A Literary Life Starting from the First Year of High School

December 15th, Thursday, 6:00 AM.

Before dawn broke in Beijing, people were already walking around in the courtyard of the People's Literature magazine office.

Li arrived earlier than usual today. He pushed open the office door, threw his briefcase on the table, walked to his desk, took out a brown paper bag from the briefcase, opened it, and inside was a brand new magazine with a dark red cover bearing the four large characters "People's Literature" in a very neat regular script. Below that was the issue number—"Issue 12, 2010".

He picked up the phone on the table and dialed an internal number.

"Old Liu, give me today's release data before you leave work tonight. Also, write down all the feedback from various channels, whether good or bad."

7:40 AM, Shanghai.

Zhou Min left home twenty minutes earlier than usual today. She stopped in front of the newsstand next to the subway station and glanced at the magazines on the shelf.

"Boss, has today's issue of *People's Literature* arrived?"

The newsstand owner, a man in his fifties, was arranging a stack of newspapers. He looked up at Zhou Min and asked, "Here you are. Do you want some?"

"right."

The shopkeeper pulled a magazine from the shelf and handed it to her. The cover was dark red, clean and simple, without any fancy pictures. Zhou Min paid for it, stuffed the magazine into her bag, and quickly walked into the subway station.

The subway was crowded. She stood in the middle of the carriage, holding onto the handrail with one hand and pulling the magazine out of her bag with the other, flipping to the table of contents.

"Ode to Young China - Lin Shubai"

She flipped through the pages, found the page, and started reading from the first line.

"In my heart, there is a young China! To speak of the age of a nation, one must first speak of the age of its people. The elderly often think of the past, while the young often think of the future. Because they think of the past, they feel nostalgia; because they think of the future, they feel hope..."

Zhou Min's eyes widened in surprise.

This was not the kind of essay she had envisioned; it was neither a lyrical prose nor an argumentative essay.

She continued reading.

"Looking back from today, the Tang, Yu, and Xia dynasties were a period of great governance; Qin Shi Huang and Emperor Wu of Han were figures of great heroism; and the literature from the Han and Tang dynasties onwards was a period of great prosperity."

As she read this, she felt a jolt in her heart. She didn't hear the subway announcements at all; she just stared at that page and read it word by word.

"Therefore, the responsibility of today does not lie with others, but entirely with our youth. If the youth are wise, the nation is wise; if the youth are wealthy, the nation is wealthy; if the youth are strong, the nation is strong; if the youth are independent, the nation is independent; if the youth are free, the nation is free; if the youth progress, the nation progresses; if the youth surpass Europe, the nation surpasses Europe; if the youth are the most powerful on Earth, the nation is the most powerful on Earth."

Zhou Min read this passage twice. She felt her eyes getting hot and her nose getting sore. She took a deep breath, closed the magazine, put it back in her bag, leaned against the carriage wall, and closed her eyes.

The phrase "When the youth are strong, the nation is strong" kept echoing in my mind.

The image of youth reflects the image of China.

The subway arrived at the station. She stepped out of the carriage, stood on the platform, took out her phone, and sent a text message to Xiaolin: "Have you read 'A Discourse on Young China' in People's Literature?"

The reply came quickly: "Not yet, why?"

"Take a look, and then tell me what you think."

10:00 AM, Jing'an No.1 Middle School.

Old Chen didn't have classes today, but he still came to school. He sat in his office with a copy of "People's Literature" open in front of him. The water in his enamel cup had gone cold, but he didn't notice.

After reading the last paragraph, he took off his glasses, placed them on the table, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"When the youth are wise, the nation is wise; when the youth are strong, the nation is strong." He recited this sentence to himself.

He recalled his student days, when he was the best Chinese language student in his class. His teacher said he would become a writer in the future, and he believed it. He read and wrote as hard as he could, submitting his work to various magazines. He accumulated a drawer full of rejection letters. In the end, he did not become a writer, but a Chinese language teacher, a job he held for more than 20 years.

Sometimes he wonders, if someone had given him a hand back then, or if he had just persevered a little longer, would things have been different?

he does not know.

But he knew that Lin Shubai didn't need him to pull him along; the boy could run on his own, and faster than anyone else. This article, this spirit, this breadth of vision—these weren't taught; they grew naturally.

