Bland life

Author: Haiyan
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2002-01-01
Features: Haiyan said, "I have dealt with police-themed stories before; The Unarmed Police nearly made a name for itself, followed by Eternal Love, adding to its glory. But the Jade Jade I released two years ago has reached its limit. Releasing another one would be like a dog's tail." Thus, his new work Mundane Life rewrites the romance of innocent men and women. Readers should be cautious of his plot traps and avoid being led by the nose by the life-and-death love stories in his works. However, perhaps this could also be a great reading pleasure! Haiyan said, "I have dealt with police-themed stories before; The Unarmed Police nearly made a name for itself, followed by Eternal Love, adding to its glory. But the Jade Jade I released two years ago has reached its limit. Releasing another one would be like a dog's tail." Thus, his new work Mundane Life rewrites the romance of innocent men and women. Readers should be cautious of his plot traps and avoid being led by the nose by the life-and-death love stories in his works. However, perhaps this could also be a great reading pleasure! (Preface/Haiyan In the beginning of this preface, he introduces himself first. I am a person who lives by writing. Starting from Mr. Wang Shuo, we people like me call ourselves "typists." Although I may not compare to Mr. Wang Shuo, I have written a few novels these years and gained a little fame. I have also become familiar with several publishers. Some television production companies have come to visit me, asking for what they need. What they need is what sells well in the film and television market, such as costume dramas, especially Qing court dramas or martial arts dramas that are currently in vogue. For example, police and criminal dramas are also popular. Police and criminal battles have dominated the screens for many years, and they are easy to sell, no matter how good or bad. If you can also be linked to anti-corruption or anti-crime, then it will be even more powerful. Because once it is related to the main theme, it can easily sell the program to prime-time mainstream channels, making the income from attached advertisements several times higher. For example, comedy. If you can't write something as timeless as I Love My Family, writing something like Duan Zhusi will also work. It is also a popular trend at the moment. Television dramas are originally mass entertainment, cultural fast food, and commodities. Once it is a commodity, the rule of "the consumer is God" is universal. These days, when people come home from work and turn on the TV, they just want to have fun, so it is necessary to do comedy. A senior television program investor taught me the above lessons, which opened my eyes. But at the same time, I deeply felt that I was born at the wrong time—in my historical knowledge, especially my knowledge of the Qing Dynasty, is close to that of an elementary school level. My personality is and not good at ""; I don't know much about the martial arts sects of martial arts masters like Jin Yong and Gu Long; although I have also dealt with police-themed television dramas, The Unarmed Police nearly made a name for itself, and Eternal Love added to its glory, but the Jade Jade I released two years ago has reached its limit. Releasing another one would be like a dog's tail. Looking at the police and criminal dramas in these years, one wave is higher than the other, and the plots and characters have been exhausted by skilled people. Following in their footsteps can no longer make the audience applaud in surprise, and it is an impossible task. Of course, the most difficult thing is comedy. Writing comedy, if it doesn't become like Duan Zhusi, if it is praised by both inside and outside the industry, such a realm is beyond the reach of us ordinary people. I have always believed that writing comedy requires broader and deeper wisdom than writing serious dramas or tragedies! But this television investor does not lack the typical persistence of a businessman. He kept inspiring and giving advice to me. He encouraged my confidence with the success of one of my works many years ago, a work called A Love Story in the Rain. The famous adapted it for the screen, making a newcomer named Xu Jinglei the number one youth icon in the country at the time. The investor said, "You should write romantic dramas. You are very good at small-scale emotions, and you should write about privacy. The best thing is to write something documentary, because romantic documentaries are very popular now." I know this. For many years, documentary literature about personal emotions and privacy has been popular. Many powerful media have set up columns for it. In the city where I live, Beijing, there are "Oral Records" in Beijing Youth and "Private Soliloquy" in the evening paper, both of which have very high reading rates and relatively stable readership. This kind of literature has also made many "typists" famous, such as An Dun. But I still have reservations. Since there are already famous people in this field, if I imitate them and "emotionally" and "documentarily," it may be difficult to have new meaning and may seem like imitating in vain. But the investor disagreed. He said, "When A Love Story in the Rain was published, it was formally a novel, but in fact, it was a 'romantic documentary.' The earliest material and the later format of that novel were indeed my interviews with a retired female police officer. From the perspective of the time of publication of the work, I should be considered a pioneer of this genre. Those writers who have become famous in this way may have even learned from me." The investor's words were more moving than giving me confidence. I grew up with a sense of inferiority, so I always longed for praise and praise, and was willing to believe it. In order not to disappoint those who encouraged, praised, and valued me, after several days of thinking, I finally asked a former classmate with whom I had little contact for many years—a reporter with the nickname "Males" from a newspaper company—for dinner at "Tan Youtou" one weekend night. I seriously asked him for advice on how to write romantic documentaries. Putting it bluntly, I asked him to