Chapter 10: Part Two, Life

Zhang Deling approached curiously, reached out, and asked, "Teacher Zhou, how is this novel? May I have a look?"

Zhou Yanru smiled helplessly and slid the manuscript over.

"The quality of this piece is excellent. I’m thinking, could we squeeze it into the December issue?"

"Squeeze it in?" Zhang Deling was surprised by Zhou's confidence.

What did "squeezing in" mean? Magazines often received more submissions than they could publish. Some works, while not necessarily outstanding, were too good to discard, so they would be shelved for months. But if a piece was truly exceptional, it could "cut the line." Even if the layout for the next day’s printing was already finalized, the staff would work through the night to pull other pieces and make room for such a gem. With it already being early November, the December issue was essentially set. For Zhou Yanru to suggest "cutting the line" meant she firmly believed this novel surpassed everything else currently slated for the December issue.

"How many pieces would we have to pull? I see this is a novella," Zhang Deling remarked, flipping through dozens of pages.

"We’ll pull three short stories to make room for this one. Read it first, and later I’ll go talk to the editor-in-chief about it," Zhou Yanru said with a calm, casual smile.

Zhang Deling nodded, her curiosity piqued.

"Oh, and Xiao Zhang, I’m going to take a nap on the chair. Wake me up when you finish reading; I have plenty of work to do later." The elderly woman, exhausted from hours of intense focus, walked over to a recliner and rubbed her eyes before sitting down.

Zhang Deling nodded, "Understood, Teacher," and took the manuscript back to her desk.

Just then, other sharp-eared editors in the office, including Chen Hongjun, who had been editing manuscripts, walked over. "Teacher Zhou, what was that about 'cutting the line'? Which manuscript is it?"

Chen Hongjun felt a tinge of resentment; the short story he had been editing was scheduled for the December issue, and if something had to be cut, it might be his. Yet, he was also curious to see what kind of manuscript could make Zhou Yanru so excited.

Zhang Deling looked up and teased, "Of course, Teacher Zhou said it herself! And we’re cutting three pieces to make room!"

"Three? That’s impressive! Whose work is it? Comrade Wang Zengqi’s?" an editor exclaimed.

Zhang Deling shook her head. "It’s not Comrade Wang. He rarely writes novellas. This piece is from a newcomer in the Cultural Troupe."

"A newcomer?"

"What does that mean? Is this a pseudonym for a master?"

Zhang Deling shook her head again. "Doesn't seem like it. I’ve seen the promising submissions for *Beijing Literature*, *People's Literature*, *Harvest*, and *Contemporary*! The style of this novel is quite unique; perhaps it’s an experiment by an established writer. Although there is a certain rawness to the prose, the quality and writing are simply outstanding!"

This sparked even more curiosity among the staff. Zhang Deling dove into the text, and soon, she understood why Zhou Yanru valued it so highly. The story was so compelling that it more than compensated for the author’s slight lack of polish. It was the best manuscript she had seen in months.

"Finished yet, Comrade Deling? Mind if I take a look?" an older editor asked.

Zhang Deling, having skimmed through it for an hour and a half, handed it over. "Pass it around. Read quickly—I have to wake Teacher Zhou in an hour so she can handle the logistics."

After an hour, the office was in an uproar. The younger editors were gathered together, admiring the new manuscript. "It’s like a breath of fresh air. After reading so much dross, this is a real treat!" Their doubts about the newcomer's authenticity vanished; the unique charm and voice of the writer were unmistakable.

After being woken up, Zhou Yanru retrieved the manuscript from Chen Hongjun. "I’m going to discuss this with the editor-in-chief. You all can finish your 'review' later."

Chen Hongjun was dazed. He finally understood why Zhou was so certain about "cutting the line." The novel was indeed better than the piece he had been editing. He felt a sense of genuine respect. "Teacher Zhou, my story is scheduled for next month. Are you saying you’re using this piece to cut in line?"

Zhou Yanru looked at him with a hint of confusion. "Comrade Chen, your story is quite good—there’s no reason to pull yours!"

"I truly didn't expect this one to be so good. Compared to it, I feel my own piece has too many flaws," Chen Hongjun admitted with a helpless shrug.

Zhou Yanru smiled and headed toward the editor-in-chief’s office.

"Are you really that generous, Chen? You don't feel bad about your work being pulled?" someone asked.

Chen Hongjun smiled bitterly. "What’s there to feel bad about? It’s simply not as good as the other person’s work. I’ll just leave it and try to write something better next time."

"How good is it, exactly?"

Zhang Deling smiled. "It’s *Life*. This should be considered the second *Life*! Editor Zhou dug this out of the scrap pile."

Last March, *Harvest* had published a novel called *Life*—a work that had initially been rejected by editors but was later salvaged from the mailbox. It became a nationwide sensation, a work that defined an era. For a while, the anecdote of "finding a gem in the trash" had circulated through editorial offices, though most attempts to replicate that luck had only drained their enthusiasm.

"True. If I had been the one to collect that pile of manuscripts earlier, this might have been mine," one editor sighed.

"You? You probably wouldn't have even made it past the first page. Comrade Zhou Yanru is a veteran editor with a keen eye," another replied.

In the magazine office, connections meant nothing; only quality mattered.

Zhou Yanru arrived at the office of the editor-in-chief, Li Qingquan. Seeing her approach, Li asked, "What’s going on?"

"I’ve found the second *Life*," Zhou Yanru said, with a note of triumph.