Chapter 165: Developing Subjective Fighting Spirit

Chapter 165: Developing Subjective Fighting Spirit

Chapter 165: Developing Subjective Fighting Spirit
Those who drink themselves a lot without saying anything must have either done something wrong to them, or they must have done something wrong to others. As for Yang Yin, Wang Zixu analyzed and judged that it was the latter.

Before Yang Yin was about to drink the third cup, he grabbed his arm and said, "Don't drink yet. If you have something to say, just say it. Getting yourself drunk won't solve the problem, right?"

Yang Yin's eyes were a little red: "I'm sorry for you."

really.

Wang Zixu had Shi Shuqiu and Chen Qingluo as a support, so he was already 80% calm about his fate of having his manuscript rejected. But at this moment, he couldn't help feeling a little depressed. He slumped in his chair and said, "Well, my manuscript was rejected, wasn't it?"

Yang Yin lowered his head and remained silent.

Wang Zixu also opened a bottle of beer for himself and drank directly from the bottle without using a cup.

Yang Yin said, "Don't be angry about what I said. In fact, your novel is very good and fully meets the publication standards. It is unreasonable to reject it."

"Why should I be angry?"

“So what this means is that your rejection is not due to the quality of your work itself.”

Wang Zixu asked, "What's the reason?"

Yang Yin shook his head: "I can't say."

Wang Zixu bumped into him: "I know this even if you don't tell me, because my manuscript was rejected by Ancient City, right?"

Yang Yin was surprised: "How did you know?"

"I heard it's a common practice."

"What convention? Bad roots, bad roots!" Yang Yin put down his wine glass heavily. "I thought about how to promote your novel at the review meeting. I even thought about how to help you make up for the long word count. But they came up with such a ridiculous reason to reject your manuscript. What can I say?"

"Brother Yang, calm down," Wang Zixu said, feeling amused. It was actually him who comforted him. "I've let it go. I let it go after my manuscript was rejected inexplicably by Ancient City."

Yang Yin became nervous: "Don't give up on yourself. What are you going to do with your manuscript? Are you not going to publish it?"

"No, I mean open-minded in the sense of revolutionary optimism. We must continue to carry forward our subjective fighting spirit and continue to vote."

Yang Yin felt a little relieved and clinked glasses with him: "I hope you can succeed. Don't submit to magazines in the Donghai series. They are in cahoots with each other. I will recommend you a few magazines with good reputations."

Wang Zixu put down the bottle and said, "Brother Yang, I want to ask you something."

"You said."

"From the perspective of a professional editor, what is missing from my novel if it is to be published in a top domestic fiction magazine?"

Yang Yin suddenly fell silent again.

Prince Xu said anxiously, "Brother Yang, you don't have to be afraid of criticizing me. If you have any questions, just tell me directly. I just want to hear sharp criticism."

Yang Yin pursed his lips and thought for a moment, then smiled at him: "Don't get me wrong, I'm not afraid of discouraging you, it's just that when you asked what was missing, I really haven't thought of it yet.

"I've read the first 12 words of your book these past two days. I think the only problem is that it lacks a catchy title."

The prince smiled falsely: "I really don't know how to name it."

"If I have to say there is another problem, it is that while I was watching the film, I felt that you deliberately used a somewhat showy narrative method in every plot in pursuit of literary quality?"

Wang Zixu nodded: "Yes, yes, I also chose to use a variety of different narrative techniques. I think the mainstream literary world will like it more. Isn't that good?"

Yang Yin shook his head: "This is indeed more literary, but from the perspective of an ordinary reader, such excessive narrative techniques make me lose the point and easily ruin the reading experience."

Wang Zixu said: "So what you mean is..."

"I think your novel is appealing to both the elite and the masses. Why don't you write it in plainer, more accessible language? Of course, I'm not asking you to get rid of all the narrative techniques, I just want you to get rid of the deliberate parts and make it more natural."

Wang Zixu urgently took out the notebook from his chest pocket and wrote down: "Remove the deliberate showmanship..."

Yang Yin waved his hand: "No need to remember, I am just giving you a personal opinion, I am afraid it will affect your thinking."

"No, I have to remember. I was planning to revise it again. Any other questions?"

Yang Yin thought for a moment and said, "There really is one, your character's dialogue..."

The two chatted from 7pm to 12am, and the more they talked about the questions, the more Wang Zixu filled up more than 20 pages in his notebook. When they went home, Wang Zixu lay on the bed, and a strange emotion emerged in his heart - he didn't care about the rejection, but thanked them for giving him the opportunity to make this novel perfect.

In one month, it will be the postgraduate written examination of Nanjing University, and in another half month, the essay submission will be closed. So he must get everything done in this limited time.

