Chapter 135 Someone is coming (8000 words)

“Yes. John Fother was born in Haugesund on the west coast of Norway. He is good at writing in New Norwegian, also known as Nynorsk. He has a wide range of writing genres, including drama, novels, prose, poetry, and children’s literature.”

"It seems that this is a very 'cold' writer. Not only does he live in a cold place, but he is also very unpopular. When I heard this name, my first reaction was, who?"

"Yes, for our readers, compared to the writers such as Haruki Murakami who everyone talks about, the name of this playwright from Norway is Very unfamiliar. In fact, in recent years, except for Bob Dylan, most of the winners of the Nobel Prize in Literature are relatively unpopular..."

Wang Zixu showed contempt on his face: "Bullshit. Can John Fosse be considered unpopular? He was already one of the best among the living playwrights before he won the Nobel Prize."

There was a rustling sound in the audio, which cast a hazy color on the guest’s voice: “Teacher, I have never really understood why Haruki Murakami accompanied him to the Nobel Prize? Is he nominated every time?”

“Actually, there is no “nomination” for the Nobel Prize. There are no candidates. Said Murakami The reason for choosing Haruki as a ‘runner’ is probably because every year he appears on the so-called ‘Odds List of Nobel Prize Authors’ circulated among the people. ”

“Oh, I know that. It seems that several writers from our country have also appeared on this odds list, including Can Xue, Yan Lianke, Yu Hua, Yan Zishan...”

"Yes, but it's just for entertainment, don't take it too seriously. Even JK Rowling, who wrote "Harry Potter", is on that list, so you can know how valuable the so-called odds list is."

Wang Zixu smiled again: "Who said that? Modiano in 2014, Paul in 2016 Bob Dylan, Handke in 2019, and Anne Ernault in last year were all high-ranking candidates on the odds list, and they also won awards later. Even if they don’t hit the top of the list every year, they are still not far away, and their gold content is much higher than yours.”

Naturally, his voice could not reach there, and the voice in the speaker continued:

"In addition, although Haruki Murakami is a favorite among our country's literary youth, he has never been able to win the Nobel Prize in Literature. Because he is too popular. The judges of the Nobel Prize have a more "serious" taste. They will think that writers who are too popular will lose their seriousness, so he basically has no chance of winning the Nobel Prize..."

“Blah, blah, blah, blah!” Wang Zixu said, “Marquez was a multi-million best-selling author before he won the award, right? He has only a little knowledge, talks nonsense, reads too little, and talks too much.”

Then he suddenly fell silent, because he remembered that he was the only one in the car. There was only one man, and his voice went nowhere.

In the four months before today, his life has been extremely regular: he wakes up in the morning and writes a 4,000-word literary script, handles some daily chores in the afternoon, starts writing at six o'clock in the evening, and writes until twelve o'clock in the evening, without stopping.

The company's business is gradually getting on the right track, and there are no longer matters that require his intervention. He specifically told Zuo Ziliang and Ye Lanshao to disturb him. Under his deliberate avoidance, interpersonal communication became easier and simpler, and he became more and more lonely.

He carefully hid himself in that house, facing the computer screen alone, as if there was only this small corner left in the world.

He imagined that his house was located on a blue-gray reef, with the black ocean and white waves outside the door. When the wind suddenly picked up, it blew through the walls, blew past his temples, and whizzed towards the empty place.

As a result, he felt cold all over and felt precarious, psychologically forcing himself to write as soon as possible. At the same time, I also contracted the problem of talking to myself.

In the last month, his mental state became more and more worrying. At the worst point, he had to write 12,000 words a day. When he fell on the bed, his words were fragmented and incomprehensible. He picked up the phone and asked the person opposite to drive a high-speed rotating machine to deliver liquids to China, which made the water delivery person confused.

Wang Zixu is not the first writer who has pushed himself to the point of mental problems.

According to later statistics, there are three writers in the world who prefer to be naked when writing. The first is Victor Hugo, the second is Hemingway, and the third is Chen Qingluo.

