1978 Synthetic Writers

Chapter 554 "This is my declaration."

Meanwhile, in July of 1987, another event shook the literary world.

Founded by the late Ding Ling, the magazine "China" officially ceased publication in July of this year after being transformed into a quarterly publication of long novels and experiencing several internal upheavals.

To many, the large-scale literary journal "China," which Ding Ling devoted all her efforts to founding in her later years, is an exceptionally beautiful chapter in her life.

Why did we start this publication?

The reason was actually that a symposium on novel writing was held in Beijing in 84.

Then the symposium turned into a gathering of veteran writers, including Cao Ming, Shu Qun, Wei Wei, Lei Jia, Luo Binji, Yao Xueyin, Li Na, Zeng Ke, Xi Hong, Lu Fei, and Lin Jinlan.
At this point, Cao Ming raised a question:
There is a certain gap between young writers and veteran writers nowadays.

This point was immediately agreed upon by other veteran writers.

Wei Wei, who just won the Mao Dun Literature Prize, said: The relationship between new and old writers is not generally very close. For the sake of our revolutionary literary cause, literary journals should at least treat new and old writers equally.

Shu Qun was also very agitated and immediately spoke out against the low treatment of many veteran writers:
"Many of our veteran writers, who were famous in the 1930s, now have difficulty getting a car to see a doctor, and they don't even have a phone at home. Some leaders aren't qualified to ride in official cars or live in the high-ranking cadre buildings in Muxidi, yet they can get everything they want. Isn't that because they have power, while veteran writers don't?"

The older writers' meaning behind these words is actually quite simple.

These veteran writers have been "shelved," increasingly neglected, and have not received the treatment they deserve.

On that day, Feng Mu and other high-ranking leaders of the Writers' Association present were all speechless for a moment, their faces turning red.

The next day, at the same meeting, Ding Ling made a heartfelt appeal: "Our veteran writers are all treasures! They have a wealth of creative experience. Many departments are currently working to salvage their materials. We should also salvage these treasures. This is a treasure for Chinese literature!"
Wei Wei was late because of traffic, but he got straight to the point as soon as he opened his mouth:

"I'd like to make a suggestion. Yesterday at the meeting, someone mentioned establishing a journal called 'Old Writers' Literature.' It was a joke, just a lighthearted remark. But after the meeting, I kept thinking about this: Does our Writers' Association really need to create another publication?"

It was during the discussion at this meeting, and because of Wei Wei's suggestion, that Ding Ling gradually developed an idea.

It can be said that the founding of "China" was to secure a literary platform for veteran writers.

In addition, this publication is an exploration of the "public-private partnership" publishing model.

Ding Ling wrote this in the application report for starting a journal that she submitted to the higher authorities.

First, the applicants for the publication were a group of "old comrades" who were "mostly elderly" and "unwilling to remain silent and inactive, and willing to dedicate the rest of their lives to the prosperity of socialist literature."

Secondly, regarding the funding for the publication, "except for the bank loan requested during the initial stage, the publication and other publications thereafter shall be solely responsible for their own profits and losses, without requiring government subsidies, and we are considering implementing a fundraising and shareholding system."

This is an absolute feat in any organization.

Thanks to Ding Ling's continuous efforts, the magazine was launched. Although its founding purpose was to be a publication for veteran writers, after its inception in the mid-80s, this publication gradually began to assume the function of connecting the past and the future, and also partially assumed the function of literature intervening in reality.

The rise of the "new generation" of literature owes much to this book, "China."

It published Yu Luojin's essays, which were controversial at the time, articles by Nobel laureates, poems by the Misty School, Can Xue's famous work, and Jia Pingwa's novel.
Many young writers who emerged after the "85 New Wave" first appeared in the magazine "China".

However, this literary journal, which was born under the joint attention of the cultural world and was already full of honors, only existed for less than two years before it was abruptly cut short.

For a time, countless writers familiar with the inside story, as well as Ding Ling's friends, felt endless sorrow and regret.

Shen Congwen's health has not been good recently. Although his fame has gradually recovered in recent years, and he has regained the attention of the literary world, and has been allocated a new house and a spacious studio, he is no longer able to write and conduct research.

His hands wouldn't obey him, and he couldn't write anything.

That day, his assistant Wang Yarong told him about the final issue of "China". The elderly Shen Congwen was stunned for a moment and remained in a daze for a long time. Wang Yarong saw regret and sorrow in his eyes.

"Ya Rong, could you please buy me a copy of the final issue of this publication?" Shen Congwen asked. "I'd like to take a look."

