The smoke from the "Great Harvest" curled up, and the lampshade covered it, turning the light into a retro style. The drizzle outside the window was hazy and desolate, and the autumn thickening continued as far as the eye could see. It seemed to be a pool of broken bones, and the window glass was also along with it.

Cry, cry indifferently.

On a rainy day and it was a weekend, he locked himself indoors and put the final polish on the work that had been modified 22 times.

There was a faint thunder. He stood up and closed the blinds, as if it was useful. Then he rubbed his forehead and sat back in front of the computer, his fingers hanging on the keyboard and pondering.

——He traveled across mountains and rivers, not knowing that he was approaching old age. Ten years later, the wind and frost were stained on his hair, and there was fat in his belly. In short, his life was becoming more and more miserable. In ten years, he wrote 3,700 emails, all of which were stored in his mailbox.

Without sending it, the letter used all his talents and was filled with the passionate desire and pathos in his body. The recipient was the same girl who looked at him with a red lotus in her hand ten years ago.

Grandma died in a rocking chair. According to the last person who saw her, she was enjoying the afternoon sun as usual, with a smile on her golden face. No one found her dead until evening. On the day she was buried,

More than 5,000 people came to see her off, filling the small village with holes and valleys.

The staff refused to believe that she was born in 1900. "Then she is 125 years old this year!" He replied firmly: "Yes, she was born in 1900."

At his insistence, the following words were engraved on her monument: "A vivid and true history is buried here."

Then, after ten years, he finally saw the girl again. She had changed, and he found that it was difficult to overlap her image with the image ten years ago, but looking at her facial features, he was extremely sure of her appearance.

It was her, because the separation sorrow dormant in his blood broke out together, making noise in all the chambers of his heart. He will always remember her, because he can see her as long as he closes his eyes, and on cloudy days when the clouds and thunder are stirring, he will

He heard her breathing. He closed his eyes and opened them again. It was her. It was undoubtedly her.

Jiang Baishi said that it would be sad to see the world apart for a long time. The question is how long does it take? 125 years must be a long time. The memories from 1900 have just been buried. Some stories are not yet cold, just like the yellow flag of the Boxer Rebellion is still lying on the ashes of my grandmother.

Below the box. Ten years of waiting did not turn the wine into water, and brewed more sadness. He just stood there in the crowd, looking at her alone.

But she saw him at a glance, and walked straight to him and said, I have been thinking about you for the past ten years.

For the first time in his life, he experienced that all his wishes came true. But he could not express his excitement, so he could only say with trembling lips, "Me too."

"I think we should celebrate," she said. "How to celebrate?"

He said: "Then let's have sex."

So she glared at him and said, Is that what you think? Today? Here? I don't think it's good to discuss this kind of thing in front of my grandma's tombstone, right?

Ten years of questioning has turned him into a philosopher, and no problem can trouble him. He said, I have thought about why I lost you countless times. Maybe it was because of the stock market crash in 2007, or maybe it was because of the stock market crash in 2007.

housing prices in 2018, and possibly the various opportunities and crises of this era. But those are not the real reasons. I once wanted to be a person who knows everything. My plans were watertight, but I did not consider my own heart.

Real voice. I never said I love you.

So in the past ten years, I have been learning how to be a fool, say whatever comes to mind, and live only for myself. I told myself that if I see you again, I will never lie to you again, and never deceive myself.

When I was the stupidest, when I was hopelessly stupid, I finally saw you again.

She looked at him blankly and said, OK then. I apologize. In fact, your idea coincides with mine.

The gentle night enveloped the earth. The history hovering on this land has not disappeared and will never disappear. Part of it is buried deep in the earth, and the other part follows the light waves and flies to the sky. This light carries countless memories of human existence.

Evidence, travel through the netherworld and reach the end of the universe.

…

After reading this, Wang Zixu stopped and rubbed his eyes vigorously.

He is not good at endings. The ending he can think of is always a grand death, such as Marquez's "One Hundred Years of Solitude", where death buries everything equally. He is more loving and adds a grand sex scene to the ending.

.This is the only ending he could think of.

After struggling for a long time, he finally slapped the keyboard: "Damn it, I won't change it! That's it! Whoever wants to change it can change it!"

Save, rename, package, send.

After doing this, he slumped down in his chair, as if his soul had been drained out of him.

In the end, he only revised it 22 times. Although it was perfect, it was still a little short of the "most perfect" novel in his mind.

It was this little bit that made him feel empty in his heart. The novel was like his child. His children in the past cried and complained that they didn't want to go to school. He was like a devil parent who forced his children to learn well little by little. He worked hard to revise it little by little.

I coaxed and lied to make the story more complete.

