Writer 1978: I Need to Give the Literary World a Lesson

Chapter 141 Comrade Xu, This Time I'll Help You Earn Dollars
Inside Cao Yu's office, Liu Yimin sat quietly on the sofa, his eyes fixed on the window. The intense summer sunlight began to fade slowly, until it turned almost white in winter.

The leaves outside the window looked as if they had been smoked and roasted in an earthen oven, the same color as freshly roasted tobacco leaves.

The only sounds in the office were Cao Yu turning pages and slurping his tea. He had been sitting there for a long time. Unlike usual, when he would discuss interesting parts with Liu Yimin, he remained silent throughout.

Only the occasional faint smile on his face told Liu Yimin that he had seen something interesting.

With nothing to do, Liu Yimin picked up a calligraphy brush from his desk and showed off his scrawled handwriting. But if he were to write it again in a decade or two, he figured a group of people would applaud and praise him.

If the compliment isn't good, you don't need to come next time!
"Why are you so sentimental at such a young age?" Cao Yu had somehow appeared behind Liu Yimin, looking at the words on the table with a look of disdain.

"Pretending to be sad! Pretending to be sad!" Liu Yimin gently placed the brush on the brush holder.

Cao Yu chuckled softly, walked to the desk, picked up a pen, and wrote another line: "I stop my carriage to admire the maple forest at dusk; the frosted leaves are redder than February flowers."

"The red leaves in Fragrant Hills will soon be completely red. Then your teacher's wife and I will go and admire the red leaves all over the mountain."

After Cao Yu finished writing, Liu Yimin immediately said, "Teacher, your handwriting is beautiful!"

"You understand calligraphy?" Cao Yu glanced at Liu Yimin, carefully examined his own writing, and asked with a smile.

"I don't understand!" Liu Yimin shook his head honestly.

Cao Yu chuckled, pointed to the teapot gesturing for him to pour a cup of tea, and said with a laugh, "Don't you know what's good? When did you learn to talk nonsense?"

“I don’t understand, but I know you wrote it.” Liu Yimin turned around and quickly poured a cup of tea. After putting down the teacup, he made an exaggerated smile.

"You're quite honest. In the future, remember this: don't let a little status make you only able to accept praise and unable to tolerate criticism. Your book is brilliantly written. It's about two people of different skin colors who, due to their different historical statuses, have their social positions reversed because of their talent. The mediocre white man and the talented black man are inherently contradictory."

It continues your writing style, which blends realism and romanticism, possessing both critical and intellectual depth. Often, highly critical works tend to be profound and difficult for the average person to understand, but you've done a good job of making it accessible.

Liu Yimin shrugged: "In our literary world today, doing something popular well is like insulting someone."

"You're praising me here. Scriptwriting is inherently more accessible than literature. If it weren't accessible, who would watch our plays? It's not enough to just say that art serves the people; we have to actually do it."

After Cao Yu finished speaking, he handed the manuscript in his hand to Liu Yimin.

Liu Yimin also strongly agrees with Cao Yu's creative philosophy: literary and artistic works are for the majority of people, not for a small group to enjoy. True literary works should have a wide-ranging impact on the masses.

Intellectuals love to tout the critical and enlightening role of literary and artistic works, but can works that are only shown to a small group of people truly enlighten the whole society?

"Furthermore, what is the deeper meaning behind your writing about homosexual relationships?"

Cao Yu originally wanted to say sodomy, but remembering his own status, he immediately changed his tone.

"I just wanted to use this behavior to suggest that this black man is out of place in this society, to deepen the reader's sympathy for the black man's situation, and to portray the novel's theme of 'prejudice' more powerfully."

"Loneliness, prejudice, and change. I can help you contact some friends in the United States, and I think publishing it shouldn't be a problem. Even if you can't publish it in the United States, you can submit it to 'Huacheng,' which has recently published quite a few foreign literary works and novels with foreign styles."

It's quite normal for a playwright of Cao Yu's stature to have acquaintances in both Eastern and Western literary circles. Cao Yu genuinely believed this novel was excellent, and it would be a waste of his talent if it couldn't be published directly in the United States.

If it were published domestically, some people might consider it an anti-American work, which would increase its political nature and weaken its literary quality.

"You still need to find someone to translate this. Do you have anyone in mind?" Cao Yu asked.

Liu Yimin originally wanted Li Congren to translate, but he was not familiar with many parts of Chinese, so he was not comfortable having him translate.

“Xu Chi, we had a very pleasant collaboration in France, and I have confidence in his English proficiency.”

"Xu Chi, he really can do it!"

Cao Yu agreed, saying that Ba Jin and Li Xiaolin had told him about Xu Chi and Liu Yimin's experiences in France. Ba Jin commented that the delegation to France had "plunged headfirst into France," while the two of them had "plunged headfirst into the franc."

