Chapter 206: Herding sheep, getting married, and having children
Even though he always hated Lin Weimin's words, the accuracy of his predictions was so high that Wang Shuo even suspected that he might be good at talking.
"Is there any way to break it?" Wang Shuo asked for some unknown reason.
Lin Weimin shook his head and looked at Wang Shuo with disdain, "Do you think I'm a street fortune teller? Your head is full of weird stuff!"
Wang Shuo was so angry that he thought this thief Sun was really hateful.
Although he didn't know why Lin Weimin could always be so accurate in his words, Wang Shuo still believed in him very much.
But if he really had to give up the lucrative business of dealing in electronic watches, he would really be reluctant to do so.
Sometimes life is like this. You know that the road ahead is full of bumps, but because of greed, luck and other reasons, you still end up with blisters on the soles of your feet.
Lin Weimin didn't expect to be able to persuade Wang Shuo, he just wanted to remind him that if he couldn't make money, it would be fine, but he shouldn't lose it.
Next year's crackdown can be said to be all-round, and speculators like Wang Shuo and Xie Jing are also included in the list. Even if they are so-called children of big courtyards, they will not be spared.
Wang Shuo left with a worried look in his eyes. Lin Weimin looked at his back with some regret. Next year’s January issue would indeed be a good opportunity.
But for Wang Shuo, it doesn’t seem that important. Even if there is no chance of a January issue, as long as he gives up the idea of making a lot of money and focuses on developing his writing career, it will definitely be fine.
After resting for two or three days in Yanjing, Lin Weimin set off again under the urging of Qin Chaoyang.
It was before he left that he learned that the person he was going to collect manuscripts for this time also had a somewhat prominent background.
Cheng Zhongshi is different from the several young authors that Lin Weimin contacted for the January issue. He was born in 1942 and is already 40 years old this year. For a creator, this age should be a stage of gradually moving towards maturity, and he already has his own representative works.
But Cheng Zhongshi's maturity seems to have come a little late, although he has created many short stories about the lives of farmers in Guanzhong, Shaanxi, such as "After the Succession" and "The Gao Brothers", and has gained some fame in the local literary circles of Shaanxi.
But the spread of fame is always regional, and the influence of the work is not that great.
The ultimate reason is that he lacks a heavyweight novella or full-length work.
Qin Chaoyang came up with the idea of collecting manuscripts from him during a conversation with several colleagues and friends, which led to Lin Weimin's trip to Shaanxi.
This year, Cheng Zhongshi was transferred to the creative group of the SX Provincial Literary Association and became a professional writer.
However, after becoming a professional writer, he not only did not move his family to the city, but instead moved back to his hometown which was very remote.
Xijiang Village, where Cheng Zhongshi's ancestral home is located, is quite a distance away from Xi'an, about fifty miles away, although there is a bus from the city to the suburbs that can reach here.
But the terminal was located in front of a military academy, about seven or eight miles away from Cheng Zhongshi's home.
Lin Weimin walked on the dirt road in the countryside, one step deep and one step shallow. The cold wind in the Central Plains in winter was a bit biting.
Lin Weimin thought that this manuscript collection trip was the most tiring one in his career.
Fortunately, at this time an old man driving a cart passed by. He was dressed in a style that was almost unique to old farmers in Guanzhong, and Lin Weimin immediately felt close to him.
"Young man, where are you going?" the old man driving the ox cart asked Lin Weimin.
"Go to Xijiang Village and look for a writer named Cheng Zhongshi. Uncle, do you know him?"
The old man laughed, "Xijiang Village produced a great writer. Everyone knows him. He's very famous!"
The old man looked at Lin Weimin again, "Are you that...what's your name?"
Lin Weimin reminded: "Editor."
"Yes, the editor, let him write."
Lin Weimin laughed and said, "Yes, that's what I asked him to write."
"Which newspaper are you from?"
"Uncle, we are not a newspaper, we are a magazine called Contemporary."
"Contemporary? I've heard of it. Is it bigger than the Xi'an Daily?"
"There's no comparison. We are a literary magazine, which is different from a newspaper."
There was no barrier in the topic because of each other's views. After chatting with Lin Weimin for a while, the old man started to talk.
Perhaps only the vast and majestic land of Guanzhong can give birth to and carry the vast and heroic Xintianyou. As Lin Weimin listened to the rough singing voice, what emerged in his mind was Shi Tiesheng's "My Distant Qingping Bay".
The loess plateau with its numerous gullies and ravines may have given birth to numerous old men. They call their children "xin'er" and they accomplish everything with their bodies. They also value their promises.
They live on this land day after day, year after year, seemingly without any hope.
A joke suddenly popped up in Lin Weimin's mind.
The reporter interviewed a shepherd boy. Why did he herd sheep? He wanted to earn money, marry a wife and have children.
When asked again why he had children, he still answered: to herd sheep, get married, and have children.
The descendants will be endless.
But isn’t this also a kind of life?
