Generation Z Artists

Chapter 134 What reason do I need to hate you?
"You just mentioned hatred, which is great. I'd be very happy to discuss with you the origins, accumulation, and elimination of hatred, because some of these things have indeed troubled me for a long time. I really hope that some helpful dialogue among the people can provide some solutions to my confusion."

Fang Xinghe said he was confused, but his expression was so calm.

More than 20 large lights in the stadium shone down on the autograph table, making the light even brighter than the daytime sun.

To counteract the effects of strong light, eliminate flatness, and correct skin tone, Fang Xinghe wore flawless makeup, which reduced the translucency of his jade-like skin but also protected the three-dimensionality of his facial features.

In the media area in front, cameras and microphones were pointed at his face. Four cameras were connected to the live broadcast signal, and eight cameras were switched to the large screen in the venue. Half of Fang Xinghe's facial features appeared in thousands of households at the same time, and his deep, dark eyes, like a pool of water, caused a series of gasps.

He spoke in broken Chinese, his words slow and deliberate. The highly paid Chinese student interpreter looked tense, as if facing a formidable enemy, and had to rack his brains to figure out how to translate the original meaning accurately and elegantly.

While waiting for the translation, a blank space would appear in the room that belonged only to Fang Xinghe.

At this special moment, he was completely frozen, his lips slightly pursed, his gaze seemingly fixed on some point in the void, as if listening, as if thinking, or even as if zoning out, giving people an extreme sense of contradiction—both melancholy and profound.

From the very first interruption, the fans covered their mouths tightly.

Katsuichi Honda tugged hard at the knot of his tie. He felt a little irritated. The atmosphere and temperature in the venue, plus that damned shirt, made it hard for him to breathe.

He replied in the loudest and most serious voice he could muster: “Very well, discussion, that’s what I’m here to do. I’m an honest person, and I’m willing to answer all your questions.”

You may not know me. I've suffered a lot of bad things for truthfully reporting the atrocities committed by the Japanese army back then, including being dismissed, verbally abused, given the cold shoulder, beaten, and receiving death threats. But these things have never changed my ideal—to face history squarely, eliminate hatred, and build a foundation for peace between our two countries.

A gasp of surprise erupted from the audience.

Most of the young fans who came to the scene were unfamiliar with this elderly woman with gray hair, and they were surprised.

There was some commotion in the media section as well. One of the cameras on site cut to this well-known left-wing fighter, and his face appeared side by side with Fang Xinghe's face on the big screen. Their gazes seemed to transcend time and space, shining into the hearts of the audience at the same time.

“You are a respectable person.” Fang Xinghe nodded gently. “Unlike me, I am a person that people would dislike.”

"いいえ!"

A loud, reassuring shout erupted from the female fans in the audience: No!
They wanted to give everything they had to comfort Fang Xinghe, but "The Girl's Dream" didn't react at all. She started talking to herself, recounting past memories that had never been written in any article.

Those are Xiao Fang's childhood memories—something that Da Fang has completely digested but doesn't deserve to forget.

“I am an orphan. My mother died early. My father, Fang Tonghui, was a spoiled giant baby. He abandoned me and my seriously ill mother to pursue uncontrolled freedom and a happy life in developed countries.”

To understand how he became a selfish, overgrown child, we must trace back to my grandfather, Fang Tangjing.

My grandfather, Fang Tangjing, was born around 1923 into a scholarly family in Jilin Province. He was the youngest son in the family, intelligent and lively, and was loved by everyone.

At the end of 1931, the entire Northeast fell to the Japanese, and his happy life came to an abrupt end.

At the time, the Fang family's residence was quite nice, so it was immediately requisitioned by a Japanese officer. Also requisitioned were the mother, the eldest sister, and the fourth sister who was only 10 years old. The father and the eldest sister's husband were executed on the spot. The method of execution was to hang them naked under the eaves and watch their wives and daughters being humiliated.

Before he froze to death, my great-grandfather had already been driven to his death by anger…

Fang Xinghe paused, waiting for the translator to relay the message.

He looked at the densely packed media section below the stage, including Yomiuri Shimbun, Weekly Shincho, NHK, Osaka local stations... and even South Korea's JoongAng Ilbo and KBS.

They came chasing after trending topics, like a swarm of carrion flies.

They will witness the deepest pain in Xiao Fang's heart. These are things that Da Fang never thought of writing in Chinese in China. It is meaningless to show these things to the Chinese people. If you want to be honest, open, and express your true feelings, you should do so in Japan.

I'll do what no one has ever done before!
Fang Xinghe felt a quiet sadness, remembrance, and deep sorrow, but no anger—it was not the time to be angry yet.

