[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-rising-in-1979":3,"chapter-rising-in-1979-rising-in-1979-chapter-19":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Rising in 1979",{"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},2260727,4412,"Chapter 19: Writing Poetry Like Cha Haisheng (Requesting Monthly Votes)","rising-in-1979-chapter-19",19,"\u003Cp>Liu Zhenyun happily accepted the task, thinking he could keep promoting himself along the way.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Actually, I really enjoy writing—I have a short story published in the first issue of Weiminghu.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh~” Zhang Dening stared at the tall man in front of him. “I’ll definitely take a look once we get to the editorial office.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Liu Zhenyun smiled even brighter—that was exactly what he wanted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if he might not yet have the strength to appear in Yanjing Literature, getting familiar with their editors and making them remember his name would surely bring advantages.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Next, Zhang Dening asked Liu Zhenyun about other writing talents in their class.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Liu Zhenyun answered openly, without holding back—he introduced not only Sister Zhang Manling, but also local Beijing natives like Xiao Dai (Dai Jinhua) and the poet Old Xiong (Xiong Guangjiong).\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He even spilled some gossip about the Class of ’79.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They say Wang Youqin from the Class of ’79 Chinese Department is this year’s national liberal arts top scorer—I’m just a provincial top scorer. To score the highest in the whole country, how incredible must she be? Truly, there’s always someone better out there, mountains beyond mountains…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh! So you’re a provincial top scorer? My apologies, my apologies.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Liu Zhenyun: “Oh come on, how did I let that slip? Pure luck, nothing to mention, nothing to mention, haha~”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Liu Zhenyun spoke with wit and a farmer’s shrewdness; Zhang Dening was also skilled at conversation. They walked and chatted along, quite happily.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Liu Zhenyun felt the day he’d earn his first manuscript fee was drawing nearer!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Upon arriving at the Weiminghu editorial office, Liu Zhenyun immediately introduced Zhang Dening to everyone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Huang Beijia and the others immediately came forward—they were old acquaintances.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then Liu Zhenyun introduced Zhang Dening to his classmate Old Xiong, the chief editor of Weiminghu, and to Zhang Manling, Zhang Dening’s main target for this visit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Dening first exchanged pleasantries with Huang Beijia and the other Class of ’77 friends, asking about their recent writing—and sure enough, it matched what Chen Jiangong had said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then she walked over to Zhang Manling and chatted with this senior classmate, sensing this woman truly had something.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet Zhang Manling’s writing progress was slow; though she’d been working for months, her mid-length story of several ten thousand characters had only reached ten thousand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This disappointed Zhang Dening.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as she thought this trip to Peking University was a waste, a miraculous man appeared!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After leaving the South Gate, Mei Wenhua went to the women’s dormitory to find his sister from the same courtyard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He couldn’t find her—she was said to be in the self-study room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the self-study room, he found his roommate, who told him she was at the Weiminghu editorial office.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After several inquiries, he finally made his way there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Qingqing, someone’s here to see you,” someone called out, guiding Mei Wenhua.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sister Qingqing, how’s my poem? Still good, right?” Mei Wenhua rushed straight toward the most striking girl present.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mi Qing saw Mei Wenhua appear in his security guard uniform and frowned—how did he find this place? Why didn’t he change clothes?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Recently she’d met this kid—he’d pestered her with chatter, trying to get close. Luckily, she hadn’t been wearing her uniform then.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She’d only accidentally mentioned she worked at Weiminghu and handled submissions—and this kid insisted on submitting his work to boost her performance metrics.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They’re from the same courtyard—I know exactly what these brats have been doing for me all along!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But since they shared a courtyard and their fathers knew each other, Mi Qing didn’t shut him down—she told him to go ahead and write.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And what did he write?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ah!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sea!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just water!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The steed!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Four legs!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She’d already forgotten the exact words, but it was roughly this level—this could never be submitted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wenhua, I’m sorry, your poem didn’t make the cut. Keep trying.” Mi Qing pulled him aside, embarrassed, eager to get rid of him quickly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Mei Wenhua, still reeling from Wei Ming’s earlier insult, couldn’t accept this result.