Chapter 201 I use my damaged palm
Chapter 201 I use my damaged palm
"Put it there, push it a little further into the corner, okay, here it is, okay."
Shi Tonghe directed the workers to put the printer in the corner, and said goodbye to them with one sentence: "Take the garbage out when you leave."
Although the study is large, the furniture is all original from the decoration design company, and the space is used appropriately. The house has been bought for many years, and the location has not been moved at all. Now an enterprise-level printer is brought in out of nowhere, and it suddenly looks a bit cramped.
Especially the gray-white machine, which is a printer and copy machine. It spews out hot air when started up and does not match the mahogany furniture in the house.
Shi Tonghe returned to his desk and sat down, smiling:
"It's much more convenient to have this. My eyes can't focus on the screen. Xiao Liang, print it out first. I'll take a look at it and then make some changes."
The woman sitting in front of the computer at the other end of the room nodded: "Yeah."
"I'll fix this paragraph first. Please wait for a while."
Xiao Liang sat on the chair and nodded stiffly: "It's okay, Teacher Shi, don't worry, just call me when you're ready."
Shi Tonghe rubbed his hands, picked up the pen, sucked up the ink, wrote two words, and then the cell phone on the table rang again.
He frowned, sighed, picked up the phone, took a look, relaxed his brows and answered the call:
"Hello, Xiao Xiao?"
On the other end of the phone, Xiao Mengyin said, "It's me, Teacher Shi. Wang Zixu has visited you, right?"
"Oh, he was here."
"Well...what is his purpose in looking for you?"
Shi Tonghe smiled bitterly and said, "His manuscript was rejected by Ancient City, and he came to me to ask for an explanation!"
"Ah? Why is he like this? He didn't say he wanted to cause trouble when he came to me! I really don't know... Did he cause any unpleasantness?"
Xiao Mengyin's tone was full of regret and remorse. Just by listening to her tone, one could imagine how heartbroken she was at the moment.
"It's okay, I don't blame him." Shi Tonghe said.
"I apologize to you on his behalf." Xiao Mengyin said solemnly, "He is a little stupid and has a simple mind. To put it nicely, he only thinks about literature and doesn't care about anything else. To put it bluntly, he is a little crazy. But he really doesn't have any bad intentions. He didn't say anything particularly excessive to you, right?"
"It's nothing too extreme. He just wants me to apologize to him."
"Ugh..." Xiao Mengyin covered her face with a slap, "How dare he!"
"It's okay, Xiao Xiao, I don't blame him," Shi Tonghe repeated, changing the subject, "Thank you for helping Shu Qiurun write Yesterday's Star. I read it again today, and some parts were really well written. When I asked him, he said you helped to revise them."
"Of course he should be. He has a high level of understanding..."
"Just recently, he suddenly had an idea and felt that Yesterday's Star was not enough to express all his ideas, so he wanted to write a sequel to the book."
"is it?"
"If I'm writing a sequel, I'd like to ask if it can be connected to "Yesterday's Star" and counted as the same work submission?"
Xiao Mengyin was surprised: "You mean, although "Yesterday's Star" has been shortlisted for Fei Shi, he will write a sequel and submit it to Fei Shi together with the sequel as a whole?"
"Yes, that's what I mean. You have a very high ability to understand." Shi Tonghe said, "He wants to write a trilogy."
Xiao Mengyin thought for a moment and said, "This is really... unprecedented. I'm not too sure. I think if you go and talk to them, they shouldn't disagree... But you have to pay attention to their submission deadline."
“How long until the submission deadline?”
"There are less than two weeks left. If we miss the deadline, it might be difficult."
Shi Tonghe said, "That's fine. Just ask him to finish it before the deadline. He has actually completed part of it."
"Well, if I polish it, there won't be enough time, maybe..."
"I won't bother you this time. I can't bother you every time. Okay, I just want to know this. Now that you've said it, I know it."
After hanging up the phone, Shi Tonghe turned around and said amiably: "Xiao Liang, we may be a little pressed for time, so please stay a little longer. You will have to stay up for a few nights, and it will be hard work for you."
