1980 My Literary Era.

Chapter 207 That Headrest
Cheng Zhongshi smoked a cigarette, exhaled a puff of second-hand smoke, pondered for a while, and then said: "Think about it! Why haven't I thought about it. But the road needs to be taken step by step, and the meal needs to be eaten bite by bite. I know my current level. It’s still not enough to rely on a long story.”

Lin Weimin said: "Writing a novella is actually an exercise for you. I think it will be more or less done after two more articles."

Cheng Zhongshi smiled expectantly.

Lin Weimin stood up, looked outside the house, and sighed: "The land in Guanzhong has been exposed to wind and rain for thousands of years, so there are too many things to write. If you write a long novel in the future, there will be the best material here."

Cheng Zhongshi's eyes lit up, and he also stood up, "That's right, you really wanted to be with me."

He walked to the door of the ancestral house, and outside the door was the vast and vast land of Guanzhong. Cheng Zhongshi stared at it for a long time, then turned to look at Lin Weimin, his eyes became somewhat wild.

"Weimin, when you say that, the more I think about it, the more itchy I feel! A thought suddenly popped up in my mind just now.

By the day I die, I'll have to have that headrest! "

The more Cheng Zhong said, the brighter his eyes became, and in the end, his tone sank.

"Wish, wish wow, wish, wish I could make myself a brick to hold my head!"

"A brick that can support the head" naturally does not refer to a pillow, but a work that can make Cheng Zhongshi close his eyes. It must be a novel that can stand.

Lin Weimin laughed, thinking that this is the right thing to write, what kind of short stories are you writing, your culture is inferior to writing short stories.

"Brother is in the prime of life, decades of effort is enough for you to write a masterpiece handed down from generation to generation." Lin Weimin complimented.

Only now did Cheng Zhongshi recover from Zhuang Huai's intense imagination, with a bit of embarrassment on his face.

"I believe everything I say."

Lin Weimin shook his head and said: "This is not a big talk, it should be called ambition. I think this ambition is very good. I really look forward to the time when you write this work that can 'hold your head'!"

As he spoke, he smiled at Cheng Zhongshi again, "It must be published in our "Contemporary" at that time!"

Encouraged by him, Cheng Zhongshi finally faced up to his own heart, "Okay, if it is really written, it must be published in "Contemporary"."

After speaking, the two looked at each other and smiled.

Chatting and chatting, it was noon, and Cheng Zhongshi insisted on making a bowl of noodles for Lin Weimin.

"The conditions at home are poor, so don't be disgusted."

After a simple lunch, we talked about the manuscript again.

Cheng Zhongshi took out two novels "Kang's Small Courtyard" and "Early Summer", one needs to be revised, and the other is still a third of the progress. Cheng Zhongshi is not a fast man like Mo Yan. The inside is definitely endless.

"Then wait until you finish writing it before mailing it to me. Don't be too late. It's okay in late December, right?"

Cheng Zhongshi agreed to Lin Weimin after careful consideration, "No problem."

"Then it's settled."

After talking about the business, Lin Weimin got up to leave, Cheng Zhongshi got up to see him off, and insisted on sending him to the stop where he could take a bus into the city.

As the two walked in the village, they would always feel some attention from time to time.

Cheng Zhongshi is a celebrity in the village, a great writer, and occasionally has guests at home. In the eyes of the villagers in Xijiang Village, these are all great cultural people.

Lin Weimin has a handsome appearance and a gentle manner, and he looks like a person who drinks ink.

A child followed behind the two of them, looking at them curiously, and laughing and playing around from time to time.

Lin Weimin and Cheng Zhongshi chatted all the way, but didn't take it seriously.

When he was about to leave the village, he met an old man who was tall and looked a little different from the old people in the village. Lin Weimin observed for a few seconds and found that his waist was always straight. He walked through the village .

Seeing Lin Weimin's eyes turn on the old man who had already passed by, Cheng Zhongshi introduced: "He is the patriarch of our place."

Lin Weimin said softly: "I feel like a person with a story."

Cheng Zhongshi laughed, "Which person doesn't have a story?"

"Some people's stories are a scrap of paper, while others' stories are a thick epic."

After Lin Weimin said this meaningfully, he walked ahead, while Cheng Zhongshi lagged behind, chewing his words over and over again.

He couldn't help but look back at the back of the departing patriarch, and there seemed to be a flash of inspiration in his mind.

Lin Weimin got on the bus back to Xi'an and waved to Cheng Zhongshi who was still standing beside the bus.

Back in XA City, it was already evening.

Lin Weimin didn't rush to the train station, but first found a guest house to live in. Early the next morning, he called Lu Yao's current literary association and learned that Lu Yao had recently created the script of "Life". He went deep into the rural areas of northern Shaanxi to collect folk songs, and director Wu Tianming also went with him.

These days, neither communication nor transportation is developed. Once people go out, it is extremely difficult to find them.

It seems that Mr. Lin's draft work can only come to an end here.

Lu Yao, who was far away in northern Shaanxi, was squatting with Wu Tianming in a corner of a market to observe the living conditions of the farmers.

He shuddered inexplicably and shook his body.

Wu Tianming noticed his abnormality and asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's okay, maybe I'm hungry."

Wu Tianming said: "Who told you not to eat breakfast?"

Lu Yao didn't answer Wu Tianming's words, Lin Weimin's face suddenly appeared in his mind, and he felt grateful.

Thanks to accepting the job of adapting the script of "Life", otherwise, at this time, Weimin's reminder letter, or even a reminder phone call, would be inevitable.

