According to Lin Chaoyang's plan, the novel is about to end in less than two words, and most of the plot has been completed. Reading it makes people feel refreshed.

The final plot of the novel stops when the hunter Amblen loses his last hound, Torokan, and faces the ice and snow of the Greater Khingan Mountains alone and unknown dangers.

Although they had already learned the resolution of the story in advance, the few people couldn't help but feel nervous and worried about it.

"Chaoyang, there's only such a little content, please write it quickly!"

After reading all the manuscripts, Li Tuo began to urge him to update.

"For the New Year, the donkeys in the production team have to take a break."

Lin Chaoyang's dialect is rough and not rough, which blocked several people's mouths.

"How long do you plan to finish writing?"

"It's almost done. I'll write it after fifteenth. I can finish it in half a month."

Listening to Lin Chaoyang's words, Li Tuo was a little dissatisfied. It took only half a month to say 20,000 words.

"Chaoyang, you are not as soon as you used to be!"

When people reach middle age, they are very sensitive to certain words.

Lin Chaoyang sarcastically said, "I have grown crops in this land a little slower, but it is also better than those that have never been harvested!"

Chen Jiangong and Zhu Wei echoed, "That's right, you still have the face to dislike others' slowness. No matter how slow the sun is, it will be faster than you!"

Li Tuo was embarrassed by the slap of several people. These people really slapped people in the face.

However, Lin Chaoyang was not very comfortable. He sucked Chen Jiangong and Zhu Wei's words, and the more he sucked, the worse he felt.

It was getting late in the night while talking and laughing, and everyone talked about sex without diminishing.

Li Tuo asked Lin Chaoyang again if he had any plans to publish this novel. Lin Chaoyang jokingly asked, "What? If you are not in his position, do you still have to do the politics?"

In 1989, writer Hao replaced Lin Jinlan as editor-in-chief of "Yanjing Literature", and Hao was a writer from a peasant background.

I have deep feelings for rural themes and rural writers.

In the past two years since he was in charge of "Yanjing Literature", he has paid a lot of attention and concentrated on launching a series of works on rural themes, and most of the authors are rural grassroots writers.

These writers are very familiar with the current rural life, but it is obviously not enough to engage in literary creation and accumulate real life alone. These works have obvious shortcomings in both artistic and ideological depth.

The most eye-catching one is that in the second half of the year before yesterday, "Yanjing Literature" published 25 short stories by Chen Shaoqian, a rural writer in Pinggu District, Yanjing, as its headline.

In the eyes of many people, these works are barely meeting the standards according to the selection requirements of "Yanjing Literature", but they were released with such a big fanfare by Hao, which was not only surprising, but also aroused criticism from the literary community.

It was precisely because of this incident that Li Tuo's dissatisfaction with Hao reached the limit and chose to leave "Yanjing Literature".

"Yanjing Literature is not good now. Not to mention whether the size is appropriate, the influence is also much worse."

After Li Tuo left, some writers were dissatisfied with Hao's style of "Yanjing Literature" and refused to contribute to "Yanjing Literature", which caused "Yanjing Literature" to an unprecedented low point.

"Yanjing Literature" originally belonged to a second-tier literary magazine, and its influence is even worse than before. Even if Li Tuo had feelings for "Yanjing Literature", he would not be able to go there to publish a novel.

Li Tuo's expression was full of shushing. He was still very affectionate about "Yanjing Literature". Now that the magazine has become like this, he feels regretful.

The bell rang at midnight, and Lin Chaoyang yawned and planned to go to bed.

Li Tuo and his friends didn't plan to leave, so they stayed in the west courtyard and talked at night with candles.

The next morning, Lin Chaoyang was brushing his teeth when he saw them yawning, sluggish, like eggplant caused by frost.

He laughed at the few people without mercy, and Chen Jiangong stole, "Fifty steps to laugh a hundred steps!"

After breakfast, Li Tuo and his friends left. Before leaving, they told Lin Chaoyang to hurry up and write a book, which immediately destroyed Lin Chaoyang's good mood.

After the eighth day of the lunar month, the two children were going to school, and the Tao Yushu sisters had to go back to Xiangjiang to handle the company's affairs.

Lin Chaoyang had not lived a leisurely life in Beijing yet. He planned to stay in Yanjing for a while on the grounds of calmly writing books.

Tao Yushu has always given all his strength to support Lin Chaoyang's creation and agreed happily.

After his wife and children left, Lin Chaoyang and two bodyguards were left in the family, Xiao Sun and Xiao Zhu.

The family suddenly became deserted from the noisy New Year. It was not unacceptable to Lin Chaoyang, but instead felt a long-lost relaxation.

On the Lantern Festival, Lin Chaoyang was organizing a meal and was busy with Zhang Guiqin.

Lin Erchun stood in the yard with one hand pinched his waist and the other holding his elder brother, feeding him everywhere!

"This broken thing cost more than 20,000 yuan, which is not as useful as a public phone!"

After calling the "mobile" phone, Lin Erchun entered the house and said a little annoyed.