Hugo was naked because he had severe procrastination. In order to suppress his playful personality, he asked his servants to hide his clothes so that he could not go out; Hemingway did not want to be bound by such vulgar things as clothes. He used this behavior to break free from the shackles and shackles of worldly vision and became the freest creator on earth.

Chen Qingluo’s reasons are very similar to the latter. When she devoted herself wholeheartedly and entered a state of selflessness, the clothes on her body disappeared one by one without realizing it. When she was creating, she was completely enclosed and the door was locked. Only Ning Chunyan witnessed this magical process.

Writers all have various eccentricities. Although each has its own reasons, they all point to one fact about creation: writing is a tormenting thing, which can make people's behavior become abnormal and difficult for ordinary people to understand.

There is great pain in writing. If you don't write it down, the pain will affect your mind and make you unable to sleep or eat well; if you write it down, the pain will be projected onto your physical body, making it difficult for you to sleep or eat at all.

Wang Zixu endured this kind of torture. Fortunately, the torture was not fruitless. After the long end of summer, Wang Zixu produced a novel with a length of 500,000 words.

Considering the length of this novel, it is very difficult whether it is submitted to Feishi Suihan's essay collection, submitted to a magazine, or printed by one's own publisher. Too long. So he is now undergoing the painful process of revising the first draft, with the goal of reducing 500,000 words to less than 300,000 words.

The interview in the speaker came to an end, and the host said:

“So, to the domestic audience, what other outstanding writers do teachers recommend?”

"Nowadays, the younger generation of writers have grown up, not to mention Chen Qingluo, but also Xiao Mengyin, Xiaochi, and Gu Zao, all worthy of attention."

"Oh, I have heard of Xiao Mengyin, she is really a woman with a lot of personality. Recently, I read some interviews of her, and her speech is also very philosophical."

“Yes. She has a lot of personality. Her works, like herself, are also full of weird and special feelings, which makes people want to read them.”

Hearing the familiar name, Wang Zixu felt a little sour in his heart, but soon he quietly wiped away the emotions in his heart for a moment and returned to calmness.

Since the last glimpse, he has not seen Chen Qingluo again.

Xie Cong posted a video of Chen Qingluo awarding an award to Wang Zixu in the class group, which caused a sensation in the class group. People first recognized Chen Qingluo, who was dressed up as the award presenter, and marveled at her appearance. Then they discovered that the person receiving the award was Wang Zixu. News from countless people flew in like snowflakes.

The prince peeked at the class group for a long time with secret joy, but did not see Chen Qingluo coming out to show off. Finally, he was disappointed to find that she had left the group at some point.

Because of this incident, he was even more uncertain about Chen Qingluo’s thoughts and did not dare to contact her.

He tried countless times to write a letter that he wanted to send to Chen Qingluo. He used his lifelong writing skills to write a variety of beginnings with different styles, some passionate, some deep and calm, but without exception, they ended up being scraps of paper, which he patched into Wenwen's script.

It’s not that he writes poorly. His scripts during that period received unanimous praise from speech therapists and clients (Ye Lan commented that he became more and more demonic as he got older). It's because he didn't have the courage to send it.

He doubted whether he would be like those novels written by Marquez. His love story finally had a heroic ending-many years later, when he was too old to look like, he suddenly picked up his luggage and walked many kilometers. He came to Chen Qingluo's house and knocked on the door and said: I heard that your husband is dead.

Wang Zixu pushed these messy thoughts out of his mind and repeated another name in a normal tone:

"Xiao Mengyin."

Wang Zixu effortlessly recalled all the rumors he had heard about this woman.

He knew that she was the winner of the last Feishi Suihan Literature Award and had read her new book. Through her works, he learned that she was born in the 1990s just like him, and was even two years younger than him.

Every time he thought of this, Wang Zixu felt worried.

