Literary Master 1983

Chapter 66 La rosa amarilla
Later, there was a saying that I often heard: Don’t take what the platform gives you as your ability.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Editor-in-Chief Liu suddenly looked very embarrassed, and it was unknown whether this was his disguise.

He waved the translation in his hand and muttered, "Delete it, is it really necessary? Delete it..."

The voice became lower and lower.

Yu Qie suddenly felt bored: his opponent turned out to be such an ordinary person.

This guy's research level was so low that when his platform failed to work, he was helpless.

Of course, Liu Xinwu could say, if Ma Shi Tu hadn’t found a platform for you, how could you have published it so quickly?

If you didn't write good articles, how could you get into October?

If you hadn't been inexplicably transferred to the front line to provide comfort, how could you have escaped this - I have bullets, but I can't use them, and you are wearing a bulletproof vest.

Liu Xinwu said: "Yu Qie, this has nothing to do with you... I never give in, you are just too smooth, all kinds of good things always happen to you."

“Everyone is helping you.”

"The heavens are helping you."

No wonder he couldn't have written anything more powerful.

No wonder he has to use other means to maintain his influence.

No wonder, decades later, as the founder of a key school, he was ranked at the bottom of the "100 Modern and Contemporary Mainland Writers". It was really a sudden decline.

Yu Che realized that he would never be able to attack himself head-on. In the small circle of Latin American literature, he couldn't even write a qualified paper to canvass for votes with Yu Che in front of everyone.

"La rosa amarilla."

Yu Qie said: "La rosa amarilla."

He said it again, "La rosa amarilla."

"What do you mean?" Liu Xinwu was confused and didn't know anything, but Yu Qie said, "We are discussing a yellow rose. The yellow rose is La rosa amarilla."

"There are still... fifty-seven people here. Look at them... they all know that this is the Yellow Rose."

Why are you discussing roses at a time like this? What is a yellow rose?
Liu Xinwu is still blank.

"Some people think that yellow roses represent love."

"Some people think that yellow roses are a form of witchcraft."

"Some people also think that the yellow rose is a spider from Argentina."

Yu Qie smiled and said, “But whether it’s love, witchcraft, or spiders, no matter how bizarre the answers are, at least they know what we’re talking about.”

“So, what exactly are we talking about when we talk about magical realism?”

"You still don't know."

"Because you came to the wrong place."

Yu Qie's words brought Liu Xinwu back to the day when he saw the research manuscript, which was the original title of the manuscript "Latin American Realism". He was once a genius, attracting much attention in the literary world, and everyone had high hopes for him.

After joining the Federation of Literary and Art Circles, many people blamed Liu Xinwu for being too arrogant and complacent. He never shook hands with people and did not respond when strangers spoke to him.

A friend wrote an article to defend him: he was just too shy and embarrassed.

Liu Xinwu did not bother to defend himself on the spot, but simply wrote about these things in his novel.

After becoming famous with one article, Liu Xinwu was taken care of by many literary masters. "October" magazine made him an editor, and he entered the golden age of his own creation.

He knocked on Liu Shaotang's door, went to Beichizi Guesthouse to look for Wang Meng, and rode his bicycle to Nanjixiang Hutong to look for Cong Weixi. Ba Lao personally asked him to write two novels, Ding Ling reviewed his novels, and Ge Le, deputy editor-in-chief of People's Literature, lived in his house just to get his manuscripts as soon as possible.

Bing Xin wrote twelve letters for him. When a foreign reporter asked Bing Xin who among China's young writers had the greatest potential for development, Bing Xin answered without hesitation, "Liu Xinwu."

And all this happened in just one year!
Then, he found himself experiencing a weight that life could not bear!

None of the manuscripts commissioned by Ba Lao personally satisfied people. He wanted to study foreign classics for inspiration, but found that he could not speak foreign languages ​​at all, and everything he learned was "second-hand goods" with a strong personal style of the translator. He wrote "Class Teacher", and writers said that the novel was "too poor in literary quality", which made him famous. He wrote "Ruyi" and made a movie, but critics said that "it was too literary, but still not good". He wrote "Three-dimensional Intersection Bridge", and finally someone was satisfied, but he was met with more disappointment, "The tone of your novel is too gray". How can he satisfy people?

