How Faith is Forged - Reenacting the Long March of the Red Army

Author: None
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-08-01
Features: It was 1995. That year, I was serving as the Deputy Director of the Policy Research Office under the County Committee. This position required me to work day and night, writing materials for the County Committee. Just as the year-end work was in full swing, I received a meeting notice from the Changde Writers' Association on behalf of the Hunan Writers' Association, congratulating me on being honorably elected as a representative of the "Fourth Hunan Youth Writers' Congress" and asking me to attend on time without absence. I was delighted and naturally wanted to go and bask in the glory, but I was afraid I wouldn't be able to take time off during the busy year-end. I tiptoed into the office of the Director of the County Committee Office, took out the notice from the envelope, and laid it flat, pushing it over to Director Chen Hehuan, who was buried in his work at a curved black office desk. Director Chen first looked at the notice, then at me, and smiled brightly, wrinkles radiating from his mouth, ears, and face like beautiful beams of light. I felt relieved. "Go, it's a good thing! The year-end work is busy, but you can arrange it well," he said. After signing "Agree to Attend" with a, he handed the notice back to me. Even as he worked, his lips still had a slight smile, and I felt happy but also worried whether this slim person could handle the "mountain of literature" pushed upon him. After all, this frail scholar had still managed to achieve fifteen years in Tibet! I took the notice and honorably attended this conference. Five young writers from Changde (with ages capped at 38, I was 36 at the time) attended, and I was one of the least accomplished among them. Although I had published a small book titled "Winter Planting, Spring Harvest" with Lijiang Publishing House two years ago, I didn't feel it was a work of genius. It was like a raw piece of stone, chiseled and carved, just as I warned in the postscript "Life in the Forge": I firmly believe that life must be hammered and refined; I am still a lump of ore, raw iron, but there are plenty of hammers and furnaces in front of me: I must go and refine myself. I also invited friends and colleagues who understand my life's refinement to come and refine with me, to refine the "golden elixir of life" for the common ideal of humanity! Therefore, I told Chairman Chen Dixiong, who was leading the delegation, that I was just there for the sake of being taken care of and wasn't truly "glorious." The conference report and representative introductions told me that the "Hunan Army" had many masters, and seeing how everyone looked ambitious and full of youthful vigor, I really regretted coming. The year-end was approaching, and I could still help Director Chen and my colleagues at the unit for a while. I often find myself like this—I love to be caught in the middle of contradictions. When I received the good news, I couldn't wait to come and bask in the glory, but when it was my turn to make someone else feel honored, I felt that I shouldn't be honored. The conference was held at Junkai Hotel in Changsha, the capital, and it was the first time in my life that I attended a high-level literary conference at the provincial level. Among the attendees, in addition to the Changde representatives I knew, I only recognized Teacher Xie Pu, who had written the preface for my book. Teacher Xie greeted me with "What a pleasure to meet you" the moment we met, and the frequent nods of his hat gave me courage. Of course, I had to come and meet—this amateur writer who had worked as a film projectionist in the countryside for eight years, could finally meet the writer Tan Tan of the film "Mountain Path" and the writer Shui Yunxian of "Disaster from the Inner Court," as well as Peng Jianming, the writer of the nationally awarded novel "That Mountain, That Person, That Dog," who had a very distinct style. During the reception, all of them were invited into the dance hall one after another by beautiful female writers. We, who were like raw materials freshly dug from the mountain,, had to stay in a corner and couldn't even cheer loudly with our applause. Later, we stopped clapping altogether, clenching our fists. The conference program ended. Host Liang Rui Chang called out the names of 36 writers, including me. It turned out that the Hunan Writers' Association had accepted the task of writing the "Giant Biographies Series" for young readers, planned by the "China, International Biography Literature Research Association." Writing biographies of famous figures who had already been written about was time-consuming, laborious, and difficult to please. Generally, well-known and talented writers wouldn't want to do this kind of tedious work. Changde chose Zhang Shicheng and me. P2-3