After Cao Yu finished speaking, he added, "How old is Comrade Xu Chi? He's still staying up all night with you. He was transferred to Hubei Province after returning from France. He just happened to come here because there's a meeting at the Yenching Federation of Literary and Art Circles. I'll give him a call and ask if he's at the Writers' Association guesthouse or at General Wu's house in Jiaodaokou."

Cao Yu made a phone call. Xu Chi was currently catching up with old friends at the editorial office of *Poetry Journal*, staying at the Writers' Association's guesthouse. Xu Chi was the one who first proposed the establishment of *Poetry Journal*, so it was perfectly normal for him to visit the magazine while in Beijing.

After leaving the Beijing People's Art Theatre, Liu Yimin went to the Writers' Association guesthouse and the Poetry Journal, only to learn that Xu Chi had gone out to meet a friend and wouldn't be back until the evening. So Liu Yimin had a cup of tea at the Poetry Journal editorial office and then slipped away to Old Ma's boiler room.

We couldn't stay silent for too long; we couldn't talk too much, because Zou Huofan's conversation inevitably drifted to modern poetry. Zou Huofan complained that Liu Yimin hadn't visited the Poetry Journal editorial office in a long time, as if he'd forgotten about them.

"The more often the Beijing People's Art Theatre visits, the less often the Poetry Journal comes. Old Ge, don't you think that makes sense?" Zou Huofan said sourly.

It's better here at Old Ma's place. Old Ma is sitting by the wall, basking in the sun, singing "Exploring the Clear Water River": "The tips of peach and plum trees are the sharpest, the willow leaves cover the sky, you in your position understand, listen carefully to what I have to say."

Liu Yimin quietly sat down. Old Ma raised his eyelids and saw it was him, so he said, "Little thief! I heard that 'Wolf Smoke Over Beiping' is going to be staged. I have to go and see it!"

"Anyone can skip it, but you can't skip it!"

"Then, Master Ma, hold on a little longer!"

"What are you saying? You look even healthier these days!"

"The parts that should be hard aren't, but the parts that shouldn't be hard are. The whole person gets hard immediately; how can they not be robust?"

As the last glimmer of light slipped away from the rooftop, Liu Yimin finally saw Xu Chi, with his wife Chen Song beside him. The two loved each other until old age, but sadly Chen Song passed away first. Later, Xu Chi met the wrong person and committed suicide by jumping off a building, becoming a great tragedy for the literary world.

The lonely Xu Chi met Chen Binbin, a teacher in the Chinese Department of Sichuan University. Little did he know that Chen Binbin was a notorious womanizer. He was two-timing Xu Chi, and Xu Chi unwittingly became the third party in his relationship. It turned out that while Xu Chi was dating Chen Binbin, Chen Binbin was also dating and marrying the deputy editor-in-chief of the *Wenyi Bao* (Literary Gazette).

After Chen Binbin got Xu Chi as her powerful backer, she divorced the then deputy editor-in-chief of the "Literary Gazette". This made Xu Chi very angry. What made him even angrier was that he later discovered that Chen Binbin was with him only because of his fame.

After his divorce, he became increasingly depressed and lonely. Coupled with a series of blows, such as the loss of the status of pure literature in the 1990s, he eventually jumped off the hospital balcony.

Liu Yimin looked Chen Song up and down. She was dressed neatly and elegantly, and it was clear that she had been a beautiful woman from Jiangnan when she was young.

"Yimin, hello, hello! Old Xu often mentions you at home. We all really like the big color TV you got." Chen Song warmly shook hands with Liu Yimin and mentioned the funny stories Xu Chi told them about the color TV at home.

The fact that they said they were replacing it means they already had one at home, just a smaller one.

"It was Comrade Lao Xu who helped me out, willing to follow along with this young man's 'fooling around'."

“What you did was no joke. Your poetry is quite good. It’s not easy to write something like this at such a young age. Please sit down, I’ll pour you some tea.” After pouring the tea, Chen Song sat down beside them without saying a word, quietly watching Liu Yimin and Xu Chi chat.

Occasionally, when she hears something interesting, a graceful smile will appear on her face.

"Yimin, you're not trying to get francs from me again, are you?" Xu Chi teased.

"This time we're making US dollars, Comrade Xu. I've written a novel and want to send it to the US for publication. I'd like to ask you to do the translation! Your English level is among the best in our country." Liu Yimin handed the manuscript to Xu Chi and showered him with compliments.

"Don't flatter me. I translate more from English to Chinese than from Chinese to English. You want to publish directly in the US, rather than in China. That's quite a bold idea."