Not to mention that a sufficient amount of literary scripts have to be provided every day.

He made a time plan and discovered to his despair that this was not a problem that could be solved by “sleeping less”.

Even “sleeping a lot less” may not be the solution.

He first called Ning Chunyan to ask for a long vacation, and Ning Chunyan expressed his understanding. Then he transferred some money to his father's account and called Lin Feng to ask him to recommend some useful review materials. He also wrote a note in the living room, saying that he would write behind closed doors and asked Ye Lan not to disturb him. Ye Lan was furious when he saw the note, but that was a story for later.

After doing all this, he immersed himself in words with the determination to fight to the end, as if he had stepped into a time machine and traveled back to 100 years ago.

Before writing this novel, he collected a lot of old newspapers from the Republic of China period. When he was revising it for the 13th time, he vaguely realized that the newspapers were old, the paper was yellowed and the pages were warped, but that era was not necessarily yellowed. 100 years ago was not an era that was yellowed like a faded old photo.

At that time, China was still an authentic agricultural country. Light industry was only built in coastal cities and along rivers. A large number of arsenals headed by Zhang Zhidong were located in inland ports. There was no black smoke floating in the air, but there was no urban greening to speak of. The old osmanthus tree at the foot of the city wall represented the entire greening of Dongcheng District.

In the morning, people would gather under the tree to sell breakfast, steam buns and cook porridge. The steam would float up and be trapped under the leaves. After a long time, the branches would be dried up. In autumn, in order to prevent the leaves from falling, people would knock down the leaves in advance, and the tree would become bare.

The roads in the city are covered with fine dark blue soil that looks like incense ash, and is tamped flat by human labor and heavy objects. However, fine soil cannot be permanently flattened. After a day or two, when it rains, it will turn into mud, and the wheels will leave ruts. When the sun comes out and the mud is exposed to the sun, it will turn into soil again. The difference is that the ruts remain semi-permanently on the road surface.

Cows and horses naturally participate in urban traffic. They are even busier than humans, except that sometimes they flick their tails and drop a pile of feces. Generally, you have to avoid them, not only to avoid being hit, but also to avoid stepping on their feces. The feces of cows and horses will only be stepped on by other cows and horses, and then rolled over by wheels, and then perfectly blended into the mud.

When more people go out on the streets, mysterious gray smoke will float in the air. This smoke is often smelly because it is soaked in feces. If you walk a mile or two in it, you will turn into a briquettes.

At that time, people were not wrapped in fine cloth or woolen cloth. Fur was a high-end clothing that only princes and high officials could wear. People wove rotten cotton wool and rags together to barely cover their bodies. Sometimes the whole family had only one piece of clothing, and whoever went out wore it. As they grew bigger, they couldn't even button it up, so they had to open it and show their ribs. The more Wang Zixu wrote, the more he integrated into that era, or rather, he was that era. The things he wrote were originally stored in his body, and he wrote them down in some way. Those who lived and the history that happened were all reproduced in the world with his flesh and blood as nourishment. Reading it again, he was just re-examining his own flesh and blood. The more he immersed himself, the more perfect that world became, and it eventually replaced the world in which he existed.

The connection point between the two worlds is the room he is in. It is narrow and cramped, and the window facing him is a view that has never changed. In order to save time, he never cooks, but only orders takeout. Sometimes Ye Lan will bring it to the door for him, so he will go out even less. The real world is getting farther and farther away from him, while the world a hundred years ago is approaching like a planet.

In the end, he even wanted to save time on peeing - one poop a day was already very economical, but countless peeing was still annoying after all, especially when he would run into Ye Lan who was out. Ye Lan was afraid that he would be out of touch with society, so she would pull him aside to chat for a while. Although she meant well, it greatly affected his thinking.

One night, he was awakened by the urge to pee. He suddenly took out his phone and ordered 30 adult diapers, then put down his phone and went back to sleep. The goods arrived the next day, and he put them on that day. It took him 4 hours to pee for the first time, because one of the difficulties of peeing in pants is the psychological barrier. After peeing, it became smoother and smoother. The next day, he had mastered the skill of modifying the dialogue while peeing.

……

"Wang Zixu hasn't come to work for almost three weeks." Diao Yiwen said suddenly.

Lu Qingxuan raised her head.

Ning Chunyan's fingers paused on the keyboard for a few seconds: "He asked for leave."

Lu Qingxuan lowered her head again.

In October, the weather turned chilly and people began to change into autumn clothes.

Ning Chunyan was wearing a white windbreaker with a high-necked knitted sweater underneath, looking very intellectual. In addition, she wore a pair of plain blue-light-blocking glasses on her small nose.

