Chapter 84 Sending a Letter
The early morning light filtered through the thin curtains and gently fell on the desk. Gu Qiuyue opened her eyes, and the first thing she did was to reach under the pillow. Her fingertips touched the square brown paper envelope that carried her body temperature, and her heart trembled slightly. The two words "Qingwu" appeared particularly clear in the morning light, like a new bud breaking through the ground, carrying her heavy hopes and a hint of nervousness like a newborn calf.
She took a deep breath, as if absorbing the tenacity of the parasol tree outside the window, and her eyes became calm and firm again.
When I arrived at the school, the breath of Yanyuan in autumn hit me in the face. The air was slightly cool, with the unique dry fragrance of fallen leaves and book pages. The tall sycamore trees stretched out their branches, and the edges of the leaves were quietly inlaid with a circle of light gold, shining in the morning light.
The campus radio started on time, reporting the morning news in a clear and melodious voice. The content mentioned the call to "march toward science" and the discussion of "practice is the only criterion for testing truth". Between the lines, there was a vigorous force ready to be unleashed.
The students holding books walked hurriedly, forming a moving landscape.
Blue cloth jackets and army green shoulder bags are still the mainstream, but occasionally you can catch a glimpse of bold plaid shirts and slightly exaggerated flared trouser edges, like pebbles thrown into a calm lake, silently telling of the quiet changes.
Gu Qiuyue held a book and walked briskly. When she passed by the iconic sycamore tree with golden leaves that had inspired her, she stopped for a moment and looked up, as if she had drawn more courage from its uprightness. Then, she walked towards the dark green mailbox with a clear goal and carefully put the letter carrying the first cry of the "Qingwu" into it.
Hearing the slight "click" sound of the letter hitting the bottom, the stone in her heart seemed to fall to the ground, and then it was replaced by a new, itchy feeling of waiting. She shook her head and joined the crowd running towards the teaching building.
The atmosphere in the Economics Department classroom was lively. An old professor with gray hair was standing in front of the podium. His eyes behind his glasses were sharp. He analyzed the preliminary concept of "planned economy as the main body and market regulation as the supplement" in a loud voice, and chalk was drawing powerful lines and formulas on the blackboard.
Gu Qiuyue sat in the front row, her pen moving rapidly, her beautiful handwriting covering the entire notebook. She was completely focused, afraid of missing a key point. During the break, the discussion immediately exploded.
"I think this idea is right!" Chen Tao, a glass-wearing, booming male student nearby, slammed his desk. He was a well-known "reform pioneer" in the department. "What if we distribute rural land to individuals? Farmers' enthusiasm will rise, and production will definitely increase."
Li Fang, a girl sitting opposite him with two pigtails and a steady expression, frowned slightly: "Chen Tao, you are moving too fast. Planning is the foundation, and market regulation can only be an auxiliary supplement. You have to take it slowly, otherwise who will be responsible if things get messed up? Stability overrides everything." Her tone was cautious as someone who has experienced it.
Gu Qiuyue did not join the debate, but just listened quietly, occasionally writing down a few key words in the blank space of her notebook. The collision of different viewpoints stirred in her mind, giving her a more three-dimensional understanding of an internal reference material on Eastern European economic reforms that she was translating.
There were no classes in the afternoon, so Gu Qiuyue slipped into the back row of the literature department's large lecture hall as if she knew the place well. On the podium, an elegant middle-aged professor was speaking at a moving point. He waved his arms, his voice rising and falling: "...The significance of scar literature is not just about exposing trauma; on a deeper level, it calls for the return of humanity..."
Gu Qiuyue's heart surged as she listened. The power of those words reached deep into the human heart, giving her a new perspective on the social responsibility of literature. She subconsciously touched the draft of her novel she had submitted to her schoolbag, pondering how to incorporate the vivid characters she had observed in Yanyuan and the pulse of the changing times into her own writing.
She noticed a calm, short-haired girl sitting by the window in the front row, her notebook open, writing with uncanny concentration and seriousness. Gu Qiuyue silently memorized her profile.
The library was another crucial base for Gu Qiuyue. She expertly searched through the economics books the professor had mentioned in class, a thin manuscript fee slip tucked between them as a bookmark. Then, with familiarity, she turned to the natural sciences section, scanning the shelves until her gaze settled on a few newly arrived issues of "Radio" and "Science Pictorial." Pulling one out, she found an article on the latest developments in "miniaturized integrated circuits" and "portable communication devices." Her brow furrowed slightly as she struggled to comprehend the seemingly incomprehensible terms: "transistor," "integrated circuit," "signal transmission"...
Despite the difficulty, she forced herself to persevere. Her mind flashed back to the drafts of military technology materials Xie Shiyu occasionally brought home, laden with technical jargon. She pulled out her small notebook and laboriously wrote down a few key concepts and product names. "The accuracy of translation lies in these details," she silently encouraged herself.
In the evening, Gu Qiuyue walked into the ward carrying a thermos bucket, and the golden light of the setting sun shone on the white sheets.
Xie Shiyu was leaning against the head of the bed. The heavy plaster on his leg was still noticeable, but his complexion was much rosier. He was reading an internal briefing from the military academy in his hand.
He looked up immediately when he heard footsteps. Seeing that it was her, his brows relaxed and he seemed to feel relieved. He immediately put down the newspaper, "Are you back? How was class today?" His voice was gentle and concerned.
"That's great. Everyone cherishes the opportunity to learn." Gu Qiuyue unscrewed the lid of the thermos bucket, and the rich aroma of chicken soup filled the air. She briefly described what she saw in class. She poured the soup and handed it to him, watching him drink it in small sips with his uninjured right hand, and she felt a lot more at ease.
"Has the letter been sent?" Xie Shiyu asked, looking up.
"Yeah." Gu Qiuyue nodded, her fingertips unconsciously twisting the corner of her clothes, revealing a hint of nervousness.
"Don't put too much pressure on yourself," Xie Shiyu put down the bowl and gently wiped off the ink stains on her cheek with his fingertips. "Just think of it as practice. The most important thing is that you are happy while writing." His comfort was simple but powerful.
Gu Qiuyue felt a warmth in her heart, and suddenly she took out another notebook from her schoolbag and turned to a page: "Last night... I had some new ideas. I want to write a short story about Grandpa Zhang who always likes to tell stories under the locust tree at the entrance of our alley, and his grandson who was admitted to university but wanted to give up his student status to go to the south to 'try his luck'..." She read out a piece of life fragments and dialogues she had captured in a soft voice.
Xie Shiyu listened quietly. He knew nothing about literary techniques, but Gu Qiuyue's meticulous observation of urban life, her understanding of the characters' inner thoughts, and her thoughts on the collision between "change" and "conservatism" between the lines made him feel a vigorous vitality and real warmth.
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