"Mobile phones have to be moved!"

Although this playful sentence is a joke, it is also a reality.

"That's how mobile phones come from? This thing is so worthless!"

Lin Erchun felt distressed when he thought of his 28,000 yuan, and became impulsive.

"Yeah, you can't just look at the phone call. Think about it, how much attention did you attract when you go out with this thing on your waist? When you go out to talk to people, who doesn't take a high look?"

Lin Erchun thought about it and thought Lin Chaoyang's words had some truth.

He looked at the dishes in the kitchen again, and always felt like something was almost there, "Make a dumpling!"

Hearing this, Xiao Sun, the bodyguard responsible for cutting the pile, shook all over.

"Uncle Lin, today's Lantern Festival, don't eat dumplings, right?"

The dumplings made from the New Year’s Eve dinner were eaten for several days after the New Year, and they had already made a shadow on him.

"You kid, how many days have you lived? Are you tired of eating dumplings?"

"Dad, Xiao Sun and Xiao Zhu are from Guangdong." Lin Chaoyang reminded.

"What's wrong with Guangdong people? Guangdong people also have to eat dumplings!"

In Lin Erchun's logic, not to mention Guangdong people during the festival, Albanians have to eat dumplings even when they come.

"Go! Go and knead!"

A generation of soldiers, when he returned from retirement, he could only work with kitchen knives and wash basins, which made people shy.

I was busy until 12 noon and finally had a meal.

"Xiao Sun, eat more!"

Lin Chaoyang picked up a bowl of dumplings for Xiao Sun and then placed his target on Xiao Zhu, "Eat all, eat more!"

He advised others to eat it, but he didn't serve a dumpling in his bowl.

Halfway through the meal, Lin Erchun received a call and went out in a hurry, saying that a big customer was going to talk to today.

Xiao Sun and Xiao Zhu all breathed a sigh of relief and barely finished the dumplings in the bowl. Zhang Guiqin brought two bowls of round-frost in front of them.

"How can I not eat a nightclub during the Lantern Festival? Try it, it's made of roses with black silk!"

Xiao Sun and Xiao Zhu looked at the bowls of Lantern Festival, and felt the dumplings that had just entered their stomachs were surging, and their eyes turned black and dark.

After lunch, Xiao Sun and Xiao Zhu stood at the gate of the yard, with their backs bleak and slightly fat.

"I want to go back to Xiangjiang!" Xiao Sun said.

Xiao Zhu touched the belly of the "mountain and mountains", and the King of Soldiers remained silent and just nodded.

After fifteen years, Lin Chaoyang finally gathered his fighting spirit and prepared to end the novel.

As a result, he had been in the study for more than an hour that morning, but before he could get into the state, guests came to his house.

Yes, I can't write it anymore, it's too busy!

The guest who came and Lin Chaoyang was a family five hundred years ago, and was Lin Xianzhi, the editor of Huacheng Publishing House.

In the past, Li Shifei, the editor-in-chief, was directly responsible for Lin Chaoyang's manuscripts. Lin Chaoyang had met him when he went to Huacheng Publishing House, but he was not familiar with him.

After a few greetings from the door, Lin Chaoyang learned that Li Shifei had been ill since last year and had a myocardial infarction. He stayed in the intensive care unit for 13 days.

Last year, Li Shifei didn't go to Lin Chaoyang to urge the manuscript. He thought Li Shifei had discovered his conscience.

Unexpectedly, my heart was severely damaged.

During the middle, the two of them passed the phone call, and Li Shifei also told him to write with peace of mind, but did not mention his illness. "I really couldn't imagine it-" Lin Chaoyang shook his head, "Then how is he doing now?"

"He is in poor health. He loves to write poetry, and he becomes excited as soon as he writes poetry. He went to the hospital again in the second half of the year. Fortunately, he is not seriously injured and can't worry about work."

Lin Chaoyang looked slightly and understood what Lin Xianzhi meant this time. He was to do a job for Li Shifei and urge the manuscript by the way.

He took the initiative to mention the new novel, and Lin Xianzhi looked happy, but he didn't expect that the work he went to Beijing would go so smoothly.

He also learned about some of the ideas of the novel with Lin Chaoyang, read the manuscripts of the first tens of thousands of words, and was full of expectations.

"The first three series of "Birth, Aging, Sickness, and Death" are well received and popular. Your last "Birth", the literary world and readers are looking forward to it now!

Now, everyone's expectations are not wrong."

Lin Xianzhi's tone was a little excited, on the one hand, because the quality of the new novel was not inferior to the previous work, and on the other hand, because the great creative concept of "birth, old age, sickness and death" was finally completed after more than four years of creation.

"Just like Mr. Ba Jin's trilogy of the torrents and the love trilogy, your series of works are enough to leave a rich mark in the history of contemporary literature..."

Lin Xianzhi's praise may come from the heart, but it sounds a bit stingy. Lin Chaoyang waved his hand and interrupted him, and talked to him about the progress of the novel's creation, and agreed to submit the manuscript before May.
Chapter completed!