The Nobel Prize for Literature does tend to not be awarded to writers from the same region within a short period of time. For example, the South American authors Marquez and Llosa were obviously writers of almost the same period, but after Marquez won the award, it took Llosa 30 years to receive this honor.

In other words, if Wang Zixu wants to win the Nobel Prize in Literature, the competitor that threatens him the most is actually from China, and is thirty years older than him. If a domestic author of the same age group wins the award, it is likely that his twenty or thirty chances will be wasted.

Most of the more popular writers on today’s odds list are outside this range. There are several people in the range, and he is confident that he can surpass them in his lifetime. Xiao Mengyin's appearance made him feel some pressure. Not much, but there are.

But the person who puts the most pressure on him is indeed Chen Qingluo.

“Hey, Lao Wang, are you there?”

The car stereo amplified Lin Feng’s voice on the phone and sent it to his ears. Wang Zixu said: “Not yet, are you there?”

Lin Feng said: “I’m almost there. Why did you set off earlier than me? Isn’t it here yet?”

Wang Zixu said: “Nanda is far away from the river.”

“Oh, yes, yes.”

Today is the day for the offline review of materials for the postgraduate examination. Wang Zixu is rushing to Nanda to submit all his materials.

During this period, Lin Feng also planned to take the postgraduate entrance examination, but he was afraid of Nanjing University’s score line and chose Jiangsu University.

"Brother Wang, do you really want to take the postgraduate examination as a full-time graduate student? Have you thought about it? Are you sure you will not take the public examination in the future?"

Wang Zixu was silent for a while: "I can't think of a reason to study in-service when I have no intention of having an official career. But you, haven't you always been interested in Nanda? Do you have a dream? Why not go to Nanjing University? "

Lin Feng smiled sheepishly: "As I said, I urgently need a diploma for promotion. Nanjing University is indeed my dream, but people can't live by dreams."

So people can't live by dreams?

Lin Feng added: "By the way, there is a writers exchange meeting at Nanjing University today. Many celebrities are there, and I heard that Yanzishan is also there."

"Really?"

"Can you go ask Yanzishan for a photo for me? I was so excited last time that I forgot to ask him for it."

Wang Zixu didn't intend to join in the fun at first, but after hearing Lin Feng's sincere words, he agreed to him.

Speaking of which, Yan Zishan asked him to "go to the East China Sea." He has arrived at the East China Sea. I wonder what Yan Zishan will say next?

Finally arrived at the NTU campus. This was the second time he entered here, but he found that it was much busier than the last time. Vehicles from all over the place lined up at the entrance. A security-looking man came over and waved to him:

"No need to go in, park the car. The place is full. "

Wang Zixu stuck his head out of the window: "Is it full?" "It's full. Turn around."

Wang Zixu had no choice but to drive to the side of the road.

The East China Sea is an exquisite place. Wang Zixu didn’t know whether parking was allowed on the roadside, but there was already a row of cars parked on the roadside, so he followed suit.

As soon as he got off the car, three girls ran over and pointed at his car.

“It’s Posimi Miye!”

“Yes, it’s Posi Miye.”

The three girls have different looks and attire. One of them has a face that is not very special, but has extremely long eyelashes; some are wearing a polka-dot T-shirt with big breasts;

They looked like work-study students standing on the roadside handing out flyers, but what they held in their hands were not flyers.

Wang Zixu picked up his registration information and walked straight to school. However, three girls caught up with him from behind and greeted him:

"Are you from Nanda University?"

Wang Zixu didn't know how to answer this sentence, so he could only shake his head: "Not yet."

The three girls chirped and said: "We are sophomore students in the Chinese Department, and we are currently doing a research project. Could you please take some time to cooperate with us in doing a questionnaire survey?" "

"Okay."

The girl with long eyelashes took out a piece of paper and put it on her notebook: "Excuse me. What is your education level? "

"Bachelor's degree."

"Are you a bachelor's degree student or a graduate?" The girl with long eyelashes raised her eyes.

