Chapter 15: Arriving at the Capital~

The next day at noon, Li Yousi stepped out of the Beijing train station. It was November 1st, and the cold was biting beyond belief. Just as he walked through the gate, a fierce wind blew, carrying snowflakes that landed on his face with an icy chill.

“The capital is really cold,” Li Yousi murmured to himself.

Dressed in his military coat, he stood at the station entrance, gazing around the bustling streets of Beijing. This was his first time truly observing the capital of the 1980s in all its reality, quite different from the black-and-white scenes he had seen on television.

Though the sky was somewhat gray, the streets teemed with people clad in shades of blue and gray. The wealthier ones had already started to emulate the trendy styles from Hong Kong—vivid and colorful in a distinctly retro fashion. Outside alleyways, more and more unauthorized street vendors had set up stalls.

Li Yousi wrapped his coat tighter around himself, hoisted his suitcase, and set off. Number 97, Qianmen West Street, was the location of the “Beijing Literature” magazine office. Clearly, his first stop had to be the magazine; otherwise, he would be nothing but a drifter.

With this thought, he asked for directions, “Comrade, which bus goes to Qianmen West Street?”

An elderly man glanced at him and pointed to a bus slowly approaching, “This one.”

After quite some time, Li Yousi finally arrived at Qianmen West Street. Beijing had changed greatly compared to later years; what is now the Fourth and Fifth Ring Roads, including the HD district of Beijing University, were still considered outskirts back then. For a while, Li Yousi was unsure of his bearings.

Eventually, he stood before the magazine office, hesitating briefly before knocking on the door.

A young editor opened it and sized Li Yousi up. Wearing a uniform issued by the Cultural Work Troupe, Li Yousi appeared familiar and approachable to them. The young comrade smiled and asked, “Who are you looking for?”

“I’m here to see Editor Zhou Yanru. I’m Li Yousi, came to revise my manuscript.”

“Oh, wait here, I’ll call her,” the young man nodded and hurried inside.

After a while, he returned, opened the door wider, and said, “Comrade Li, please come in.”

Inside, Li Yousi was immediately met with a warm wave of heat. Although there was no central heating, the office was warmed by burning stoves, which radiated a comforting warmth.

He looked inside. A dozen or so desks were pushed together, forming the entire editorial department’s workspace. Several other tables were stacked high with papers and envelopes. Seeing this, Li Yousi shook his head slightly—this was quite an intense environment.

The office was filled with the mingled scents of ink and paper.

He followed the young editor to a woman of refined and gentle appearance. She wore a gray cotton jacket and a knitted scarf.

“Hello, Editor Zhou,” Li Yousi greeted promptly.

Zhou Yanru smiled and glanced at him. The young man was about 1.78 meters tall, with thick eyebrows, large eyes, and a square, handsome face reminiscent of Zhu Shimao—a very delicate appearance. No wonder he was part of the Cultural Work Troupe.

“Hello, Comrade Li. Welcome to our magazine,” she said, pointing to a seat for him.

The young editor poured tea for both of them before leaving.

Li Yousi sipped his tea as he chatted with Zhou Yanru—a necessary ritual to build rapport before discussing work.

“You’re with the Zhanqi Cultural Work Troupe?”

“Yes, I’m a musician. Usually, I play the flute or the suona horn with my comrades.”

“Not easy at all. I didn’t realize you were also a soldier!”

“I’m not one who’s shed blood or sacrificed. At most, I perform for everyone. It’s not hard work.”

After some time, Zhou Yanru retrieved Li Yousi’s manuscript from her drawer. She had been diligently revising it since his arrival in Beijing.

She smiled and said, “Now, let’s talk about your novel. This is your work, ‘Falling Leaves Return to Their Roots.’ It’s an excellent piece.”

Her eyes softened as she looked at the manuscript. This was the best submission she had encountered in years and the one she had taken the most care to edit. Unlike some editors who worked with relentless zeal like Zhang Deling, Zhou approached this revision with genuine appreciation.

“How did you come up with this story?” she asked.

Li Yousi had already prepared his answer, though it wasn’t really a fabrication—without this context, he might not have recalled the inspiration immediately.

“We have a suona master in the troupe, whom we call Old Zhao. He’s been with us for over ten years but recently had to return home due to health issues. The story was inspired by him.”

Li Yousi’s expression was tinged with melancholy, and his feelings for the old master were sincere.

“Oh, that explains it,” Zhou Yanru nodded.

“The story is solid. We specifically invited you to revise the manuscript here. Please take a look and let me know if you have any comments.”

Li Yousi took the manuscript. The dozens of pages were filled with Zhou Yanru’s annotations. Honestly, she was meticulous in her edits. Facing so much to read all at once, Li Yousi felt a bit overwhelmed but quickly composed himself.

Writers often dislike editing for two main reasons.

The first is pride—many authors are arrogant, confident that any alteration would ruin their entire work. Too self-important, but Li Yousi was not like that.

The second reason is financial—some writers pad their work with meaningless filler because they get paid by the word. Ten words might earn a penny, so they prefer quantity over quality.

Li Yousi belonged to the second type, but not entirely. As long as the work got published, he was willing to make changes—but he didn’t want large cuts.

He carefully examined Zhou Yanru’s edits. Most were corrections of typos and grammar, with a few slight adjustments to paragraphs, nothing severe.

Seeing this, Li Yousi was quite satisfied. “It’s fine, Editor Zhou. I have no objections. Let’s go ahead with these changes.”

Zhou Yanru looked slightly surprised. She had expected that a writer of such a fine piece would be somewhat proud and difficult to deal with. She hadn’t anticipated him to be so agreeable.

Smiling, she said, “That’s good. If there are no issues, Comrade Li, please make the corrections. Aim to submit the first draft to me by the 25th for review.”

The magazine planned to finalize the issue by the 30th, which was essentially the printing deadline. So Li Yousi had a little over twenty days.

“Understood.”