Chapter 290 Some are happy and some are sad

The wind is slack and the water is cold, and the strong men never return.

Autumn has arrived in Beijing. The leaves on both sides of the street have turned yellow and swirl down when the wind blows. The sky is gray and it looks like the sand will start to blow again.
Zhang Senlong, the owner of Daoxiangchun in Dong'an Market, was wearing a gray Zhongshan suit, a Lenin cap, and a pair of rubber cloth shoes. If he was not familiar with him, he would not be recognized at all.

Before, he always wore a well-ironed suit, had oiled hair and shiny leather shoes, and always looked like an elite.

There were several teachers and professors from Beijing's universities around him, all of them looking like defeated roosters, dejected and listless.

The situation was worst in the capital city. At that time, some people were spreading the news everywhere and posting big news: The young monk has problems, but the old monk does?

If you don't want others to know, then don't do it. After the Masses Daily published several editorials in June, they were quickly singled out and put on the very minority list.

They looked back at the tall Qianmen building with nostalgia, and silently got on the train with their bags on their backs.

This is a train specially designed to transport these people, destination: Saihanba Forest Farm, Chengde, Hebei.

What awaits them is that unless Saihanba is restored to its original appearance, their hope of returning to Beijing is slim; moreover, their ratings are still there, their salaries are paid as usual, and they have moved from big cities to the countryside, making them a high-income group. I just wonder if they will still feel superior?

In history, Saihanba used to be an area with abundant water and grass, dense forests, and numerous birds and animals. It was called the Thousand Mile Pine Forest during the Liao and Jin dynasties and was part of the royal Mulan Paddock of the Qing Dynasty.

Unfortunately, due to years of plunder and logging by the Japanese during the Anti-Japanese War, and continuous forest fires, by the early days of liberation, the original forest in Saihanba had been completely destroyed and degenerated into barren hills on the plateau, with yellow sand covering the sky.

The main source of sandstorms in the capital every winter is Saihanba. In order to solve the sandstorm weather in the capital, forest farms were established to restore the ecology after liberation, but unfortunately the effect has not been good.

The reason they are arranged here now is because they are educated and knowledgeable people, and we must make sure that their intelligence and talents are put to good use, such as: solving and restoring the ecology of Saihanba.

Of course, we also gave them some tips: there is a mother tree in Saihanba, so we should first cultivate the seedlings of the mother tree, so that we can plant trees, and then consider the issue of ecological diversity; we can also use straw grids to fix sand, etc.
In fact, they didn’t know that a group of people had already set out before them, but they were heading to the Ussuri Desert.

Of course, they are not alone. After all, this time the main purpose is to rectify thoughts and widely solicit public opinions, so some government officials are also eating sand with them.
These are two powerful new forces. With them, I believe the current situation of sandstorms every time there is strong wind in winter in Beijing will be changed soon.

What made Wang Deming very happy was that the three sessions of the Eighth Middle School in 57 did not change the way the contradictions were formulated, and it was still "a hundred schools of thought contend, a hundred flowers bloom."

On a weekend at the end of October, Wang Deming went to Zhao Shouyan on Dongsi 10nd Street as usual.

Today is different from the past. The atmosphere in the living room is much more depressing than usual. When Wang Deming entered, he could only hear the sound of people sipping tea and flipping newspapers back and forth.

As soon as he entered, Zhao Shouyan stuffed a thick stack of things wrapped in a handkerchief into his hands.

Without even opening it, Wang Deming knew that the package contained money just by touching it.

"Wow, it's so much?" Wang Deming shook it in his hand. It was still quite heavy. "Brother Shouyan, I just translated a few novels. Why did you give me so much money? This must be nearly 1 yuan, right?"

"The payment you receive for your work is based on the highest standard, 10 yuan per thousand words. The two novels you translated are both large volumes, with millions of words. Aren't they worth that much money?"

"Haha, what a pleasant surprise!" Wang Deming put the money on the coffee table, poured himself a cup of tea, and asked with a smile: "Everyone seems a little depressed today? Tell me about it?"

Before Zhao Shouyan could reply, someone suddenly interrupted and said, "You are getting promoted and making money! But some of our friends are already living a life worse than death!" "Hey, stop talking nonsense!"

Although he was stopped in time, Wang Deming still noticed the other person. It was an unfamiliar face, probably about 25 or 6 years old, wearing a woolen Zhongshan suit, with his hair combed back and oiled, making it shiny.

Wang Deming knew the person next to him and had once gone to Peking University to look for him. He was Mr. Yang Shanquan from the Spanish Languages ​​Department of Peking University.

"Who is this?" Wang Deming looked at Zhao Shouyan.

"Oh, this is Mr. Yang Shanquan's colleague at Peking University. One of his relatives was sent to Saihanba. He said that he was not feeling well, so he wanted to ask my mother to help him and see if the situation could be alleviated."

One of Zhao Shouyan's mothers is a member of the CPPCC and holds a consultant title in the United Front Work Department. She knows many senior CPPCC officials and senior figures of democratic parties, especially Mr. Song.

Seeing Zhao Shouyan's impatient look, Wang Deming said "Oh" and understood what he meant. He suddenly asked, "I'll take it as a compliment. After all, if I haven't made any contribution to the country and society, how can I get a promotion and money?"

He suddenly pointed the finger at Yang Shanquan, "Mr. Yang, you are a professor of the Spanish Department of Peking University. I had come to you for this matter. It stands to reason that your relatives, friends or students would not do anything inappropriate, right? For example, the first large calligraphy copybook in the country appeared in Peking University?"

Mr. Yang Shanquan said coldly with a straight face: "We don't have such relatives and friends in our family. This is the nephew of Professor Yin of our school. We just happened to be on the way today."

"Oh," Wang Deming smiled, looking at the middle-aged man who exuded an elite air, "Sir, if you have the confidence, why don't you go directly to the government? Or go directly to the Party Committee of your Peking University? You should know that the list was reported by the Party Committee of Peking University! Why did you come here?"

"Is this the education you received? Or do you think that because of your status, everyone should take care of you and support you for free?"

"You!" The young man was furious. He stood up and wanted to get angry, but when he looked around, no one in the living room looked at him. He knew instantly that he was alone and helpless, and it would be useless to continue staying here. He could only say to Zhao Shouyan and Yang Shanquan with a sullen face, "I think you should think about this matter carefully!
If we don't unite, our today will be your tomorrow!"

After saying that, he turned around and went out.

Wang Deming blurted out: "Is this guy's brain broken?"

The atmosphere in the living room gradually became lively. "Haha, I think so too!"

"This kind of person is the most shameless. At this time, he still wants to drag us to the northwest to eat sand!"

"Oh, what did he say?"

"He suggested that all of our democratic parties unite to form a brand new party, and then continue to write letters suggesting that we take turns to be the banker."

"Fuck." Wang Deming was so scared that he almost jumped up, "You didn't agree?"

"So he's crazy. What contribution did he make in the Anti-Japanese War or the Liberation War? Why didn't he dare to show his head when he was bald? Now he feels he can shake his head again and wants to pick on the weak?"

"It would be a good thing for such people to just eat sand!"

"Yes, that's right!"

(End of this chapter)