11:00 AM, Banyan Tree Forum.

The pinned post has been changed to a new one—"The full text of 'A Young China' is from People's Literature, Issue 12, 2010".

The poster's ID was "Old Stories of Pen and Ink," and he wrote in the main post:

"This morning I went to the newsstand and bought this magazine. I read it in one go on the bus home. When I got off the bus, I found myself shivering, not because of the cold, but because the article was so powerful."

This is not an ordinary argumentative essay; it is a manifesto. A sixteen-year-old boy, in the journal *People's Literature*, declared to the entire nation—the image of youth is the image of China.

"When the youth are wise, the nation is wise; when the youth are strong, the nation is strong"—I copied this sentence down and pasted it in front of my desk.

First floor: "I just finished reading, 'When the youth are strong, the nation is strong'—this is the first time I've read this sentence, but the moment I read it, I felt that this sentence had always been in my heart, and Lin Shubai just said it for me."

Third floor: "Don't you think this is shocking in itself? A sixteen-year-old high school student published such an article in People's Literature, every word of which seems to be a message to this era. What does this show? It shows that no matter how many years pass, the responsibility of youth has never changed."

Fourth floor: "What the person upstairs said is so true. 'When the youth are wise, the nation is wise; when the youth are strong, the nation is strong'—this is the truth in today's world and in any era."

Sixth floor: "Speaking of which, Lin Shubai is only sixteen years old. How can he have all this stuff in his head? 'Old people often think about the past, while young people often think about the future'—this kind of insight into human nature is something many people in their forties or fifties can't write."

Seventh floor: "So they're geniuses, and you and I are just ordinary people."

Eighth Floor: "I admit he is a genius, but even geniuses need to accumulate experience. He wrote so many things before—'The Most Precious Gift,' 'Spring Blossom Noodle Shop,' 'Life on a String,' 'Charlotte's Web'—each one was practice, each one was accumulation. This 'Ode to Young China' didn't just appear out of thin air; it's the sum of all his previous works."

As you scroll down the thread, its popularity continues to rise.

Ninth Floor: "I secretly printed out this article in the office and posted it on my workstation partition."

At 1 p.m., on the "Leisurely Book Talk" section of Tianya Community.

"Deep Sea Fish" posted a long post titled "A Young China's Manifesto: A Sixteen-Year-Old's National Declaration".

"The appearance of this article gave me a completely new understanding of Lin Shubai."

Before, I thought he was a good storyteller—"The Most Precious Gift," "Lunch," and "Spring Blossom Noodle Shop" all proved this. Later, I thought he was a person with profound thoughts—"Life on a String" proved this. Still later, I thought he was a person with great imagination—"Charlotte's Web" and "Dinosaur in the Afternoon" proved this.

But this essay, "Ode to Young China," is different.

This is not a story, not a fable, not a fairy tale; it is a declaration—a declaration about the nation, about the times, and about the responsibilities and missions of youth.

The core argument of the article is simple: the future of the nation lies in the hands of its youth. But Lin Shubai used a full 1,500 words to push this argument to its extreme. He started with "the age of people," then moved on to "the age of the nation," and then pushed it upwards layer by layer—if the youth are wise, the nation is wise; if the youth are wealthy, the nation is wealthy; if the youth are strong, the nation is strong; if the youth are independent, the nation is independent; if the youth are free, the nation is free; if the youth progress, the nation progresses; if the youth surpass Europe, the nation surpasses Europe; if the youth are the most powerful on Earth, the nation is the most powerful on Earth.

This parallelism isn't a technique, it's passion. It's a young man's passion for his country.

When I read the last sentence, "How beautiful is my young China, as timeless as the heavens! How magnificent are the youth of China, as boundless as the nation!" my eyes welled up with tears.

This article is a classic, regardless of the era.

The thread quickly filled many comments.

First floor: "Teacher Deep Sea Fish said it so well. The power of this article lies not in its literary style, but in the overwhelming and irrepressible youthful spirit it exudes."

Sixth floor: "I think the most impressive thing about this article is that it connects the 'individual' and the 'nation.' I used to think that the nation was a very big thing and had little to do with me. But Lin Shubai said, 'When the youth are wise, the nation is wise'—my wisdom is the wisdom of the nation; my strength is the strength of the nation. This sense of connection is something I have never experienced before."