Xiao Liang added: "It's okay, Mr. Shi. You always take care of me so much. I still want to find an opportunity to help you. I am also honored to be able to help you with your creation."
Shi Tonghe picked up a pen and began to correct the manuscript, saying with a smile: "I haven't written anything in many years. If my son hadn't insisted on my help in correcting it... After all, my current level may not be better than his."
Xiao Liang smiled and said, "You are still strong and vigorous at your age. You will surely shock the literary world when you come back again."
Shi Tonghe glanced at her and said, "I won't leave the mountain anymore. I'll just help my son revise his composition."
After saying this, his expression became serious, and without saying a word, he quickly wrote a few lines on the manuscript paper.
Xiao Liang secretly took out her cell phone, turned on the screen, turned the volume down to the lowest level, and started replying to her boyfriend's messages.
The room was so quiet that the only sound was the rustling of the pen tip scraping against the paper.
Half an hour later, Shi Tonghe finally put down his pen, rubbed his sore fingers, and called out, "Xiao Liang."
Xiao Liang stood up and came over to take the manuscript. Shi Tonghe said, "Type out a paragraph first, and I'll continue to revise it later."
Xiao Liang nodded, took the manuscript, went to the computer, rubbed his hands, and started typing on the keyboard.
There were sporadic "click" sounds in the room. Xiao Liang typed a few lines and said sincerely, "Teacher Shi, you write so well!"
"Really? Is it a compliment or is it the truth?"
"Sincerely." Xiao Liang was very excited. "Just after reading the beginning, I felt that this must be a good work. The writing style is so textured."
"Then I thank you on behalf of Shuqiu."
Shi Tonghe picked up the manuscript and read the previous text from the beginning. As he read, his vision began to blur.
He took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes.
As I get older, I can no longer use my broken body as easily as I did in the past.
There were always gray willow-like mosquitoes floating around in his cloudy eyeballs. The slightest movement would cause them to dart around in front of his eyes, making it difficult for him to string the words together. He had to write in very large fonts so that he could see clearly.
Not only my eyes, but my brain is not working well either. Writing consumes a different kind of brain power, and after not using it for many years, it has become dull. Now it is like a rusted machine, with severe stuttering when running, clanging and banging, and emitting black smoke. I feel sleepy after writing only two lines.
Even the calluses on his fingers had softened. He had written millions of words by hand, which had given him thick and hard calluses. His fingers had been trained to be as if they were born to hold a pen. Now that they were so tender, his hands didn't seem like his own.
Shi Tonghe looked up at the ceiling, and everything in front of him was blurry again. This time it wasn't because his eyes weren't working, it was because of his tears.
How old am I, still staying up late to write? When I was young, I sat alone with a pot of tea late at night. How many times did I swear that I would never write again after I became famous?
I didn't expect that at such an old age, I still have to work hard to meet the deadline and relive the old days. I can't even say that I wrote it for myself.
His son was also a bad boy, unable to sit with him, or else he would ask Shi Shuqiu to help him copy the manuscript. Now he had to ask the young people in the literary association to help. Fortunately, they were his students, reliable and tight-lipped, but he had to keep it a secret.
...A few minutes later, Shi Tonghe returned to the table and continued writing.
He has no right to complain, it was all his own choice.
It was my own choice to pick up the pen, and it was also my own choice to expand it into a trilogy. Now at this age, I suddenly want to write a Chinese version of "One Hundred Years of Solitude", which was also my own choice.
He has fame and money, but ends up fighting with young people, which is very embarrassing.
But he had to do it.
He builds relationships, entertains guests, and makes friends with all kinds of people because he is the chairman of the Writers Association, a literary giant, and because he is a father.
But he picked up the pen again for no other reason than that he was a writer, a writer.
Thinking of what Xiao Mengyin had just said - "He is... to put it bluntly, he is a bit stupid." Shi Tonghe sneered.
Xiao Mengyin called and it seemed like she was trying to distance herself from the matter, but in fact her words clearly showed that she wanted to protect Wang Zixu, so it was not like he couldn't hear it.
