Chapter 6

"What do you want, tacos?" Al looked at the two black brothers who were so big that they looked dull. For a moment, he didn't understand what they meant.

But Wang gradually understood.

This is to see in.

Look at shuangwen. It's about the sense of substitution.

His mind is fixed, which shows that there should be a market for the description of personal experience from the perspective of the protagonist instead of the description of the overall situation in the chronicle of the Dragon spear.

At this time, the two black brothers did not look at al, but walked directly towards Wang Jian.

He kept on saying, "what about the next one? Any more? "

"Well, it's not finished yet." Wang Jian looked at them and asked, "how is it written?"

"This mother fucker is so beautiful I've never seen anything like that. " One of them yelled, "it's like taking a Chicago typewriter and popping out the lame kids."

"Mother fucker, that's great." Said another black man aloud.

"Er, if, I mean if, if you want to buy this thing, would you like to?" Wang Jian asked a little uneasily.

That's what matters.

I want to write books to make money, not to generate electricity with love.

"Yes." Two people answer together.

Then, after looking at each other, and embarrassed to say: "but we have no money..."

“…” Wang Jian was a little speechless for a moment.

Al came up to them, picked up the cigarette that had been thrown on the ground, took two puffs, and said, "what are you looking at?"

"He wrote a story, mother fucker's, it's so beautiful." The black man replied.

"You, write a story?" Al looked surprised. "Aren't you a thief?"

You are the thief, your family is the thief!

Er, it seems that Al's parents and elder sister are indeed thieves. The only reason is not the theft of his brother in prison, but also the murder.

"If you have a story in your head, just write it down." Wang Jian replied.

"I understand, I understand..." "Al replied," just like me and my boss, when I drink in a bar, I think of a song

He snatched the manuscript from them, handed it back to Wang Jian and said, "but none of us can read a book. You still have to let the white guys have a look before you know whether it can be published."

After that, he kicked one of the two black men in the butt.

"Stop yelling. It's time to go to the nightclub. The big guy's single is warming up tonight. Hurry up

Then, with a wave of his hand, he took them out of the apartment.

Wang Jian took the manuscript and thought about what Ai'er had just said.

Yes, the main buyers of books have never been black people at the bottom, but white people in the middle class.

They also buy most of the best sellers.

I still have to find a similar person to try.

At this time, the old man named John appeared in Wang Jian's mind.

Tonight and tomorrow morning, we will speed up the work and bring it to the old man tomorrow.

As he thought, he opened the window and scattered the smell of leaves in the room.

Then he went back to his bedroom and continued to write.

I don't know whether the words used in "I'm the great mage" are too white, or whether it's a gift from crossing over.

In the following translation, Wang Jian became more and more fluent, writing English words faster than Chinese characters.

Maybe it's because English words are smooth?

In this way, accompanied by the sound of gunfire from time to time outside the window, he translated all night.

When the cold wind woke Wang up, it was already more than ten o'clock in the morning.

He stood up, rubbed his numb arm, which had been crushed by sleeping on his stomach, and looked at the thick stack of manuscripts.

Finally, it's done!

Wang Jian arranged the table, arranged the manuscripts in order, and then read them again.

Satisfied with the nod, he just casually eat something, and wash some.

After changing clothes and watching TV for a while, it's one o'clock in the afternoon.

After fidgeting for a quarter of an hour, Wang Jian went to the community labor check-in point early.

After waiting for half an hour with the manuscript, he saw a GM car coming slowly.

Old John stopped the car and walked slowly with his back bent.

Wang Jian came to the old man with a few quick steps. He took the manuscript and said to the old man with an expectant look on his face, "you promised me yesterday that you would take a look at it for me. No, I brought it."

Then he handed over the manuscript.

The old man looked at Wang Jian with surprise and took the manuscript. "Did you really write it? What kind? "

What type?

It's not like a thief with a white brain.

Wang Jian said in his heart, "it's like the Lord of the rings. It's a fantasy novel.""Just make it up." The old man replied, "young man, you should learn more from Hemingway and Mitchell and write something with depth."

"And try not to give manuscripts to others. For others to see, or to use a typewriter

"OK, OK." Wang Jian is a Leng at first, then suddenly realize, answer a way quickly.

Yes, the manuscript is given to others. What if it is plagiarized?

Although I'm not qualified to talk about plagiarism, I'd better pay attention to it in the future.

As for typewriters,

how much is it?

In Wang Jian's wishful thinking, the old man had already sat down on the bench at the check-in point with the manuscript and read it.

While Wang Jian squatted beside him and looked at him eagerly.

I don't know whether it's because the novel really doesn't suit the taste, or whether Wang Jian's handwriting is really bad.

The old man frowned all the time, but he was serious.

In this way, time in the unconscious, slowly passing.

People who have participated in community labor have come to the check-in point.

Even the community worker lily, who was in charge of check-in, arrived at the check-in point.

The crowd began to line up and sign in in turn.

Only the old man was still reading, while Wang Jian was looking at the old man.

At the end of the check-in, the old man did not move.

In desperation, Wang Jian patted the old man and pointed to Lily to sign in.

The old man looked up and then looked miserable.

This gave Wang a fright.

What is wrong with people?

I didn't exert myself, did I?

At this time, the blonde lily also noticed the situation here.

She walked over quickly and asked Old John with concern, "what's the matter? What's wrong with you? "

The old man trembled and took out a note from his pocket.

Wang Jian fixed his eyes on it. It seemed that it was a prescription written by the doctor. It said: stage II cancer.

He looked at the old man in shock. He thought that the old man was in the early stage of cancer.

Second stage cancer, doesn't it mean that the old man's chances of survival are slim?

Then he heard the old man's painful words: "I need to go home and have a rest."

Lily quickly helped the old man and said, "the judge has told me about you. You can have a rest at any time."

Then, he looked back at Wang Jian again, "if you send him home, you will join the community labor today."

"Thank you." The old man said weakly.

Wang Jian also helped the old man in a hurry, but he couldn't bear it.

It's not that I let the old man try to read the novel and consume too much energy that makes me feel so miserable, is it?