When the translator finished translating the last word accurately, the venue fell silent.

Fang Xinghe didn't deliberately look in any particular direction, but everything he saw left him speechless with astonishment.

No need to wait, just continue.

"Fang Tangjing and his second and third brothers were originally going to die that night, but their eldest sister endured humiliation and did everything she could to please the officer in order to protect them, and finally gave them a chance to live."

The three men of the Fang family were stripped of their cotton-padded coats and shoes and driven into the streets on a winter night. All they could hear were wails of agony, and all they could see was the carnage.

Fortunately, the Fang family had a long history of good deeds, and they were rescued by butchers in the neighborhood. After surviving the first three days of the army's entry into the city, order gradually returned, and they no longer had to worry about being inexplicably hanged by the roadside by the Japanese army.

Two weeks later, the mother passed away.

Half a month later, the younger sister went insane and was thrown into a military camp to serve as a comfort woman.

Two weeks later, when the eldest sister secretly went out to deliver money to her three younger brothers, Fang Tangjing cursed at her and then slapped her hard across the face.

Perhaps it was that slap that broke my heart; in the autumn of 32, I died of illness in the woodshed in the backyard.

In the same year, the second brother joined the Northeast Anti-Japanese United Army with a heart full of hatred, while the third brother fled south with Fang Tangjing.

The winters in Northeast China are so cold. The children survived the first winter thanks to their eldest sister's help. Now that their eldest sister is gone, they can't go on living.

As a result, on the way to escape, Third Brother was killed by a stray bullet, and Fang Tangjing arrived in North China all alone and in a daze.

He begged his way through life, and later became a long-term laborer for a landlord, finally managing to live a stable life for two years.

However, the good days did not last long. The Japanese army began to carry out the "Operation Extinction" in North China, which was the Three Alls policy of killing all, burning all, and looting all. The landlords' entire families were wiped out, and Fang Tangjing, because she dared not resist, was treated as an "obedient citizen" and became a glorious member of the labor team, starting a life of being fed and building bunkers for the Japanese army.

However, his cowardice and obedience did not bring him good luck. Due to hunger and weakness, they failed to complete the mission on time. As punishment from the Japanese officer, his left leg was broken, and he lost his real name and began to be called Fang the Cripple.

But compared to his family, he was incredibly lucky, because no matter how difficult things were, he still managed to live to see the end of the liberation…

After the translation, a long sigh echoed through the venue.

That was the first breath the fans finally let out.

In 1950, Fang Tangjing returned to her hometown, where I now live, and got a job as a primary school teacher.

Around 1957, Fang the Cripple, a bachelor in his thirties, happily married a woman no one wanted—my grandmother, Fang Shi.

She was unwilling to reveal her name because she was a rescued comfort woman, so even Fang Tangjing didn't know her name.

But she was the only woman who didn't mind Fang Tangjing's age and limp, so Fang Tangjing generously ignored her past and, with a strong sense of pity and longing for her fourth sister, lived a peaceful life with her.

Fang Tonghui was born in the summer of 1959.

However, my grandmother, Fang, died of severe bleeding during childbirth due to long-term physical abuse.

In fact, the doctor had already warned her, but Fang insisted on giving birth to the child. She said, "This is how my life is going to be. I can't let your Fang family line die out."

And so, Fang the Cripple raised Fang Tonghui on his own.

He cherished Fang Tonghui like a precious treasure, showering him with all the love he could.

Thus, Fang Tonghui, despite being born into a poor family, never did any work from a young age, was idle, wasteful, and willful.

But my grandfather was happy to do it.

Before he passed away, he often told me stories from the past, revealing his deep-seated hatred for the Japanese army.

Thinking back to the past, he often cried, then cursed with red eyes: "The Japanese devils are all a bunch of beasts! They have no humanity at all!"

Fang Tonghui scoffed: That's ancient history! They're so successful now, their toilet water is cleaner than our tap water!

As a child, I had no concept of this at the time, but I often felt a surge of resentment: if anyone bullied me, I would definitely fight back.

Yes, I've always been this kind of person—wild, competitive, and vengeful.

Later, my crippled grandfather passed away from overwork, and my scumbag father began to beat and scold me and my mother. Gradually, I began to hate everything that Fang Tonghui liked and longed for.

South Korea, Japan, the United States, liberalism, materialism, hypocrisy, cowardice..."

Fang Xinghe's voice gradually rose, and his anger began to surge.

"So, when you ask me why I hate, the initial spark of hatred was very simple: it came from Fang Tangjing's tears and Fang Tonghui's longing."

