Wang Zixu's unit is no more than 800 meters away from his home, and it takes less than 10 minutes to walk home. When I bought this house, I wanted to make it convenient to go home at any time, but now I get off work at 5:30, and I usually get home at 6:00.
It's not because the company works overtime.
There is a yard downstairs of his house. The property management is not caring, and it grows up in the nearly one person tall shrub green belt. There are red and blue fitness equipment, and rust crawls where the paint peels off.
It used to be a sandy land, but now it has been depressed for a long time. There is no sand but mud on the ground. In summer, yellow is feces, green is grass, in winter, yellow is grass, green is feces, except dogs.
After work, he would sit on the squatting machine, light a few cigarettes, and slowly get up and go upstairs when his wife urged him. The cigarette he lit was a bumper harvest of 3 yuan a pack. The local brand was very dry. It was easy to get headache after smoking too much, so he didn't feel distressed after smoking. He held the cigarette in his hand and let it burn quietly. In the smoke, he thought about some absurd things, so that three cigarettes could sit for a long time.
The smoke butt poked at the rusty iron post beside it, and then smoked it. In the long run, this post became like a stegosaur, and its back was covered with smoke butt.
Finally, his wife always calls: Why haven't you come back? Overtime again? Working overtime every day? How about I reflect with your leader and ask him not to arrange things while he is off duty? Enough, I don't want to hear your explanation. Come back, come back, come back, the food is cold
He got up slowly and walked home. Sometimes his wife didn't call, but he didn't want to go back because he wanted to be quiet for a while.
After three years of marriage, they had no children. He doesn't want children, but she likes them. For other children, sometimes she looks happy for a long time. They had more than one disagreement, including whether to eat coriander, how to put the toilet lid after going to the toilet, and how often to tidy the wardrobe. After more of these things, life began to become boring.
After dinner, he would sit in bed and read. Faulkner, Marquez, Camus, and all the writers who have won or are qualified to win the Nobel Prize. The wife folded the clothes aside, put them at his feet, and then said:
"I'm really tired. I open fire, cook, wash clothes and go to the shop every day. I'm really tired."
His fingers were frozen on the page, like a child who had done something wrong.
"You can quit your job in the shop. It's not much money and tiring."
It was a long time before he said that. In fact, he has said this sentence for countless times, and his wife has said it to him for countless times just now. He knows well how she will respond when connected, that is:
"How can I have so much money if I don't go to work?"
The salary is more than 4000 per month, plus the wife's unstable income, they can barely survive in this city, but in the wife's plan, they will have a child next year. With this child, they will have a lot of unexpected expenses.
For example, "you can't go to the store in the few months after giving birth, which will save you thousands of dollars", followed by "giving birth is painful, I want to have a caesarean section, which is expensive and needs nursing after giving birth, which is also a large amount of money", followed by "I don't want your mother to take care of me, which will lead to postpartum depression, and going to the moon club, which is also tens of thousands of dollars......" "And the baby's milk powder money, clothes, shoes, diapers..." "If I go to work, I need the old man to help me with it, right? I can't let them take it in vain..."
In short, this nonexistent child has brought him endless troubles before he came to the world.
The wife has been thinking about this child for a long time, until the child's appearance and facial features have been determined.
For countless days and nights, his wife and he described what kind of creature this child was: his/her eyebrows were like him, her nose was like him, her mouth was like her, and her skin was like her
If someone asks what your child looks like? Both husband and wife can draw the child to him.
The child is so realistic that he feels that if he/she is not allowed to be born, it is almost a kind of murder.
"You always go home and lie down, and don't help me share some of it. How can you live on your wages?"
The wife is still garrulous, and her words don't match the following words. The more she was like this, the more tired he became and wanted to lie down.
He wanted to say, "I'm writing novels, and I can earn a lot of royalties." But he didn't say that, because this sentence has been repeated many times in countless days and nights. He even knew that after he said this, his wife would spread her hands and ask, "What about the royalties?"
Like the child, this contribution fee is nonexistent and a product of fiction, so he can't take out anything. As a writer, he is inferior to his wife in imagination.
He could not tell his wife what kind of contribution money it was: it would be carefully packed in a white envelope, and felt comfortable and thick in his hand. The postman on his bicycle sent it to him. After cutting the envelope with a paper cutter, a blue receipt fell out, with "contribution receipt" written in blue black letters;
Or after receiving a phone call, he rode his bicycle across the path covered with camphor leaves and came to the bank. He put the bank card into the machine, entered the password with trembling hands, and entered the wrong password twice. The third time he succeeded, he saw that the number in the bank card had inexplicably changed a little, and the extra money was the manuscript fee;
Or one morning, his mobile phone rang a "ding", and the message box was written with a unique font, "You have a sum of money to account". After opening the software, he was excited to see an official look of the payer's name, followed by a series of unknown numbers, with striking numbers at the top.
All three ways are possible. There may also be a fourth way. But he can't say. Because he never received a manuscript fee, he was not decisive enough when describing this matter to his wife, which made her more suspicious.
At the earliest time, writing was a pleasant thing for him. Before he knew it, the most important thing was to enter a sum of contribution fees to prove himself to his wife.
He specially searched for the prize of the Nobel Prize for Literature, which is more than 6 million yuan. There is no higher contribution fee than that in the world. In addition, it is more important to award the Nobel Prize for Literature every year.
Once a year, if he lives to be 80, he will have more than 50 chances to get it. What a 50 chance! Whether written down or made into a movie, it will become an epic.
He began to study the works at the level of Nobel Prize for Literature in an all-round way. Then something interesting happened——
When he read Faulkner, his style of writing was just like Faulkner. The scene was constantly changing, and the characters' viewpoints were shifting. Everyone was talking like a psychopath, without knowing what to say; When reading Camus, he wrote something like Camus, and everyone in his writing became a lonely and cold castle; When reading Marquez, he felt as if he were in South America. Between the paper and the ink, the hot air only existed in the rainforests of the southern hemisphere rose.
He felt that he touched these shining great souls with his soul, and the Nobel Prize for Literature was no longer a mirror.
But before he gets the 6 million yuan, he needs a faster way to prove himself. That is to contribute to magazines. After five or six attempts, the novels sent by him were like yellow cranes without half a minute's message. In the process, his excitement turned into fear, and finally he lost confidence and began to doubt whether he was the material for writing.
