Chapter 21: 20. Toward the Sun (Asking for monthly votes, asking for follows)
That Zhou Hengyu had managed to hold on really did surprise Zhang Luo.
The group scattered like startled birds and beasts.
Zhang Luo and Zhou Hengyu rode their bicycles through an intersection.
“I’m going to my mom’s place for dinner tonight, so I’m heading this way,” Zhang Luo said.
Zhou Hengyu nodded. “Then see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.”
After saying goodbye to Zhou Hengyu, Zhang Luo rode his bicycle to the cafeteria of the Xuyang Municipal Health Bureau.
At this hour, the people at the Health Bureau had all gotten off work.
Almost all the lights in the main building were off.
Only after going around the building did one reach the cafeteria behind it.
It was a small two-story building.
The private rooms were all on the second floor.
The first-floor dining hall was usually open to Health Bureau employees during breakfast and lunch.
Dinner was not served, and there was no dine-in service either.
As soon as Zhang Luo came in, his mother came out of the kitchen.
“You’re drenched in sweat. What were you doing?”
“Playing soccer,” Zhang Luo said. “It’s so hot. Why isn’t the air conditioning on?”
“It’s on inside,” his mother said. “Not in the hall. There’s no one here, so turning it on would waste electricity. People would talk.”
Zhang Luo nodded.
His mother said, “I’ll go turn it on for you now.”
“Forget it. If you turn it on now, who knows when it’ll cool down.” Zhang Luo said, “Why don’t you just pack it in the insulated food container for me? I’ll take it home to eat.”
Hearing this, his mother looked at Zhang Luo, covered in sweat, and nodded.
“That works. After you get home, take a shower first. Don’t just let the sweat dry on you like that. You’ll catch a cold easily.”
“Mm.”
His mother went back inside to fill the insulated container for him.
Zhang Luo stood in the hall and waited.
Through the glass serving window used for meals, Zhang Luo could see two familiar figures inside.
Sister Ju and Brother Li.
One was a little older, the other a little younger.
The two of them were the cafeteria cooks.
For a long period of time, the two of them, plus his mother, had been the entire staff of this cafeteria.
Later, after the private-room business expanded from just evenings to lunch as well, they really could not handle it anymore and hired a dedicated server.
The woks on both of their stoves were sizzling away. It seemed business was pretty good today.
Just then, his father came over.
He had gotten off work and come over to help.
His mother carried the insulated container out and handed it to Zhang Luo.
“Hurry on home. Remember to take a shower first,” his mother said.
Zhang Luo nodded.
“Then I’m going back.”
His father smiled and nodded.
-
The setting sun sank in the west.
Zhang Luo pedaled his bicycle, an inexplicable sense of melancholy rising in his heart.
Fifteen years later, he had struggled alone in Yuming, working until his vision went black from exhaustion, calling himself a corporate slave.
Fifteen years earlier, his parents were just the same, busy from morning till night.
Who had it easier than whom?
Only after experiencing it himself did Zhang Luo feel a thousand emotions mingling in his heart at this moment.
Sometimes, he would rather be a little more tired himself than have them be tired. That was probably what it meant.
-
Shower, dinner, then wash the insulated container.
Zhang Luo sat down at his desk and started doing his homework.
He finished his homework very quickly.
He was pretty tired.
He stood up and looked at his bookshelf.
Earlier, he had dug out all his junior high textbooks and would flip through them whenever he had nothing to do.
Now, his gaze swept across the rows of book spines, and he suddenly spotted a magazine called Youth.
It was something he had bought back in junior high.
Because there had been a serialized novel in it called Shell, which had been quite interesting.
It was good.
However, after Shell finished serializing, he stopped buying it.
One issue was twelve yuan, and there were two issues a month.
For him, that was still quite expensive.
But right now, it suddenly gave Zhang Luo an idea.
Could he try submitting a manuscript?
These days, although manuscript fees were not high, prices were not as high as they would be fifteen years later either.
Although he was not exactly the literary-prose type, he had, after all, read plenty of novels, as well as all kinds of short stories from online content creators. At this point in time, none of those had appeared yet.
The magazine Youth was not entirely known for its prose either. A good story was what mattered most. Take the famous Story Club, for example—who would go looking in there for literary style?
Thinking this, Zhang Luo really did want to give it a try.
In any case, it was a venture without any capital.
At most, it would cost him a stamp.
Try it?
Zhang Luo found a few issues of Youth and read through the articles in the magazine again. Looking at them now—good grief, there was “Bright Sorrow,” “The Palpitation of Seventeen,” and even “Smiling Through Tears, Telling You I Didn’t Cry.” His teeth nearly ached from the sentimentality.
No wonder he had stopped buying the magazine after finishing Shell. It was not just because it was expensive, but also because he genuinely did not enjoy reading the other articles.
Still, Zhang Luo did find something he could write.
After reading so many stories posted by online creators in his later life, how could he possibly be unable to write one?
Including movies and TV dramas too.
But just as he sharpened his blade with great enthusiasm, full of confidence and ready to start writing, after putting down three or four sentences, he was suddenly dumbfounded.
It seemed… he did not really know how to write.
He could not get it out.
Although he knew what kind of story it was, for someone who did not know how to tell a story, Grave Robbers’ Chronicles was just a few people going tomb-robbing. As for how they robbed the tomb, what each person was like—he really did not know how to write that. He could not even copy it if he wanted to.
“How come I got reborn but didn’t get a cheat? Not even a golden finger?” Zhang Luo sighed.
After thinking about it, Zhang Luo decided to go find Xu Shuiyun tomorrow.
-
“You want to know how to write a story?” Xu Shuiyun had never expected that Zhang Luo had come to see her for this.
It was beyond her expectations.
Zhang Luo said, “I have a story that I want to write into a short novel and submit, but when I think about it in my head, it feels very complete. Yet when I actually try to write it out, I get stuck.”
Xu Shuiyun nodded.
“First of all, although I’m a Chinese teacher and I teach essay writing, when it comes to actual fiction writing, I’m not a professional. I haven’t written any myself, and I’m not familiar with it,” she said. “But just like teaching composition, what we teach is really a method. The most basic elements of writing a story are character, time, place, and event. If you want to write a story, you first have to figure out these elements, right?”
Zhang Luo nodded.
“Then, if we get more specific about the event, there’s the so-called beginning, development, turn, and conclusion. Take you coming to see me as an example. The beginning is that you want to write a short novel but don’t know how. The development is that you suddenly think you can ask your Chinese teacher to teach you how to write. The turn is that your Chinese teacher tells you she doesn’t know how to write one either and can only tell you some basic methodology. The conclusion is that you find another way to write this novel, or you give up on writing it.”
Zhang Luo looked thoughtful.
“People who are naturally good at telling stories may not need to follow this structure completely. But if you are currently at the stage where you want to write yet don’t know how, you might as well follow this formula first. At the very least, write the whole story out first. After you’ve written it, we can discuss it and see how to polish it—for example, adding character motivations, story twists, and so on.”
Zhang Luo nodded.
“All right, Teacher Xu. Thank you. I’ll go try first.”
“Mm.” Xu Shuiyun nodded.
Zhang Luo left.
Lu Xia asked in surprise, “Teacher Xu, you’re really supporting him in writing a novel and submitting it?”
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