Xu Chi started reading Liu Yimin's novel, while Liu Yimin flipped through Xu Chi's books. In September, Xu Chi published a collection of essays, and he brought many sample copies to give to his friends.

Besides the collection of essays, there were also several pieces of reportage on the table.

The article "Göttingen's Conjecture" made the name "Chen Jingrun" famous throughout China. Many enthusiastic female readers wrote to "Chen Jingrun," wanting to be his wife, wash his clothes, and have his babies, which frightened him so much that he quickly threw a sack of letters from female readers into a corner and dared not show it to anyone.

"The language is very simple, so it's not difficult to translate. This story doesn't sound like it was written by a Chinese person, but rather by an American. You must have put in a lot of effort!" Xu Chi asked, holding the manuscript. Chen Song, who was standing next to him, was curious, so Xu Chi smiled and handed the manuscript to Chen Song.

Chen Song smiled slightly at Liu Yimin, revealing only a little bit of his teeth.

"I've been dealing with international students at Yenching University for almost a year now. I've read a lot of American newspapers and articles, and even got a precise map of the United States." Liu Yimin revealed all the materials he had prepared behind the scenes.

Xu Chi was taken aback, but then felt it was only natural: "The information must be detailed. When we write reportage, we also strive for authenticity. The story is well written, and I will translate it well. If the translation is not good, it would be a disservice to your story."

Just as Liu Yimin was about to mention the cost, Xu Chi immediately interrupted him, telling him to just pay according to domestic standards.

Currently, translation fees range from one to five yuan per thousand words. Since the Green Book itself is 30,000 words long, the translation fee would be one hundred and fifty yuan. If they don't earn US dollars, they'll lose that money.

Xu Chi then presented Liu Yimin with a copy of his own collection of essays, signing it and solemnly affixing his seal. This seal was carved by Xu Chi himself; these days, writers often like to carve their own seals, and usually not just one, but several.

"Once the translation is finished, I'll give you a seal!" Xu Chi boasted, showing Liu Yimin the seal he had carved himself.

"That's so embarrassing."

"Look how happy you are, not at all embarrassed. Your name is easy to carve, and it's just for fun anyway. Besides, you were the one who did the most work on getting our new big color TV. Every time I turn on the TV, I think of you," Xu Chi said with a smile.

Chen Song, who was standing next to Xu Chi, got up and saw Liu Yimin out the door: "If you ever come to Hancheng, Hubei Province, remember to come and visit us." Liu Yimin shook hands with them to say goodbye, slung his bag over his shoulder, and walked out of the guesthouse.

Chen Song walked into the room, looked at the manuscript, and said with a smile, "There's something very special about this young comrade's writing!"

"what?"

"Warmth. His writing is not cold, but full of emotion, and you can feel the warmth between the lines."

“That’s absolutely right. His articles always have these kinds of things in them. It shows that this young man has a kind heart!” Xu Chi went back into the house and he and Chen Song looked at the articles carefully.

The rehearsals for "Mr. Donkey" by the Yenching University Drama Club have come to a close, and they will be performing in the main dining hall tonight. Liu Yimin has been specially invited to attend. After dinner, Liu Yimin carried a stool and followed Liu Zhenyun and two others into the main dining hall.

Liu Yimin came to watch the performance that evening. The smell of hot pot water in the cafeteria was mixed with the smell of sweat. As soon as he entered, the students from the drama club led Liu Yimin forward. They had specially reserved a seat for him.

“These are my roommates!” Liu Yimin said, pointing to Liu Zhenyun.

"Give me one!"

Liu Zhenyun and his two companions followed Liu Yimin and sat down in the best seats. Liu Zhenyun said in a low voice, "I wonder how our school's drama club compares to the Beijing People's Art Theatre's drama club?"

“If our drama club could compare to the Beijing People’s Art Theatre, then the Beijing People’s Art Theatre wouldn’t be the Beijing People’s Art Theatre!” Li Xueqin pouted and said.

Liu Yimin had watched the drama club rehearsals, and he actually really didn't want to come. But he had no choice; given the enthusiastic invitation, he had to come even if it was just to make an appearance.

"Yimin? You're here too?" Chen Jiangong from the May Fourth Literary Society squeezed through and said.

"Senior brother! This is Yimin's script; the drama club specially invited him," Liu Zhenyun replied.

"I heard that 'The Flames of War in Beiping' is already in rehearsals. I wonder what it will be like when it's performed!" Chen Jiangong exclaimed, his mind involuntarily connecting it to "Teahouse".

Liu Zhenyun added, "The movie adaptation of 'Romance on Lushan Mountain' has already started filming, but I'd rather see Yimin's movie."

Chen Jiangong hissed and looked at the Chinese Literature Department junior next to him, suddenly realizing that even with all his efforts, he could not catch up with him.

(End of this chapter)