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Chapter 2 1. The color of melancholy (2)

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    In the courtyard of the Federation of Literary and Art Circles, artists like to get together to smoke and drink tea and chat, and all kinds of weird things are gathered together to talk about.  Some of them have been educated youths, some have participated in the Communist Party, some have been connected with the Red Guards to Beijing to be received by Mao Zedong, and some have been sent down and locked up in the cowshed

    They talked about their own experiences, or unofficial stories they heard.  There are ghost stories in the mountains, there are absurd appearances in officialdom, and there is a twisted love between educated youth and peasants.  There are so many life experiences, wasted years, bad debts and fates, their own and other people's confusion, poured out, the secrets are released, the desire to vent is satisfied, and I will talk about it again, just like going to the dojo.  All addicted, my wife yelled for food in front of the dormitory building, yelled and yelled, went to bring the food, and continued talking.

    Every day from evening to late night, the tea is tasteless, the smoke clears, the stars flicker, the night wind blows, the sounds of frogs and insects in the four fields are like drums, and some stories of fate and absurdity are creepy, confusing and sad, the narrator  The voice became clearer and weaker, and everyone dispersed slowly, staggeringly, each of them went into the cave-like dormitory building covered with vines.

    They dispersed, but Yan Ruqing had nowhere to go and couldn't sleep.

    Other people's stories and touches, other people's sighs and cold tears have nothing to do with him.  Geographical, cultural, and age gaps lie between him and them.

    Yes, they are different from Yan Ruqing. Yan Ruqing graduated from school in fifteen or six years, and all she knows is from books.  They are jointly educated and cultivated by themselves and the society, and they know everything about society and life.  So, when someone said something, he could only respond like this: "Really?"

    As soon as he asked a question, they thought he looked like an ignorant woman.

    At the same time, his Cantonese accent sounds soft.  That kind of simplicity and innocence makes these border artists with a wild spirit feel funny and amusing, which is another reason why they call her "Guangdong girl".

    The summer on the Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau is very short. After September, there will be drizzle and the autumn cold will be overwhelming.

    During working hours, or when the weather is cold, people often come to Yan Ruqing's American editor's office to chat, because this is the largest office of the Federation of Literary and Art Circles except for the meeting room, and Yan Ruqing has a kind personality, and is naturally a good person who is easy to get together.

    This kind of gossip has always been very enjoyable, and everyone has always maintained a special excitement. However, some novel writers took a lot of gossip, wrote it into words, and published it in local magazines.  Those who don't write novels, such as painters, also carve some images and compositions in their prints that are different from the previous ones. A smart person can know the source of inspiration at a glance.  Not to mention those who write lyrics and compose music, they are also very devoted to writing new weird folk songs In short, everyone has something to gain.  After all, many of the mysteries of human nature, strange stories, and strange feelings can all be pondered into one's own creative consciousness, and there is always some kind of breakthrough at some point.

    People in a large courtyard go to work almost every day just chatting like this, living a creative life of resource sharing.

    Later, there was a clear regulation that, except for Yan Ruqing, no one can just be an audience, everyone has to say something, otherwise they are here to steal material and inspiration.

    When Shansi came, everyone asked him to speak. If he didn't speak, everyone would not forgive him, and even drove him away.  He actually told a few episodes, but his stories were either bragging about his own fortune-telling, or he was telling some dark and dirty things about men and women, with a low tone. Everyone felt boring and kept booing him. Seeing that he could stand up to the booing, they simply left.  Open, don't save any face.

    Everyone else walked away, and Shan Si told Yan Ruqing some strange things about men and women, treating Xiao Yan as a blank sheet of paper, and helping him gain insight.  He was eloquent, spitting stars flying around.

    Yan Ruqing interrupted him angrily and said, "If I were a woman, I would never let a man touch me; if I were a man, I would never let a woman touch me."

    What Yan Ruqing meant was that those men and women advertised by Shansi are too low self-respect and too contemptible to be worth mentioning, let alone learning from.

    Ke Shansi said: "Oh, Xiaoyan, aren't you a man?"

    Yan Ruqing had nothing to say for a moment, but held back, holding a newspaper and reading it until Shan Si got bored and left by herself.

    But Yan Ruqing couldn't be happy all day long.

    Autumn is the best season in Guizhou. The sky is blue, the grass is fragrant, and the sidewalks in the city are covered with golden phoenix leaves.  He likes to put on a windbreaker and go out, from the deserted and lonely Outer Ring Road to the fountain where the cars and horses are noisy, buy a bag of sweet fried chestnuts in the ancient alley beside the fountain, and then walk back slowly, as if lost in a long memory  The old man in the corridor heard the crackling sound of thick fallen leaves on the soles of his feet.

    The kind of people who don't know where they areis pulled low.  Therefore, what social elites are afraid of is not that they are not good enough, but that they are swallowed up by this "majority".

    Ruan Datou is the "majority".

    Yan Ruqing himself had a big clean office, and Ruan Datou shared a room with three other editors. The four desks were piled with manuscripts and covered with dust, and the broken broom and wet mop in the corner gave off a nasty smell of sewers.

    But Yan Ruqing has no sense of superiority at all. On the contrary, he subconsciously worries about being bullied by these low-level "majority".

    Every time it was time to get off work, everyone left, and Yan Ruqing was confused about where to go and what to do.

    His worries soon became reality.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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