[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-1987-my-era":3,"chapter-1987-my-era-1987-my-era-chapter-39":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","1987: My Era",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2259199,4409,"Chapter 39: Do you know that person? Marry him","1987-my-era-chapter-39",39,"\u003Cp>Dai Shu, Chief Editor Zhou Mingwei, and the rest of the editorial staff all praised \"Alive\" more highly than the last, boosting Chen Xiaomi’s confidence further.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Intuition told her that if she seized this opportunity, her name would quickly ring through the industry, and her life would ride \"Alive\" into a brilliant moment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She could also shed the label of “got in through family connections” at People’s Literature.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But she wasn’t sure if the later sections could remain as brilliant as the beginning.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chen Xiaomi murmured to herself—this was the only thing she worried about and wasn’t certain of.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn’t that she was nitpicking.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was because, as an editing editor, she’d seen too many manuscripts that started strong and fizzled out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing her walk out of the chief editor’s office with a radiant smile, Zhou Chunlan, who had been secretly watching, immediately put on a concerned expression and asked:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Xiaomi, what did the chief editor say?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing this, Lao Jie, Dai Shu, and the other colleagues all paused their work and looked up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Zhou Chunlan’s fake, plastic sister act, Chen Xiaomi found it amusing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But she was a woman of high emotional intelligence and wouldn’t expose her; she replied: “Chief Editor Zhou and Dai Shu agree—it’s a yes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yes. A simple, concise word.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But everyone who knew Zhou Mingwei understood this was the highest praise.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In that instant, the editorial staff felt as if they’d witnessed a rising star surging upward, bursting like a firework with a swift whoosh across the sky.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Xiaomi, congratulations!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Xiaomi, don’t forget to treat us when it’s published.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As colleagues showered Chen Xiaomi with congratulations, Zhou Chunlan forced a stiff smile, her inner world collapsing: This was supposed to be mine…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After exchanging pleasantries with everyone, Chen Xiaomi focused on her top priority: calling back using the contact number left by “December.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>0739-885708\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her fingers rapidly tapped the keypad ten times, then double-checked the number before she straightened up and pressed the “#” key.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Is the writer December male or female?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How old is she?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thirty?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Or forty?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Is she easy to get along with? Easy to communicate with?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hello, who’s calling?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As she was pondering with the receiver in hand, the line connected—a sultry female voice came through.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Female?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The voice was so husky; she must be older, Chen Xiaomi quickly judged internally, then replied with careful wording:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hello! Are you the writer December?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Writer December?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Heng’s pen name is December? Wang Runwen paused, then immediately realized:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m not December. I’m his friend. Who are you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chen Xiaomi swallowed to soothe her parched throat: “I’m Chen Xiaomi, an editor at People’s Literature. Is December available?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, a crackling static noise interrupted the call, making Wang Runwen miss what the other side said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So she repeated: “People’s Literature?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Static on phones was common these days; Chen Xiaomi wasn’t surprised: “Yes, could you please call December to the phone?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Runwen glanced out the window toward the teaching building across the playground and said: “He’s not here now. Call back at noon.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not here?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chen Xiaomi asked patiently: “May I ask, roughly when will December be free at noon?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Morning classes ran all day; the fourth class ended at 12:10, and it took several minutes to walk from the teaching building. Wang Runwen replied immediately: “After 12:20, preferably a bit later.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Alright, thank you!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She hadn’t reached him on the first try; Chen Xiaomi felt a small pang of disappointment, but not much.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In her mind, with the golden brand of “People’s Literature,” as long as she spoke properly and followed up promptly, this was practically guaranteed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Runwen placed the red receiver back on its cradle, then suddenly slapped her own forehead, cursing herself for being an idiot—she’d completely forgotten about the “Harvest” magazine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>People’s Literature: 12:20\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Harvest: around 12:30\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Will the two conflict?