Editor's note: The 11th National Congress of the China Federation of Literary and Art Circles and the 10th National Congress of the China Writers Association were held in Beijing from December 14 to 17, and the representatives of the vast number of literary and art workers focused on the in-depth implementation of the important spirit of General Secretary Xi Jinping's series of expositions on literary and artistic work, and discussed a new chapter in the prosperity of socialist cultural undertakings in the new era. More than 100 representatives of writers and artists from Shanghai attended the grand event, and we invited Fu Yuehui, the youngest representative of the Shanghai writers delegation, to record what he saw, heard and thought about his first meeting in Beijing.
After writing the diary last night, Ulanqimuge and Chaoyan came to the house to chat. WuLan and I have known each other for many years, and I have known Chao Yan for at least three or four years, but neither of them has met. Wu Lan worked at a university in Yinchuan, Ningxia, writing literary criticism and being a judge for the Ethnic Minority Horse Award; Chao Yan worked in the Ruijin City Literary Association in Jiangxi Province, writing essays, and had just published his works in People's Literature.
They are all people who are far away from the "literary center", especially Chaoyan, who is at the most basic level of literature. Listening to Wu Lan talk about her encounters in college; listening to Chao Yan talk about the confusion she faced in writing, talking about the Jiangxi essayist Fu Fei we know together, and talking about the "Tianya" magazine entrusting Fu Fei to make an appointment for a small collection of Essays in Jiangxi, Fu Fei asked her for a manuscript. I said, when we are older, if we can help the younger generations, we should help them more. Chao Yan said, "Sure, as long as I have this ability."
Many years later, we probably won't remember what we talked about that night, but we should all remember that it was a night without a glass of water and without a glass of wine.
In the afternoon, the group drove to the Beijing Hotel Conference Center to participate in the closing ceremony of this session.
The conference center is brightly lit and crowded. Teacher Tie Ning was re-elected as the chairman of the China Writers Association, and Bi Feiyu, Mai Jia, Ah Lai and several other seniors who knew each other were newly elected as vice chairmen.
The group informed that as soon as the meeting ended, they would go to the rostrum and take a group photo of the Shanghai deputies with Teacher Tie Ning and others. I got up and walked to the middle aisle, passing by the position of the Jiangsu Writers Association, and passed by Teacher Ye Zhaoyan and Sun Pin. There is not much exquisite, everyone hurriedly lined up in two rows, I stood in the second row, Secretary Wang Wei of the Shanghai Writers Association was next to me, I said you go to the first row. He didn't even say no.
After the crowding and clapping, the team was suddenly washed up, I saw Teacher Tie Ning in front of her, greeting her, she said Fu Yuehui, we have not met for a long time. I said yes, the last time we met was to go to Korea together before the epidemic. Without saying a word, someone else came over and spoke to her.
Teacher Zhong Hongming and I took the elevator downstairs, and Teacher Zhong suddenly saw Sun Pin, and the two of them were extremely happy and kept hugging. I had already gone outside, and then I turned around and said I'll take a picture of you. Both of them were very happy, and they stood together after taking off their heavy coats. Sun Pin put one hand on Teacher Zhong's shoulder. I said, Teacher Zhong, look at you jumping and jumping, like a child. While taking pictures of them, I listened to Teacher Zhong say that who had taken pictures of her two days ago had not taken a good picture. I said I didn't take a picture of you at Tiananmen Square. After the shooting, Teacher Zhong took pictures of me and Sun Pin again, and Sun Pin said, We are all old... Out of the hotel, beijing sunlight dazzling, winter cold wind blowing in the face, there is more bustle behind us.
I'm leaving Beijing tomorrow. Back in the hotel room, I remembered that Zhao Lei had a song "Goodbye beijing", and found it and listened to it several times. One of them is: "Beijing, I moved the truth." Goodbye Beijing, goodbye to you maybe I'm old. ”