In order to print out 100,000 copies of the "Sauvignon Blanc" poetry collection as quickly as possible, People's Literature's printing plant can be said to be operating at full capacity.
The factory has implemented three shifts, and people cannot rest while the machines are resting.
We will make every effort to ensure that this printing task can be successfully completed.
Inside the People's Literature Printing Factory.
In a row of huge rectangular wooden shelves, small lead blocks a few millimeters square are densely arranged. Each small lead block is engraved with a Chinese character written backwards. The characters are folded horizontally and vertically, and the shape is square, but still elegant. Charming, quaint and moving.
Lead relief plate making and lithographic plate making were used from the 1950s to the late 1980s.
The process flow of the lead relief plate making process is roughly as follows: first melt the lead, then cast the characters, and put the cast characters on the shelf, and the characters will be picked by the word picker. After sorting the type, proofs are printed first, and proofreaders proofread the proofs. Generally, three proofs are required. After proofreading, typesetting is carried out, then movable type plates are cast, and finally the printing plate is installed on the machine and started printing.
Amidst the noise of the machine, a voice was particularly loud, "Everyone, please work harder. If our team can complete the task first, this outstanding team will be ours again!"
The man is the squad leader of the printing factory. In order to catch up with efficiency, he is encouraging the team members to complete the task target as soon as possible.
In this era, if workers want to earn a higher salary than their colleagues, they rely on awards such as group excellence.
Over time, the number becomes quite large.
"Squad leader Sun, don't say anything, we will take first place this time!"
"Yes, my children also want to buy this collection of Lao Shizi's poems, but it depends on my bonus."
The workers on the team shouted loudly.
This scene was seen by Jiang Yulou and the editor of the poetry magazine who accompanied him to visit the printing factory.
Jiang Yulou felt a little uncomfortable.
After all, if it weren't for him, the workers wouldn't have to work overtime.
Moreover, the combined wages of their three shifts of workers were not as much as he earned by publishing a collection of poems.
However, the guilt in his heart disappeared in a flash.
Jiang Yulou turned his head and said to Editor Lin beside him: "Editor Lin, the comrade workers in the printing factory are working in full swing. I think it will not take long for all the 100,000 volumes of poetry to be printed. By then, they can be transported by trains and trucks. Post offices nationwide and Xinhua Bookstore.”
The director of the printing factory replied at this time: "Mr. Jiang, you don't actually have to wait for all the printing to be completed. Since I took over this job, I have printed as many as I can and distributed them across the country every day. According to the distance, the first batch of poetry collections have already arrived in Liyan. It’s the farthest Xinhua Bookstore in Beijing.”
Jiang Yulou thanked: "Director Gao, thank you for your hard work."
"It's all for building the motherland." Director Gao said with a simple smile.
After the visit, Jiang Yulou and Editor Lin left the printing factory.
Before leaving, he took another deep look at the lovely workers.
Three days later, Jiang Yulou's first collection of poems, "Sauvignon Blanc", was officially put on sale at major domestic post and telecommunications offices and Xinhua Bookstore.
Shaanxi, provincial capital.
Lu Yao is writing at his desk. Although he always thinks about writing on weekdays, he has never been so concerned about it.
Speaking of which, it was still the pressure Jiang Yulou brought to him.
This former little brother has now become a great poet famous all over the country. There is nothing more magical than this in life.
"Click."
It was the sound of the door opening. Apart from him, only his wife had the key at home.
My wife must be off work, right?
After thinking about it, he didn't pay much attention.
Lu Yao and his wife Linda got married last year. It stands to reason that they are in the sweet period of marriage now, but he has a problem. Once he wants to write something, he will devote himself to it wholeheartedly.
"Husband, guess what I bought at Xinhua Bookstore today?"
Lu Yao was immersed in creation, so he said impatiently: "Oh, what is it?"
At this time, the wife opened the bedroom door and said, "It's a collection of poems. You must be familiar with the author."
Lu Yao stopped writing and frowned: "The poet I am familiar with has published a collection of poems?"
He thought carefully about the poets he had known over the years, and it seemed that no one was qualified to publish a collection of poems.
"I really know him, who is he?"
Linda replied: "It's Jiang Yulou who submitted articles to your magazine before."
"What, it's the Jade Tower? Impossible!" Lu Yao was filled with surprise.
Jiang Yulou is talented, but publishing a collection of poems is different from publishing one or two poems.
Linda shook the poetry collection in her hand and said, "Look, I bought all the poetry collections. How can they still be fake?"
Lu Yao's expression changed slightly and he snatched the magazine from his wife's hand.
He glanced at the cover. It was undoubtedly a new book.
The name of the collection of poems is "Sauvignon Blanc", and its creator is also Jiang Yulou.
Linda couldn't restrain her curiosity and asked: "The love poems he wrote are so good. Husband, do you think he is particularly popular with girls?"
"Probably not." Lu Yao replied casually, but he was actually not sure.
After answering, his mind turned to the collection of poems "Sauvignon Blanc".
He wanted to see what kind of poems Jiang Yulou had written, and if a magazine was willing to publish a collection of poems specifically for him.
"The crows of crows scatter the jade towers in the sky, and the lone boat crosses the sky in the dusk.
I don't know where I'm going, I look at the moon without asking whether it's west or east..."
After just the first poem, he fell silent.
It's a poem, and it's so well written. It's not an exaggeration to say that it contains deep feelings.
He looked through the next few poems, and it can be said that they are no less than the first one. Even the poems "Slow in the Past" and "Of course" are not inferior at all to "See or Not See" he published in Yanhe Literature. .
After a long while, Lu Yao muttered: "Yulou has made progress again."
Not only has it improved, it can be said that it is the peak since its debut, and there is no trace of decline!
"Yes, he writes so well that all the female workers in our factory like his poems." Linda smiled happily and didn't care about her husband's expression at all.
Lu Yao laughed at himself: "Really? Otherwise, we would call him the little prince of love poems."
"Husband, aren't you familiar with him? Can you help me get a book of poems signed by him?"
Looking at his wife's longing eyes, Lu Yao shook his head helplessly.
"Can't you?"
"I'll write a letter and ask in a few days."
A bright smile immediately appeared on Linda's face, "Thank you Ayao."
"We are an old couple, why are we talking about this?" Lu Yao said.
At night, Lu Yao and his wife were leaning on the bedside, and his wife was holding Jiang Yulou's poetry collection in her hands, muttering something from time to time.
Lu Yao glanced at the time. Normally, his wife would be fast asleep at this time.
It’s just a love poem, is it so charming?
As his wife's husband, he felt sour in his heart, so he said to his wife: "Linda, it's getting late, go to bed quickly."
"Wait a minute, I'll watch for a while." His wife replied to him without raising her head, still immersed in the romantic fantasy created by the love poem.
Lu Yao sighed inwardly. Even a married man like him felt excited after reading the love poems in the collection, let alone a woman like his wife.
Alas, compared with Yulou's love poems, the poems he published before are completely inferior.
It seems that if you want to avoid being left behind by your little brother, you can only work hard on novels.
