass windows displaying a variety of new autumn clothing, with stylish mannequins posing for photos. A constant flow of people comes and goes, some with families, others carrying large bags and small packages.

"How about this one?" Lin Jianguo picked up a navy blue jacket and held it up against him.

"good."

"Give it a try."

Lin Shubai put on his jacket and stood in front of the mirror. The boy in the mirror was thin, and the clothes were a bit big, but the style was okay.

"It's too big," Lin Jianguo frowned. "Try a size smaller."

The sales clerk looked through the items for a while and then said, "This style, one size smaller, is sold out. Would you like to look at something else?"

After trying on a few more items, he finally chose a light gray hooded sweatshirt, a navy blue casual jacket, and a pair of jeans. Lin Jianguo paid the bill, which came to 320 yuan, not particularly expensive for his salary.

"Enough to wear for a season." Lin Jianguo nodded with satisfaction, carrying the bag. "Your mom will definitely say it looks good."

After buying the clothes, it was almost eleven o'clock. Lin Jianguo glanced at his watch: "Are you hungry? Let's find a place to eat."

"OK."

The two emerged from the department store and strolled along Nanjing Road. The pedestrian street was packed with tourists carrying shopping bags, the weekend crowds filling the air. The aromas of various snacks wafted from the roadside stalls: pan-fried buns, steamed dumplings, fried skewers…

"What do you want to eat?" Lin Jianguo asked.

Lin Shubai was about to speak when his gaze swept over a noodle shop on the street corner. The shop wasn't big, and the signboard was a bit old, with four characters written on it: Chunhua Noodle Shop. Through the glass window, he could see that the shop was full of people, and the air was steaming.

"Let's eat noodles," Lin Shubai said.

"OK."

The two crossed the street and pushed open the glass door of the noodle shop. A wave of steam and the aroma of noodles wafted out, mixed with the scents of lard and scallions. Inside, the shop was noisy, with the sounds of clinking bowls and chopsticks, slurping noodles, and the shouts of the waiters all blending together.

"Two people? Please come in!" A middle-aged woman wearing an apron came forward, holding a menu in her hand. "Can we share a table? It's crowded right now."

"Okay." Lin Jianguo nodded.

The woman led them to a table against the wall, where an old man was already sitting, engrossed in eating noodles. The father and son sat down opposite him.

Lin Shubai took the menu and glanced at it. The cheapest plain noodles were four yuan a bowl, and the most expensive braised beef noodles were twelve yuan.

"Dad, what do you want to eat?"

Lin Jianguo leaned over to take a look: "How about a braised beef noodle soup? What about you?"

"I'll have beef noodles too," he said to the waiter.

"Okay, two bowls of braised beef noodles—just a moment!" The waiter noted down the order and turned to leave.

While waiting for his noodles, Lin Shubai looked around the shop. The walls were a little yellowed, with several handwritten menus and faded New Year pictures pasted on them. At the next table sat a family of three; the child was picking at noodles with chopsticks, and his mother was wiping his mouth beside him.

I glanced at the counter again; she was settling a bill for a table of customers, smiling and talking to them. When she smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes gathered together, making her look like a kind person.

"This shop has been around for a while," Lin Jianguo said, pointing to the counter.

Lin Shubai looked in the direction Lin Jianguo pointed and saw a red paper notice posted next to the counter: "This store is open for fifteen years." Fifteen years. This store has been open on this street for fifteen years.

Lin Jianguo continued, "When I was young, when I first started working, I often ate noodles at these kinds of small shops." Lin Jianguo leaned back in his chair, his gaze somewhat distant, "A bowl of plain noodles cost two cents, and with a poached egg, that was a treat."

Lin Shubai remained silent, listening to his father's rambling.

"Later, when I started dating your mom, the first time I took her out to eat was at a noodle shop on Nanjing Road." Lin Jianguo smiled. "She ordered a bowl of noodles, and I ordered a bowl of noodles. We ate together, not daring to say much. After we finished eating, I took her home. We only said three things on the way—'Are you full?' 'Yes.' 'Then I'll go home.' 'Okay.'"