The good news is that the popularity of the first issue of "New Appreciation" lasted for quite a long time. What became even more popular was the novel of the Little Prince. Some sentences in it have been circulated everywhere, and some Weibo users have also made use of the memes.

The bad news is that the Little Prince seems to be very busy and can't arrange for any manuscripts. It is foreseeable that the sales of the second issue will be halved.

But the good news is that the number of submissions has increased a lot, which can be described as “coming in like snowflakes”.

But the bad news is that most of the manuscripts are of poor quality. Occasionally there are some good ones, but ultimately they are still not good.

For a new magazine, it is difficult to commission articles, and it does not have the power to select submissions. Ning Chunyan has established a system that allows editors to personally contact authors of decent quality to discuss novel revisions.

This approach was very effective, and even helped us find several new authors with good understanding. The bad news was that there was a severe shortage of manpower.

Communicating with the author requires giving appropriate opinions. Everyone has different ideas. In a sense, incorrect guidance can be more fatal than a poorly written novel itself.

Lu Qingxuan is still a college student, and Diao Yiwen is a novice writer. At most, they can give opinions on the author's choice of words and sentence structure, and it is difficult for them to give key opinions on the novel as a whole. This often leads to the fact that the basic color of the makeshift team is exposed.

So, Ning Chunyan began to miss Wang Zixu.

Diao Yiwen was feeling unconvinced and had been uneasy at work these past few days. She finally brought him up at this point, not only out of concern for her colleague, but also with some other meanings.

Diao Yiwen said, "He's been on leave for a long time. Even though it spanned the National Day, it's still two weeks, right?"

Ning Chunyan remained silent. Wang Zixu was the financier who invested 80 yuan in start-up capital, so how could they really urge him to come to work?

Lu Qingxuan stretched lazily: "Isn't he taking leave to prepare for the exam?"

When they met for the first time, she said that she hoped he could pass the exam, otherwise she would not be able to remember him because of her short memory. In the blink of an eye, they became colleagues, although it was a part-time job. It was quite ironic. She secretly hoped that Wang Zixu would never remember this matter.

Ning Chunyan said: "He is not only preparing for the exam, but also polishing the novel."

"He hasn't given up yet?" Diao Yiwen slightly widened her eyes. "I heard that his manuscript was rejected twice. He still wants to compete for the Feishi Literature Award?"

"Yeah." Ning Chunyan sighed.

She sighed because she felt that Wang Zixu had a hard time, but Diao Yiwen understood that she sighed because she felt that Wang Zixu was overestimating his own abilities, and said, "The essay submission period is coming soon. If his next manuscript is not accepted, I hope he can sober up a little."

Lu Qingxuan interrupted, "So he has been preparing for the literature award. No wonder my cousin is so upset with him and has been talking behind his back for a long time."

Lu Qingxuan's cousin is Xiao Mengyin. Ning Chunyan looked at her and asked curiously, "Did you see your cousin? What did she say?"

"She went abroad for a trip during the National Day holiday. After she came back, she spent a day at my house. We talked about the situation at the magazine. I said our boss is Ning Chunyan, the editor-in-chief is Chen Qingluo, and there is an editor named Wang Zixu. She said she knew Wang Zixu, and then she went on and on, saying a lot of funny things about his personality and how he didn't know what he could do."

Ning Chunyan held his forehead with his hand: "What a big grudge, isn't it? It's just a small friction."

"Maybe more than once."

Outside the door, Chen Qingluo came in yawning.

Chen Qingluo is also a genius, she comes to work according to her mood. Everyone greets her. She nods and says, "Good morning."

Ning Chunyan glanced at the watch: "It's getting late, it's almost time to get off work, okay sister."

"But in Luo Country, it's morning now."

Chen Qingluo sat down and took out a bag of snacks from her drawer. She ate and said, "I ran into her once when Wang Zixu and I went out to play mahjong last time. This is the first time I've seen Xiao Mengyin. This girl is so arrogant."

Ning Chunyan said: "I guess in her eyes you are more arrogant."

"I am a senior after all. Youngsters nowadays are so arrogant."

Lu Qingxuan looked at Chen Qingluo with an embarrassed look, feeling ashamed of her cousin's affairs.

"Come to think of it," Chen Qingluo suddenly said, "Is there no news from Wang Zixu these days?"

"Yes, before he asked for leave, he told me not to disturb him while he was writing."

"I think I'd better bother him, otherwise he might die there and no one would know."

"...I don't think so, right? He lives with Ye Lan. If he dies, Ye Lan will find out."

"What?!" Chen Qingluo jumped up from her seat.

(End of this chapter)