Literary Master 1983

Chapter 413 I have a showdown
Xie He Hospital.

Three days ago, in the early morning, Shen Congwen suddenly felt weak all over and had difficulty breathing, and was rushed to the hospital.

At first, the family thought it was a somatic symptom of mental illness and requested consultations from other doctors because of his long history of mental illness. It was soon discovered that it was a myocardial infarction, and the entire Peking Union Medical College Hospital was mobilized to treat the writer.

His illness also drew the attention of the literary world, and many old friends were informed of the news, then waited anxiously for what felt like an eternity.

Ba Jin, his disciple Wang Zengqi, Zhang Shouren of the magazine "October", Wang Meng, the chairman of the Writers Association... Yu Qie was not the first person to visit him, but Yu Qie's arrival garnered more attention.

After learning the news, Swedish scholar Göran Malmqvist revealed a secret: Shen Congwen had been shortlisted for the Nobel Prize in Literature. "Shen's illness has aroused the sympathy of the Nobel committee members; if he can hold on until October, he may win the prize!"

Because the Nobel Prize is located in Sweden, Swedish scholars have always received preferential treatment from various countries, and their revelations are relatively truthful.

"Is China about to have its first Nobel Prize? So soon?" Wang Meng said.

He still finds it unbelievable: not only did someone nominate Shen Congwen, but Shen Congwen also overcame numerous obstacles to reach the final stage. He asked Yu Qie, "Did you make it to the final stage?"

Yu Qie shook his head and said, "I don't know. I only know that I was nominated. Many writers nominated me."

"Then why did Ma Yue Ran only mention Shen Congwen and not you?"

"Because I have a very high chance of not receiving it, but there is a slight possibility. And Shen Congwen's health condition means he definitely won't receive it. The Nobel Prize is not awarded to deceased people."

"So he recklessly revealed the inside story?"

"Yes, the doctor told me that Mr. Shen wouldn't make it. He definitely wouldn't win the award."

Wang Meng was taken aback upon hearing this, and looked at Shen Congwen with regret: "What a pity..."

"Do you think the Nobel Prize was deliberately making fun of Professor Shen? Did they know he definitely wouldn't live to see that day, and deliberately leaked the news to mess with us?"

“I agree with what you said,” Yu Qie said.

On his hospital bed, Shen Congwen remained extremely quiet, for he was completely unconscious. He was unable to learn of his Nobel Prize nomination while fully conscious.

I couldn't help but recall a sentence that Shen Congwen once wrote: "My readers and I are both getting old."

Now, Shen Congwen's novels have been unearthed by Westerners, giving them new life and attracting many new readers. But he is undeniably old, suggesting that Shen Congwen only foresaw half of what was to come.

Ba Jin called, and Wang Zengqi visited him and burst into tears. Canadian sinologist Jin Jiepu is preparing to come to China to visit his former closest collaborator.

Yu Qie told him not to come.

Jin Jiepu instantly understood: Shen had reached his final moment.

"I wish him well, and I wish you well too," Jin Jiepu said.

Yu warned him: "You are not allowed to disclose any information to foreign media in private, nor are you allowed to criticize him in the near future."

"I will protect your trust in me as I would protect God's shroud!"

After several leaders came to visit him, Shen Congwen suddenly woke up in the middle of the night. His eyelids blinked with difficulty, as if he wanted to say something. But for some reason, he couldn't hear any sound and could barely open his mouth.

“Are you asking about the Nobel Prize? You’ve made it to the final round; you’ve already won, haven’t you? You’re the first Chinese writer to do so,” Wang Meng said.

Shen Congwen's consciousness was somewhat hazy, and he did not react at all.

Seeing this, Wang Meng added, "Your house has already been awarded to you, so don't worry. It can be given to your spouse in the future. The leader said that the private car can also be left to you."

Shen Congwen still didn't react, but he gave off a faint feeling of anxiety.

Yu Qie then interjected, "Call Zhang Zhao and Teacher over, and tell them that Shen Congwen wants to be with her!"

Zhang Zhaohe is Shen Congwen's spouse.

Her relationship with Shen Congwen was complicated; there was no longer any romantic love, but some familial affection remained. Shen Congwen had spent some time recuperating in a mental hospital, during which Zhang Zhaohe never visited him.

Because Shen Congwen had betrayed Zhang Zhaohe, he was subsequently estranged from Zhang Zhaohe.

Even in the final moments of Shen Congwen's life, Zhang Zhaohe did not truly forgive him. Instead, he held Shen Congwen's hand and quietly looked at him, as if offering companionship out of affection.

Yu Qie and the others silently left the ward. Wang Meng was startled by the scene and asked him, "Old Shen is on his deathbed, why won't you forgive him? Even a white lie would be better."