After staying on the train for more than a day, Lin Weimin returned to Yanjing again.

I went out to collect manuscripts twice in a row, half a month before and after.

The contributions from Lin Weimin’s group alone include two novellas by Yu Hua, “Going on a Long Journey” and “Noon when the Northwest Wind Whistles,” a short story by Mo Yan, “Folk Music,” and a novella, “The Transparent Carrot.” ", plus Chen Zhongzhong's two novellas "Kang's Small Courtyard" and "Early Summer", plus He Yunlu's novel "New Star", this time the page of the January issue of "Contemporary" has exceeded, and The type distribution of manuscripts is also very uneven.

Qin Zhaoyang suddenly felt a headache when he saw the manuscript information in the January issue. He was very happy when compiling the manuscript, but it was painful when he typesetting it.

Lin Weimin's tone was relaxed, "Anyway, I'm writing the manuscript for you, so it's none of my business."

He clapped his hands and said to Tan Chaoyang, "Is the vacation you promised me counted?"

Tan Chaoyang glanced at him, but said nothing.

"Then I will have a rest this week, and I will ask for two more days of personal leave."

"What are you doing taking so many days off?"

"I have something to do."

Tan Chaoyang was suspicious, "What can you do?"

Lin Weimin dissatisfied: "What do you call that? I can't be busy? I go to work every day and work diligently. Isn't it worth taking a few days off?"

"Okay, don't say weird things."

Tan Chaoyang was so annoyed by his broken mouth that he kicked him out of the office.

Lin Weimin whistled and walked briskly back to the office.

"Hey, what good is this for the people?" Liu Yin joked.

Lin Weimin couldn't help laughing, "It's nothing, just take a few days off."

Zhu Changsheng said: "It's time to rest for two days. You have been running back and forth for half a month for the people, right?"

"Isn't it?" Lin Weimin packed his bags and waved to everyone, "I won't be working with you these few days. I wish you good morning, good afternoon, and good night!"

Everyone was amused by his strange appearance and strange words, but what Lin Weimin said was a classic line.

Unfortunately, no one understands, lonely as snow.

Lin Weimin was in a good mood and his back was unrestrained.

Stepped on the motorcycle, just at the moment when his foot was about to kick off the accelerator.

"For the people! Wait a minute!"

Lin Weimin followed his reputation and saw that a window on the second floor of the back building was open, and Tan Chaoyang was calling out to him with his head stretched out.

Old comrades, you are not afraid of catching a cold in this cold weather.

"What's the matter, leader?" Lin Weimin replied.

"There's your phone."

The urgency of things these days can be roughly divided by the means of communication, followed by letters, telegrams, and telephones.

Calls are generally relatively important matters.

Lin Weimin supported the frame of the motorcycle and went upstairs again, "Whose phone is it?"

"It's your classmate's family members, and you should be able to call again later."

After waiting for a few minutes, the phone rang again. Lin Weimin answered the phone, but his expression became serious after the person on the other side said a few words.

"When did this happen?"

"How long until Yanjing?"

"Okay, I'll pick you up then."

……

The call time is very short, less than 2 minutes.

Lin Weimin put down the phone, the relaxed smile when he came in had long since disappeared.

"What happened?" Tan Chaoyang asked with concern.

Lin Weimin sighed softly, "A classmate at the Institute of Literature and Literature may be terminally ill, and he wants to come to Yanjing for a checkup."

Qin Zhaoyang nodded clearly, "It's a matter of life and death, please help if you can."

Lin Weimin nodded, "Sure."

"I'll ask Lao Meng for you. I remember that Lao Meng's daughter-in-law is still a director at Union Hospital."

"I will go with you."

The two came to Meng Weizai's office. Meng Weizai heard about the situation and said, "I'll tell her when I get home tonight. When you arrive, you go directly to her. Weimin met her last time, do you know her?" "

Lin Weimin nodded, "Thank you, Director."

Meng Weizai said: "When encountering such a thing, who can not help?"

Coming out of the Guowen Society, Lin Weimin's heart was a little heavy. He originally planned to go to Zhijiang to meet his little girlfriend during these few days, but now it will not happen.

Lin Weimin found Qu Xiaowei's work unit, "Old Guo may have liver cancer."

Qu Xiaowei froze for a moment, then realized who Lin Weimin was talking about.

"Guo Yudao?"

"Ah."

Qu Xiaowei was stunned, "He's only in his forties, right?"

Lin Weimin smiled wryly, "Yes, who would have thought of that."

Qu Xiaowei recalled, "Don't say it, it seems that when he was studying in the institute, his complexion was always bad."

"I also persuaded him to go for a checkup."

When the two said this, they looked at each other speechlessly.

Knowing that Guo Yudao's family will bring him to Yanjing for inspection, Qu Xiaowei said, "I'll go pick him up with you."

"Don't worry, Lao Guo will take the train for two days tomorrow."

"Okay, I'll find you when the time comes. Is the hospital ready?"

"Our director's daughter-in-law works in Xiehe..."

Qu Xiaowei said lightly, "That's fine."

Whether it is in later generations or now, Xiehe is one of the best hospitals in the country.It was a great help for Lin Weimin to arrange for Guo Yudao to come here.

　No matter what the family is, if the computer breaks down, it will be replaced with a new one.My part is broken, and I have to wait a long time for a replacement.The same is true of the previous thin and light notebooks. It broke with a light touch. It needs more than 1000 repairs. That one has been used for three years. Think about replacing it.As a result, it has only been used for a year, and I am reluctant to change it, so I will fix it if I can.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)