Chapter Thirteen: That Kid from the Cheng Family Became a Writer!
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“Is Comrade Cheng Kaiyan here? There’s a letter for you.”
This announcement quickly drew the attention of everyone in the courtyard.
“I’m here. I’m the mailman, Comrade Cheng Kaiyan.”
Cheng Kaiyan saw a man wearing a postal cap entering the courtyard, pushing a bicycle, and immediately knew that news had arrived about the manuscript sent to the Children’s Literature Department.
He felt a bit emotional; it had only been a single day, yet the review was already completed.
It seemed that editors these days were really motivated. From what he knew, the number of submissions had doubled in the past two years, and reputable publications received countless manuscripts.
In his previous life, he had sent submissions to several well-known literary magazines but never received any response.
Later, he learned that these magazines only accepted manuscripts from well-known authors. Submissions via mailboxes were often ignored, and recommendations came from familiar writers.
“Here’s your letter. Please sign for it.”
The mailman glanced at him with a strange look, seemingly surprised by his youth, then rummaged through a large pile of letters in his satchel and handed one to him.
“Thank you.”
Cheng Kaiyan took the letter and saw it was a yellowish-brown envelope marked with the words Children’s Literature Editorial Department. His heart stirred with excitement. He instinctively weighed it in his hand; the letter was thin, so it probably wasn’t a rejection—those usually returned the original manuscript.
Not far away, Zhao Ruixue stopped and glanced back at Cheng Kaiyan, recalling the manuscript she had seen that night. A thought popped into her mind: “Could it be...”
Zhao’s mother, tugging her daughter’s arm, saw her look back again and grew both angry and annoyed. What was so special about that kid? Was he really worth a university student’s lingering thoughts?
Xu Yuxiu, curious, stepped forward. Who could have sent this boy a letter? Could it be a female comrade from Southern Xinjiang?
After Cheng Kaiyan signed for the letter, the mailman, now somewhat curious, asked, “Comrade Cheng Kaiyan, did you submit a manuscript to Children’s Literature?”
This caught everyone off guard, and they all stared at Cheng Kaiyan with surprise.
This kid actually submitted something to a magazine?
Zhao’s mother laughed as if hearing a joke. Everyone in the courtyard knew he was just a vagrant who had recently returned from Southern Xinjiang. He’d only been back a few days, doing nothing all day—either lying in the sun or listening to the radio. Writing and submitting manuscripts? Was he even capable?
“What kind of writing? Submitting manuscripts? Impossible!”
“He really submitted it? Will it be accepted?”
Zhao Ruixue bit her lip, looking at Cheng Kaiyan with hope.
Even at a prestigious university like Beijing Normal, few had the confidence to submit manuscripts to magazines; most just shared them among classmates.
The mailman, somewhat embarrassed, asked, “Comrade Cheng Kaiyan, may I ask if it was accepted? I’m also a literature enthusiast. I’ve read many popular novels in recent years, like ‘The Head Teacher,’ ‘Scars,’ and ‘The Treasure Gourd’…”
Hearing this, Cheng Kaiyan’s initial plan to wait until returning home to open the letter vanished.
He was eager, like opening a package at the courier station itself.
He tore open the letter from Children’s Literature. Inside lay a stack of banknotes and a letter. Cheng Kaiyan carefully read through it.
“Comrade Cheng Kaiyan, it is an honor that you chose Children’s Literature. After joint editorial review, it has been decided to publish your piece, ‘The Submarine at Night,’ in the next issue...”
Reading this, Cheng Kaiyan relaxed and smiled, “It’s accepted.”
A steady acceptance for the debut work, marking a promising start to his writing career. It proved his ideas and words aligned with the era’s tastes and popular aesthetics.
It’s accepted!!
Upon hearing this, everyone in the courtyard stared at the letter in Cheng Kaiyan’s hands with shock and disbelief, some feeling happy while others envious.
Zhao’s mother, who had been ready to mock, suddenly gaped in silence, her expression utterly astonished.
Zhao Ruixue was also stunned, casting a glance at her mother, her mind a whirl of joy mixed with lingering sadness and complexity from earlier events.
Zhan Xinyu and her mother Wang Qiang were happy for Cheng Kaiyan. The young girl moved closer, eager to see what was written.