Seventh floor: "Your analyses are all too complicated. I just feel energized after reading them."

Eighth floor: "Haha, the analogy upstairs is good, but 'Ode to Young China' is not hot soup, it's strong liquor. It burns your throat when you drink it, but after the burn is gone, you're completely awake."

Meanwhile, in an office of the Shanghai Writers Association, veteran writer Cheng Depei sat on the sofa, holding a copy of "People's Literature" in his hand. He was 68 years old and had been writing for 40 years. After reading the article, he remained silent for a long time.

Qin Wenxiu, who was organizing documents nearby, noticed he hadn't moved for a while and asked, "Teacher Cheng, what's wrong?"

Cheng Depei put down the magazine, took off his reading glasses, and looked at Qin Wenxiu: "I've been writing for forty years, and I can't write sentences like these."

Qin Wenxiu was taken aback: "Which one are you referring to?"

"It's that article by Lin Shubai." Cheng Depei tapped the magazine with his finger. "'When the youth are wise, the nation is wise; when the youth are strong, the nation is strong'—look at that, look at that. This isn't something that can be written with skill; it's something that comes from having a profound understanding."

Qin Wenxiu walked over, picked up the magazine and flipped through it. She had read the article that morning, but Cheng Depei's reaction still surprised her. Cheng Depei was a very discerning person and rarely praised people. At the last Writers' Association meeting, although he supported Lin Shubai's membership, he did not comment much on the work itself. Today's reaction showed that he was truly moved.

"Professor Cheng, in your opinion, what level would this article be considered within the realm of pure literature?"

Cheng Depei thought for a moment and said something that almost made Qin Wenxiu sit up: "In any era, he would be first-rate."

Qin Wenxiu didn't ask any more questions.

Also in Shanghai, critic Sun Yu published a short commentary on his blog with a title of only four characters: "Young China".

"The 12th issue of People's Literature published 'A Young China' by Lin Shubai, a 16-year-old author. After reading the whole article, I was reminded of a word: youthful spirit."

This article is not a meticulously crafted "mature work." Its most moving aspect lies in the overwhelming, irrepressible passion, the undisguised optimism about the future, and the almost religious reverence for the word "youth."

"When the youth are wise, the nation is wise; when the youth are strong, the nation is strong." — The logic of this statement may not withstand rigorous academic scrutiny, but its power lies not in logic, but in conviction. When a sixteen-year-old boy says such a thing to the country, to the times, and to his generation, what you feel is not whether it is "right or wrong," but whether it is "true or not."

It's so real.

It's so compelling that every adult who reads it can't help but look back at what they believed when they were sixteen.

Sun Yu's blog is usually only followed by people in the industry, but this short commentary was published today and received over three thousand views within an hour. Someone left a comment: "Teacher Sun is right. This article reminded me of what I wrote in my diary when I was sixteen. Although what I wrote back then was very naive, that 'belief' was real."

At 6:30 p.m., the People's Literature magazine office.

Li He sat in his office, with the data that the distribution department had just sent him spread out in front of him.

First-day sales—nearly 20% higher than the same period last month. For a purely literary magazine, this increase can only be described as "astonishing".

8 PM, Storytelling Forum.

A new post popped up with the title, "I just got a call from my son who said he saw my name in a magazine."

The poster's ID is "Zhou Chunhua"—she is the owner of Chunhua Noodle Shop.

"I'm not very good at typing, so my daughter sent this for me."

A girl came to the store today and showed me a magazine with articles written by a young girl. They were so well-written that my eyes welled up with tears when I read the end.

That evening, my son called from school and said that his classmates were discussing the article, saying, "Mom, did Lin Shubai come to our noodle shop?" I said yes, he came to eat noodles and even wrote about our noodle shop.

My son said, "Mom, could you buy me a copy of that magazine?"

I said okay.

I used to always say that he played games all day and didn't study, but today he took the initiative to say that he wanted to read a book. I don't know if this article made him realize something, but I think that this kid is capable of writing something like this, and that so many kids are willing to read it. That's a skill.

Little one, Auntie supports you. Whatever you write, Auntie will read it.

The comments below were all the same: "The boss lady is so cute," "Support Lin Shubai," and "This kind of support from ordinary people is the most genuine."