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Not… not accepted?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, not accepted.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua refused to give up: “Can I talk to your chief editor? Maybe he didn’t understand the depth and meaning in my poem—I’m a Misty Poet.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Novels need plots, structure, characters—but modern poetry? He looked at others’ work and saw it was no different from his own—nonsensical, incoherent—why were they the great poets while girls flocked to them like mad?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chief editor Xiong Guangjiong stepped forward: “Friend, I’m a poet too. Which poem did you write?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“‘Splendid Sunshine’!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xiong Guangjiong had been ready to seriously discuss poetry, but upon hearing the title, he lost all interest. He grabbed a sheet of paper from the desk: “This is a poem by a freshman from Class of ’79—it’s our minimum submission standard. See the gap between yours and this.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua glanced at it, sneering: “This guy Cha Haisheng? His writing’s just average.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xiong Guangjiong confirmed it: this man had no poetic taste. He said directly: “Qingqing, take your friend out.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua tossed Cha Haisheng’s poem onto the desk dismissively: “Then give me back my original manuscript.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What original manuscript?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t you return the original when you reject a submission? You don’t recognize talent, but someone else might—I still plan to submit elsewhere!” Mei Wenhua bluffed, determined not to lose face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mi Qing, who felt her reputation among classmates had now been equated with this idiot, finally snapped:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’s already thrown away. Who’d want it? Just leave!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua: “Who knows? Big magazines have strange tastes. I can submit to People’s Literature or Yanjing Literature—maybe they’ll accept it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, someone suddenly laughed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What are you laughing at?” Mei Wenhua turned to look—if she weren’t a girl, he’d have punched her already.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sorry, I just thought of something funny.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s so funny? Tell me!” Mei Wenhua pressed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The girl had no choice but to point at Zhang Dening, who was about to slip out: “We have an editor from Yanjing Literature right here.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Dening: The spectacle was entertaining, but not when it burned her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She’d wanted to leave the moment she heard “Yanjing Literature”—she’d feared this exact moment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No, no, no—I’m in the fiction section, not poetry. Besides, this fellow’s manuscript… isn’t it already lost?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua sighed in relief: Right! Thank goodness it was lost—if rejected again, how could he ever guard the gate again? He might as well tend the boiler, smear his face black, and no one would recognize him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But fate was cruel—a male student suddenly pulled out a crumpled sheet: “‘Splendid Sunshine’—hey, here it is! Not lost!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Someone immediately cheered: “Read it out!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, let’s all enjoy this masterpiece!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The student even asked Mei Wenhua’s permission: “Shall I read it? Sister Zhang can listen too?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua bristled: “Read it! With feeling!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ah!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sun!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My sun!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Why do you never suffer insomnia?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Is it because you’ve never loved anyone?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And I, a melancholy handsome man…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this point, the entire room erupted in laughter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The laughter was full of restrained mockery—like daggers piercing Mei Wenhua.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And one of those daggers was especially sharp, laced with poison.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A male student whispered to his neighbor: “A gatekeeper? And he wants to write poetry? And get published…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In this era, occupational discrimination was rare—many had done unglamorous jobs before university—but it didn’t mean it didn’t exist.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Especially between Peking University’s elite and temporary security guards—though they shared the same campus and appeared polite on the surface, an invisible barrier always remained.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This cruel remark enraged Mei Wenhua, who had always been timid—and he lost control.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He interrupted the reader, eyes blazing red, pointing at the Peking University elites laughing at him:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So what if I’m a gatekeeper? I can get published in Shouhuo—can you? Can you?!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(PS: Godfathers, the big shots coming up are too fierce—Old Fo is already covered in bruises. Please support me!)\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1325,"2026-06-19T16:30:57.111Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","c19d7fb9b76f2e5ab2f1566a5d7ee1b4ab5d5a7fb554156672a22d0fd79e3adc","rising-in-1979-chapter-20","rising-in-1979-chapter-18",509,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Frising-in-1979-cover.jpg"]