"No trouble at all, Teacher Shen."

Wang Yarong immediately agreed and soon handed Shen Congwen a brand-new copy of "China".

Shen Congwen's trembling hand gently stroked the magazine cover, which bore the logo of the magazine "China": a large, bright red sphere like the sun, with a snow-white, fluttering manuscript paper superimposed on it, symbolizing the vibrant literary cause.

"At eighty years old, to have founded such a publication is truly remarkable," Shen Congwen exclaimed.

There's so much to say about the grievances between him and Ding Ling. They say people become more open-minded as they get older, but even in his later years, Ding Ling's hostility towards him never dissipated.

But for Shen Congwen, in that era of literary fervor, in 1925 when even the spring breeze carried the fragrance of ink, he and Ding Ling, two prides of western Hunan, along with Ding Ling's partner Hu Yepin, spent that impoverished yet passionate early period of their creative journey together in that simple yet warm little house in Xiangshan.

Back then, they were each other's strongest support.

The relationship between the three went far beyond friendship. Ding Ling and Hu Yepin, the couple, gave Shen Congwen trust far beyond that of friends, and Shen Congwen was always able to mediate when Ding Ling and Hu Yepin quarreled.

In short, this is a small family consisting of three people.

The three were once portrayed by tabloids as a legendary "love triangle," with rumors even circulating that they "slept together."

Shen Congwen's poem "Presented to Xiao Sha" has fueled much speculation about their relationship.

The allusions in the poem seem to tell a story of a hidden affection, like a flower quietly blooming in spring, unassuming yet full of vitality.

However, their paths eventually diverged, leading them to different futures. The once close friends became strangers on their literary journeys, and eventually broke off all ties. Ding Ling denounced Shen Congwen as a "cowardly coward who fears death." Although Shen Congwen did not respond directly, he felt as if he had been stabbed in the back.

Later, Ding Ling also tried to invite Shen Congwen to dinner to ease the tension. She felt that she was too old and did not want the feud to continue.

However, Shen Congwen maintained his self-respect and refused, saying, "How can I sit at the same table as someone who insults me?" His attitude was very firm, with no room for compromise.

Thus, the person has passed away, leaving only regret.

As Shen Congwen's mind flashed back to the past, his eyes welled up with tears. He gently stroked "China" magazine, his heart filled with indescribable emotions as he watched as even this publication, founded by his former friends, was finally cut short.

There's a saying that goes something like this: a person is generally considered to have "death" three times in their life:
The first death is physiological, which is the biological definition, referring to the cessation of heartbeat and breathing, at which point it is considered death in society.

The second death is social, referring to the funeral where people who knew you come to pay their respects. You pass away in a social context; it is a formal ceremony that gives relatives and friends the opportunity to say a final goodbye and express their remembrance of the deceased.

The third death is the true death, which refers to the complete forgetting of your existence after the last person in the world who remembers you has also passed away. At this point, you are truly forgotten by the world, and this is called the ultimate death.

For Shen Congwen, the "death" of this publication, into which Ding Ling poured all her heart and soul in her later years, was nothing short of another death for Ding Ling.

Ding Ling, a renowned Chinese female writer of the 20th century, who made irreplaceable contributions to modern Chinese literature, how many people will remember her in the future? Even the publications she ran couldn't accommodate her, let alone her articles.

The more Shen Congwen thought about it, the more sorrowful he became. In his blurred vision, his aging eyes vaguely saw a line of striking text.

He adjusted his glasses and finally managed to make out the line of text, which was also the final preface of the publication "China":
"I declare this: We are innocent, and then we wither away. — Jiang Xian"

Shen Congwen felt a tremor run through his body.

"it is good!"

“It’s so well written!”

It begins with the powerful declaration of "innocence" but ends with the quiet acceptance of "withering," forming a polyphony of declaration and destiny, struggle and acceptance.

Its concise and poetic pathos encapsulates the spiritual struggle and dignified choices of intellectuals in an era.

Moreover, the word "wither" is used very beautifully.

"Withering" is not a natural death, but a forced end under external pressure.

This final eulogy uses the metaphor of withering flowers to express both helplessness and dignity.

Moreover, compared to expressions like "death" and "destruction," "withering" embodies a poetics of nature:
It acknowledges the inevitability of extinction while simultaneously bestowing upon it a sense of dignity.

Furthermore, in Christian thought, the redemptive logic of "sin to Christ, righteousness to mankind" also infuses "decay" with the dual possibilities of sacrifice and rebirth.