recommend some clues. As reporters, they are widely exposed to all levels of society, from prominent figures and celebrities to ordinary people like us. Indeed, that night, with the hot "Tan Youtou" in front of me, my old classmate gave me a bunch of loves and hatreds, men and women who loved and hated deeply. Most of them came from the reader class of the newspaper company. After reading about others' love twists and family misfortunes, they also took out their pens and wrote to the editors to tell their stories. The next day, my old classmate also picked out a few such reader letters for me to reference. Following the names and addresses, I found those people who longed to confess their sufferings. Most of them were white-collar workers with high education and even successful careers, but their emotional lives were far from satisfactory, full of complaints and reflections. Or they had suffered setbacks in the past and were still hard to extricate themselves, talking about the past was unbearable. Unfortunately, their confessions were too subjective, with insufficient specific details. Although their comments and views were not lacking in insight, the objective events were relatively meager. Even if they sang and chanted, they seemed full of sorrow at the time, but later, looking at their notes, they were just about women who were heartbroken by heartless men, setting up mistresses and second wives, or heartless wives who followed money and left for other places. After talking to four or five people, if it were to be written as a television drama, the amount of material added together was only enough to write two or three episodes. But the investor's requirements were very clear: twenty episodes! If the television drama is not enough for twenty episodes, no advertisements are willing to follow. In desperation, I had to ask my old classmate "Males" again if he had any better clues. The old classmate thought for a while, hesitated slightly, and then said another person. "Then you should find him," he said, and immediately wrote down a phone number and a name for me. After writing it down, he proactively called the person and said that I wanted to interview him. It seemed that the other party was not very enthusiastic. The old classmate argued with the person on the phone for a while and whispered some ambiguous words, only then did he manage to make it work. He set up a meeting with the person the next night at a bar called "Mundane Life." The time was nine o'clock in the evening, and we both went to the bar counter, each taking a copy of Beijing Evening Paper as an identifier, just like secret agents meeting.
Background: Haiyan's storytelling ability is first-class. The preface to the new long be published is a "conspiracy." He has intertwined himself and many celebrities, including friends of reporters, as well as Beijing Evening Paper, into a "fiction." His subtlety was so great that even reporters lost themselves in the "fake documentary" where he appeared with their real names and surnames as "pawns." The hit The Unarmed Police was Haiyan's breakthrough into literature. Without realizing it, he tapped into a connection with best-selling books and youth-oriented dramas. From then on, he became a brand for police dramas, drug prevention dramas, and romantic dramas. A Love Story in the Rain, Eternal Love, Your Life Is So Passionate, Jade Jade, and What Can I Offer You, My Love were released in six long novels in a row, none of which failed to spread among readers and audiences, leading the rankings and dominating the ratings. Around August 20th, Haiyan's seventh novel, a ghostly love story about romantic love, will be published by Huayi Press, a company that also values brand and calculates book print runs, with a first printing of 100,000 copies. Haiyan has always been a mystery. His name is not just that of a writer, but also matches some business terms such as Vice President of Jinjiang Group, President of Kunlun Hotel, and President of the China Tourism Hotel Association. And when you learn that this typical writer, as the chairman of the company, is also a hotel designer who skillfully uses his imagination to make steel and concrete come to life with a touch of romance, you will feel that he is not only an extraordinary businessman but also a thinker and an actionist. In fact, his success is by no means accidental. His professional achievements in business are as brilliant as his amateur success in literature. Please read the excerpt: If forced to ask You You to name one unforgettable thing in her life, You You would say without hesitation that is this day. In fact, like You You, many people are still restless in this "day" about the ups and downs of puberty. One of the most significant signs of puberty is the awakening of sexuality. Whether you admit it or not, psychologists often use this statistic—the majority of people will experience the most romantic and innocent adventure in their lives between the ages of 15 and 17, an adventure that he himself, both then and later, may not have clearly realized was his first love. You You's "this time" happened when she was fourteen. At the age of fourteen, she had her first crush, which is not uncommon for a city girl at the end of the 20th century. I don't know how psychology explains this, but from a biological point of view, things that ripen early are often less able to withstand natural disasters and human misfortunes compared to those that ripen late, and they may even fail to bloom or bear fruit normally. That day, it rained as soon as she got off school, and she couldn't get home. She had forgotten her key at home and had to go to the sports school to ask for her sister. Her sister boxed at the boxing gym and was responsible for tidying up things and cleaning. You You went to the sports school. This rainy evening marked the beginning of the entire story. Long after this rainy evening, You You knew that boxing was a sport in China with both low competitive level and low popularity, so she couldn't understand why in this not-so-large city, in this unremarkable sports school, in this dilapidated building that looked almost like the dangerous old house in her hometown about to be demolished, there was hidden the only boxing team in the province. You You