But this novel is different. This novel is basically a child prodigy. It doesn’t need anyone to push it, it wants to learn on its own. This time he is not the devil parent of the chicken baby, but is being dragged away by the baby. When he started to revise this work,

You can almost hear the work silently shouting to him: If you keep revising it, I can get better!

"sorry."

He said to the file on the computer titled "Final Draft (22)".

"I didn't let you reach the extreme. I'm sorry."

He felt very guilty.

The chat message informed Editor Yang that he had received the file. Wang Zixu considered the words and entered the following in the chat box:

"Editor Yang, take a look, this is the new work I told you about before."

Editor Yang replied with an OK expression.

Wang Zixu rubbed his hands and typed again: "The number of words is a little too much."

It took a long time for the other party to reply: "You are not 'a little bit'."

Wang Zixu said: "If you feel dissatisfied, I will change it. If there are too many words and I can't post it, please tell me earlier."

Editor Yang replied: "It's okay. I just took a glance at it and it can be said that my eyes are bright. The number of words will indeed affect the publication, but to be honest, as long as the quality is in place, anything can be said."

He added: "We will take your manuscript seriously. I will go over it myself first. If it is really good, I will apply to the editor to start a long series for you."

Wang Zixu raised his head and shouted silently. This is what a professional editor is saying! What kind of bullshit was that before? He experienced all-around what smooth communication and candid communication are. They are both editors, so why is there such a big gap?

Woolen cloth?

After he shouted, he typed: "Thank you for your hard work."

"It's okay, I'll take a look first. It's definitely impossible to finish it, so I'll read part of it first. I'll try to get back to you today."

Wang Zixu shouted silently again. He felt good again.

In the next four or five hours, he experienced what it means to be restless and what it means to look forward and backward. He wanted to review for the postgraduate entrance examination, but he couldn't concentrate at all and couldn't study at all. He simply turned off the computer and left for Nanjing University.

…

Yang Yin stared at the computer screen with a smile on his face, then organized the document content, adjusted the format, and printed out the first few chapters.

After binding it, he took the manuscript in his hand and couldn't help but read it again, then got up and walked to the editor's office.

"Editor Shen, there is a manuscript here that I would like you to take a look at."

Editor Shen finished the manuscript and squinted his eyes: "Whose manuscript is it?"

"Wang Zixu."

Seeing the confusion on Editor Shen's face, Yang Yin added: "It's the newcomer who made the front page last time, "Wild Weeds"."

"oh."

Editor Shen's expression became clear, and he was deeply impressed by this person: "That manuscript was 30,000 words long, and it was published for the first time. It was a short story, and it was still on the front page. It gained momentum. I heard that he later won

What kind of award is it?”

Yang Yin nodded: "Yes, he won the first place in the Xihe Literary Society and the award given to him by Li Tingfang. This can also be considered as an author cultivated by our magazine."

Editor Shen asked: "How old is he?"

"I think I'm 30 now."

"Post-90s." Editor-in-Chief Shen nodded, "Unfortunately, it would have been nice to be born in the 2000s, but the post-90s are not bad. There is a gap in the new generation of writers in our literary world, and the number of authors born in the 1990s is very small."

Yang Yin agreed. Editor-in-Chief Shen’s thinking is very high-dimensional. He not only considers the development of this magazine, but also considers the replacement of new and old issues from the perspective of the entire literary world.

Editor Shen put on his glasses and said, "Put it here first. I'll take a look at it later."

Yang Yin said: "How about you read it now? I have something else to say about this manuscript."

"Then you say."

"I can only speak after you read it."

Editor Shen looked at him and said with a smile: "You kid, what are you planning?"

Yang Yin remained silent and rolled his eyes. Of course he had his reasons.

Editor Shen lowered his head and started reading. He read faster at first, then slower as he read later. In the end, he even read it word for word and sentence for sentence.

Yang Yin's lips curved into a smile, which was exactly the effect he wanted.

He did not type out all of Wang Zixu's manuscript, but only the first 20,000 words or so. So Editor Shen finished reading it quickly. After reading, he looked up and asked:

"Is that all? Haven't you finished writing the rest yet?"

Yang Yin said: "I have finished writing. There are a lot of words. I only typed out a small part to show you first."

"I've finished reading it. It's very good." Editor Shen took off his glasses and said, "This author is really good!"

When he said the second half of the sentence, he couldn't help but raise his tone. He rarely praised people so straightforwardly.

He looked at Yang Yin as if he was still unsatisfied: "Don't put this manuscript in other magazines, just keep it in our house. This time, we want to shock the literary world."

Yang Yin said: "I have the same idea after reading it. This kind of work should stay in our home, not to mention that it is our own author, so it should not be let go."
To be continued...