Wenhao 1979, starting with contributing to Story Club

Chapter 3 Urgent Telegrams

"Yu, it's the Lantern Festival today. My family made dumplings. Come over for lunch!"

"Village chief, you're too kind. I can't keep troubling you like this. I'm roasting sweet potatoes and slices of steamed bread in my stove; a few bites will suffice. I don't want to trouble your family any further..."

"What kind of talk is that? During the Spring Festival, how can you manage if you're all alone at the educated youth settlement? Going to my house to eat together is just adding an extra pair of chopsticks; it won't bother my family at all. Besides, there's something important I need to discuss with you later, the one I mentioned to you before the New Year. The brigade's primary school has given you approval; the county has approved your application to be a substitute teacher for fourth and fifth grade Chinese. After the Lantern Festival, you can move directly into the school dormitory as a teacher at the brigade's primary school and enjoy the same treatment as regular teachers. The monthly salary isn't much, but it's at least 18 yuan and 5 cents, and you'll be eating and living at the school every day."

Compared to the current conditions, this is already the best our production team can do to help you…

Yu Zhen let out a gasp of surprise.

The news came too suddenly. The village chief had indeed mentioned it to him before the New Year, asking if he would be willing to be a Chinese language teacher at the brigade's primary school. He said that as long as he agreed, the brigade cadres would personally help him with other matters.

In fact, throughout the past winter, apart from his creative work, he spent the rest of his time at the village primary school, serving as a substitute teacher for the first, second, and third grade children in the village, teaching them Chinese.

In those days, primary school education in the Guanzhong Plain of Northwest China was actually quite comprehensive.

Almost every village has a village-level primary school specifically for children under ten years old, offering courses in preschool, first grade, second grade, and third grade.

The children in the village don't even need to leave the village to enjoy a complete third-grade level of primary school education.

Then, the child needs to pass the entrance exam for the fourth grade of the brigade headquarters based on their grades to be eligible to continue studying.

In addition, in those days, there was a system of promotion and retention for students in primary schools.

If a child's grades are not good, the teacher will have to continue serving as the assistant teacher, studying in grades one, two, and three with each new batch of younger students.

Moreover, after the end-of-term exams, the village chief would personally take all the students' report cards and call out names one by one through the village's loudspeaker, announcing which child from which family scored how many points in which subject.

That's right, it's a public execution-style approach to village-run education, so that every villager can have a clear understanding of whether their child is academically gifted.

Yu Zhen taught Chinese to all the young children in the village for a whole winter.

He didn't think his teaching skills were particularly outstanding, but the students' Chinese language test scores were the best ever in the village school's history.

Even under his personal guidance, in the third-grade essay competition jointly organized by all the village primary schools in the brigade, the three children sent by the village swept the top three places. Before the New Year, the three children returned to the village with big red certificates of merit after the brigade's competition.

The villagers really made a big fuss about it, banging drums and gongs.

A person's name, a tree's shadow.

Before the new year, he published several modern poems in newspapers and magazines.

The postman from the county post office who delivered the royalty slips made him famous by going from street to street. Now, not only people in the commune know that the Chiling Production Brigade has picked up a half-amnesiac great poet and writer, Yu Zhiqing, but even cadres from the county cultural center have come to him to discuss their poetry writing skills.

I went to work as a Chinese language teacher at the brigade headquarters primary school.

Given the current situation, this is certainly a better development.

The pile of manuscripts sent to the Story Club magazine was done before the Lunar New Year, back in the twelfth lunar month.

Now, counting on my fingers, it has been more than a month.

The long-awaited feedback on the submission has been delayed.

He was quite uneasy, not because he was afraid that the quality of his manuscript would not meet the magazine editors' standards, but because he was worried that something might happen during the mailing of the letter.

"Village chief, thank you so much for bringing me this news! It's truly an honor for me to be valued so much by the brigade's primary school. But, just to say..."

The village chief smiled and said, "Don't worry, you mean you still plan to take the summer college entrance exam and want to go back to the city, right? You can rest assured about that. The cadres in our production brigade aren't so heartless as to have the guts to keep a poet and writer like you trapped in the local area in various ways."

"Well……"

Having his thoughts exposed, Yu Zhen felt ashamed.

What else could he say? The villagers truly held him in high esteem, treating him like a great figure.

Throughout history, those who excel in their studies have been destined for officialdom.

For thousands of years, the Chinese people have always held talented scholars in high esteem and regarded them as superior.

Yu Zhen felt ashamed; what kind of exceptionally talented person could he be considered?

He hasn't even mastered the skill of creating an original work that is both literary and readable.

He published those three or five modern poems under the guise of a fox borrowing the tiger's power, and created those "storytelling" level works by borrowing from film and television works. His only purpose was to leave these simple villagers who respected him and regarded him as a person as soon as possible.

Jingle Bell……

Just then, the clear sound of bicycle bells came from outside the educated youth settlement.

Yu Zhen's embarrassed and uneasy expression immediately brightened. He recognized the sound as the bicycle bell of Old Ma, the postman from the county post office, ringing.

Lately, he's been dreaming about the sound of Old Ma's bicycle bell.

Hearing the bicycle bell, the village chief visibly perked up. "Oh dear, Old Ma is here again! Yu Zhiqing, looks like I've got some good news for you again!"

As they were speaking, the postman, Old Ma, was already shouting loudly outside the door.

"Yu Zhiqing, Yu Zhiqing, hurry up! Your urgent telegram, an urgent telegram from Shanghai! After receiving the telegram, I didn't dare to stop for a moment. I rushed over on my bicycle..."

Yu Zhen and the village chief quickly walked to the entrance.

With the arrival of Postman Lao Ma, a group of village children also came to watch the excitement in front of the educated youth's station. When they saw Yu Zhen appear, they all shouted in unison, "Teacher Yu, urgent telegram, urgent, urgent!"

The village chief yelled a few times, chasing the naughty children away, "Go away, don't delay your teacher Yu's important business, all of you go play somewhere else."

Yu Zhen took the telegram from Lao Ma, opened it, and quickly scanned it:

"Comrade Yu Zhen, the editorial department of Storytelling Magazine earnestly requests that you take some time to go to Shanghai to discuss the manuscript in detail. Please be sure to depart as soon as possible."

The village chief, who was standing to the side, tilted his head and read the contents of the telegram. He shook his head and chuckled, then cupped his hands in congratulations.

The brigade wanted to keep Yu, the educated youth, for a while longer so he could absorb more of his intellectual atmosphere.

Without the parasol tree, how can the phoenix be sacrificed?

It seems our connection ends here.