Literary Master 1983

Chapter 300 MVP Settlement
Before their departure, the writers from both sides of the Taiwan Strait held an unprecedented farewell party. Influential Chinese from all over the United States rushed to Boston. Due to the urgency of the situation, many people were unable to meet Yu Qie and others.

Some people cried: "I missed the chance to meet Mr. Yu! This will be my lifelong regret!"
"Mr. Yu! Yu Qie! The World Journal gave us a great report!"

Upon seeing the press release from the Chinese journalist, Qian Zhongshu blushed with excitement: "I thought this German was a good-for-nothing, but I never expected him to be so well-versed in both Chinese and Western learning, yet he didn't apply it all very well. Neither God nor Prometheus had a good ending. But you are different. From this battle onward, you have become the glory of the Chinese world."

The writers received great praise: How far is forever? How many eternities are there in a person's life?
This meeting has at least brought forward this opening considerably, and the surging sentiment of returning home has demonstrated the power of exchange between the two sides. They will forever remember the writers' contributions.

There has always been a desire within Taiwan to return to one's roots, but previously, these desires were often only satisfied by those of high status. In the 1960s, Mr. Yu wrote a modern poem titled "Looking Towards the Mainland," expressing his feelings on his deathbed:

"Bury me on a high mountain, so I may gaze upon my homeland. But the homeland is nowhere to be seen, only weeping remains. Bury me on a high mountain, so I may gaze upon my homeland. But my homeland is nowhere to be seen, yet I will never forget it. The mountains are verdant, the fields are vast. On the mountain, the nation mourns."

Not long after he finished writing the poem, he also passed away. It is certainly commendable that he could express such sentiments. However, it should be noted that Mr. Yu was buried on Guanyin Mountain, the highest mountain on the island, and a 4-meter-high bronze bust facing the mainland was erected on the 3997-meter-high highest peak in southeastern my country.

Yushan Mountain is steep and dangerous. His bronze statue and building materials were moved up little by little by a series of methods. Although he died, his last wish to "climb high and look out over his homeland" was still fulfilled.

How are ordinary people treated?
It would be a huge mistake to even talk about it, let alone to commemorate it in this way.

This brings us back to why Yuche is considered "Prometheus"—because he stole sacred fire for mortals.

He is a hero walking among men.

Qian Zhongshu said, "This Chinese reporter only half understands Chinese. He clearly studied Confucius, yet he described you as a tragic hero... I don't know how he got into Columbia University!"

Li Ao suddenly said, "Perhaps it's because he understands Confucius and Chinese society too well that he uses Prometheus to describe him and everyone else!"

Li Ao meant that we shouldn't be too happy about everyone's achievements today, as they might turn out to be our mistakes in the future!

Qian Zhongshu said solemnly, “Right and wrong are in the hearts of the people. I have always been very cautious. This is one of the few major things I have done. I did not spare my life because I believe that there are some things that should not be spared.”

Yu Guangzhong never participates in such discussions; only Li Ao is a politically obsessed keyboard warrior.

Liu Shahe couldn't understand what everyone was saying, so he didn't say a word.

They all looked at Yu Qie, who said, "You're all overthinking it. What this reporter probably meant was that there are quite a few gamblers and womanizers among us writers. Be careful, someone might lose all their money and ruin their reputation for money in the future."

Li Ao and Yu Guangzhong seemed thoughtful: Was it referring to me, or someone else? Could it be that I will have an unfortunate old age?

That month, the first group of people who received family visit permits went to the mainland, and many touching stories unfolded among them. Some people cried their hearts out as soon as they set foot on their homeland, needing several people to support them to walk; some people discovered that their brothers, who shared the same parents, had developed Alzheimer's disease and did not recognize anyone; forty years of earth-shaking changes had turned their ancestral homes into farmland, and the only familiar thing they had was the family graves, so they could only take a handful of yellow soil with them.

As more and more people went to visit relatives, the matter became a fait accompli, and mainstream newspapers began to report on the event.

However, it cannot be said that the situation is entirely positive.

Nothing can please everyone.

A small newspaper on the island, called the *Evening Post*, boldly dispatched two reporters to the mainland, transiting through Japan. At this time, visiting relatives had become a major event in the Chinese-speaking world, attracting widespread attention. No sooner had the two reporters left than the newspaper ran a front-page headline: "Our special correspondents XX and XX have traveled to the mainland for interviews."