But as I studied history extensively and thought deeply about it, something naturally arose—you know what? Hatred only needs some specific reasons at the very beginning, and then it no longer needs any.

When I wrote "Cang Ye Xue", I gave Chen Cang very sufficient reasons to justify his tragic revenge.

But what reason is needed for a Chinese person to hate Japan?
Actually, when I was conceiving my first novel, I thought about writing a story about that period, based on my grandfather. Unfortunately, as I read more and more historical materials, I gradually gave up the idea.

I am not qualified to write those things.

Because in Northeast China, the Fang family's tragedy is really nothing to brag about. It is not an isolated case. Every existing native Northeast family, if you trace their roots back, has had a similar experience.

The local chronicles in the Changchun Archives can prove the existence and experiences of the Fang family, but how many more Fang families are recorded here than just a hundred, a thousand, or even ten thousand?!

In fact, the most tragic part was never for us survivors; the real suffering has long since vanished into the annals of history along with those who died without heirs.

Fang Tangjing had five siblings, but he was the only one who survived. He suffered hunger, beatings, and was left with a crippled leg, but that was all. However, each of his siblings endured far more inhumane torture. He couldn't empathize with that pain, and neither can I. So, Mr. Honda, you asked me if I was aware of the extent of the harm, and I don't know.

You say you 'know clearly how much harm that war caused to our people,' I don't believe it.

Now, I sit here as a victim to discuss with you and ask you for your advice on how much damage the inhuman atrocities committed by your country's invading army have caused to my family.
Aside from the wandering souls in the ancestral hall, can the unbearable memories that have persisted to this day justify my personal growth and justify any calls for revenge?
Who should be held responsible for my current terrible character?

If I were the evil consequence that would destroy the friendly relations and harmony between the people of China and Japan, then tracing back the line, who was the original cause of this evil?

I sincerely believe that Fang Tonghui was someone who shouldn't have been born; he didn't deserve to marry my mother, yet he did. Perhaps you also sincerely believe that the Japanese government shouldn't have started that war, yet they did.

Now, we have to face the reality that has become history.

I've decided to face it head-on.

Fang Xinghe paused again, waiting for the translator to fully express his meaning.

At that moment, he stopped gazing blankly and stared intently at the main camera directly opposite him.

His face remained expressionless, but his eyes burned with anger, cold and hard.

The increasingly impassioned voice did not change his demeanor. The reason for this self-control was his stubbornness in not wanting to expose even the slightest weakness to the Japanese.

In the ensuing silence, the young man expressed his final stance.

"I hate Japanese militarism, I hate the Japanese army that invaded China, I hate right-wingers who still refuse to acknowledge their atrocities and try to distort history, and I despise the entire apathetic Japanese society. I only respect a few righteous people who face history and know how to reflect on it."

This is my attitude.

I am willing to take responsibility for my attitude.

And you, Mr. Honda?

Once the translator's voice had completely faded, a collective gasp of surprise erupted in the venue.

Chaos reigned in the media area and the audience area. Even at the top of the dome, countless fans of Fang rose to their feet in a frenzy.

This is not the first time that Chinese people have made similar declarations in Japan.

But this is the first time in history that a highly influential Chinese idol has made a declaration of hatred in such a public and grand setting.

This is too arrogant, and too shocking.

But his reasons were so justified, and his posture so grand and imposing, what could those descendants of war criminals do to resist him except shout "Baka!" in a few wild shouts?
Katsuichi Honda's tall and straight body swayed, and his entire being visibly dejected.

The fighter opened his mouth several times, but in the end, he could only bow deeply and speak in a dry voice: "I'm sorry, Fang Xinghe-san, on behalf of myself, I express my sincerest and deepest apologies for everything that has happened to you and your family..."

"Mr. Honda, I do not accept your apology."

Fang Xinghe waved his hand forcefully, looked directly at the other person's gray head, and spoke in an unquestionable tone.

"You're on my list of people I respect, so you don't need to apologize."

Moreover, you can apologize on your own behalf and take responsibility for your words and actions, but can you represent the whole of Japan and give us, the war orphans, a concrete explanation?
If you can't do that, I urge you to shut up and stop lecturing me with any more grand principles. Go talk to your right-wingers instead!

I will not accept any form of persuasion or accusation until I receive a formal apology from the Japanese government. You have no right to advise me to resolve the hatred, nor do I have the right to forgive on behalf of my ancestors.

Therefore, if my "massacre of Tokyo" remarks have caused great harm to ordinary Japanese people and my fans, then it will be an honor for me.

I have hurt some of you.

Those who feel sorry for me will not be hurt; it is those scoundrels and beasts who still yearn for the spoils of war and fantasize about the glory of the empire that will be hurt.

