Chapter 3 Yanjing! Yanjing!
The green train was gliding slowly on the rails, and Lin Weimin looked out through the window.
The Yanjing of the 1980s did not have as many skyscrapers as in later generations, and the sight of it made people feel breathless.
The train station is a relatively prosperous place with many multi-story buildings. It looks a bit rustic from the perspective of later generations, but it also has a sense of beauty that makes people feel down-to-earth.
"We've arrived at Yanjing Station! We've arrived at Yanjing Station! If you want to get off, hurry up!"
There was no need for the conductor to shout much, as there was already a long line at the door of the carriage waiting to get off the train.
Lin Weimin was carrying a military green bag on his back. It was the only bag in his family when he moved from the city to the countryside to work in the production team. It contained his spare clothes and nothing else.
But his hands were not empty. In one hand he held a bag, and in the other he held a basket with a flower rope. These were all the bottles and jars that Huang Zonghan brought with him when he boarded the train.
Lin Weimin complained in his heart that he had come to Beijing as quickly as he had moved his family here.
He also understood that the reason he did not bring many things with him was entirely because of his materially rich soul in his later life, and he could just buy whatever he needed with money.
For people like Huang Zonghan who have come through hard times, every penny they can save counts.
I was shoulder to shoulder with the people who had gotten on the bus for a while and finally squeezed off.
Huang Zonghan was walking in front, his hands clasped together holding the luggage roll, and he could hardly see the road ahead.
"Brother Huang, slow down and pay attention to the road." Lin Weimin reminded.
"It's okay. I can see."
Huang Zonghan said happily that they had finally arrived in Yanjing and he couldn't help but feel excited.
Lin Weimin shook his head.
Yanjing! Yanjing!
Whether now or in the future, you always have this magical power to make people happy and sad!
In early spring, the Sophora japonica trees on both sides of the street have already sprouted new buds, and the willow catkins that float in from somewhere are still as irritating as they were in later years.
"Comrade, could you please tell me how to get to Chaoyang District Committee D School?"
Huang Zonghan walked in front and asked this question specifically. He was a steady person, and even though the Literature Institute had already told them the address and how to take the bus when they notified them, he still couldn't help but ask.
When I asked the Chaoyang District Committee's D School, they didn't know. After asking for a long time, they suddenly realized in Beijing dialect: it turns out to be the area near Zuojiazhuang outside Dongzhimen.
"Yes, it's the terminus of bus No. 18." Huang Zonghan said to Lin Weimin after getting a positive answer.
The two of them wandered around on the bus for an hour carrying large and small bags, and the bus finally reached its destination.
The Institute of Literature was established in 1950 and was initially named the "National Institute of Literature". It was later approved by the Ministry of Culture and renamed the "Central Institute of Literature".
In 1957, due to force majeure, the Institute of Literature was closed.
In January 1980, the Literature Institute was restored.
According to the timeline, the Institute of Literature was officially renamed the National Academy of Letters in 1984, and the name has been used until later generations.
It is now March 29, 1980, and it is only more than two months since the Literature Institute was restored. The fifth term of the Literature Institute (Novel Writing Class) will start on April 1, with 34 students.
Lin Weimin is one of these 34 students. He doesn’t know how many of the other 33 students truly love literature. Anyway, he works hard to write novels and study purely to improve his living conditions.
So after getting off the car, his eyes immediately began to scan the surrounding environment.
There is a post office next to the terminus of bus No. 18, and a grocery store on the street opposite. There is a cotton curtain hanging at the door, which looks almost the same as the mattress that Lin Weimin threw away in the countryside and had not been washed for almost two years. It is unbearable to look at.
After walking for another two or three minutes, I finally saw the sign of Chaoyang District Committee D School.
At that time, the Institute of Literature was a run-down place, without even its own school building, and was temporarily borrowing a building from the D School of the Chaoyang District Committee.
There was a table at the entrance of D School, and behind the table was written in black letters on red paper: "Warmly welcome the fifth batch of students from the Institute of Literature."
Huang Zonghan poked half of his face out of the luggage roll and said to the old comrade sitting behind the table: "Hello, we are here to report to the Literature Institute."
The old comrade had a gaunt face and a kind smile. He asked, "What's your name?"
The old comrade's accent should be from Jiangsu and Zhejiang, but it doesn't sound difficult.
"My name is Huang Zonghan."
"Lin Weimin!"
The old comrade glanced at the roster and said, "Show me the proof."
The two men began to search the bag. Lin Weimin searched quickly, but Huang Zonghan searched over and over for a long time before he finally found it.
After checking the information, the old comrade asked the two to wait for a while.
A few minutes later, a young man came over from not far away and said, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Jin, for taking up your time."
The old comrade smiled and said, "It's okay. School hasn't started yet and I'm very free."
"By the way, Xiaojing..." He pointed at Lin Weimin and said, "These two students are here to register, and their information has been verified. You are the only one here, I will take them to arrange dormitories."
"Thank you very much."
"You're welcome."
The old comrade called Teacher Jin waved to Lin Weimin and Huang Zonghan and said, "Follow me."
Teacher Jin walked in front with his hands behind his back, and the two followed Teacher Jin's pace.
Lin Weimin just heard the young man call him Teacher Jin, and thought that this must be a teacher from the research institute, and there would be nothing wrong in building a good relationship with him.
He leaned forward and asked, "Teacher, what should I call you?"
"Didn't you hear me just now? Just call me Teacher Jin."
"Hello, Teacher Jin!" Lin Weimin climbed up the pole and called out crisply.
Teacher Jin turned his head and looked at him with a hint of amusement. He was keenly aware of the unstable factors in Lin Weimin's character.
"Teacher Jin, are there many of our students here?"
"Not bad. More than 20 people have come one after another. There are 34 people in this issue." He looked at Lin Weimin and asked, "Your name is Lin Weimin, right? Did you write "A Penny Matter"?"
"I wrote it. Teacher, do you know me?"
Teacher Jin smiled and nodded. "You students were recommended by major literary magazines and publications. We teachers have read your masterpieces. You are a good novel writer."
"Thank you for the compliment, teacher. You are too kind. I have to keep working hard."
Teacher Jin felt a little annoyed when listening to Lin Weimin's humble words. They were obviously nice words, but why did they sound more and more wrong when they came from this kid's mouth?
"Teacher, my name is Huang Zonghan." The silent man next to him suddenly spoke.
Teacher Jin immediately understood, "Oh, I've seen The Noble Green Pine. It's great!"
Lin Weimin curled his lips.
Eh~ Primary school students? They are all trying to compare.
"Here we are. This house is our territory."
Teacher Jin pointed to a row of bungalows in the yard. All the houses in the yard were connected in this way, separated by winding corridors and hanging flower gates in the middle.
(End of this chapter)
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