There was no news whatsoever, just those few words, yet those few words caused a sensation, with people buying the newspaper like crazy. Subscriptions for the following month were also made, causing sales to increase several times over.

How did other newspapers on the island describe the Evening Post's move?

"Damn it! They got the first incense offering! That's cheating!"

This is how they described it.

Several newspapers have demanded severe punishment for the Evening Post, launching a frenzy of accusations against the newspaper for illegal activities, causing the island to lose face: how can the journalism industry be done well with so many instigators?
Meanwhile, the two reporters went straight to the mainland side, stated their purpose, and requested credentials to conduct interviews. They were then given a hint: there was no precedent for this, and it was under study and discussion; they could pretend to be visiting relatives to conduct interviews, which would be acceptable to everyone.

These two reporters were stubborn; they insisted on writing down their journalistic identities and the purpose of their visit.

This was unprecedented, posing a challenge for the relevant departments, who had to escalate the matter through the proper channels. Thirty-two hours later, the reporter was granted permission and received a copy of Yu Qie's novel, "The Way Out."

Someone told them, "Think about how Yu Qie would treat his fellow countrymen elsewhere. You should do journalism with a clear conscience."

One person remembers it, while the other doesn't.

The two journalists then became "interviewees," because their groundbreaking act of being the first to do something so unusual had drawn over fifty Chinese and foreign journalists waiting for them at the Capital Airport. Only then did they realize the magnitude of what they had done.

When the plane landed, two officials came to greet them. One of them said, "We've kept you waiting!"

Another person exclaimed excitedly, "We've been waiting for you for almost forty years!"

The two reporters then wrote press releases about the conversation. One wrote, "Waiting for forty years is the language of the station, their vicious emotional offensive," and the other wrote, "I felt unparalleled enthusiasm." They then went over the drafts with each other, preparing to send them to the island.

The second person saw the manuscript written by the first person and slapped the first person across the face on the spot.

The former was furious: "Why did you hit me?"

The latter pointed to the novel *The Way Out* and said, "I'm here to beat you up for the sake of countless Yu Qie. You don't deserve to read his novels!" In late May, a news program in mainland my country featured a rare and blunt statement from the host: "Our writer Yu Qie is having a tremendous impact on the Chinese-speaking world! This is the first time in the history of mainland Chinese writers!"
indeed so.

In all the occasions where Yu Qie could be seen, there were always huge crowds of people, most of whom came for the writers. But if they could only choose one writer, most of these young people would choose Yu Qie.

After all, he was young, handsome, and fluent in multiple languages. His confrontational style in Western social settings, devoid of any Asian sense of restraint or humility, ironically earned him even greater fame. Many felt that this was exactly how they imagined themselves to be.

Every aspect of Yu Che's trip to the United States was highly topical—nuclear literature, the melting of ice, the capture of traitors, the gun in Columbia, the manhunt for the massacre… As Márquez said, Yu Che is a writer who can satisfy the need for storytelling, and people admire such a person.

This is especially true in a place like the United States, which is isolated overseas. Here, Yu Che is much more popular than others.

The writers frequently attended salons and literary events, and also maintained close contact with the local Chinese community. Once news of their public appearances leaked out, numerous fans would flock to their events. They visited several universities in Boston, and soon invitations were extended to top universities in the eastern United States, from which the writers selected a few to attend.

At New York University, a middle-aged man waved Yu Qie's novel and exclaimed, "Mr. Yu, I've picked up my mother tongue again for you! I've memorized the Chinese dictionary again!"

In Princeton, international students from Iowa held up a banner that read: "We Chinese in Iowa stand with Yuche."

After reading it, Qian Zhongshu exclaimed in amazement: "Princeton offered me a course for $160,000, and you went there once every two months, creating a huge reputation! If you were to teach now, you probably wouldn't be any less than me. I can't even understand why they love you so much."

Because Yuqie is literature.

This made Yu Qie feel emotional: when he was studying at Yenching University in 83, modern poetry was still very popular. The Weiming Poetry Society was a major force in Yenching University's literature. The poet Bei Dao often held underground poetry gatherings near Yenching University. The university students would ride their bikes over the wall in the middle of the night to listen to Bei Dao's poems, and they would come back shivering from the cold with their faces covered in ice.

