Chapter 534 I'll Give You My Life
November in the north is the beginning of winter. If it is a sunny day with no wind, it will be very warm.
Unfortunately, it is a cloudy day today, and the north wind is blowing hard into people's collars and cuffs. The cotton coat on your body is no longer effective if you stand outdoors for a short while.
In Xijiang Village, Baqiao District, Xi'an, an old man was standing on the beach of the Ba River with a cigarette in his mouth, watching the dry grass on the river bank being blown from west to east by the wind.
He looked up at the sky again. The radio said earlier that it would snow today, but after holding it in for half the afternoon, it still didn't snow.
It's never accurate!
"Old Cheng!"
Hearing a voice in the distance, Cheng Zhongshi looked up and saw two figures waving at him not far away. Cheng Zhongshi trotted over excitedly.
Lin Weimin and He Qizhi came closer, and Cheng Zhongshi felt relieved when he saw them. "Here they are, come in! The wind is really strong today!"
A few people chatted and laughed as they entered Cheng Zhongshi's old house. It was no different from when they came here a few years ago. Cheng Zhongshi's wife poured them a bowl of tea.
He Qizhi joked: "Old Cheng, I see you are in good spirits!"
After many writers finish writing a book that has taken all their effort, it is like they have suffered a serious illness. Not only their spirit but also their body is drained.
Cheng Zhongshi spent a full six years writing this novel, and one can imagine the effort and energy he put into it.
Cheng Zhongshi waved his hand and said, "It took several days. When I just finished writing, I felt my eyes go dark and my brain went blank. I fell into a state of unconsciousness and was stunned for a long time."
At this time, several days had passed since the novel was completed, and Cheng Zhongshi had slowly withdrawn from the world of creation.
After chatting for a while, Cheng Zhongshi took out a novel manuscript.
Manuscript paper has a standard format. Cheng Zhongshi used the 500-grid manuscript paper most commonly used by the editorial department of Contemporary Magazine.
He Qizhi was surprised just by looking at the thickness of the manuscript.
"Old Cheng, you wrote a big book!"
Lin Weimin said with a smile: "It has taken six years to sharpen a sword. If I don't write a big book, it would be a shame to spend so much time like this!"
Cheng Zhongshi handed the manuscript to Lin Weimin. The thousands of pages of manuscript paper felt heavy in his hand, and the edges of the manuscript paper had been worn out due to years of practice.
This place is filled with Cheng Zhongshi's six years of sleepless nights and painstaking efforts.
Lin Weimin couldn't wait to see the manuscript, while Cheng Zhongshi and He Qizhi were talking on the side.
"Bai Jiaxuan later took pride in the fact that he had married seven women in his lifetime..."
After an unknown amount of time, Cheng Zhongshi's voice came to my ear.
Lin Weimin suddenly pulled himself out of the book and raised his head. "It's noon now. There's nothing to eat at home. I'll give you some noodles."
"good."
It is Cheng Zhongshi's habit to entertain guests with boiled noodles.
Cheng Zhongshi's wife was busy for a while and brought a few bowls of noodles, with two poached eggs and chopped green onions in each bowl.
While munching on noodles, He Qizhi asked Lin Weimin, "Weimin, what do you think of the novel?"
Upon hearing this, Cheng Zhongshi stopped what he was doing, chewed the noodles slowly, and stared at Lin Weimin.
"I just read the beginning." Lin Weimin threw a clove of garlic into his mouth, "But this beginning is extraordinary, it should be correct."
Lin Weimin's praise made Cheng Zhongshi's face smile. He didn't even bother to eat and talked to Lin Weimin about the difficulties in the writing process.
"White Deer Plain" is a profound epic, and the preparation work just for writing this novel took more than two years.
Since attending the Contemporary Writers' Conference in the summer of 1983, Cheng Zhongshi has been traveling around the suburban counties around Xi'an to conduct social surveys, consult county chronicles, party history, and literary and historical materials, and study various books on Guanzhong history.
This sounds simple, but only those who have experienced it know the hardships and difficulties involved.
Cheng Zhongshi knew that his novel could not be completed in a "short rush". He originally planned to spend three years on it, hoping that he could calmly complete this big task within three years.
Unfortunately, he still underestimated the difficulty of this matter.
As he consulted more and more information and thought more and more deeply, he found that time was simply not enough. The three years he left for himself to create was almost not enough to even consult the information.
“I really didn’t expect that the preparation time would be so long. I originally planned to finish it in three years, but now it’s almost three years and I haven’t even started.
I am a timid person, just like a peasant woman who steams steamed buns and never lifts the lid of the pot until they are fully cooked.
Seeing that time is running out, I can't help but feel anxious.
Later I could only tell myself, it doesn’t matter, it’s just a starting point, at most I’ll just write this one novel in my lifetime, I’ll fight him to the end.”
When Cheng Zhongshi said this, Lin Weimin and He Qizhi couldn't help laughing, "Old Cheng, you are really determined!"
"I've been pushed to that point, there's nothing I can do!" Cheng Zhongshi said, and then continued, "Fortunately, my draft went on more smoothly than I expected. I started writing in 1986, and by the end of last year, I had completed a draft of more than 400,000 words, much faster than I thought.
It has been nearly a year since I started to tinker with it. During these three years, I have written the most since I started to write professionally, and also the year with the highest daily activity.