“You’re not Zhang Zhaohe, after all. How would you know what hardships she’s endured?” Yu Qie said.

"Oh, right!" Wang Meng suddenly remembered that Zhang Zhaohe was from a prominent family in Jiangnan. Marrying Shen Congwen was already a step down for her, and she still couldn't get basic loyalty... "No wonder Shen Congwen felt guilty towards him, and Zhang Zhaohe didn't forgive him either."

Other writers came to visit, and Zhang Zhaohe wanted to give up his seat, but Shen Congwen unleashed an amazing force and refused to let Zhang Zhaohe leave.

Moreover, he was able to speak incoherently. Shen Congwen said, "My heart hurts, and I'm so cold!"

It was around 5 p.m., and he was pale-faced, staring intently at Zhang Zhaohe.

An hour later, around six o'clock, Shen Congwen suddenly said, "I can't take it anymore, I can't take it anymore!"

He repeated this sentence over and over until he became delirious, and finally managed to squeeze out a breath and say, "Third Sister, I'm sorry."

Shen Congwen persisted for another two hours and thirty minutes before he finally passed away.

The medical team conducted a final round of resuscitation efforts as per procedure, and then announced that the resuscitation was unsuccessful, informing relatives and friends of Shen Congwen's death.

Meanwhile, there was no word from domestic newspapers.

At that time, how should we define Shen Congwen to the public?

Although Shen Congwen's articles were praised abroad, the kind of fresh and elegant prose was not popular in mainland China in the 1980s. Shen Congwen had neither an official position nor any connections, and his private morality was not exactly spotless.

Sun Yushi, head of the Chinese Department, said, "Should we simply hold a memorial service for Professor Shen? After all, we were colleagues."

There was a lot of discussion in the audience.

Nobody wants to be the first to stick their neck out.

Yu Qie then used Cha Liangyong's donation to hold a memorial service for Shen Congwen. At the memorial service, Yu Qie fully affirmed Shen Congwen's achievements in literature.

"I always say that literature should answer the questions of the times, but there are always some writers who, under the mainstream ideology, will still write about their small bridges, flowing water, and rural homes!"

"It is indeed a pity, but we cannot deny all his works because of this. As a junior, I am not in a position to comment on Shen Congwen's achievements. He was not a perfect person. I will only speak from the perspective of his works. 'Border Town' is a work that can be ranked among the top ten modern Chinese novels."

At the climax of his speech, Yu Qie asked if there were any people in the audience outside of the student committee. "Are there any reporters? Are there any journalism students? My speech isn't afraid of being reprinted; I absolutely won't accept a single penny!"

This was a characterization of Shen Congwen within the scope of Yenching University. The audience listened with shining eyes and surging emotions.

Yu Qie swept away the self-protective atmosphere in the Chinese department, and the professors and Secretary-General Yu all gave him a thumbs up.

Sun Yushi observed this and thought to himself, "If he was moved by circumstances before, and by profit a few days ago, now he must be moved by emotion!"

Yu Qie went to great lengths to give Shen Congwen the limelight. He and Shen Congwen were originally just colleagues, having only met once when filming for "Dream of the Red Chamber" wrapped up. Yet, he was willing to say a few words on behalf of the deceased Shen Congwen.

A farewell ceremony was held at Babaoshan Cemetery, attended by only a handful of people.

There were no wreaths, mourning banners, or black veils; no eulogy; no funeral music. Instead, the classical music that Shen Congwen loved most during his lifetime—Beethoven's "Pathétique" Sonata—was played at the scene.

Zhang Zhaohe finally broke down in tears and threw himself onto Shen Congwen's tombstone...

Three days after Shen Congwen's death, Xinhua News Agency released a message that was extremely simple.

"Writer Shen Congwen passed away recently."

A day later, the Literary Gazette published a report, fifty words long. This time, it included Shen Congwen's major works and experiences, with the comments "He was not a perfect person" and "Small bridge, flowing water, and a family" all quoted from Yu Qie's memorial service on campus.

The next day, Shanghai's Xinmin Evening News also published a news item—the source of which was actually a reprint from Hong Kong.

At this point, Ba Jin, the Shanghai-based economist, finally saw his old friend's obituary. He was utterly perplexed and deeply anxious: what were people waiting for? Why was it only now that they saw Shen Congwen's obituary?

But the news spread quickly, and by a week of Shen Congwen's death, everyone in the literary world knew that a giant had fallen. News also spread that Shen Congwen had not been nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature; perhaps if he were alive, he would not have received the award.