Although these Yenching University students will have no future connection with poetry, they believe they have had close contact with literature because "back then, Bei Dao was literature itself."

Bei Dao is still in the United States, but he remains unknown. Yu Qie has replaced Bei Dao and is now the literary embodiment of the distant motherland in the eyes of these Chinese people who cannot even write Chinese characters fluently. "In 1986, Yu Qie was literature."

Meanwhile, numerous authors' books were being imported into American publishers, and the hotel's landline was flooded with calls demanding exorbitant prices for the copyrights! Agent Carmen flew from Spain to the United States again because she had short-term access to business with many publishers in the Chinese-speaking world.

Some contracts are for large sums of money, specify the need for Yu Qie's personal attendance, and often come with additional conditions:

"One percent of Brazil's population is Asian, mainly of Japanese descent. They are very interested in Oriental literature, and several publishing houses hope to contact you and sign a lifetime contract. I..."

Yu Qie said, "You can handle it."

"Argentina is holding its annual literary awards in the second half of the year, and '2666' has been shortlisted, but they require the complete version of the novel! To be frank, your chances of winning are very high. Their president is very interested in you and hopes to meet with you."

What are the accompanying conditions?

“They want to meet with you privately,” Carmen said.

Oh, so this is what they call "conditions".

After Márquez gained fame in the Spanish-speaking world, this phenomenon often occurred: those high-ranking national figures were only generally friendly to him in public, but once in private, they would show extreme enthusiasm towards him.

For example, he sometimes encountered presidents of small countries using the opportunity of awarding him prizes to patronize celebrities at public expense. The award ceremony itself only took fifteen minutes, but afterwards, there would be a one- or two-hour private conversation. At this point, these important figures would dismiss their guards, lock themselves and Márquez in their office, and begin to bombard him with questions.

Sometimes Márquez couldn't even distinguish whether these people genuinely loved him or were deliberately feigning a love of literature to portray themselves as "a polite, literary youth." After all, these small-country leaders, who came to power through coups, weren't particularly cultured and shouldn't be interested in literature.

The result astonished Márquez. These people had actually read his novels. Like seasoned cosplayers meeting the original author, they relished discussing how Márquez viewed those warlords and tyrants, and swore to him: "Sir, I am not like those scoundrel warlords you portray! You've depicted us too badly! I am a moral warlord! I am working for the future of this country, just you wait and see!"
Thinking about this, Yu Qie really couldn't hold back anymore.

If he were invited to have a heart-to-heart talk by some eccentric presidents of small countries in the future, would he go or not?

“I have finished writing the third volume, and I can hand it to you now.” Yu Qie gave the last volume of “2666”.

"Have you shown it to Gabo?"

“I haven’t had a chance yet. But I’ve been keeping in touch with him.”

Carmen was satisfied. "Then, it's time to write nuclear literature."

Yu Qie said, "I will do it as soon as possible."

Carmen felt that Yu Che wasn't taking the matter seriously enough and started nagging. "I've always believed that literature is not purely an artistic phenomenon, but rather a market phenomenon. Previously, you made a name for yourself in Latin America with *2666*, which became your ticket into the Western world, but Latin Americans first have to prove they are Latin Americans, and then they are writers… This phenomenon hasn't changed to this day."

She said, "If you can succeed with '2666,' then your nuclear literature will achieve even greater success. And you won't need to prove your Chinese identity, meaning you won't need to deliberately criticize those around you, your compatriots, to express your insight as a writer—I already know that's something you wouldn't want to do."

"Now you're beginning to prove yourself as a human being, a part of the world, a member of civilized society. This is a more difficult path, but once successful, it becomes easier. I eagerly await your work."

When Carmen talked about this kind of thing, the adjectives she used were absolutely nauseating.

Yu Qie had to make repeated promises before she finally left with the third volume of the novel "2666". The novel is now completely finished. The original 800,000-word novel has been condensed by Yu Qie to about 400,000 words, which is just enough to be compiled into a book and enter the competition for various Spanish-language literary awards.

In June, more news came.

(End of this chapter)