Lin Shubai couldn't help but laugh: "That's it?"

"That's it." Lin Jianguo laughed too. "Later, your mom told me that when she got home that day, her mother asked her what she ate, and she said she ate noodles. Her mother asked who she ate with, and she said she wouldn't tell you. Her mother asked if it was with that Xiao Lin, and her face immediately turned red."

Lin Shubai imagined the scene and found it both funny and heartwarming.

The noodles have been served.

Two bowls of braised beef noodles, the soup a deep reddish-brown, topped with pieces of beef and cilantro.

【Trigger Keywords】

[Father and Son + Noodles]

【A Bowl of Clear Broth Soba Noodles (by Ryohei Kuri)】

It triggered again, and this time it was another work I'd never even heard of. After the previous few triggers, this one didn't cause a ripple at all.

After dinner, Lin Jianguo said he wanted to go look at some appliances. The old TV at home had been flickering static lately, and he wanted to replace it. So the two of them, one big and one small, went into the mall and wandered around the electronics section.

The electronics section is on the fourth floor of the mall, an entire floor filled with all kinds of home appliances. Color TVs, refrigerators, washing machines, air conditioners... a dazzling array. Several sales clerks in uniforms stand behind the counters, some introducing products to customers, others chatting idly.

Lin Jianguo went straight to the color TV section.

"Sir, would you like to watch TV?" A young sales clerk approached with a professional smile. "What size are you looking for? These are domestically made, and those are imported."

Lin Jianguo nodded and began to wander around the domestic products section. Changhong, Konka, TCL, Hisense... rows of TVs were arranged, each displaying the same demo image—a landscape video, vibrant in color and with a clear picture.

"This one's nice." Lin Jianguo stopped in front of a 29-inch Konka laptop. "How much?"

"This one," the salesperson said as they approached, "is 1899. It's a flat screen with super bass, and the effect is exceptionally good."

Lin Jianguo leaned closer to take a look, then walked around to the side to examine the interface: "Are there any discounts?"

"Buy now and get a free HD cable, plus a one-year extended warranty," the salesperson said. "If you order today, I can apply for another small gift."

Lin Jianguo didn't say anything, and went to look at the other machines next to him. Lin Shubai followed behind him, watching him squat down to check the models, stand up to measure the sizes, and ask the salesperson questions.

"How much does this Hisense phone cost?"

"1699, which is 200 cheaper than the Konka model, and the functions are about the same."

Lin Jianguo looked around for a while longer, then finally straightened up, rubbed his back, and said to the sales clerk, "Let me take another look, thank you."

The sales clerk's smile faded slightly, but she still nodded politely: "Okay, take your time looking around. Call me if you need anything."

Lin Jianguo wandered around again, also looking at the imported goods section. Sony, Panasonic, Toshiba... those TVs did look beautiful, but the prices were also beautiful, the cheapest being over three thousand.

He stood in front of a Sony TV for a while, watching a scene of an underwater world on the screen, with schools of fish swimming around, the colors so realistic it looked like looking through a glass tank.

"How much is this?" he asked.

"3499," the salesperson said. "It's a pure import, and you've seen the results. Domestic products can't compare."

Lin Jianguo didn't reply, looked at it for a while longer, and then turned and left.

"Dad, aren't we going to watch anymore?" Lin Shubai followed him.

"I'm not looking anymore, it's too expensive." Lin Jianguo shook his head. "Let's wait until the New Year, maybe we can get a discount then."

Perhaps because Wang Xiulan had scolded him that morning, or perhaps because he didn't want to lose face in front of his son, Lin Jianguo kept glancing around as he walked out. So this time, he didn't circle the electronics section three times.

When they got home, Wang Xiulan was hanging clothes to dry on the balcony. Seeing them return, she wiped her hands and came over: "You bought something? Let me see."

Lin Shubai handed her the bag. Wang Xiulan took out each item and examined it, feeling the fabric. She then had Lin Shubai try them on, and finally nodded, "Not bad. Your dad's taste has improved."

