Red door

Chapter 13

After Luo Ye handed in the manuscript, he felt relieved from the bottom of his heart. The sun after the rain was a red disc, but the sky was grayish white.He ordered two cups of coffee at the coffee shop and waited quietly for the night to fall.

He yearns for another storm, thunder and lightning, and his beautiful and conflicted lover.

Luo Ye is old-fashioned in his bones, but he is not old-fashioned. Of course, physical pleasure is also important, but wisdom is definitely a new trend of sexiness.

He always advocates spiritual resonance.

When He Yuan described a group of silent soldiers to him, he had a strong resonance. It felt like being in a rainstorm. Even though the environment was noisy, he himself stopped in loneliness and silence.

That piece of god-given thinking was a gift from the Muse, and that book was his blood meal to the Muse.

According to legend, the muse still eats writers, and his muse must be a vegetarian pie.

The aunt who was doing the cleaning the next morning asked him to answer the phone. The old editor said with a tired tone, "I finished it. I finished it in one night."

"I know yours. You can't sleep until you finish reading a book."

This is an anecdote about this editor when he was young. The old man was a bookworm when he was young. When "Galaxy Empire" (fourteen books) was introduced, he read it for two days without drinking, eating or sleeping, because of low blood pressure. Sent to the hospital.

"As I get older, my tastes become trickier. It's not as good as when I was young," said the old editor. "I read half of Zhou Mei's book and handed it over to the proofreading team. They couldn't read it no matter what. Not willing to pick. As for this "Our Silence", good boy, Sister Chen took your manuscript to the cafeteria, read it while eating, and refused to put it down no matter what."

Sister Chen is an experienced editor with a vicious vision, and her insight into the market is unmatched by others.

"Then I'm flattered."

"It's nothing to be flattered about, you just did what the author should do. Authors with a conscience are what we need." The old editor was silent for a while: "At least before novels and writing are completely abandoned by the times, authors with a conscience should To shine in light, but not for readers, but for fellows with open eyes in the dark."

Luo Ye felt very sad when he heard that, he nodded, realized that the editor couldn't see it, and hurriedly said: "I know."

"Just wait," the editor said, "waiting for your sample issue, waiting for your manuscript fee, after deducting personal income tax, it will not arrive until next month."

He also said: "If you have financial troubles, you can come to me."

"No," Luo Ye said with a smile, "I plan to start writing new works now."

The editor was surprised: "Continue writing so soon? I thought you would think about it for a while."

"This book was given to me by Muse, and he insisted that I finish it, but I still have a story of my own, and I want to finish it too."

The editor switched positions and asked, "What kind of story is this again?"

"About the peerless beauty."

"Oh, peerless beauties are always good subjects, will this be a love story?" Luo Ye could hear the editor's lack of interest.

He said: "I want to write a peerless beauty. She is a good hand in love, but later, she got tired of it, and went to live a life without a man, and spent her whole life in the pursuit of wisdom."

"You have to be prepared that you can only print one edition of the book." The old man said in a regretful tone: "If you change the gender of this woman in the game world, there may be unexpected gains. Female readers, sir Most female readers like only romance novels."

"Most are not all, and I can't write books for readers," Luo Ye touched the tip of his nose: "You just said, I want to write books only for my companions."

"Hahaha," the editor laughed, "Writers can write for their peers, but publishers have to survive."

The words are a bit sad, or as long as it has something to do with money, many things are very sad.

Just when he put down the phone, his father came over with a pot of coffee: "Go to the study to talk?"

Luo Ye thought of his father saying that he had no talent, and couldn't help but feel his stomach churning. He was very uncomfortable, but he still nodded and followed his father obediently to the study on the second floor.

He closed the door of the study, and his father took out a suitcase from behind the bookshelf. The years had left scars on his father, he was no longer young, and his figure was hunched. Luo Ye looked at him with a lot of emotion.

The father who said "writing can't make money" is as old as the writer's dream of his youth.

The father seemed to push the suitcase towards him unintentionally, and said in a nonchalant tone: "What I wrote when I was young, you can open it and play with it when I die."

Although he only said 'look and play', his eyes never left the box.

Of course he cared very much.

Luo Ye felt even more sad, but he didn't take it, he said: "You said I am a writer without talent."

