In the afternoon, the sun is hot again.

The hot and humid air scorched the skin, and even a frenzied fan shaking didn't help. Everyone can't wait to stick out their tongues like a dog, and resolutely refuse to go to the bamboo forest again.

Lin Huiyin drank mung bean soup and suddenly suggested: "Why don't you write something, poetry, prose, and essays...... Any subject matter is fine. Then select the best 30 works and compile them into a "collection of auspicious runes" for publication. ”

"That's a good idea, I'll take care of the compilation." Hu Shi responded immediately.

Hu Shi is good at writing reviews, good at translation, and good at writing academic research articles, but he is not good at literary creation. His poetry and prose are relatively mediocre, among which the vernacular poem "Butterfly" is the most representative -

Two yellow butterflies, both flying into the sky.

I don't know why, one flew back.

The rest of the one is lonely and pitiful.

I don't have the heart to go to heaven, and heaven is too lonely.

From this limerick poem, it can be seen what level Mr. Hu Shi's poetry is - it seems that there is no level at all.

The smartest thing about Hu Shi is that he knows how to play to his strengths and avoid his weaknesses. As soon as he heard Lin Huiyin's proposal to improvise, Hu Shi immediately took over the task of compiling the anthology, so that he could not only avoid making a fool of himself, but also occupy a dominant position in this creation.

With so many cultural celebrities collectively creating, the "Collection of Auspicious Runes" is sure to cause a sensation. At that time, everyone opened the book and looked: Hey, this anthology turned out to be edited by Mr. Hu Shi!

Zhou Hexuan didn't know Hu Shi's thoughts, he only smiled, too lazy to debunk it.

"You write it, and I won't be ugly." Jiang Xiaolu said very honestly. He was one of the top sculptors in China at this time, so he could create sculptures and be very good at painting, but it was not enough to engage in literary writing.

Xu Zhenfei also smiled and said: "I study economics, and I don't study literature. ”

One after another, seven or eight more people gave up their writing activities, including philosophers like Jin Yuelin.

In fact, they must have no problem writing articles, essays, travelogues, etc. It's just that there are too many masters present, and they don't want to make up the numbers perfunctorily, so they choose to hide clumsy.

Liu Haisu, a painter, began to write prose with great interest, and he studied prose quite deeply.

Zhou Hexuan leaned against the corner to enjoy the cool alone, drinking mung bean soup happily, without the slightest enthusiasm for writing articles. It's not that Zhou Hexuan can't write this kind of work, he traveled around the world before crossing over, and when he ran out of money, he wrote a travelogue and published it in various travel magazines and self-media, which was his first eating skill.

Even if you can't write it yourself, Zhou Hexuan can still copy it, just copy a few high-quality prose, and change it is a good work.

The main thing is that I am not inspired and don't know what to write. Zhou Hexuan is no short of fame now, why bother to steal the limelight from others?

Only a writer like Su Xuelin, who is not up or down, has some fame in the literary world, but lacks influence, needs to express himself well on this occasion, at least the manuscript fee will definitely increase in the future.

Shen Congwen didn't write either, he likes to be alone in his room to create, his words flow from his soul, and he is not very suitable for the lively on-site essay competition.

The weather was getting hotter and hotter, and everyone was dripping with sweat.

Lu Xiaoman's old problem was made again, she was dizzy and almost fainted, Xu Zhimo hurriedly helped her to the vent, and got a corner of opium to relieve the pain. In the era of lack of painkillers, opium was the best painkiller, which was the main reason why Lu Xiaoman couldn't do without opium.

In the 21st century, Zhou Hexuan has seen a similar condition, and the name of modern medicine is "Meniere's syndrome". Every time there is no warning, the patient will feel a strong rotational vertigo, often accompanied by nausea, vomiting, sweating, tinnitus, stuffiness and other symptoms, and even great pain in severe cases.

Even in the 21st century, with the development of medicine, the cause of "Meniere's syndrome" is still unknown, and it is very difficult to cure it.

As for the Republic of China period, it is even more impossible to get effective treatment, and the doctors unanimously believe that Lu Xiaoman is suffering from "syncope".