Wang Zixu said: "It has been many years since I graduated."

"Then you are going to Nanjing University now..." asked the girl with long eyelashes.

“Registration for graduate students.” Wang Zixu said, raising the information in his hand.

The three girls whispered to each other: "Yes, today is indeed the day to register for graduate students."

The busty girl in polka dot clothes raised her head and asked with a strange expression: "Excuse me, How old are you? "

"Thirty."

The three girls looked at each other, and then said: "Oh, working graduate students."

"Full-time."

"You are still registering for a graduate degree at the age of thirty? Or a full-time graduate student?" The girl's eyes widened.

Wang Zixu said: "Jin Yong was a graduate student when he was eighty years old."

"That's true." The busty girl in polka dot clothes said sincerely, "What I want to express is that my uncle's perseverance is commendable."

Wang Zixu felt a little short of breath: "I am only seven, eight or nine years older than you, right? I am not an uncle, right?"

The busty girl in polka-dot clothes stuck out her tongue: "But I feel that 30 is a very far away age."

Wang Zixu thought viciously in his heart, in another five years, you will start to panic. The God of Time is fair.

"This is not the point, please don't change the subject." The girl with long eyelashes stopped the topic from spreading. "The subject of our survey is the general public's enthusiasm for the Nobel Prize for Literature. We would like to ask, do you know that the Nobel Prize for Literature was recently announced?"

"That's great."

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Before Wang Zixu could recover from the frustration just now, the girl with long eyelashes nodded with a smile and asked again:

"Then do you know the winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature this time?"

"John Fother, a Norwegian writer."

The three girls’ eyes lit up, and they exchanged surprised glances with each other, praising Wang Zixu: “This is the first one today who can accurately answer the name and nationality.”

“Oh.”

Wang Zixu now thinks that maybe he is not an ordinary person.

Will ordinary people have 49 opportunities to win the Nobel Prize for Literature?

However, in the secular evaluation system, he, a 30-year-old unemployed vagrant who came to take the postgraduate entrance examination, is still a level lower than the general public, even if he is not an ordinary citizen. It's like a great harvest to Yellow Crane Tower.

“How much do you know about his works?”

Wang Zixu said: "I have read his collection of "Someone is Coming". There are several scripts in it. I have not read other prose or poetry. I haven't read much."

This answer was beyond the expectations of the three girls. They looked at each other and fell into silence.

In the end, the girl in polka-dot clothes said frankly: "The award was just given yesterday, and I read it today, how come it is so fast? Do you live next to the bookstore?"

"John Fosse did not get this person because of the Nobel Prize. I read his book before this year's Nobel Prize was announced."

The wavy-haired girl opened her mouth slightly, and her apricot-shaped eyes stared at him with suspicion, as if she was sincerely saying: Uncle, it is outdated to rely on pretending to be a literary youth to pick up girls.

Wang Zixu could not help but start to defend: "He has long been a well-known playwright in Norway and a world-class playwright. Isn't it unusual to read his books?"

He was not angry at the distrust of several girls. When he purchased John Fosse's works, he found that the sales volume of the book online was actually 10, and he was immediately surprised: Are there actually 10 people in China who also want to pursue the Nobel Prize in Literature?

Apart from this, he can’t think of any other reason why anyone should read this Norwegian playwright’s minimalist play.

The girl in polka-dot clothes waved her hand, as if she wanted to skip the topic quickly: "Next question."

The girl with long eyelashes suddenly turned over a few pages of manuscript and asked: "Do you have any opinion on the result of this Nobel Prize in Literature?"

Wang Zixu stood still: "Why should I? Opinion? ”

The girl with long eyelashes was startled by his tone: “I mean, if you were to choose, who would you choose to win this award?”

Many names floated through Wang Zixu’s mind, and he finally said: “He deserves it.”

After a pause, he added: "If you can choose, then I nominate Thomas Pynchon, Milan Kundera, Don DeLillo..."