She said she didn't know Wang Zixu was here to cause trouble, but Shi Tonghe didn't believe it. Xiao Mengyin was such a smooth person, she would definitely not help to lead the way without asking about the intention clearly. She was as good at handling interpersonal matters as she was at creating.
But it was such a person who would actually speak up for Wang Zixu, which surprised Shi Tonghe very much.
Wang Zixu must have some magical power, which is why he could attract people like Chen Qingluo, Ning Chunyan, and Xiao Mengyin to help him.
But to Shi Tonghe, everything Xiao Mengyin said to help was meaningless.
Who among those who write is not a little bit stupid?
Back then, they competed with Shi Tonghe to argue their strengths and weaknesses and fight for the headlines. There were so many talented writers and famous people, just like the carp swimming in the river.
Where is it now?
He is the only one left, the literary world is desolate, and it is lonely at the top.
As the years passed, hormone levels subsided, metabolism slowed, and desire gradually faded away over the years...
But his name is still Shi Tonghe.
Perhaps no one knows that the writer who dominated the literary world decades ago has returned. But the obstacles in front of us will make us feel the disappointment of the loser decades ago.
……
"Because I am the little prince."
After saying this, Wang Zixu sat on the windowsill, as if he had finally removed the shackles he had been carrying for many years.
No one spoke in the room, even Sartre, the most noisy, was silent, leaving only the ticking of the hour hand.
After a long while, An Younan finally spoke: "You are the little prince."
She repeated his words.
Wang Zixu nodded: "Yes."
"Then I am Qin Shi Huang." An Younan said hurriedly, "There has to be a limit to how much nonsense you can talk about. Aren't you still treating me like an idiot?"
Wang Zixu said: "It doesn't matter if you are Qin Shi Huang or Emperor Wu of Han. I am the little prince, and this cannot be shaken. Just like the rugged land of Bailuyuan, it is history marked by time. You and I cannot change it. All we can do is accept it."
"..."
An Younan discovered something.
She found that the temperament of the man in front of her had changed.
He was originally - or should have been - a sly middle-aged man. But now he has the confidence that he shouldn't have.
Judging from his clothes, this person's savings do not exceed 20 yuan. The way he deals with himself is like walking on thin ice, just like his car is parallel to hers on the road. If the steering wheel is turned 30 degrees, it may cost a life-changing price.
But he claimed to be a technician and talked about philosophy in front of her who was naked. She admitted that she was deceived by him for a moment, and she thought about the conversation for a while while lying in the SPA room. It was only after an hour that she cried out that she had been deceived.
When she figured out the identity of the suspect, she was as shocked as she is now. Maybe she was even more shocked then. When the seemingly honest man in front of her unveiled himself, it turned out to be a man who read Hegel and Adonis and rubbed his shoulders like dough, and then overlapped with the impression of the little prince, it was not so abrupt.
"But how can you be the little prince?" An Younan said, "If you were the little prince, why would you strive for a Fei Shi Literature Award? You can easily make many times more money."
"This has nothing to do with money," Wang Zixu clasped his hands together, "I care about things other than money."
"Haha, only rich people are qualified to say that." An Younan looked at him coldly, "A person wearing a cheap casual suit saying that will only make people laugh."
After saying that, An Younan overturned his previous feeling, nodded, and said to himself: "Yes, you can't be the little prince."
"What kind of person is the little prince in your mind?"
"At least he is a man who has enough money."
"Do you think I'm short of money?"
"Are you sure you want to hear my thoughts?"
Wang Zixu jumped off the windowsill, walked to An Younan, paced around her twice with his hands behind his back, and finally stood in front of her.
An Younan stared at him without blinking, as if they were competing to see who would give in first.
"Do you know how much this cheap suit of mine costs?" Wang Zixu asked.
An Younan rolled his eyes: "How should I know? I am not sensitive to the prices of consumer goods below 1 yuan."
Wang Zixu reached out and pinched the collar of her woolen coat. An Younan blinked twice in fright.