Wang Qiang smiled warmly, congratulating him, “Congratulations, Kaiyan. Yuxiu, you’re lucky — Kaiyan’s becoming a great writer.”
Xu Yuxiu’s eyes reddened upon hearing this.
Since her son returned, neighbors had gossiped relentlessly, calling him a good-for-nothing vagrant. Today, the Zhao family even rudely taunted her to her face.
Who could understand the pressure she’d endured as a mother?
But soon she brightened up. Xu Yuxiu put her arm around Cheng Kaiyan’s shoulders, “Kaiyan, you’re amazing. You’re truly my son!”
She proudly scanned the surroundings, especially focusing on Zhao’s mother and daughter, and the tightly shut Wang Cuihua family.
“Comrade Cheng Kaiyan, congratulations! I won’t keep you long; I have other deliveries. But I’ve always loved literature and even written some pieces myself, though I never dared to submit them. Comrade Cheng Kaiyan, may I learn from you in the future?” the young mailman asked excitedly.
“Learning from each other,” Cheng Kaiyan said modestly.
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“That’s great! Congratulations again.”
The mailman reiterated his congratulations, then apologized, saying he had to leave.
He was responsible for a large area and had many deliveries, so he couldn’t stay. Otherwise, he would have loved to stay and learn from Cheng Kaiyan.
After the mailman left, the courtyard residents gathered around.
...
“Brother Yan, let me see…”
The little girl looked up eagerly, curious.
Cheng Kaiyan didn’t mind and handed her the letter.
“Kaiyan, you really submitted something? And it got accepted?”
Zhao’s mother still found it hard to believe and asked immediately.
“Yes, Kaiyan, it’s a big deal! Xinyu, come look!”
From a broken window in the east wing, a head popped out.
Wang Cuihua’s round face startled the girl Zhan Xinyu, who jumped aside in fright. She complained, “Grandma Wang! You scared me! Why did you suddenly appear?”
“Just trying my luck.”
Cheng Kaiyan squinted at Wang, suspecting she was the gossip who spread this news around.
He had thought people these days were simpler.
What nonsense—human nature is the hardest to face.
If you’re doing well, they envy you; if you’re down, they trample you. Only when you surpass them so much they can’t reach you will they respect and admire you...
“What luck?”
Zhao Ruixue heard this and thought to herself that Wang was too modest.
Children’s Literature was a reputable literary magazine. Even if it was for children, it was nationally recognized, printing tens of thousands of copies monthly.
Even venerable figures like Ye Shengtao and Bing Xin had published there.
Moreover, Children’s Literature adhered to pure literary ideals, its value no less than contemporary literary journals.
“That’s truly remarkable. Kaiyan, when you have time, teach our Nan Hua how to write. Grandma Zhao was right about you — a natural talent born of a scholarly family. Your debut made a big splash!”
Wang Cuihua rested her hands on the window sill, poking her big head out like a turtle, calmly saying this and casting a glance at Zhao’s mother.
Though Wang had spoken ill of him behind his back, she genuinely admired Cheng Kaiyan. Writing was no small feat; in the past, it was the realm of scholars. Though he was uneducated, she understood this much.
The one paling the most was Zhao’s mother, who had insulted Xu Yuxiu and Cheng Kaiyan earlier. Now, with ironclad evidence before her, she had no choice but to accept it.
Her harsh words came from underestimating Cheng Kaiyan, believing him inferior to Zhao Ruixue. That’s why she had spoken recklessly, never expecting he could write.
Her face burned painfully, unsure whether to stay or leave.
Inwardly she cursed Wang Cuihua, blaming her for spreading rumors and for daring to ask to be taught by Cheng Kaiyan. “He’s not capable, understand?”
But she soon comforted herself, blaming Wang for the near fallout with Xu Yuxiu.
Still, she hadn’t completely broken with Cheng Kaiyan’s family, having just reminded him to keep his study materials and focus on learning.
With a caring smile, she asked, “Kaiyan, how much money did you make from the publication?”
Money?
Everyone grew curious, but Cheng Kaiyan shook his head, smiling without answering.
Then Aunt Wang and Xu Yuxiu chimed in, “Everyone, let’s disperse. Since it’s a misunderstanding and has been clarified, there’s no need to harm the harmony among neighbors. Let’s not jump to conclusions! Heard that, Wang Cuihua?”