That's good, isn't it?

Such fierce words, coming from Fang Xinghe's mouth, gave many people a sense of entitlement.

This is Fang Xinghe, and this is how Fang Xinghe should be.

He already showed his aggressive and uncompromising side in Time magazine, and this is just a further step, which is not surprising, is it?

The logic is this: fans and journalists who have read Time magazine have this expectation, but when this scene actually happens before their eyes, on this grand occasion, too many people are still dazzled and breathless.

In Japan, where the principle of "harmony and respect" is upheld, they had never seen such a person before.

Too brave, too fierce, too sharp.

Katsuichi Honda had nothing more to say. He was a gentleman with a strong sense of shame, and he knew very well that no matter how many profound truths he had, he was not worthy of Xinghe continuing to speak, at least not in this situation.

"I'm so sorry, it was my rudeness, I'm so sorry..."

He sat down heavily, covering his face with his hands to hide his bloodshot eyes.

A reporter from *Shukan Shincho* couldn't help but argue, "But that was a long time ago..."

Fang Xinghe glanced back coldly: "The wounds left in the heart will never be healed until they are repaired."

The left-wing media outlet "Weekly Friday" couldn't help but defend itself: "But we have already provided your country with so much economic aid! Isn't this our compensation?"

Fang Xinghe didn't know this was left-wing, but since they dared to argue, he would treat them all as right-wing.

With a raised eyebrow, the young man exuded murderous intent: "If you think that the massacre of so many innocent people can be compensated with money, then give me a number, and I'm willing to pay to buy the lives of your entire families of right-wing extremists!"

With a "whoosh," the media area erupted in chaos.

The truly extreme right-wing activist, Yoshiko Sakurai, was furious: "Outrageous! This is the land of our Great Japanese Empire! On our soil, you are inciting people with lies, and you will be permanently expelled from the country!"

Faced with such a threat, Fang Xinghe instead curled the corners of his mouth into a chilling smile.

"That day will come."

His mockery emanated from every corner of that perfect face, haughty and arrogant.

“Before, you didn’t know who I was; now, you fear me; in the future, you will eventually find that you can’t win me over, corrupt me, hurt me, or defeat me. So, you can only drive me away, ignore me, and bury your heads in the sand pretending I don’t exist.”

But I am there, living with that history, living with the ever-changing China, and living with the spirit of millions who will forever remember this hatred.

You should be afraid of me, because no matter how much you smear me, I still receive so much love from normal Japanese people... right?

With his last words, Fang Xinghe raised his head and asked a loud question to the audience.

Almost without hesitation, the female fans responded loudly, "Yes!"

The sudden burst of sound nearly blew the roof off the stadium.

As the camera panned across the room, all that could be seen were arms waving wildly and faces filled with fervor.

They didn't understand many grand principles, nor did they have a clear sense of national and familial sentiments. They just felt that Fang Xinghe was incredibly handsome, a handsomeness that couldn't be described in words, a handsomeness that they couldn't even imagine with all their might.

The term "them" is not accurate. In addition to the 80% of female fans, a very small number of young male fans are even more fanatical. They regard Fang Xinghe as a king and have no idea that "a man should be like this". They only want to follow such a king to overthrow everything.

Japan is a breeding ground for these kinds of lunatics.

But no madman is more handsome or crazy than Fang Xinghe.

The Japanese Vice Minister of Foreign Affairs, who had come specifically to supervise, was sweating profusely, but his men were unable to break through the security team specially hired by Kadokawa to stop Fang Xinghe.

The vice minister, enraged, jumped up and protested: "Your nonsense is going to cause a diplomatic incident! I will definitely lodge a strong protest with your government!"

"Stupid."

Fang Xinghe sneered, his eyebrows raised high, and for the first time since the start of the show, he swore.

"I'm only 15 years old, a minor!"

Suddenly, the screen cut to the Vice Minister's dumbfounded face, which was placed side by side with Fang Xinghe's radiant expression. Under such extreme contrast, the venue was silent for a moment, and then burst into unrestrained laughter.

The laughter not only eased the previous serious and tense atmosphere, but also gave a jolt to many people who harbored strong hostility towards Fang Xinghe.

Optimists think: Oh dear, he's only 15! It's the age of youthful exuberance and rebellion; isn't it normal for him to say things like that? We shouldn't be so harsh on a child…

The pessimists, however, were thinking: Holy crap! Such a prodigy, and he's only 15? This is terrible, this is a huge problem!

No matter how you look at it, tonight Japan will be shaken by Fang Xinghe.

　I've been writing this late into the night.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)