The girl with long eyelashes shouted: "Wait a minute... Please speak slower."

Wang Zixu taught her How to write those words: "Thomas Pynchon, "Pin" means "Pin" in short stories, "Qin" means "Qin" in admiration... What's going on? How come students in the Chinese Department don't even know about Thomas Pynchon?"

Girls with long eyelashes are trained to have sparkling eyes, but Wang Zixu can't control that, and continues:

“If I could bring the dead back to life to receive the prize, I would also give the prize to Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Kafka, Calvino, Nabokov, Philip Roth... Oh, yes, there was no Nobel Prize when Dostoevsky died, so we can only trouble Mr. Nobel to die early...

“Didn’t you hear that? Okay, let me speak slowly. Thomas Pynchon, Don DeLillo, and Milan Kundera are the ones who need to be awarded as soon as possible. If they don't award them, they may die. If they die, it will be too late. Philip Roth was miserable enough. He died in 18 years and only lived to be 85. The above people are also about the same age as him. If he died, it would be a pity for the Nobel Prize..."

Wang Zixu’s chattering made the scene eerily quiet. The three girls looked at each other, obviously this barrage made them quite uneasy.

The girl in polka-dot clothes raised her hand to interrupt him: "Let me ask, which major are you applying for as a graduate student?"

"Chinese Department."

The three girls were relieved. , the suffocating feeling in his chest was swept away: "It turns out to be senior brother."

Watching the girls celebrate with each other, Wang Zixu realized that their strange silence just now was because his performance exceeded expectations. The girls were shocked by his behavior of naming the dishes and felt quite jealous.

"Senior, are you from this school or from another school?"

"My undergraduate degree is from BIT."

"...BIT has a Chinese department?"

"I am not from the Chinese department, I majored in engineering. ”

Looking at the expressions on the faces of the three girls, Wang Zixu said earnestly: “It’s not just those in the Chinese department who study, and it’s not that students in the Chinese department must read more books than others. We should let the major we study add wings to ourselves, rather than let the major become a mold that solidifies us.”

After he finished speaking, he felt that there was something great in this sentence, but the reaction of the listeners was not satisfactory. None of the three girls responded. Wang Zixu suddenly felt a little discouraged, and wondered if his preaching just now was a bit too fatherly.

This also reflects the changes in the mental outlook of students over the years. Today’s students are more confident. If it were in the past, when Chen Qingluo said, "You haven't even read XX," Wang Zixu's reaction would be to nod and bow, "I am ignorant and I am guilty." He sent Chen Qingluo off respectfully and then went home to secretly stay up late reading.

But that won’t be the case now. Wang Zixu unconsciously assumed Chen Qingluo's old attitude, which was exactly the same as when she taught him a lesson: What? You don’t even know Thomas Pynchon? A living legend, one of America's greatest serious writers, "Gravity's Rainbow", you don't even know this, how dare you stay in the Chinese Department?

But the three girls were indifferent, and Wang Zixu began to reflect on himself: Maybe not knowing Thomas Pynchon is not a sin.

But it was the girl with the wavy hair who finally broke through the prince’s virtual defense line with an indifferent remark: “Among the people you mentioned, I’ve heard of Milan Kundera, but isn’t he already dead?”

Wang Zixu was stunned in place: “When did it happen?”

"It happened not long ago. There was a lot of news at that time, didn't you know?"

Wang Zixu quickly started searching. In the past few months, he had been busy creating at home, not watching the news at all. After searching for the news of "Milan Kundera's death," he put his head in his hands and stayed there for a long time.

Then, he said in despair: "Are you done asking questions?"

"Well, it's over."

Wang Zixu said goodbye. As soon as Fu left, a heated discussion broke out among the three girls:

“Does he really understand or is he bragging?”

“I don’t know, I’m only a sophomore, you ask me?”

"Tie Wenqing... no, Wen Zhong. A middle-aged literary man."

"Oh, how come the Chinese department is full of weirdos like this?"