How can you say hello to me?

Liu Xinwu felt that he was not a true genius, he was not the chosen one, his talent had been exploited to the limit and could no longer be used by him to squander, but even so, he was still not satisfied.

He couldn't even continue to play the role of a genius.

So when Liu Xinwu came to Chengdu and saw another Yu Qie, he felt a kind of jealousy in his heart that he himself was not aware of. This man became the center of young writers in the entire Sichuan Province as soon as he arrived. Ma Shi Tu admired him from the beginning. He was the top scorer in the entrance examination to Yanjing University, like a natural darling. He wrote about educated youth, he wrote war novels, and he even had insights into Latin American literature!

Why do some people know so much?
How can he understand so much?

Jealousy burned Liu Xinwu's reason and made him react beyond reason. He questioned Yu Qie without leaving any room for doubt and put himself on the stage.

But panic made him unable to turn back and he had to go all the way.

Now Yu Qie actually said to his face, "You came to the wrong place."

No, no, I'm the same as you, I'm also a genius!

I used to be stronger than you.

"Yu Qie, I don't know what you are so proud of. This book was not translated by you, you just happened to copy the speech from somewhere!" Liu Xinwu's eyes were red, and his low voice gradually became hoarse.

"God knows how you know that!"

"Marquez never replied to your letter. He thinks you're talking nonsense. He doesn't even know you!"

That’s right, Marquez never mentioned the cotangent.

What predictions? What research?
This is complete bullshit, it doesn't exist.

Liu Xinwu gradually found confidence and his voice became more real.

Yu Qie got the book "One Hundred Years of Solitude" from somewhere and said that it was the first translated book in mainland China and had been written into a milestone in the history of Chinese literature.

Everyone should be happy, he said.

Then, as if admiring a rare treasure, he flipped the book back and forth, and finally turned to the last page.

“One Hundred Years of Solitude is a book within a book. What does that mean?”

"It's the plot in the parchment scroll. When you decipher it, you find that everything is happening in reality."

Yu Qie narrated the final plot of the book. He was like the best drama actor. No matter how difficult the words were, he could speak them clearly:
“Aureliano froze in his place, not only because he could not move from terror, but because in that magical moment the meaning of Melquíades’s ultimate code was revealed to him. He saw the summary of the scroll in perfect earthly time and space: the first man of the family was tied to a tree, and the last man was being eaten by ants.”

“So Aureliano is being eaten by ants.”

“Aureliano is dying.”

Yu Qie said. "Who will write your ending? I'm a writer."

"——Let's make a phone call, a transoceanic one. Above Argentina is Brazil, and above Brazil is Colombia, which is in the upper left corner of South America. They only established diplomatic relations with us in 1980. I learned about this when I returned to school last week. Then, I chatted with the diplomat and found out that Colombia, because of the award won by Márquez, used the place where he originally lived - a small country building in Alacarate - as a memorial hall. The person guarding the memorial hall is Márquez's younger brother, a complete layman."

"He has no idea what a letter from a writer is. Maybe my letter has been turned into recycled pulp somewhere in Columbia."

"But at least I know how to contact Marquez's brother, a layman."

"Let us ask, what does that yellow rose represent?"

　Actually, when I was a kid, I watched a lot of this person's lectures on Lecture Room. I enjoyed watching them very much. This is a way of writing to create a character, that is, this person is not that person. "He" is a collection of contradictions that must be concrete. "He" really only represents the people in the novel. In real life, he might be a very interesting old man. Don't have any opinion on him.

　　Someone mentioned the cassock in Black Myth before, which tells the story of a man who changed from a good man to a bad man because of a single thought. Perhaps Yu Qie’s talent is that cassock.

　　The translator Huang Jinyan said that the former residence of Marquez has become a memorial hall. He went to Colombia in 1988 and was received by Marquez's younger brother. He then explained many of the mistakes in Huang Jinyan's translation and misunderstanding.

　　No more for today, I’ll update again tomorrow.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)