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The English teacher instinctively wanted to call back, but in this era, there was no caller ID; she reluctantly gave up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then she fell into deep thought: What exactly had Li Heng written?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Both People’s Literature and Harvest magazine?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From the tone, it sounded like both were rushing to get him…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As an English teacher, Wang Runwen taught two classes daily and juggled countless household chores; she rarely paid attention to literature and had little understanding of either magazine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To be blunt, she was more familiar with “Story Weekly,” “Youth Digest,” “Mengya,” “Reader,” and Qiong Yao’s novels.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, she was just an ordinary person; literature, that lofty thing, felt too distant from her life—nothing compared to romance and gossip.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At least those romantic tales satisfied her feminine romantic fantasies and helped her release sorrow in the shower late at night.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Qi and the vice principal often published articles in newspapers and occasionally earned ten or twenty yuan in royalties; they probably knew more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She’d originally assumed Li Heng’s writing was similar to Wang Qi’s, so she hadn’t paid much attention or asked further.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But now it seemed suspicious—she’d have to ask Li Heng later; otherwise, a lack of information might ruin his big opportunity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thinking this, Wang Runwen, just back from class, changed her shoes again and headed downstairs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tomorrow was Lantern Festival, but the cold north wind still howled, making hearts shiver.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The teachers’ dormitory was close to the school gate; Wang Runwen pulled her black scarf tighter and went outside to buy several cups of sweet tofu pudding, a dozen steaming meat buns, and wrapped a few fried dough sticks in oil paper.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the third-floor platform of the teaching building, she ran into Wang Qi, who asked in surprise:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wenrun, weren’t you feeling unwell and went home? Why are you back?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She felt unwell because today was the first day of her period, and her lower back ached.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She’d only made a quick round during morning self-study and asked Wang Qi to supervise in her place.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Runwen shook her long hair: “I need to see Li Heng about something.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Qi was already used to her close relationship with Li Heng and had heard rumors from Liu Yejiang, but he dismissed them all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Having known them for years, he understood their personalities and trusted their character—he didn’t believe Teacher Wang would be foolish enough to fall for a student.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Runwen opened the breakfast bag: “Wang Qi, haven’t had breakfast yet? Have some while it’s hot.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Qi shivered from the cold and asked happily: “I get some too?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Runwen rolled her eyes: “Of course. When have I ever left you out?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Qi chuckled, grabbed a scalding-hot meat bun, bit into it—fat, tender, juicy—and slurped a cup of tofu pudding, praising:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Thanks to this kid Li Heng these past two years, I’ve saved a fortune on breakfast.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Runwen shrugged, teasing: “Hmph… I despise you. That’s your whole world? How much is that worth?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The two teachers ate breakfast and chatted about class performance, when Wang Runwen suddenly asked: “Wang Qi, I’ve got a question.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Qi’s mouth was full; he nodded at her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Runwen asked: “Have you heard of the magazine People’s Literature?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Qi swallowed the fried dough stick in a few bites: “Of course. What about it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Runwen asked: “Could your writing ever be published in People’s Literature?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Qi nearly choked, then chuckled bitterly: “Ha! You’re overestimating me. My mediocre skills are lucky to make it into a provincial newspaper—People’s Literature? Even if my ancestors’ graves smoked with good fortune, it wouldn’t happen.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Runwen was stunned: “You didn’t used to be like this—you used to call yourself a cultured person.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Qi smiled: “I was just bragging. You semi-literate folks didn’t know any better, so I could say whatever I wanted. But why are you bringing up People’s Literature today?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nothing, just curious.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Runwen asked again: “What about Harvest magazine? Have you heard of it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Qi said: “Those are real literary writers—elite figures. Nothing like us scraping together ten or twenty yuan in royalties.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After thinking a moment, Wang Runwen blurted out: “What if someone got calls from both magazines?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Qi widened his eyes: “That’s a real opportunity? Do you know this person? Marry him.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>PS: My neighbors’ dogs barked all night—I didn’t sleep well. Need a nap. Next chapter will be late. (This one might be a bit slow—don’t scold me, my head’s foggy.)\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Starting today, I’m saving drafts for publication.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1409,"2026-06-19T15:27:33.982Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","29867bca8e991c10de6a98595390d6cb94e73f6ceb51f157d7ceeca13e9ef147","1987-my-era-chapter-40","1987-my-era-chapter-38",713,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002F1987-my-era-cover.jpg"]