I hope I can have a peaceful Spring Festival this year!"
After Cheng Zhongshi finished speaking, the wrinkles on his face seemed to relax, as if he had unloaded a huge burden from his heart. He added, "I've made up my mind. If this novel can't be published, I won't write books anymore. I've worked so hard to write something like this, but if it can't be published, it means I really have no talent for this and can't make a living from it! I'll go raise chickens in the future!"
Lin Weimin said: "I haven't finished reading the manuscript yet, so I can't tell you whether it can be published, but you have to believe in your hard work over the years."
Cheng Zhongshi explained: "That's not what I meant. Don't feel pressured when you read the manuscript. The truth is that my novel is a bit 'old'. Although I have high hopes for it, you are the ones who read the book..."
The Chinese people in the 1980s had been hungry for so many years that their eyes were green. They read novels eagerly, not only for emotions and resonance, but also for new ideas, new concepts, new forms and new techniques.
When Lu Yao's "Ordinary World" was sent to the editorial department, many colleagues' first impression after reading it was that it was "slow" and "wordy". Cheng Zhongshi and Lu Yao are both from Shaanxi, and both created a heavy work with their hometown as the background. Cheng Zhongshi was afraid that readers who saw this book would think it was outdated.
Lin Weimin smiled and said, "Don't think about these useless things. It's almost the 1990s. It will be an era of pragmatism. The most important thing is that the novel is interesting!"
His comfort made Cheng Zhongshi feel a little relieved.
After chatting for a few hours at Cheng Zhongshi's home, Lin Weimin and He Qizhi had to catch a train in the afternoon, so Cheng Zhongshi sent them out of the village.
On the beach of the Ba River, Lin Weimin said to Cheng Zhongshi, "Alright, Old Cheng, don't see me off. It's very cold. Let's go back!"
"It's okay. I didn't pick you up when I came, but I have to send you off at least once. I'll take you to the station, which is still far away!" Cheng Zhongshi said stubbornly.
Xijiang Village is located in the suburbs of Xi'an. There is only one bus from the city to the suburbs. The terminal is located in front of a military academy, which is nearly three or four kilometers away from Xijiang Village.
The few of them chatted along the way and it took them nearly an hour to reach the station, where the last bus of the day was about to depart.
Lin Weimin and He Qizhi were about to buy tickets and get on the bus when Cheng Zhongshi called Lin Weimin.
Lin Weimin turned his head to look at him. Cheng Zhongshi nodded and held Lin Weimin with his strong hands with bulging veins. His eyes flashed with a burning light and he said in a heavy tone: "Weimin, this novel... I hand it over to you along with my life!"
The simple language conveyed an exhortation as heavy as Mount Tai. Hearing this, Lin Weimin's eyes became sore and he felt that the manuscript in his bag weighed more than a thousand pounds.
"Don't worry!" Lin Weimin said solemnly.
The solemn atmosphere lasted for a moment, and Cheng Zhongshi let go of his hand and said, "Get in the car!"
Lin Weimin and the other man waved to him and got into the car.
After the car left, Cheng Zhongshi's figure was still standing in the wind. The sky was still gloomy and it looked like it was going to snow.
When we returned to XA City, it was already dark.
Lin Weimin and He Qizhi stayed in the guesthouse. After dinner, He Qizhi and Lin Weimin discussed the itinerary for the next few days.
"I'd better go back to Yanjing tomorrow. I'll leave the matter of visiting the author to you!"
He Qizhi looked at Lin Weimin with shock on his face.
You are such a coward!
Lin Weimin explained: "Well, it's too dangerous to wander around outside with the manuscript!"
The dry and pale explanation made He Qizhi look at Lin Weimin with a little more contempt, "You dragged me out here, and now you want to go back alone?"
"You heard what Lao Cheng said. This manuscript is more important than his life. I am just worried about what might happen."
When Cheng Zhongshi was involved, He Qizhi felt a little relieved, but he still couldn't help but complain about Lin Weimin's dishonesty.
"Alright, alright, I'll treat you to Dong Lai Shun when I get back!"
Lin Weimin's words made He Qizhi shut up.
The leader is very considerate!
"Please bring the manuscript to me first!" He Qizhi said again.
"You can't finish watching it all night, it's so frustrating, why bother?"
"I'd love to!"
Old comrade, you have such a stubborn temper!
Lin Weimin gave him the manuscript.
The next morning, He Qizhi's eyes were red and he was reluctant to return the manuscript.
"White Deer Plain" is a big book. Even if He Qizhi stayed up all night, he would not be able to finish reading it.
"How about you leave later?"
Lin Weimin ignored He Qizhi's advice and took back the manuscript without mercy.
After breakfast, the two went their separate ways. Lin Weimin boarded the train back to Yanjing, while He Qizhi started his SX free trip within the province.
After a lot of trouble, we returned to Yanjing. There had just been a light snowfall on the streets, and the roads were dirty from the traffic.
Lin Weimin first took a bus back to the Guowen Publishing House, entered the editorial office in the back building, took out the manuscript of "White Deer Plain", and solemnly handed it to his colleagues.
"This manuscript is so good, don't lose it, or else Old Cheng will come after me!"
Colleagues couldn't wait to take over the manuscript and didn't take Lin Weimin's instructions to heart at all.
Everyone is curious about Cheng Zhongshi's work, which took him six years to complete.
(End of this chapter)
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