walked into this building, she didn't notice whether the building had windows or not, nor did she pay attention to where the light came from. But she saw a platform fenced with thick ropes on one side of the building. The platform was not too high, not too low, square, and some broad backs gathered around it in small groups, watching two old and young people boxing on the platform. The older one had white hair, wearing a blue sportswear, teaching the younger one how to defend and attack. The younger one was wearing a red shorts, a protective helmet, revealing two clear black and white eyes and a, but the whole upper body was bare. What caught her eye was the sweat on his skin, You You saw that the boy was very thin, and with the water-like sweat all over his body, he looked like someone who could be easily beaten. There was a storage room on the right side of the boxing platform, and You You's sister was working inside. You You went around the platform to there, and just before entering, the young man on the platform was knocked down. You You pushed open the small door of the storage room, and her sister was chatting with an aunt inside. Sister said, "You You, why are you here?" Aunt said, "Oh, this is your little sister, your little sister is really pretty." The aunt was very ugly and fat, her eyes fixed on You You, asking, "Are you in high school yet?" Sister said, "Just entered junior high school, I plan to let her go to a vocational school, it's better than high school." Fat aunt said, "Vocational school, what major do you want to study?" Sister said, "For a girl, study accounting, be an accountant in the future." Fat aunt said, "Accountant, good, you'll find a good job in the future." You You herself was a girl, but she hated the endless nagging of women, she was not very polite, she said nothing, asked her sister for the key, and came out of the storage room. She couldn't remember how long she was in from the time she entered to the time she came out, but by the time she came out, the boxing platform was already empty, and the platform was also empty around it. The entire building seemed small because of its emptiness. Some unknown person was making a phone call in the corner, but you could only hear the sound and not see the person. You You lowered her head and walked towards the door, covering herself with a raincoat as she walked. This raincoat was issued by You You's father's workplace, but it was just two transparent plastic films on the front and back, which could be folded when the sky was sunny and easily put into the school bag. You You just took the raincoat off her head when a noisy phone call suddenly stopped in the distance, and the locker room door opened and closed, the sound of many people coming and going was unusually busy. But You You couldn't see anyone, it seemed that the entire building was only her stepping forward alone. It wasn't until much later that You You vaguely felt that the emptiness of that day in the boxing gym before she left, along with the loud door creaks, was a dream in her life. In this dream, she first heard the sound of winter rain outside the house, then she saw Zhou Yue sitting alone by the wall. There was a long bench by the wall, and the bench was piled with some messy clothes—maybe all Zhou Yue's things. You You immediately recognized him, he was the boy who was sweating on the platform, the boy who was so thin that he didn't look like an athlete at all. The boy was still half-naked, sitting in the middle of the bench against the wall, the protective helmet had been taken off, and the sweat on his body was still shining. The randomly hanging hair made You You feel like it was covered with a lot of hair gel, and it was like the hairstyle of pop singers in Japan and South Korea. Those pop singers in Japan and South Korea were also very thin, each looking like a, compared to them, this boy was still relatively strong. Maybe the slanting light obscured his thinness, highlighting the contours of his two chest muscles. You You kept walking and looking at him, and the boy also looked at You You, his eyes black and white. In that moment, You You thought he was extremely handsome. Maybe he sensed You You's favor, the boy smiled at her, his teeth as white as snow. You You was flustered, she also wanted to smile back, but before her mouth opened, her head lowered first, and her feet stumbled as if she were dizzy, she blindly walked out of the house and into the endless rain. This dream ended suddenly with the sound of raindrops splattering on the plastic raincoat all around. But the boy's black and white eyes, his white teeth, and his beautifully curved chest, as well as the shiny sweat on his chest, stubbornly remained in You You's heart, along with the boy's expression, his exhausted look, all as if they were soul-catching, leading You You to take the wrong way home. When she returned home after taking a detour, the clothes in the raincoat were already half wet. Wearing this plastic raincoat requires hunching your head and shoulders, and holding the collar with your hands, but You You forgot all of that. The old alley and this old building in You You's home, perhaps even You You's father couldn't say clearly what their history was. You You's home also had a very large wardrobe, which was also an old antique. It was placed in that corner before You You was born, and the mercury in the mirror of the wardrobe door had all leaked out, like boils that had spread left and right, patch by patch. Maybe for this reason, You You never looked at herself in the mirror at home. But today, she felt strange, she herself realized—she had never spent so long looking in the mirror, locking the door as if stealing, and standing before the broken mirror, examining herself carefully. It took her half a minute to realize that her clothes were still wet and stuck to her body. But as soon as she took off her clothes, her mood worsened, because the body she saw in the mirror was so pale and thin, with flat breasts and prominent ribs, without any beauty. Her bad mood made her realize the purpose of her looking in the mirror, and her face immediately got hot, she was clearly evaluating herself, seeing if she had enough charm to make those black and white eyes look at her with a warm gaze.