Therefore, "withering" is the completion of the life cycle, not a shameful defeat.

This final statement elevates the magazine's helpless and shameful end to a belief in the passing down of culture.

Shen Congwen's eyes gradually cleared up again.

This final eulogy was undoubtedly the greatest comfort to him after his recent disappointment.

“We should thank Jiang Xian,” he said to his wife, Zhang Zhaohe.

"what happened?"

"He wrote a wonderful closing message for 'China' magazine. If Bingzhi knew this in the afterlife, his soul would surely find peace," Shen Congwen said with a look of satisfaction.

Bingzhi is Ding Ling's courtesy name.

Shen Congwen took Jiang Xian's writing of the final issue's preface for "China" very seriously.

Chinese people value establishing virtue, words, and deeds. After death, these are written on the tombstone so that the person can leave a name in the afterlife. This is called "epitaph".

For a publication, the final issue's preface is equivalent to its "epitaph."

The epitaph for the publication "China" is actually very difficult to write, but Jiang Xian wrote this sentence in the most ingenious way, exchanging "withering" for spiritual immortality.

"It's really well written." After reading it, Zhang Zhaohe also felt that Jiang Xian's "final words" carried immense spiritual power.

"'Withering' is not the end. Thoughts are innocent, dignity is immortal, and beneath the withered petals, the soil is always waiting for new blooms."

At the same time, Shen Congwen and his wife were not the only ones who paid attention to the final issue of "China".

With the discontinuation of the journal "China", the closing remarks written in the final issue quickly became the focus of attention and discussion in cultural circles.

The editorial department of Poetry Journal quickly discussed this final verse, believing it to be not only a final verse but also an exquisite line of poetry.

Some people couldn't help but sigh that although Jiang Xian's talent was more evident in his writing, deep down he was actually a poet with unparalleled poetic sentiment.

Each of his poems is not a pointless, affected creation, but is truly imbued with the power of emotion.

The final sentence in this issue of "China" magazine is the best proof of this point.

Besides Poetry Journal, a large number of writers, critics, and older generation intellectuals published numerous articles to commemorate the final issue of this publication founded by Ding Ling. The focus of these articles all revolved around Jiang Xian's final words.

Zhuo Yongliang was holding a poem he had obtained from Ai Qing, hesitating whether to adopt it.

The final words of "China" magazine soon reached his ears. After a moment of reflection, he learned that Jiang Xian's final words had sparked a phenomenal social discussion.

Zhuo Yongliang immediately made up his mind to adopt the poem written by Jiang Xian, which was recommended by Ai Qing, for use in cross-strait cultural exchanges.

Meanwhile, in the discussion about Jiang Xian's final words, some people discovered that the time when Jiang Xian wrote these final words almost coincided with the controversy caused by "The Troubleshooters" some time ago.

Therefore, Jiang Xian's final words are a double entendre, containing not only regret for the magazine "China" but also his resentment at the criticism his article "The Playboy" received.

The discussion about "The Troubleshooters," which had been gradually subsiding, was once again sparked by this final farewell message.

This time, most literary reviews and discussions began to support "The Troubleshooters," and the voices of condemnation were almost overwhelmingly suppressed.

Meanwhile, Mi Jiashan was discussing the filming of "The Troubleshooters" with the leaders of Emei Film Studio.

When a novel like "The Troubleshooters" was sent to the leaders of Emei Film Studio, the committee of Emei Film Studio naturally did not approve it, believing that even if the novel was written by Jiang Xian, it would be difficult to adapt it into a film or television work.

Moreover, Emei Film Studio has always been short of money and under financial strain. Every decision to shoot a film is the result of careful consideration, and they absolutely cannot easily accompany Mi Jiashan in his endeavors.

In a fit of anger, Mi Jiashan went directly to the factory manager:

“Let’s sign a pledge. If the cost is 60, I’ll return 100 million to you. If the cost is 80, I’ll return 120 million to you. If we lose money, you’ll stop paying my salary for two years, and I won’t make any movies for two years.”

At this time, filmmaking followed a planned economy approach, and directors were not responsible for profits. Mi Jiashan's words were tantamount to signing a responsibility contract, gambling his livelihood on the right to direct.

Even with all that said, the leaders were still unwilling to agree. Such a large factory couldn't just make a decision about the filming assignment based on a director's angry words.

It is evident that the popularity of "The Troubleshooters" has once again been pushed to its peak.

The leaders of Emei Film Studio couldn't sit still any longer.

(End of this chapter)