Lin Weimin couldn't help but think of Lu Yao and Cheng Zhongshi again. Perhaps it was because of the nourishment of such a rich land that they were able to write those great works.
"Young man, we're here!"
The old man's shout interrupted Lin Weimin's fantasy. He jumped out of the car, thanked the old man, turned and walked towards Xijiang Village.
Cheng Zhongshi is very famous in Xijiang Village. Even a kid can tell his home address if you ask him.
The ancestral home of Cheng Zhongshi's family is located at the foot of the northern slope of Bailuyuan. Lin Weimin found his home under the guidance of two children.
When Lin Weimin came, Cheng Zhongshi was sitting in the room writing.
Hearing Lin Weimin's self-introduction, Cheng Zhongshi's face was a little surprised. His face was very much like the Loess Plateau, with criss-crossing gullies, reflecting the vicissitudes of time.
He spoke with a strong Shaanxi accent, and Lin Weimin had a hard time understanding him.
"Thank you for your hard work, Teacher Lin. You have to run so far." Cheng Zhongshi's expression was sincere and touching when he spoke.
The two of them sat on two small stools in the middle of the room, about thirty to forty centimeters above the ground. There was a table next to them. This was where Cheng Zhongshi ate and also where he wrote on weekdays.
Lin Weimin looked around and found it a bit too simple.
In his opinion, Cheng Zhongshi and Lu Yao, both from Shaanxi, went to two extremes.
Lu Yao is trying hard to stretch outwards, but he is also holding on to his roots tightly, whereas Cheng Zhongshi is introverted and down-to-earth.
After chatting about the journey and giving a detailed introduction to the profound meaning of the January issue, Lin Weimin looked at Cheng Zhongshi.
"Is Brother Cheng interested?"
Lin Weimin initially called Cheng Zhongshi "teacher", and Cheng Zhongshi felt a little embarrassed. Although Lin Weimin was young, his writing achievements were much better than his. Although the other person came to see him as an editor, Cheng Zhongshi still felt uncomfortable when he heard him call him that.
So Lin Weimin changed the name to "Brother Cheng", which was both friendly and catchy, and Cheng Zhongshi felt very comfortable.
Cheng Zhongshi hesitated and said, "At my age, I shouldn't join the fun with the young people, right?"
Lin Weimin had to continue explaining that, in fact, the January issue was not just aimed at young writers like Yu Hua, but had a deeper meaning of introducing a group of new faces to the readers. New faces did not only refer to age, but also to the readers' familiarity with the writers and their works.
Seeing that Cheng Zhongshi was still hesitant, Lin Weimin did not dwell on this topic and asked, "Brother Cheng, have you finished writing any works recently?"
Cheng Zhongshi said: "I have written one, but it just so happens that I haven't submitted it yet."
Lin Weimin said happily: "Why not let me take a look?"
Cheng Zhongshi honestly took out a stack of manuscripts and handed them to Lin Weimin, "There is also a part in here, which is the novel I am writing, all of which are novellas."
Lin Weimin sat on a low stool, looking down at the manuscript, while Cheng Zhongshi smoked a cigarette beside him with a calm expression.
Time passed slowly in the swirling smoke, and Lin Weimin raised his head and looked at Cheng Zhongshi.
"Brother, please give both manuscripts to Contemporary Magazine!"
Cheng Zhongshi's calm expression finally showed some signs of anxiety. "Can they all be sent?"
Lin Weimin thought for a moment and pointed to the completed work. "This Kang Family Courtyard needs to be revised. If this Early Summer can maintain this quality, there will be no problem in publishing it."
Cheng Zhongshi finally breathed a sigh of relief. His submission process over the years had never been smooth sailing. Lin Weimin asked for two novellas right away, which made him a little uncomfortable. This was the way it should be.
Moreover, he had been focusing on writing short stories in the past few years. It was not until he joined the Shaanxi Literary Association this year that he began to think about entering the field of novella writing.
Cheng Zhongshi honestly told Lin Weimin the reason why he wrote the novella.
He was just transferred to the Shaanxi Literary Association to engage in professional creation this year. The only feeling he has is that he has reached the best position in his life, but along with it comes fear and pressure.
“What if I become a professional writer but can’t produce any works? What if I can’t produce any decent works?”
Cheng Zhongshi shook his head faithfully, his face showing an expression of distress that he had no way to vent.
"That's why I moved my family back to my hometown from the city, just to make myself clear-headed. Not only do I want to create, but I also want a quiet place to study. My foundation is still too weak."
Listening to Cheng Zhongshi's final sigh, Lin Weimin could only say that everyone has his own way to success.
At least among the many authors Lin Weimin has come into contact with, his attitude is extremely rare and correct.
"Brother, your idea is right, and the direction of your efforts is also right." Lin Weimin shook the manuscript in his hand, "These works are the best proof."
When Cheng Zhongshi heard this, a smile on his face showed a hint of relief.
Lin Weimin put the manuscript on the table and asked casually, "Brother, you have been writing for so many years, don't you plan to write a long novel to prove yourself?"
(End of this chapter)
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