But he died before that, so Shen Congwen became a near-Nobel laureate. This writer from a small town in Hunan Province had a life full of hardships, and his fame finally came flooding in after his death.

The supplementary issue of the *Literary Gazette* quoted an excerpt from Jin Jiepu's biography of Shen Congwen:

"In the West, Shen Congwen's most loyal readers are mostly academics. They all believe that Shen is one of the few great writers in the history of modern Chinese literature. Some even say that if Lu Xun is considered the main figure, then Shen Congwen can be ranked below him... Of course, I am referring to the period before 1983, you know the person who has to be mentioned."

A professor at Beijing Normal University praised him, saying, "He has made an outstanding reinterpretation of classical Chinese poetry by drawing on the local customs of western Hunan!"

Wang Meng did not immediately offer her opinion, but instead recalled her brief encounter with Shen Congwen in the following month's issue of "Shanghai Literature": "I asked him how to write a novel? He said there was no special method."

"I then realized that Mr. Shen was a genius writer. His writing always gave people a sincere feeling, and he did not deliberately polish it. Yet, readers felt as if it were something that naturally existed in the world."

Shen Congwen is indeed a formidable figure, but he can never match Yu Qie's offensive prowess.

Yu Qie also wrote a manuscript and submitted it to "October," which was scheduled to be published next month.

He wrote: "Old Shen was quite confident that although he was not a professional writer, he was better than many writers (in the Republic of China era), and that his works had been circulated for longer and spread further than others. Now it seems that this is indeed the case."

"If I were him, I would be even more blunt, so that after I die, people will remember my defeated enemies first and forget me."
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Yu Qie's comments were the most incisive and expressed the deepest regret.

In Yu Qie's eyes, Shen Congwen's novels surpass those of many writers. It's just that he's not good at promoting himself, thus wasting his excellent works.

Whether it's rural literature or root-seeking literature... how many of these newly coined terms and the writers behind them can surpass Shen Congwen?
Jin Jiepu still traveled all the way from Canada to China. He wept bitterly in front of Shen Congwen's tombstone and turned back to ask, "If Shen were still alive, would he have received the award?"

"I'm not Swedish, I don't know."

“You should know this!” Jin Jiepu said, “You’ve ended up in the same situation as Shen Congwen…”

In 1987, Shen Congwen had already received a nomination but failed, because it is almost impossible to win on the first try.

In 1988, Shen Congwen received another nomination, and he did indeed make it to the finals. If Shen Congwen could miraculously survive those six months, he might really impress the judges and greatly increase his chances of winning.

Imagine, a writer receiving the greatest honor on his deathbed...

Yu Qie was nominated for two years, and also failed.

If Shen Congwen can make it to the finals, Yu Qie will probably be about as good. But simply accumulating progress is not enough for the Nobel Prize selection process; in this era of twilight, an explosive story is needed to give it a final push.

Just like when someone told Márquez, "If you write another book, you'll win the Nobel Prize."

Márquez did as he was told, and the organizing committee kept their word and immediately presented him with the award.

“The Nobel Prize in Literature is the easiest and the hardest award to win,” Jin Jiepu said. “Ultimately, it is judged by thirteen old Swedish men. Can these men have read all the novels in the world? Obviously, it is very unfair, but famous writers will like it this way.”

"This set of standards is very advantageous to me?"

"Your Excellency, the perfect choice is none other than you!"

"What if I told everyone I was going to win the Nobel Prize? I'd lay my cards on the table!" Yu Qie suddenly had this idea.

Kim Jiepu was silent for a moment, then surprisingly thought it was a good idea. "What do you plan to do?"

"Many Chinese writers have missed out on the Nobel Prize in history, and now I want to carry on their great legacy."

"Playing the ethnic card is excellent. Anything else?"

“I am an economist, and one day in the future, perhaps I will focus on things outside of literature like Shen Congwen… I will not actually do that, but I hope others worry that one day I will. I do not want to be forced to make a decision.”

"Playing the 'going home' card? A literary enthusiast doesn't want to leave his literature? Not bad. Anything else?"

"There are many figures in the Nobel Prize Hall of Fame, and I can't wait to join them."

"A dream of becoming a child emperor? That's a card in itself! Of course!"

"I……"

"Yu Qie, why do you have so many cards?"

"Because I've really been thinking about this for a long time, and no better writer has emerged in recent years than me. My story will be told longer and spread farther than others, won't it?"

Jin Jiepu felt dizzy as a golden road stretched out before him. It seemed familiar, but since he wasn't a native Chinese speaker, he couldn't immediately recall the origin of the phrase.

Who said that?

“Shen Congwen! But he wrote it in his own diary; I want to write it in someone else’s memory.”

(End of this chapter)