Chapter 71 Almost became a sad Zhong Yong

Almost became a sad Zhong Yong -sequence Feng Tang My original intention of writing "Give Me a Girl at Eighteen" was to document what it was like when I was first exposed to violence and pornography, before I completely forgot about it.However, when I wrote a third of the time, I found that it was too late.Although I had eight diaries when I was a child and a 20,000-word novella written when I was twenty-three, when I thought of that girl, my heartbeat could no longer reach one hundred and twenty beats per minute, and my fingers could no longer Not trembling slightly.When Wang Shuo was writing, he repeatedly doubted and denied the authenticity of his memory and narrative in the main text, so that his ambition was overwhelmed, and he turned a good long-form material into a novella, which abruptly ended.

The remedy I thought of was to introduce the perspective of looking back at the boyhood after adulthood: the teenagers in the book peek at the world around them at that time, and the middle-aged man who wrote the book peeped at the teenagers in the book twenty years later.Jiang Wen filmed "Sunny Day" and used a little bit of this processing at the end: lengthen the Cadillac and turn on the Jianguomen overpass, grown-up gangsters drink Remy Martin XO, and see childhood fools riding sticks However, the idiot's evaluation of them is still: idiot. The first draft of "Give Me a Girl at Eighteen" was completed, and I changed jobs and cities.It turns out that the house in Beijing is big, with bookshelves on all sides.The house in Hong Kong is bigger and more limited than my original toilet, and people can no longer put books when they sleep.I packed all the books in forty-four large cardboard boxes, more than four tons, and piled them up in an empty room of more than ten square meters in my brother's house.

"Is the floor holding up?" I asked. "No problem. If you step on it, you will kill the one downstairs." My brother said. My elder brother is at home, and I said, don’t be bored, you open a bookcase every year and read them all.After reading forty-four boxes of books, you will become a happy person, a person who has escaped the vulgar taste, and a person who is about to die. In the process of boxing the books, I found myself a pile of manuscripts. I couldn’t figure out whether it was love letters from the past or the words of moaning without illness.I have learned a lesson: a friend of mine who studies computers was discovered by his wife about the love poems he wrote to other girls in college, and he was ordered to write ten new love poems for his wife within three days. There should be no "0" or "1" in the poems. .

When revising "Give Me a Girl at Eighteen", I knew that this was my last chance to talk about this topic. I suddenly remembered those manuscripts and wanted to find out what materials could be reused.So, in March 2004, before I turned thirty-three, I discovered a novel I wrote when I was seventeen: 327 pages of light green manuscript paper filled with blue and black ink , sealed in a huge kraft paper bag, turned out to be a full-length novel with extremely complete structure and story, which cannot be cut off or intercepted, and "Give Me a Girl at Eighteen" is absolutely useless.

The strange thing is that after sixteen years, I have almost lost my memory of this novel. When was it written?Why write?What was the situation?What is the name of the heroine?Why did you forget all of them?I can't answer, even the handwriting of those blue and black fountain pens is fundamentally different from my current font, if it weren't for the end of the novel clearly written in September 1989, if it wasn't for the manuscript being heavy in my hand, I wouldn't dare Believe this thing is mine.I looked around with a guilty conscience, and there were ghosts around me. I saw my real soul slowly rising from my toes, leaving my body, and a cat meowed outside the door.

I asked someone to bring the manuscript to the publisher Xiong Can, and he said to find someone to type it in.He is a man with obvious voyeuristic tendencies, and he secretly read the manuscript before entering it.Called: "When you were young, the novels you wrote were very interesting. There is a strange smell, I can't tell." "I plan to sell it to my little nephew Wang Yuxuan in friendship, let him use this book and his proud age of seven years to destroy Han Han and Guo Jingming, and destroy Wang Meng's "Long Live Youth"." "It's not good. It's a waste. You have to use it yourself. It's like a feminine and innocent version of "Sunny Day."

"Do you think it's better than "Give Me a Girl at Eighteen"?" "It's more real than "Give Me a Girl at Eighteen". It's like a living fossil, a dinosaur egg, and has specimen value. You are now the same as Wang Shuo back then, and your memory has been deformed. Hey, in short, it is better than "Give Me a Girl at Eighteen." The girl is strong." "You're saying that I've lived for nothing in the next sixteen years, and my kung fu has been practiced for nothing. Thank you and your family." "Your only copy is in my hands. Be careful with your language. After it is destroyed, no one can write it again."

"Beijing is a place where everything is possible. If there is one page missing in my manuscript, I will ask someone to chop off one of your fingers. If there are ten pages missing, I will chop off ten fingers. If there are eleven pages missing, I will chop off your little finger." Chicken." I chose an auspicious day, and I checked again.I don't believe Xiong Can's judgment. My own judgment is that the advantages and disadvantages are equally obvious.The language of the novel is fresh, the technique is mature, the characters and the story are complete, and it is more like a novel in the traditional sense than what I have now.The description of the teenager is delicate and arrogant, which I have never seen in other places, and I am sure I can't write it now.However, thoughts and emotions are often naive and ridiculous. If they are brought out, they will definitely be hurt by men and women hooligans all over the street.

After thinking about it again and again, I decided not to modify it at all, as if I got a piece of ancient Shang and Zhou jade, no matter how injured or disabled, I would never grind the jade mound to prevent nondescript.When I have established my status as a gangster on the street or died of a heart attack in my forties, it will definitely be better than Wang Xiaobo's and "Black Iron Age".I casually gave this novel a name, called it.Only at that age and age can there be real joy. Finally, I called my eldest brother and must be careful when opening the box and flipping through the book. If you find the entire manuscript again, you must tell me.Maybe in those forty-four big boxes, there are three or four other novels I wrote in my boyhood.Fortunately, these novels were not popular on the street at that time, otherwise the author would be another sad Zhong Yong now.