"Okay, uncle, I'll contact my classmates and ask them to see if this poem is copied or bought when the time comes. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info" Cao Lingyuan said.

Cao Yuan'an said: "Don't be so troublesome, when the time comes, it's really Yan Bian, you circulate it everywhere in private, he can sue you for copyright infringement, now everything has copyright, it's better to be careful, lest you get a stain on your innocence." I'll go and ask for myself. ”

・・・・・・

In the early morning, the air is filled with a faint white fog, this white fog is not haze, just because of the fog formed by the large temperature difference between day and night, the sun shines from a distance, it is already more than six o'clock, Yan Buwen got up early, went out for a morning run.

Xiao Rong got up earlier than him, had to make porridge on fire in the morning, and had to buy fried dough sticks, buns or baked cakes for Mr. Chen and Mrs. Chen.

Yan Buwen walked around in the morning while running, it was rare to have time to exercise well, he was also in Shanghai before, the strong work pressure made him have no time to exercise, the most serious consequence was that he did not erect (forbidden) for a period of time, Xia Dan also laughed at Yan Buwen because of this.

Good health is really good.

When I got home at seven o'clock, I finished breakfast with my father-in-law, mother-in-law, and Xiaorong, and went to work without hearing it.

A few days passed, Yan Buwen and the people in the newspaper also knew each other, and someone called him when he entered the door: "Mr. Yan, it's early." ”

"Early." The one who sweeps the counter on the first floor is called Lao Zhang, not far from the printing room, people come and go, and a journal will be published tomorrow, so today is very busy, most people come at more than six o'clock in the morning, and today at least more than 3,000 copies can get off work.

Yan Buwen walked all the way to the third floor, but after a while, the winter melon came to Yan Buwen's office.

Unexpectedly, Yan Buwen was idle for a few days, and the manager Cao Yuanan remembered him.

Yan Buwen came to Cao Yuan'an's office, and Cao Yuan'an smiled when he saw Yan Buwen: "Don't smell it, sit, sit, how do you feel in the newspaper office these days." ”

Yan Buwen smiled, it turns out that this kind of question has been asked for a long time, just like when you go to work for a day or two, the boss likes to ask you: "How do you feel?" "Most people are confused, how can I feel? The salary has not been paid yet, the work has just begun, and the colleagues are not familiar with it, so how can I feel anything.

Yan Buwen used to be the director, and his subordinates changed one after another, and he also liked to ask such mindless questions.

So he answered very skillfully, Cao Yuanan nodded after listening to Yan Buwen's answer.

After chatting a few words, Cao Yuan'an hit the nail on the head: "I've heard for a long time that you have great talent, no, I got a poem you wrote from my little nephew." ”

Cao Yuanan took out a manuscript from his pocket and handed it to Yan Buwen, Yan Buwen now understands that it is no wonder that Cao Yuanan called him over, it turned out that he saw a poem written by Yan Buwen and Li Yuankang during the tea party before, Yan Buwen was also strange, he only wrote a poem in a small area, why did it arrive in Cao Yuanan's hands in a few days.

The fate of this manuscript is really bad, and I don't know how many people have been displaced.

"Farewell Kangqiao", Yan Buwen saw this manuscript, the words were indeed his own words, but the poem was written by Xu Zhimo two years later.

Cao Yuanan saw Yan Buwen's expression, knew that eight or nine were not far from ten, and said with a smile: "I don't know if the level of literature is really high enough, I don't know if this poem can be published, so that it can also increase the sales of "Dajiang Daily". ”

Yan Buwen looked at Cao Yuan'an's cunning expression, this time he got this poem, or Yan Buwen wrote it, whether Yan Buwen agrees or not, this poem will definitely be published, after all, the newspaper sales are the first, if there are better poems in the newspaper, some literary and artistic young people will buy it.

Cao Yuan'an's understanding of "Dajiang Daily" is very thorough, the main section is roughly divided into two sections, the main section must be the recent national events, the attached section is the movie star, the little gossip of talented people, the third section is some novels, and the fourth section is the smallest from time to time to publish one or two modern poems.

The layout is clear, national events attract the widest range, gossip attracts those who don't have much culture, but they know a few words, novels are the dishes of some idle and unlearned families who have a little spare money, and modern poetry is sold to literary and artistic youth.

Cao Yuanan is very optimistic about Yan Buwen's "Farewell to Kangqiao", if it is published, it will increase the sales of at least 300 additional copies, don't look down on the purchasing power of literary and artistic youth.

He is the general manager of the newspaper, and he needs to consider the circulation of the newspaper all the time.

Yan Buwen came out of Cao Yuanan's office, and in this moment, Cao Yuanan had already finalized the publication of "Farewell Kangqiao", and it was tomorrow's newspaper.

Yan Buwen also took over a task from Cao Yuanan, which was to write down the experience of creating this poem, and this kind of gossip is also the focus of attention of literary and artistic youth.

So Yan Buwen was given a half-day off, and he could walk around casually in the morning to find some inspiration, and the experience could not be written flat and straightforward, and it should have connotation, in modern terms, it is a forced style, so as to please the literary and artistic youth.

There was nothing to do in the morning, Yan Buwen returned to the office, looked out the window, and felt a sigh in his heart, suddenly remembered something, and ran downstairs in a hurry.

