Chapter 83 Cao Xueqin and Proust
Chapter 83 Cao Xueqin and Proust (Thanks to the leader Luo Hua Ming Yue)
“Ha-ha ...
The lost believers feel that their lungs are like a bellows. When they inhale, they draw air out, and when they exhale, they blow air out. Between inhaling and exhaling, their vocal cords make a hissing sound, which is very tragic.
His gums ached, his feet hurt, and his ribs felt like they were stabbed. It was 7 a.m., and he was stumbling along a lonely road on the outskirts of the city. At the end of the skyline ahead was a tiny urban built-up area, floating in the hazy morning mist.
"Hiss-ha-"
The believer half squatted down, supported his knees with his hands, looked down at the ground and doubted his life. There was a narrow crack on the cement road, extending from the back of his buttocks through his crotch to the front.
Yingchan moved her legs and ran over from behind, saying, "What, you can't do it anymore?"
While he was talking, he did not stop, jogging all the way. The believer waved his hand, drooled a few times, and said:
"I'm so tired, take a rest."
Ying-chan sneered and said, "You have to rest after running 5 kilometers. The resting time will almost catch up with the running time."
The believer panted and said, "That's you. You exercise regularly, so you must be fine. I haven't run for 800 years. Now I feel very uncomfortable..."
Ying-chan said, "I'm mainly training for strength. Actually, running is not easy for me at my weight. Look, Xiao Ba is running, and the fire-breathing mechanical Tyrannosaurus Rex is running. How can you take a break?"
The believer gasped and said, "I am not a Tyrannosaurus Rex, I am Godzilla!"
Yingjiang, who had a strong arm and a strong body, grabbed his arm and lifted him up like a chicken: "You can't rest. If you rest, you won't be able to run anymore. Come on, run together, one, two, one, two, one..."
"Stop pulling, I can't take it anymore!"
Even though she was carrying a person and bearing most of his weight, Sakura-chan looked relaxed:
"I think the arrangement of Mr. Little Prince is really reasonable. I was so dizzy after listening to the class yesterday. During my morning run, I digested all the knowledge. I can't believe how strong I will become after these 20 days."
The lost believer said: "After these 20 days, I may die."
The poet was wearing a white sports short T-shirt that exposed her belly button, her pink hair was tied into a high ponytail, and she was wearing yoga pants. Among the group of people, her outfit was the most suitable for the situation. Cheng Xing jogged up from behind and walked side by side with her.
"Yesterday," Cheng Xing broke the silence and said, "After listening to the Little Prince's class, do you have any thoughts?"
The poet did not answer. After a long while, he took a steadying breath and said, "Very fresh. These are theories I have never heard of before."
Cheng Xing nodded: "I have studied creative writing. The theories he talked about are very novel. I have never heard of them before. It feels like they came from nowhere."
“Most writers are wild animals.”
Cheng Xing asked: "Aren't you curious about his identity and background?"
"I'm not interested in where he came from, I'm very interested in him as a person."
Cheng Xing said: "But his background is part of who he is. And you see, we all assume that he has a literary background, which is actually very interesting."
The poet said: "People who are engaged in literature do have some advantages in this line of work. I have proved this myself. There is nothing strange about it."
Cheng Xing said: "But I learned from a reliable source that he had never published any work before, and even though I posted his work online, he didn't rush to claim it, as if he didn't care at all. This is why I speculated about his identity."
The poet asked: "Did you guess anything?"
Cheng Xing said: "I suspect he is a figure like Cao Xueqin or Proust."
"What do you mean?"
"He may be from an upper-class family, and his social circle is all upper-class. It is inconvenient for him to show his face, so he never publishes his works."
"I'm sorry, I don't understand the upper class. Why can't the upper class publish their works?"
Cheng Xing said: "The first bird to stick its head out gets shot. Some circles are just like that, you can't stand out."
The poet frowned slightly: "That doesn't make sense why he would come to write the script for Wen Mi."
Cheng Xing said: "Either you fall into poverty like Cao Xueqin, or you suddenly realize your mistake like Proust."
The poet stretched out a white finger to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear and whispered, "I don't know. I can't judge."
“It’s very mysterious.”
"Hmm. Mysterious."
