Tuesday, cloudy. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info

At ten o'clock in the morning, the editorial office of Nanjian Daily.

In seven or eight large cubicles, five or six editors are working nervously to typeset the manuscript for tomorrow morning's newspaper. The workload of the editor of the local daily newspaper is very large, except for proofreading and final review, all the work has to be done by himself, and sometimes in order to fill the gap, the manuscript is often drastically deleted, not because the work is bad, but the number of words in the layout is needed.

Yan Cong was angry with his left hand clapping the typesetting sample, he held the telephone with his right hand, and scolded at the other end of the phone: "Xiangzi, what the hell are you doing, one draft is submitted more, I just put your group of poems on the headline of Wednesday's special issue of 'Hundred Gardens', and "Sanshan Evening News" has already been published, do you know the consequences?" I was just scolded by the editor-in-chief, if it weren't for my friends for many years, we would have sealed your manuscript! ”

On the other end of the phone, Xiang Zi, the leading poet in Nanjian City, apologized repeatedly: "Teacher Yan Cong, I really didn't mean it, this group of poems has been submitted to the "Sanshan Evening News" for more than half a year, and I have asked a few times, they will definitely not use it, so I dare to vote for you." I never expected that the notice of the Sanshan Evening News was not notified, and it was used again, I am really sorry, I will write a review letter to the general editor, and explain the situation clearly......"

Seeing that Xiang Zi admitted his mistake and had a good attitude, Yan Cong was slightly angry, put down the microphone, and began to consider filling this skylight, the final review in the afternoon, and the printing house in the evening, it seems that he can't go home at noon, he has to work overtime to typeset and finalize, and there are a lot of family affairs at home, what an unlucky day!

At this time, the mail messenger at the front desk delivered a bunch of incoming letters to the desk.

"This morning's letter came a little late......," Yan Cong muttered to himself, flipping through the envelopes one by one.

This was due to the fact that a certain staff member of the post office had something to do in the afternoon, and the postmark work that should have been done in the afternoon was done in the morning, so that the postman had to wait for more than an hour before the letter was delivered, and Yang Zijian's manuscript was also delivered to the editing room half a day in advance.

Yan Cong's manuscript library has spare parts, but most of them are old works by old authors, and mainland goods with no characteristics, which can be used or not, because there is a matter of multiple drafts of Xiangzi, and he is now a little disgusted with the old author.

At this time, he swept his eyes and saw a letter with the prompt words "Poetry Group Poems" written on it, which was neat and smooth in block letters, which made people feel good, "Nanjian No. 1 Middle School, Yang Zijian"? In my memory, there is no such author among the teachers of the Chinese group of Nanjian No. 1 Middle School.

While turning his thoughts, he cut open the envelope, took out the manuscript paper and opened it, it was actually a composition book, it seemed that it was not a teacher, but an ordinary teacher, a little disappointed, but this poem - more than 700 words read it in a few minutes, well, the writing is not bad, the ancient poetic conception and modern emotions such as "Broken Mountain Temple Houzen Temple", "Sending Yuan Er Envoy Anxi", "Night Rain Sending North" and other ancient poems are well blended with modern emotions. It's just that there are some places that don't go deep enough, and it always feels like a classical poem translated with modern poetry, but for beginners, it's already qualified.

Yan Cong would not have thought that these were the five worst of Yang Zijian's fifteen group of poems, which were originally used for patchwork, after all, he is now a high school student, and he can only use the worst works to meet his identity.

Yan Cong likes the poetry in the afterglow, and has always admired the poetry of the retro style, but unfortunately now these poets either learn hazy or modernism, the hazy school likes to insinuate, modernism is criticism, do daily newspapers dare to use it? It is still the neoclassical warmth of the poets of Baodao, close to modern life...... He muttered as he habitually revised and condensed a few good sentences, and then cut out the extra paragraphs.

Generally, editors will not modify the old author, which is called disrespect, but the new author can be deleted and modified, which is called correction, which is a manifestation of the editor's reluctance, and the new author will also be grateful.

Another reason why Yan Cong abandons the old works in the manuscript library and uses the works of new authors is that the number of words in the skylight is fixed, and the manuscript must be drastically deleted.

Five poems of one hundred lines were cut to eighty-one lines, well, not bad, just right, so perfect! The title of the group of poems has also been changed, what "Ancient Temple (Outer Four Songs)", which is too ugly, changed to "Memory of the Frost Moon".

Yan Cong was very satisfied, it only took an hour and a half to complete the skylight, and there was no need to work overtime at noon, by the way, it was best to call the school and ask what Yang Zijian was coming from.

As soon as he thought of this, he dialed the phone in the office of the first junior high school, where there was a teacher author he knew, but unfortunately the teacher seemed to be still in class, no one answered, look at the watch, it's time to get off work, forget it, this manuscript looks like it was written by a beginner, and it is impossible to plagiarize.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, the sun shone obliquely from the right side of the junior high school building to the playground.

Ping Pong ~ Ping Pong ~

In the southeast corner of the playground, there are five cement slate tables, and only three of them are occupied by table tennis.

This is free time for physical education class, and everyone has their own play.

"What's wrong with you, you seem to be out of your mind." Xie Xiaoqin wiped a handful of sweat and put the racket on the table.

Yang Zijian always felt that something was going to happen, so he was uneasy, so he casually found an excuse and said: "I haven't fought for a long time, Shousheng, Lin Xun, it's your turn to fight, work hard, you must pull Xiao Qin off the championship altar." ”

Lin Xun picked up the ball, walked over and took the racket and said: "It's 5 to 11 again, you have lost to Xiaoqin in three games, you are embarrassed to brag that you are the number one master of Nantang Middle School, this level is too inferior, you have not succeeded in smashing the ball once, and you didn't fly out of the table if you hit the net." ”

Yang Zijian shrugged indifferently and stood in the middle to report the number as a referee.

At this time, there was a silver bell-like laughter on the basketball court in front, like a group of yellow warblers chirping, which was pleasant to the ear.

Across the table, Yang Zijian saw Wang Yun playing basketball with nine girls more than ten meters away, and his hair in a ponytail was very refreshing. He was immediately distracted, and couldn't help but stare at her exposed forearms and neck, the wheat color was slender and round, and the grains of sweat glistened on her cheeks, which made her heart pound, and I wanted to go over and wipe her.

It's a bit weird for girls to play basketball, it feels like they're playing football, and wherever the ball goes, they scream and rush over to grab it. Wang Yun still abides by the rules, slaps a few times before shooting, as for the others, they almost rush to the basket with the ball and shoot. However, judging from the many boys who were watching, including Yang Zijian himself, they didn't plan to correct it, because all they saw was the girl's slender figure and cute smile.

Looking at this beautiful picture of overflowing youth, Yang Zijian's impetuousness, gloom and restlessness were unconsciously swept away.

Even if this batch of submissions fails, what is it, there are many opportunities, and an infinitely better future is waiting for you!