Chapter 88 Reply
The faint sound of the letter paper disappeared into the deep entrance of the mailbox, carrying two completely different and hot emotions, rushing towards the unknown distance.
The late autumn evening breeze blew across her cheeks, and Gu Qiuyue subconsciously wrapped her scarf tightly. Her fingertips seemed to still retain the touch of the thick cowhide envelope and the fragrance of ink on the brand new magazine cover.
She stood in front of the silent mailbox, looking at the passers-by around her who were hurrying by. The great joy in her chest was stirred by the wind, and she actually gave rise to an indescribable sense of security. Her words, the "Qingwu" she planted with her own hands, finally broke through the ground and faced the real world.
The warmth of the dormitory hit me, dispelling the autumn feeling outside. On the table, another brand new copy of "New Wind" lay quietly.
Gu Qiuyue walked over, her fingertips lightly brushing the cover, finally pausing on the clearly printed words "Qingwu" on the table of contents. The weight of the type felt through her fingertips, bringing with it a strange, reassuring sense of solidity. It was no longer a draft in a drawer, admiring itself for its own sake; it was real.
Waves of joy gently rippled through her heart, and she began to think about the upcoming royalties—saving some, buying some new stationery and autumn and winter clothes for Huahua and Shuangshuang, and perhaps... sending some nutritional supplements to Xie Shiyu back home in the military camp? The thought made her lips curl up unconsciously.
"Ouch!" An exaggerated cry exploded at the door. Roommate Zhou Li was holding an enamel basin, her wet hair wrapped in a towel. Her eyes were wide open, staring straight at the magazine in Gu Qiuyue's hand, and then at the silly smile on her face that had not yet faded. "Comrade Gu Qiuyue, you've been absent-minded, staring at this magazine foolishly all night. Tell the truth, did you find a gold ingot or... are you possessed?"
Gu Qiuyue was amused by her exaggerated tone. The joy that had been pent up for days finally found an outlet. She took a deep breath, pushed the "New Wind" in her hand towards Zhou Li, pointed her finger at the name on the table of contents, and said in a barely perceptible tremor: "Xiao Li, look here."
Lin Xiaomei leaned closer suspiciously, her eyes following her finger—"Qingwu"? Wutongyu? Her head shot up, her eyes widening instantly. She glanced back and forth between Gu Qiuyue and the magazine in disbelief, her voice rising sharply: "Qingwu?! This, this is you? Gu Qiuyue! You published a novel?! In Xinfeng?!"
She snatched up the magazine, and with quick movements, she flipped to the corresponding page, greedily glancing over the square lead-type title and the signature below, clicking her tongue, "Oh my God! It's really you! Qiuyue, you're amazing! You're such a hidden talent!"
After the excitement wore off, she immediately went into rapid-fire mode, her eyes blazing like searchlights. "Tell me! What's the story? Love? Struggle? Hey, what does your pen name 'Qingwu' mean? So profound! And, the royalties! Is it a lot? Is it enough for us to go to Donglaishun for a nice meal to celebrate?"
She bumped into Gu Qiuyue's shoulder with a mischievous yet sincere smile, "When you become a great writer in the future, don't forget to give me your copy when you sign your books!"
A few days later, a letter arrived in Gu Qiuyue's hands with the speed unique to the army. The familiar, strong and powerful handwriting on the envelope made her heart warm, and she almost held her breath as she opened it.
"Yue'er:"
The opening address carries a warmth that comes from thousands of miles away.
"Great! I knew you could do it." The handwriting was so powerful that it could be seen through the paper. Every stroke was jumping with excitement and pride. "The name Qingwu is well deserved!" Xie Shiyu affirmed her choice of pen name without hesitation. This made Gu Qiuyue's heart warmer than any praise.
"The letter arrived during a break in training. I hid behind the equipment shed and read it three times over. The cool autumn breeze was nothing to me; my heart felt warm as if I were carrying a stove!" He described that small, hidden moment of joy. "Then I couldn't hold it in any longer, so I showed off to Lao Zhao and the others, 'See? My wife! Her article is in a major magazine!' Tsk, didn't you see the light in those guys' eyes? They were so envious that they slapped their thighs! Lao Zhao insisted that I treat him to a meal, saying that with my sister-in-law's talent, she would definitely write a masterpiece in the future!"
Gu Qiuyue seemed to be able to see that scene: a group of strong men surrounded him and cheered him, and there must be undisguised pride between his brows. Her fingertips gently brushed across the letter paper, and her eyes felt slightly hot.
"Your battlefield is on the tip of your pen, which is no less than our hard work on the training ground. Yue'er, just keep writing. I will always be your first and most loyal reader." His support was as firm as a rock.
Then the subject naturally changed, "Is the royalties enough? Don't be stingy, spend it when necessary, I'm here for you." Finally, he mentioned Sun Juan, "Comrade Sun and Old Sun's career transitions, each has their own path, and I'm doing a favor by helping them. You did the right thing by sending her the magazine."
At the end of the letter, his pen tightened slightly, revealing a barely perceptible solemnity: "Recently, the troops are preparing for a large-scale closed-door training. Don't worry, everything is normal." Then, he turned into a gentle tone, "I miss you, Huahua, and Shuangshuang. I look forward to reuniting with you during the winter vacation."
In just a few words, he captured the harshness of his environment. Gu Qiuyue's heart felt as if it were gently grasped by an invisible hand, then slowly melted in his deep longing. She immediately wrote back, rambling on about Zhou Li's outburst and the approving look from the department teacher who had accidentally seen the magazine. Her words were soaked with longing, and she finally added solemnly: "Be careful during training. Return safely. We'll be waiting for you."
The initial ecstasy receded like the tide, leaving behind a broader shoal that required more courage. When Gu Qiuyue spread out new manuscript paper, picked up the pen, and prepared to conceive the next work to be submitted to "New Wind", an unprecedented weight weighed heavily on the tip of the pen.
No longer free to write freely on a blank page, bearing the burgeoning title of "Qingwu, author of 'New Wind,'" the typeface seemed like a pair of scrutinizing eyes, silently hovering above her head. She crafted a story outline about factory technological innovation, but it felt superficial. Her pen scratched meaningless lines across the manuscript, and anxiety crept into her mind like tiny ants. Was "Wutong Rain" just a flash in the pan? A surge of self-doubt, like an icy tide, instantly drowned her newly formed confidence.
Just when she was at a loss as to what to do with the manuscript, another letter was delivered from the mail room. The envelope was made of the most common yellowish-brown kraft paper, with the edges a little rough from being worn, and it was signed by the Heishui County Cultural Center of Liaoning Province.
Gu Qiuyue was cheered up. It was a reply from Sun Juan.
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