April is the season of recovery, Yan Buwen went out to stop a rickshaw, told him a place, the rickshaw master said: "Okay." He pulled Yan Buwen and galloped away.

Yan Buwen can also lie in the car and look at the style of the Republic of Shanghai, all the way over, the street eats men and women, buys sugar gourds, sells clay people everything, and there are some children selling newspapers on the street, Yan Buwen is very surprised to see the "Dajiang Daily" in the hands of children.

Passing by a small river, I saw young boys and girls walking by the river, wearing May Fourth clothes, white shirts and black skirts, or blue shirts and black skirts, which is a modified version of the cheongsam, because of the spring, these female students are wearing cloth shirts with three quarter-sleeves that expose their wrists, plus black skirts that are flat to the calves, so that these female students look simple, elegant, and cute, so that it seems that every female student is ice and jade, which is also the wonderful use of May Fourth clothing.

The male classmates' May Fourth outfits made them look very heroic, of course, Yan Buwen didn't care about what the male classmates were wearing, and his eyes were all on the female students.

"Ankang Road ・・・・・・" Yan Buwen muttered in his mouth, about seven or eight kilometers away, the rickshaw master ran over for an hour, Yan Buwen looked at his watch, the time was still early, it was only two hours to come and go, Yan Buwen was also funny, I don't know what I was doing all the way over, could I really meet her.

Yan Buwen smiled bitterly in his heart: "Which one do you want to meet?" Is it Ruan Lingyu who looks like Maggie Cheung, or Xia Dan who looks like Maggie Cheung? ”

"Sir, Ankang Road has arrived, where do you want to get off?" The rickshaw master shouted, Yan Buwen looked around in surprise, and found that Ankang Road was very long, and he couldn't see the edge at a glance, so Yan Buwen hurriedly asked: "Is there any small lake around this Ankang Road, I am right there." ”

When the rickshaw master heard this, he said, "It seems that there is a small lake, sir, you wait, I will pull you over." ”

Yan Buwen put his mind down, it turned out that it was not the winter melon that deceived him, there was really a lake, Yan Buwen lay on the car, closed his eyes and recuperated, and after more than ten minutes or so, the rickshaw master finally pulled Yan Buwen to a small lake, Ankang Road is indeed long, the rickshaw master went uphill and downhill, and turned two corners to reach this small lake.

The master told Yan Buwen that the name of this small lake was "Shame Moon Lake", just like the shy moon, covering half of his face, so this lake looked like a crescent moon, and I don't know which literati gave the name, and finally it gradually spread.

"Pennies." The rickshaw driver wiped the sweat from his forehead and ran for an hour and was tired and out of breath.

Yan Buwen gave him one yuan, and the rest was used as a tip, and the rickshaw master hurriedly thanked him, wishing Yan Buwen a long life and a hundred years old, a good person and a good reward, and wishing Yan Buwen's family good health and all their wishes come true. Yan Buwen wears this kind of suit and leather shoes, generally gentlemen of some large companies, and they are also generous, and the general rickshaw master is quite willing to accept these people.

Yan Buwen walked to the lake, the lake is full of blue and white stone steps, a lot of willows are dancing in the breeze, at a glance, really this lake is the same as the crescent moon, Yan Buwen is walking by the lake, the spring wind will blow Yan Buwen's thoughts away, he can't help but think of this era.

Now Shanghai is still under the rule of Sun Chuanfang, and it won't be long before Shanghai will change hands, and the Northern Expedition is about to begin, but fortunately, Shanghai is not strongly shaken, and after the Northern Expedition, the only thing that makes Yan Buwen's heart palpitate is the "128" incident. And the fall of Shanghai is estimated to be ten years later, and then I thought about it, I can't think of a famous hall, the ship is naturally straight to the bridge, and now the life of the Republic of China is also passable.

Yan Buwen still has the idea of saving the Chinese nation from time to time in his heart, but after more than 20 days in the Republic of China, he found that he was just like the young students at that time, or the return of scholars who studied abroad, he could only talk on paper, and when it came to supporting the building and turning the tide, Yan Buwen did not have that ability, and in the end he might only be able to write some exciting articles, but it is impossible to say whether it is useful or not.

Yan Buwen was tired of walking and sitting by the river, thinking about what practical things he wanted to do, if he could leave a mark in history, Yan Buwen would not be reborn in vain. Thinking about it, I found that there are still many opportunities, such as what I am doing now, the novel has been written several chapters, and my own newspaper can publish it, and for example, I copy some modern poetry by myself, just like Xu Zhimo's crescent moon poems are still very popular in this era, after all, many people worship Tagore.

If boredom is a disease, Yan Buwen is already terminally ill.

Think about it, writing these novels, poems are not much help to the country, it is better to write some songs, just like Tu Honggang's "Jing Zhong Serving the Country" or Ye Zhentang's "The Great Wall Never Falls", writing it out and teaching others to sing it can arouse the blood of Chinese.

Yan Buwen thought about it, hummed it to himself, and couldn't help but be enthusiastic, he was far worse than the real intellectuals of this era, reading for the rise of China, Yan Buwen couldn't reach it, at most it was the same as those pseudo-intellectuals who moaned without illness, it was okay to eat and drink tea, if you want to do something practical, yes, it's better to rest, everyone is very busy, don't block others when you are old.