Cao Xueqin is also mysterious. With only half a book, he became famous. Until now, various versions of Dream of the Red Chamber are still circulating in the world. But no one can tell what Cao Xueqin's life was like, and there are only various speculations. After Proust died, he was buried with great ceremony, and Remembrance of Things Past escorted his coffin like angel wings. In contrast, Cao Xueqin could only die in the misery of cold and illness. The more transcendent the status of Dream of the Red Chamber is, the more it reflects the author's sadness.
This further strengthened Cheng Xing's belief. No matter what the little prince's background was, he must help him to pass on this kind of writing and get benefits commensurate with his achievements.
Writers should not be born poor.
Wang Zixu stood at the door of the apartment. The scriptwriters had already run away and disappeared. An Audi stopped at the door, Ye Lan got out of the car, and the trunk slowly rose.
"You've come so early." Wang Zixu raised his hand and looked at his watch.
"I woke up at around six in the morning. I have always had a good sleep quality." After getting out of the car, Ye Lan went straight into the trunk, and his voice became hazy.
When she came out of the trunk, she was carrying large and small plastic bags filled with slippers, mouthwash cups, data cables, mosquito coils and other miscellaneous items.
Wang Zixu stepped forward and took the bag: "I'll carry it."
"for you."
The two walked into the apartment, and Wang Zixu said, "I thought someone else sent it here."
Ye Lan said: "This place is confidential. Isn't this all your request? Zuo Ziliang wouldn't do such a thing, so I'm the only one who can run errands for him."
Not only was Ye Lan without makeup in the morning, but her dressing style had also changed a little. She simply wore a translucent light yellow dress made of gauze, a white suspender underneath, and sandals on her feet. She looked very homely, as if she had just woken up and ran over in the morning.
Ye Lan lifted her legs and waved them in front of his eyes for a second, then said, "What? Did you notice that I'm not wearing stockings today? Is that weird?"
Wang Zixu didn't want to start talking about stockings so early in the morning: "I didn't notice it. I didn't pay attention."
"It's getting hotter and hotter. If I wear stockings, I feel stuffy. If I don't wear them, I look informal. You don't know how tiring it is to be a woman. I can only let go of my nature in the morning. When I go to work, I have to put them on again."
Wang Zixu glanced at the bags in his hands, then looked at her empty hands. He was silent for a while, then nodded and said, "You are right, but you don't need to wear stockings. It's okay if you don't wear them."
"I wear what I like, so I wear it."
The two of them put away the debris, and Ye Lan sat down on the sofa, stretched out his hand and gestured to the prince: "Come here."
"what?"
"Come here and sit here." Ye Lan reached out and patted the sofa, "Let me show you something."
Wang Zixu walked over inexplicably and sat down next to her, keeping a considerable distance between them.
Ye Lan said, "Last night, a speech therapist had a tantrum with our operations manager. I know everything about it. I'll show you the chat log."
Wang Zixu took her phone and saw many screenshots of chat records sent by Huang Da in the chat box.
Qiu Ze: [Don’t you say that scripts are our benefits? I don’t want benefits, can you just raise my wages? ]
Huang Da: [This cannot be mentioned. Perfect attendance has nothing to do with other benefits.]
Qiu Ze: [But your script is useless. I don’t even use it. I send it out every day. If you have the money, why don’t you give it to me? I can get an extra file if I work full-time and take on more orders.]
Huang Da: [This is really not okay... This is not in compliance with the charter. ]
Qiu Ze: [I’m telling you, it’s not just me. Several of my speech therapists have the same opinion. We don’t need scripts. We can accept orders from other apps anyway. To be honest, your pricing doesn’t have much of an advantage.]
Huang Da: [Are you threatening me? ]
Qiu Ze: [Haha, I don’t mean that anyway. It’s up to you to think whatever you want.]
……
After reading the chat history, Wang Zixu returned the phone to Ye Lan.
"How is Qiu Ze's performance?"
"Nobody, the performance is not even good enough." Ye Lan put one leg on top of the other, "I just think it's interesting, let me show you."
Wang Zixu noticed a sly look in her eyes. She must have shown it to him for more than just "interesting" reasons.
(End of this chapter)