Chapter 43: The Literary Circle of Yanjing Awaits (Seeking Continued Reading)

At present, the college entrance examination is a hot topic across society, yet there are no literary works on the subject. Zhang Guangnian could already imagine the stir that "The College Entrance Exam, 1977"—a story intertwining the educated youth and the reinstatement of the exam—would cause upon publication. Students have always been one of the main readerships of literary magazines; as readers are themselves caught up in the fever of the college entrance exam, how could literature be absent from such a moment?

“He writes about the exam in his novel, but not solely about the exam. He describes the initial conflicts between the newly arrived educated youth and the villagers, and the villagers’ acts of kindness toward them. This becomes the long-missed warmth these city children experience as they go down to the countryside. Even in times of tribulation, there are always moments of warmth around us.

In the end, through the college entrance exam, some leave while others stay behind; the grand currents of the nation and individual choices are interwoven. No matter the position, everyone is contributing to the country.”

Cui Daoyi lifted the cup of plain water from the table, savoring it as if it were a tea of lingering aftertaste.

A single remark from Zhang Guangnian pulled Cui Daoyi out of the world of the novel and back into reality. “Old Cui, how’s the matter of inviting Comrade Liu Yimin to Yanjing going?”

Cui Daoyi put down his cup and replied seriously, “I haven’t received a reply from Comrade Liu Yimin yet. I suppose he’s seen the letter, and his response is probably on the way.”

“Letters are too slow. In future correspondence with Comrade Liu Yimin, we should consider sending telegrams! The back-and-forth with letters takes too long; so much time is wasted,” Zhang Guangnian mused.

“Alright, I’ll go sort through my mail in a bit. I’ve received so many letters these days—just the ones addressed to me are in several bundles—I can barely get through them!”

“That’s a good thing. It means everyone’s passion for literature is rekindling!” Zhang Guangnian said delightedly.

Cui Daoyi nodded and started to leave, but Zhang Guangnian called him back, a sly glint in his eye. “Why don’t we just tell him the manuscript needs revising? That’ll make sure he comes!”

“This manuscript still needs revision? Old Zhang, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Cui Daoyi said in surprise.

Then he realized Zhang Guangnian merely wanted to find a way to bring Liu Yimin to Yanjing, and so he said, “I’ll go look for the letter first.”

In fact, Liu Yimin’s reply and manuscript had arrived several days earlier, buried beneath a pile of submissions. It was only today that Cui Daoyi uncovered his letter.

After a while, Cui Daoyi finally found Liu Yimin’s reply in the mountain of correspondence, sweating from the effort. But when he read the letter, he was dumbfounded!

So young? Just took the college entrance exam? A junior at Yanjing University?

After accepting the reality, Cui Daoyi couldn’t help but smile—so, a junior! It would be much easier to invite him for contributions in the future; surely, a junior would honor a senior’s request!

He reported this to Zhang Guangnian, who was equally surprised. But with the semester at Yanjing about to begin, there would be ample time to meet later.

...

In the editorial office of Poetry Magazine, Zou Huofan had also received a letter from Liu Yimin. He sighed to the many editors in the room, “We were thinking of inviting Liu Yimin to a training course, but what’s the point? What training course could be better than Yanjing University?”

“Comrade Liu Yimin was admitted to Yanjing University?” The other editors turned to look at Zou Huofan in surprise.

“Yes, his letter says he’ll come to Yanjing after the semester starts!”

“Amazing! Quite a few children of our apartment block sat for the exam this year—some did well—but no one has gotten into Yanjing University yet!” an editor exclaimed.

“It’s impressive just to get into university at all. The exam’s only just been reinstated, and a lot of families haven’t realized its importance. Some won’t let their children go to high school after junior high, insisting they go to vocational school instead!”

“That’s understandable. Graduating from vocational school after junior high guarantees a stable job, while going on to high school doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll get into university. From a practical standpoint, it makes sense,” Zou Huofan said.

“It’s a pity we can’t meet Comrade Liu Yimin sooner. I’d really like to see what this young poet and writer is like!”

One editor shook his head, clearly regretful, and returned to his stack of manuscripts.

Just as the discussion about Liu Yimin was dying down, the editorial office was disrupted by the arrival of some unexpected guests.

Zhao Zhenkai, Jiang Shiwei, and Shizhi arrived one after another—Zhao Zhenkai and Jiang Shiwei had just taken the pen names Bei Dao and Mang Ke. The three carried copies of Poetry Magazine, having been drawn in by Liu Yimin’s poetry and eager to learn more about him.

Upon learning that Liu Yimin had been admitted to Yanjing University, their interest grew even stronger, and they were eager to meet him.

“I’d love to meet the author of ‘A Generation,’ such a classic poem!” Bei Dao exclaimed. Most people preferred “Motherland, My Dear Motherland,” but Bei Dao and Mang Ke thought “A Generation” was even better.

Besides, the poem’s two lines were daring in style; they were astonished when they first read it—was it possible to write a poem in just two lines?

After pondering it for a while, they laughed and said, “Turns out two lines really can work!”

Mang Ke seriously asked Bei Dao whether he could write a poem like that. Bei Dao didn’t answer directly; he only said it would be difficult for him to write something similar.

It was an indirect admission that he couldn’t. Bei Dao was already well known in poetry circles and naturally wanted to save face.

“If Yanjing University doesn’t start soon, we won’t get to meet Comrade Liu Yimin?” Shizhi said sadly.

Zou Huofan glanced at Shizhi—did they really need to be so downcast about waiting until October?

Shizhi’s face was tinged with a sickly pallor. Zou Huofan recalled Shizhi’s recently written poem, “Mad Dog,” and thought this poet carried a hint of madness not found in ordinary people—or perhaps a stubbornness misunderstood by the world.

After all, he had been diagnosed with schizophrenia at Yanjing University Hospital!

“Old Zou, send a telegram to Comrade Liu Yimin, tell him we all want to meet him and see if he can come to the capital earlier! Make sure to include my name,” Bei Dao said.

Mang Ke added, “Include me too!”

Shizhi chimed in, “And me!”

“It looks like the will of the people. Old Zou, send another telegram, call Cui Daoyi and add his name as well. Let’s tell him that the literary world of Yanjing awaits Comrade Liu Yimin’s arrival.

Let this fellow townsman of mine come early to Yanjing and get familiar with the place,” Ge Luo said with a smile.

Looking at the hopeful faces around him, Zou Huofan felt a sense of mission and nodded vigorously. “I’ll call Old Cui right away. People’s Literature and Art definitely wants him to come, too.”

Zou Huofan called Cui Daoyi to convey the wishes of the editorial office and the poets. Cui Daoyi knew Bei Dao and the others, so he readily agreed to add his name to the telegram.

“Cui Daoyi—three characters—it’s two cents and one penny to send a telegram. Don’t forget to pay!” Zou Huofan joked.

Cui Daoyi retorted, “Poetry Magazine is that stingy? If you can’t cover it, we at People’s Literature and Art will pay the whole bill!”

“Alright! I’ll calculate the cost and let you know later!”