"I'm not taking my opinion back."

He took the box and knew there was no need to argue with his father.What his father denies is not him, but himself—the self who abandoned writing for money.

Yielding to fate is also a shortcoming.

He is an extension of his father's life and a branch of the fate of his ancestors.

a speech

"I don't discriminate against romance novels. Love is beautiful and necessary. Love novels have a long history. In the earliest novel "The Tale of Genji", love occupies an important position, but in my humble opinion, love is not equal to marriage , Marriage is a system created in the long history of human beings. Its purpose is to consolidate assets and control reproductive resources. Marriage has nothing to do with love. Love is born with human beings. Maybe one day the system of marriage will be eliminated Elimination, but love will never be eliminated. So I really find it difficult to accept the so-called "Ba Zong novels" in which marriage is used to express the consummation of love." Luo Ye pushed his glasses and turned a page, "The reason why some popular novels are popular , behind which is the widespread anxiety of readers."

A student interrupted him: "Mr. Luo Ye, your romance history is blank, how did you come to your own conclusion?"

"It's privacy," he laughs, "but my romance is not blank. I had girlfriends when I was young, and then a boyfriend, and that's where my muse comes from, and when my love burns Sometimes, the intense sparks become the bursts of inspiration. What I criticize is not love itself, nor the romance novel itself, nor even the Ba Zong novel, but the simple and crude equality of equating the consummation of love with marriage. Number."

He smiled: "Sometimes when I read these novels, I even think that marrying the heroine and the second male lead is a good thing that is anti-traditional and anti-marriage. Of course love cannot be equated with marriage. When Anna Karenina was reading a book on the train, she fantasized In the middle of life, she got married, but obviously not because of the consummation of love."

"Then, what about marrying your lover? Isn't marrying your lover the consummation of love?"

"Could it be that by giving you a marriage certificate, you can guarantee that your love will last forever in the future?"

The student shook his head.

"Then we don't have anything to talk about, we can move on to the next topic." Luo Ye turned over a page of the speech, "It's about whether I have personally experienced my novel, or "Our Silence", of course not , I heard it told to me by my muse, and of course I'm sure he didn't experience it himself. But that's where the art of fiction lies, making the reader feel the magic of non-fiction while denying it. It is real. The author of "Robinson Crusoe" claimed to have written the 'true story', but this is false.

Someone asked me, isn’t writing a novel a lie?

I said, if you can rudely equate it with cheating, then I suggest you read Ba Zong's novels, your logic and the consummation of love are almost equivalent to marriage. "

The audience laughed.

When He Yuan was old

He knew that Wen Ji disappeared at a family dinner, and when his father tried his best to introduce him to a lady from a rich family, he said without hesitation: "I won't die without a woman."

He rarely said such things.Most of the time it was Wenji, who could refute his father fluently and clearly, like a young lion yelling at an old lion king, but now it was Heyuan himself who couldn't help but fight against his father.

For some reason, his father stopped, paused, and said, "I won't live for a few more years."

"You have a long life, my great-grandson is dead, maybe you are still alive."

"Don't be silly, I'm serious, I don't have a few years to live," his father held his head: "Can you treat me better?"

He Yuan shed tears. He had hard calluses on the index finger and middle finger of his right hand, and calluses on the joints of the little finger, all of which were left by working in the studio, "I told you the same thing, but I was very young at that time. , maybe the voice was very small, you didn't pay attention to it, so I pretended I didn't hear it, what do you think?"

"Don't do that to Dad."

He lowered his head and said, "Don't do this to me either."

His father started to cry, but He Yuan always felt that the next second his father would use something to slap him in the face.

He ran back to the room vigilantly, and took out a simple mirror from under the bed, the mirror was roughly covered, and he murmured: "Let me be free, let me be free."

But when he lifted the oilcloth covering the mirror, he hesitated again, thinking: "It's not the time yet, I can't see you at this time, I can't see you when you are useless."

He pulled out his phone, made an appointment with a good therapist, and thought, "I hope I'm perfectly healthy when you see me."

Wen Ji disappeared, and the evil dragon he had fought with since childhood was also old, no one would hurt him anymore.He looked out the window, the setting sun was as red as blood, but the clouds were pale in color, perhaps like the setting sun that Luo Ye saw one day many years ago.