After Lu Xiaoman's side stabilized, Zhou Hexuan walked over and asked, "Are you okay?" ”

"It's an old problem, just take a break." Xu Zhimo sighed. He was reluctant to divorce Lu Xiaoman, largely because he couldn't rest assured and felt that Lu Xiaoman needed to be taken care of.

Zhou Hexuan pushed the door and looked up at the sky, the sun was already obscured by dark clouds. But the weather did not become cooler because of this, but became more sultry, Zhou Hexuan said to himself: "I'm afraid it's going to rain again." ”

"Boom!" Thunder rang out.

Thunder, only thunder, no rain.

However, a gust of mountain wind blew, which accelerated the evaporation of sweat on the surface of his body, making Zhou Hexuan feel a little cool.

Time passed slowly, the sky became more and more gloomy, and the mountain wind became stronger and stronger, blowing the bamboo forest on the hillside to sway with the wind.

"Wow, it's windy, it's so cool!" Zhang Jiazhu ran outside excitedly, the essay he wrote had been done.

There are constantly people who come out after writing articles, standing in the wind and embracing nature, just hoping that raindrops will fall from the sky as soon as possible. It's a pity that the wind blew and the thunder struck, but it didn't rain.

Su Xuelin was like a primary school student who longed to be praised by the teacher, she held her prose in both hands and handed it to Zhou Hexuan: "Mr. Zhou, this is my clumsy work, please correct it." ”

Zhou Hexuan took a quick look at her article and said with a smile: "It's well written, keep working hard." ”

"That's right, thank you, Mr. Zhou." Su Xuelin was very disappointed because Zhou Hexuan's comments were too perfunctory.

Zhou Hexuan was not deliberately perfunctory, but Su Xuelin's article could not be evaluated. The most important characteristic of this female writer in writing prose is that she likes to write about people, and she always mentions her friends—especially those who are powerful, powerful, and famous.

What she is writing now is a travelogue essay, which is entirely a running account. At the beginning, she and a certain friend received an invitation from Zhou Hexuan and Hu Shi to participate in a literary meeting about Xu Zhimo, which was mixed with descriptions of a large number of celebrities.

From the perspective of ordinary readers, I must have read it with relish and thought that this article was interesting and compelling. But for the other people on the mountain at the moment, it tastes like chewing wax, and there is no nutrition at all.

Disappointed and embarrassed, Su Xuelin asked, "Didn't Mr. Zhou write an article?" ”

Zhou Hexuan said: "Lack of inspiration. ”

Su Xuelin said in a coquettish tone: "Such a grand event, how can Mr. Zhou's article be missing?" You write one. ”

Zhou Hexuan was provoked to a chill, if it was a beautiful girl, he would definitely enjoy it very much, but Su Xuelin was a middle-aged short and fat woman in her 30s.

really didn't have any common topic with Su Xuelin, Zhou Hexuan hurriedly pretended to look at the scenery.

Halfway up the hillside, next to a green cornfield, several farmers are plowing the land. It was a sloping land of just over ten square meters, which can only be described as barren, but the farmer turned the ground with great care, as if a sculptor was carving a flawless jade.

Su Xuelin followed Zhou Hexuan's line of sight, let out a pale sigh and said, "The peasants are really hard. ”

"Yes, Chinese peasants, for generations, have come over like this, and they bear the hope of the country." Zhou Hexuan suddenly remembered a poem.

That poem is the work of Mr. Mu Dan, China's greatest modernist poet. In the second year after composing that poem, the poet resolutely devoted his pen to join the expeditionary force from Rong, personally experienced the great retreat of Yunnan and Burma, crossed the mountains in the savage mountains, and survived by stepping on piles of white bones. Terrible dysentery tormented him, and eight days of starvation drove him mad, and after five months of disappearance, he fled to India, where he nearly died from eating too much.

Maybe some people haven't heard of Mu Dan's name, his real name is Zha Liangzheng, Mr. Jin Yong's cousin, and Xu Zhimo's distant cousin.

That poem is called "Praise".