Grandpa's great writer

Chapter 1079 Returning to Silence (Ending)

"Wang Yi finally chose me as the author of the question, thinking that I would give him a chance, but I didn't give him a chance at all, and just put down a mule.

Wang Yi was about to count his strokes with his fingers, when Zhuang Yu announced that he had failed..."

The courtyard is deep, the corridors are back and forth, and the vines clinging to the corridors are dense and vigorous. The afterglow of the setting sun shines on the people in the courtyard through the branches, soft and gentle.

This is a private courtyard at the foot of Iris Mountain, which was completed 30 years ago.

Zhou Qiang was recording with a pen and paper. He stopped when he heard the voice telling the past. He raised his head in doubt, but saw the old man on the wicker chair staring at the sky in a daze.

"Old Zhang?" Zhou Qiang called out tentatively.

The old man came back to his senses, showing an apologetic expression, "Sorry, I'm a little distracted."

"Mr. Zhang, why don't you come here today. The sun is going down and it's going to be cold now. I'll help you in."

Zhou Qiang has been here for more than half a month. He is the editor of [-] Publishing House. He came here to interview the old man and write a biography for him.

After hearing Zhou Qiang's words, the old man sighed slightly, "It's because I repeat too much and wasted a lot of time."

Then he changed the subject again, "You don't need to come tomorrow, and you can play the rest freely."

Zhou Qiang's expression froze, he didn't understand what the old man meant. According to the progress, their interview was only halfway through, and there were still many things left to talk about.

Mr. Zhang won the Nobel Prize for Literature in the second year after that world tour signing event, becoming the youngest winner in history.

The following year, he married Mr. Xu and had a son and a daughter.

Although he has already reached the top of the literary world in his 30s, Mr. Zhang still keeps on writing, publishing new works every few months until he closes his pen at the age of 80.

Teacher Zhang, 92 years old, is already a living legend.

Up to now, Mr. Zhang is full of children and grandchildren, and the family is full of celebrities. The eldest daughter Zhang Pengpeng is a representative of contemporary realist painters, the second daughter Zhang Ziyan is an internationally renowned pianist, and the eldest son joined the army when he was young.

After this, there are still many things to talk about, so why let him stop coming?
"Mr. Zhang, why don't we be brief later?" Zhou Qiang said.

Zhang Zhong waved his hand, "No, let's go and play freely."

Zhou Qiang was stunned for a while, looking at a loss, and finally asked his biggest question: "Mr. Zhang, do you want to add some magical colors to your biography by talking about the rebirth of the earth? "

Zhang Chong stared at Zhou Qiang with piercing eyes, and suddenly laughed: "Whether it's true or not, whether it's a dream or an illusion, it's not that important anymore. I can't tell whether the earth is a dream or the starfish is a dream. Between you and me, or It's just a dream. Young man, go back."

Zhou Qiang's question was not answered, but more questions appeared.

However, he was too embarrassed to disturb Zhang Zhong, stood up and bowed, and then walked out of the courtyard.

Seeing Zhou Qiang's back going away, Zhang Zhong turned his gaze to the sunset in the west.

He suddenly heard a familiar voice calling to him in the air, followed by the second and third...

"I should go too." Zhang Zhong muttered to himself.

The yard suddenly became quiet, the wind stopped, the leaves did not move, and the crickets in the grass did not know where they went.

And it was not only this small courtyard that was suddenly silent, but also a dreamlike world.

(End of this chapter)