In the summer of 1993, I worked in a clothing factory in Changzhou. Changzhou's "Cuiyuan" magazine opened a writer's training class - yes, it's so cool. A group of guys who can't write posted an advertisement, gathered literature lovers together, and each person paid 80 yuan. , to learn how to write, or learn how to be a writer. There are more than 20 people in the training class, including doctors, Peking opera enthusiasts, middle school teachers... and migrant workers like me.
On the first day of registration, there was a girl sitting on the sofa in a conference room. She had slightly dark skin, a slightly flat face, and raised eyebrows. She had typical pink and phoenix eyes , long black hair, and was wearing a V-neck floral dress. , exposing two collarbones. She is writing receipts and registering students. Her name is Zhou Jieru. Some people are naturally indifferent. The first time I met her, she didn’t smile. The next time I saw her, she didn’t smile either, so I don’t remember the way she smiled. If I were to look for a metaphor to describe a person, "Out of place" probably refers to her. Although among many of my friends, it was me who didn't fit in. The fact is that these more than 20 people have been moving around since then, but everyone doesn't like me very much. For one thing, because I am reckless and pushy. I like to argue with others. On the other hand, because I am poor, I cannot afford to treat everyone to tea. There is probably this factor.
But Zhou Jieru's incompatibility cannot be described in words. When experts are invited to give lectures or organize discussions, she will also be there. But she barely spoke, not to me or to anyone else. She sat there as if she was there, but her heart didn't know where it was. Sometimes she would raise her head and expose the ends of her eyes, but her eyes would never fall on one place, especially not looking at anyone. Even if she looked at you, she didn't seem to be looking at you. She was simply arrogant. Her mandible is slightly wider, and her chin is slightly raised like Zhang Ailing's classic photo, which is also inoffensive. We spent the whole summer together, but each time it was like seeing each other for the first time, and I believed she had no idea who I was, and I believed she had no memory of who the others were. But as time goes by, you will find that even if this person has no good intentions, there is no trace of malice. Although she is very distant, in my opinion, her appearance and personality are very extraordinary, unruly and out of touch with the norm. .
Just like when I saw Momoe Yamaguchi , in the living room of my junior high school classmate's house, I saw her poster and thought she didn't have the so-called oval face, double eyelids , big eyes, but I stared at her Looking at her face on the poster, it was so beautiful. I looked at it for a long time, confused.
Everyone was very polite to Zhou Jieru in person or in private, almost doting on her. Not only me, but others also never had too much contact with her. I think it might be because she was already well-known in the local area at that time.
We met again in 1996. At that time, I had completed my studies at Changzhou Institute of Education and had a very handsome boyfriend. Once, my boyfriend and I visited Xinhua Bookstore , which is one of the only bookstores in Changzhou. Almost unsurprisingly, we met in the fiction book section. She wore a pair of glasses hanging from a chain and had her hair tied back. She was much more mature than when I first met her. I was shocked. I called her name. She doesn't remember me anymore. I reminded her about the training class and she recognized it. She said, no wonder I met you here. That's pretty much her thing. Her characteristics were established in 1993. If I meet an old friend, usually we will be more exaggerated, more enthusiastic, more nostalgic, or more cold. But that's how Zhou Jieru is. That was the way she was in 1993, so it will be the same in 1996. We said goodbye.
has never been seen again. Later I heard that she left Changzhou.
In 2000, "Little Demon's Web", "Sugar" and "Shanghai Baby" were displayed in the underground square of the Palace of Culture. The books at that time could be read at will, unlike today's books, which are mostly covered with films. Nothing can be seen. Her story felt both foreign and familiar to me. That's how she is. Her 1993 pose has predicted both her literature and her life.At that time, the concept of "beautiful writers" had been deeply rooted in the hearts of the people. Several weekly magazines in the office reading room had interviews, large photos and their works from that group of people.
She felt very painful, awkward, and uncomfortable in her life, but this painful, awkward and uncomfortable posture was exactly what I dreamed of, so I stroked her book blankly, but I didn't buy it. That afternoon I returned to work and told a colleague that I knew Zhou Jieru. It was a literary young man with pimples on his face. He concealed his distrust and said, "Then you can write a movie and become as famous as her."
I really started writing. Without her and the shock of the "beautiful writers" appearing together at the Changzhou Cultural Palace, I might not have written my first novel. So to me, she and her "Little Demon's Web" have extraordinary significance. I feel that if there is a bridge or a way forward between reality and dreams, then she is it.
A year or two later, a group of people from our training class gathered at my house. Someone mentioned her current situation and said she was back. I actually don’t know where she went or where she came back from, but we took the opportunity to call her. The call was connected. I told her that I had begun writing a novel. That's good, she said, go ahead. Without enthusiasm or persistence, if you had seen her in 1993, you could not say that she was too cold. She let the time on the phone flow by like water. Then we said goodbye.
I started writing my novel. Two years later, the novel was published, but it was never placed on a stall in the underground square of the Palace of Culture. It disappeared until it disappeared from the underground square of the Palace of Culture.
I heard about her later. I have a mutual friend who told me that Zhou Jieru is in Hong Kong. She had a hard time. The general idea is that she has to take a long ride every day to send her children to school. That didn't look like her, so I looked at the friend suspiciously, but didn't get to the bottom of it. I'm not a person who likes to get to the bottom of things. On the contrary, I like people who don't understand and pretend to understand.
Many years passed, and suddenly one day, I received an invitation from a friend on WeChat: Zhou Jieru, as the editor-in-chief of "Hong Kong Literature", came to request a manuscript. I thought she was here to catch up with me, but she couldn’t remember at all—she joined me because of Professor Dai Yaoqin’s recommendation, and she was here to invite me to write.
Then there is Zhou Jieru in the circle of friends. I occasionally read her novels. She raised a pair of lovely and sunny children. She compiled "Hong Kong Literature" and wrote diligently. When I pulled up the list, I was shocked. She wrote thirty short stories a year. Frankly speaking, her novels don't seem to be my cup of tea. I read some when I come across them, but forget about it if I don't come across them. But I am full of old feelings for her as a person. Full of respect, full of love. I do not know how to explain it.
In 2020, I returned to Nanjing and looked through old photos at home. I found one of her sitting on the sofa. I felt like I had found a treasure and immediately sent it to her. She recognized herself and then asked me: Which one is you?
That back view. The back view of the author wearing a white T-shirt (in the picture above, the author of this article has a ponytail, and the person sitting in the middle of the sofa is Zhou Jieru).
I remember that dress. The material was thick and not breathable. I was sweating from time to time because I was young and strong... But that was our youth, fixed there by well-meaning people, and it made me sad.
Author: Li Fengqun
Editor: Xie Juan