Under normal circumstances, this behavior would be considered a serious intrusion into her private space, but An Younan simply took a step back and turned his head slightly.
"What brand is your dress?"
"Brunello Cucinelli," An Younan blurted out in standard Italian, "Don't ask me the price. I never look at the price when I buy clothes."
"Very good, you see, we don't know how much the other person's clothes cost. In the sense of consumerism, the two clothes are the same, just like you and I in this room, if we forget all our identities, we are just a man and a woman. No matter how expensive it is, it has no meaning to me when you wear it. It only makes sense to me when you take it off."
An Younan's face turned slightly red: "But it is meaningful to me."
"has no meaning?"
“It will make me more confident.”
“Are you insecure about your body?”
"how come?"
"Then why do you need a piece of clothing to give you confidence?"
"You are making excuses."
The prince threw her collar away, returned to his chair, clasped his hands together, and crossed his legs:
"This is not sophistry, because I don't need expensive clothes to give me confidence. In my eyes, there is no difference in functionality between an expensive piece of clothing and a cheap piece of clothing, so I don't need that much money."
An Younan curled up the corner of his mouth into a smile: "But in the eyes of others, there is a difference, and the difference is huge."
“Why should I care about what other people think?”
"Everyone has to live in the eyes of others. Why can you not care about the eyes of others?"
"Because I am the little prince." Wang Zixu said.
Because he is the little prince, he doesn't need to care about other people's eyes. On the contrary, An Younan needs to care about the little prince's eyes. Who made her want to find the little prince?
An Younan felt a little frustrated. She rarely lost to others in verbal battles, so she felt a little unhappy. She thought about it, then smiled and spread her hands:
"Because you don't care about money, you are the little prince. Because you are the little prince, you don't care about money. You are making a circular argument. I say you are making a sophistry."
The little prince said: "She is too proud. Her self-confidence must be broken."
Sartre said, "Hey, she's just a little girl, why are you so mean?"
“Only by destroying her confidence can we control the flow of the conversation.”
The prince closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again: "What are you pursuing?"
An Younan was startled: "Why are you asking me again?"
"Or, what are you afraid of?"
An Younan's body shook.
"You wear top-quality cashmere sweaters from luxury brands, live in the best neighborhood in this city, have more savings than you can spend in a lifetime, your face is displayed in the sky of this country, and everyone likes you. But you rack your brains and use all kinds of means to find me. What are you afraid of? What is forcing you?"
An Younan's face turned pale: "I don't need to tell you this, right?"
"But I can tell you," Wang Zixu said, "The birth of the little prince was a mistake, and I have been paying the price to make up for it until now.
"Because I don't think of myself as the little prince. Even if the little prince's achievements are brilliant, I feel that they have nothing to do with me. It's just a matter of effort and something that can be easily obtained. I don't care. Just like you don't care about your sweater.
"Everything you have is enough to make more than 99% of the people in this world envy you, but you don't care. Are you like me? Are you also pursuing another identity that makes you feel respectable?"
There seemed to be tears in An Younan's eyes, but the light was fleeting. She grinned and said, "Are you always like this? You are so intimate with people you just met, and you say very offensive things to people you just met."
"This is the little prince's job." The prince crossed his legs and put his hands behind his head.
"Isn't the little prince's job to make girls happy?"
"The job of the little prince is to really get into the girl's heart."
An Younan stared at his eyes seriously for a long time and said, "I finally understand why the little prince is obsessed with so many girls."
Wang Zixu said: "What you mean is not that you are a little obsessed with me, right?"
"of course not."
After An Younan finished speaking, he added: "But I have come to recognize you a little. You are the little prince, so is it true that you read philosophy, poetry, and knead dough?"
"Except kneading the dough."
"As a technician who has never kneaded the face, your massage technique is quite comfortable."
"Thanks for the compliment, but I will never be a technician again in my life."
"Let's take this opportunity to discuss the contract."
An Younan turned around, took out a contract from the bookcase, and threw it on the sandalwood table:
"I want you. No, we want you."
(End of this chapter)