Lin Jianguo stood to the side, smiling smugly.

"Where's the TV?" Wang Xiulan asked. "Didn't we say we were going to watch TV?"

"I didn't buy it," Lin Jianguo said, sitting down on the sofa. "The ones I liked were too expensive, and I didn't want the cheaper ones. I'll think about it later."

Wang Xiulan didn't say much, just said "Oh," and went back to the balcony to hang the clothes to dry.

Lin Shubai returned to his room, closed the door, and sat down at his desk.

He took out graph paper from the drawer and then read through the essay he had written the night before, titled "The Most Precious Gift." It was 3,500 words long, the handwriting was fairly neat, there were a few corrections, but it was legible overall.

Next up is "Lunch".

Somerset Maugham's *Lunch* tells the story of a young writer who gets a free meal from a woman. The woman says, "I'll only have one dish," but ends up ordering one dish after another, from salmon to caviar to champagne to asparagus to ice cream to coffee, eventually bankrupting the young writer. Finally, she stops, satisfied, and says, "See, I told you I'd only have one dish."

Ironically, this woman, who was very thin and repeatedly emphasized that she "never eats lunch," was quite generous when ordering food.

It follows the same approach as revising "The Gift of the Magi," changing character names and backgrounds.

The lady—named Ms. Zhang, in her forties, described herself as an "art enthusiast." The young writer—named Xiao Mao, in his early twenties, had just published a few short articles in a magazine. The restaurant—changed to a small Western restaurant in the former French Concession of Shanghai. Salmon replaced with steamed sea bass, caviar with crab roe, asparagus with winter bamboo shoots…

The conversation had to be preserved. Every time Ms. Zhang ordered, she would say, "I'll only eat one dish," "I'm not having lunch," or "I'll just have a little bit," and then eat the most expensive dish with a clear conscience. Xiao Mao looked at the prices on the menu, his heart bleeding, but he still had to keep smiling.

The last paragraph should also be kept. When Ms. Zhang left, she said, "You treated me to a very nice lunch, and I had a very pleasant time." Years later, Xiao Mao received a letter saying that she "died of heart failure"—he thought of that lunch and couldn't help but wonder, how much did she eat to burst her heart?

I finally finished writing around 7 p.m. It's 2,800 words, a few hundred more than the original, but the length is just right.

Lin Shubai placed the two manuscripts side by side on the table: "The Most Precious Gift" cost 3,500 words, and "Lunch" cost 2,800 words, totaling 6,300 words. At 400 yuan per thousand words, that's a little over 2,500 yuan.

He put down his pen and stretched his wrists. It was already dark outside the window.

Wang Xiulan knocked on the door: "Shubai, dinner's ready."

"They're here."

Dinner was braised pork, stir-fried vegetables, and tomato and egg soup. Wang Xiulan sipped her soup and asked, "Why has the door been closed all day? Are you doing your homework?"

"Okay, I'm done writing."

After finishing his meal, Lin Shubai helped Wang Xiulan clear the table and then went back to his room.

He sat down at his desk and stared at the graph paper on it for a long time. Then he took out a new sheet of paper.

A bowl of clear broth buckwheat noodles

This was triggered today; Lin Shubai had already finished reading the article on his way back.

The original story takes place on New Year's Eve at the "Hokkai-tei" noodle shop in Sapporo, Japan. For three consecutive years, the mother, whose husband died in a car accident and left behind a huge debt, has come to the shop with her two sons before closing time and shyly orders a bowl of clear broth soba noodles.

The kind shop owners did not neglect them; instead, they quietly added extra portions and arranged for them to sit in a warm seat.

For many years afterward, the owners always reserved "Table Number Two" for them. Fourteen years later, the mother and her two children, now grown up and having paid off their debts, returned to the noodle shop, each ordering a bowl of noodles to thank the owners.

The story isn't complicated; the main thing is that the adaptation shouldn't destroy the warm feeling of the original.