Hearing this, everyone looked at Wang, stuck halfway through the window. Under their gaze, she shamelessly said, “Why look at me? I didn’t do it on purpose. My ears just misheard.”
The crowd dispersed, returning to their respective homes.
Watching Cheng Kaiyan walk home holding the envelope, Zhao’s mother muttered bitterly, “It’s just manuscript fees. What’s the big deal?”
“Mom! Stop stirring trouble, okay? Why are you asking how much he earned?”
Zhao Ruixue stomped her foot, her expression sour.
“You’re just curious, that’s all. By the way, Kaiyan can write, and you’re a top student at Beijing Normal, majoring in Chinese literature. Writing should be a breeze for you. You’re close to him, so go learn from him. You’ll surely catch up.”
...
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Cheng Kaiyan returned to his room and sat at the desk, explaining the whole story to his mother, Aunt Wang, and the little girl. The initial excitement gradually faded.
“How much did you make?”
His mother, Xu Yuxiu, asked curiously. The envelope wasn’t thick, so she guessed it wasn’t much.
“Fifty-one yuan, six mao, and four fen. Editor Xu said they paid five yuan per thousand characters, and this article was over ten thousand words. Mom, this money...” Cheng Kaiyan looked at his mother.
Fifty yuan?
That was already equivalent to a month’s salary!
Everyone was surprised. They had expected just a few or maybe a dozen yuan, not this much.
Xu Yuxiu said, “You’re grown now. Keep the money yourself.”
“Okay.”
Aunt Wang laughed, “You’re all grown up. In two years, you’ll be marrying a wife. What’s the title? I’ll buy Xinyu a copy so she can learn from you.”
“Children’s Literature, ‘The Submarine at Night.’ I think it has some educational value. It should be out on the first of next month, right?”
Cheng Kaiyan thought for a moment. Children’s Literature was a bimonthly publication. The last issue was November, so the next would be January. That would be 1980.
“Ah, so long! I want to read it now!!”
The little girl rolled on the bed, impatient.
“Eat some candied hawthorn sticks…”
That night, Cheng Kaiyan sat at his desk writing a letter to Liu Xiaoli in Jiangcheng, to be mailed the next day, expected to arrive within a week.
Liu Xiaoli was born in 1959 and was just in her early twenties.
She loved dance and the arts since childhood, excelling in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting—much like Cheng Kaiyan.
In 1970, she entered the Jiangcheng Song and Dance Theatre to study dance, graduating in 1976 and staying on as a dancer.
Early on, her mother Jiang Wan accompanied her, but now that she was grown, she lived and worked alone in Jiangcheng.
Cheng Kaiyan was a few months younger, so Liu Xiaoli regarded herself as his elder sister, agreeing to frequent correspondence over the coming year.
“Dear Comrade Liu Xiaoli,
I am deeply honored to receive your letter. Your sincerity and heartfelt apologies within moved me greatly. You are so kind and admirable.
As fellow educated youth, I too detest arranged marriages. Forcing two strangers into a union is immoral.
Love and marriage must be founded on complete freedom. Any external interference only sows the seeds of marital breakdown.
On this, I believe we stand united.”
Hmm...
First, to build rapport and turn an adversary into an ally.
Cheng Kaiyan was skilled at this. In his previous life, during college, he used his good looks and quick wit to navigate relationships with several girls, which kept him thriving.
Later, when he started working, one girl even proposed marriage.
“Ah... those were the days,” he sighed.
He gave a full self-introduction in the letter, including a photo, and ended earnestly:
“Sister Xiaoli, though I have not seen your face, as the saying goes, ‘seeing your words is like seeing your person.’ You must be a gentle and beautiful dancer. I look forward to seeing your performance.
With highest regards, wishing your career great success.”
...
In the following days, with Wang’s gossip machine in full gear, the misunderstanding between Cheng Kaiyan and Zhao Ruixue was fully cleared up. At the alley’s entrance, old man Yi reclaimed his top spot as the neighborhood’s favorite.
Meanwhile, the news of Cheng Kaiyan becoming a great writer spread, becoming a topic of casual conversation.
As for the “unemployed vagrant” rumors?
Sorry, now he was the charming young man beloved across the region.
Life passed leisurely. Cheng Kaiyan spent his days reading to enrich himself, gradually assimilating into this era.
One day, his aunt arrived, announcing she had secured a job.
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