Tokyo: The life of a literary giant begins with home self-defense!

Chapter 24 Adventures in Snow Country
When Ryukawa Toru was spanking his wife in a small mountain village, it started snowing in Tokyo.

Unlike the place where snow can accumulate to a thickness of three or four fingers, the falling snow melts as soon as it falls.

They were trampled by passers-by, fell on the driveway, and then disappeared without a trace when the coat was rolled up.

"It's really cold this day."

Taro Ono, the editor of Shinchosha, stood at the door of the publishing house, stamped his feet and blew into his hands.

The hot air slowly rose into the sky and collided with the snowflakes. The security guard at the door greeted the editor-in-chief with a smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Ono."

"Morning, Mr. Mishima."

Taro Ono was the only person in the editorial department who was willing to look these security guards in the eye, and Mishima Kazuya puffed out his chest.

"So early again today?"

"Reducing the time for rest can lengthen one's life."

Mr. Ono often said some very philosophical words, which Mishima, who had always been engaged in low-level work, could not quite understand. However, he felt that this was what a literati was.

They think more, write more, read more, and chew over and over again every word they say.

"Then I have to get up early tomorrow too. You know, I'm already over 50 years old and I don't have many years left to live."

Taro Ono's original intention was just to get up a little earlier every day so that he would have more time to use, finish work earlier, and go home earlier to be with his daughter who is in junior high school.

Damn it, my daughter has recently become obsessed with a male singer from an underground band and has been dressing up weirdly all day long.

And they also said it was some kind of visual kei.

Taro Ono doesn't think that having lip piercings and growing hair over the eyes is visual kei.

He just felt that the world was broken and everyone's aesthetic taste was ruined.

"Ah, what a world this is."

Taro Ono looked up at the sky at a 45-degree angle, and Mishima Kazuya felt that this was probably the character of a scholar.

I came to work early in the morning, but didn't go in to turn on the air conditioner. I sighed at the corruption of the world while facing the heavy snow.

"Oh, the world!"

The security guard imitated the other person and looked up at the sky, hoping to get some cultural inspiration.

What kind of literary demeanor do you think a security guard should have?
Please, this is.
"I want to join Shinchosha. I want to debut with the best publishing house in Japan. You guys can't understand my novels. Let me in! Let me in!"

On the other side of the gate, a young man in his twenties with long hair was holding a thick stack of manuscript paper in his hands. He was held by the waist by several security guards, looking like he was about to break in.

“What’s the number this year?”

"I can't remember, maybe seven or eight."

“It seems to be less than in previous years.”

"After all, the economy is slowly recovering now, and everyone has other options."

The entire social atmosphere in Japan was decadent after 1989.

The country was awakened from its dream of becoming the world's largest economy, a large number of people lost their jobs, and the whole society fell into a strange literary and artistic trend.

Everyone criticized the government's incompetence and complained about the unfairness of fate.

At that time, literary and artistic young people emerged in large numbers like endless leeks, causing the financial reports of several publishing houses to show a trend of reverse growth during the economic downturn.

Looking at the thin young man being carried away, Mishima Kazuya smacked his lips.

“Can’t these people just submit their work?”

"It should have been voted in."

Taro Ono knows best these young people who think they are talented but not appreciated. They first submit their works for the newcomer award, and then start harassing the editors after they are not shortlisted.

After being rejected again.

The more rational ones choose to calm down and write new works, while the irrational ones start to make trouble.

"How many manuscripts have been sent in recently?"

Because of this young man, I remembered those submissions that I hadn’t dealt with for a long time.

Ono Taro rubbed his head with a headache.

"not much."

Mishima Kazuya took a puff of his cigarette and gave Ono Taro an answer that made him somewhat happy.

"It only fills up half of the security room." The editor-in-chief's face darkened.

The white envelope looks just like the snowflakes falling from the sky.

Do I really have to attend this class?

With this thought in mind, Taro Ono went to the office and randomly packed a cardboard box with his manuscripts.

It was quite an exaggeration to see that half the room was filled with manuscripts, and most of them were waste.

The people in the editorial department will deal with a batch when they remember to do so, but no one knows when the next time they will deal with it.

"Mr. Ono, Mr. Ono, there's more here."

Security guard Mishima put down his cigarette casually, and with his ash-covered hand he took out a few letters that had just been delivered that morning from behind his back.

He has been reading these crappy manuscripts for decades, and Taro Ono, who is in a hurry to get off work today, is even more headached when he sees them.

"Throw it in there."

Taro Ono nodded towards the security room, indicating that this batch of manuscripts would be dealt with next.

It was unknown when the next batch would arrive. Mishima looked at the manuscript sent from Yamanashi Prefecture and felt a little sorry.

“But this person’s handwriting is pretty nice.”

You are about to retire and you are still acting cute here. Ono Taro looked at the letter in the security guard's hand with a strange expression and raised his eyebrows.

"Two kings all the way?"

Ono Taro sounded a little surprised, and the security guard holding the envelope scratched his head.

"Erwangyi Road, what is that?" I'm a security guard and I don't know anything. There was a hint of stupidity in Mr. Mishima's tone.

Taro Ono put down the cardboard box in his hand, walked to the security guard, took the submissions and read them carefully.

"What does the word snake husband mean? It's pretty crazy."

Ono Taro muttered something and looked up, and found Mishima looking at him with some resentment.

Realizing that the other party had just asked him a question, Ono Taro smiled kindly.

"Do you know the monk Kukai?"

"I know this guy!" Mr. Mishima puffed up his chest proudly. "He is the founder of the Shingon sect. In 804 AD, Master Kukai went to Tang Dynasty with the 17th Japanese envoy team."

"You quite like ancient culture."

"It's shown in the Taiga drama."

The two exchanged a few words, and Ono Taro's fingers slid across the sharp tip of the pen.

“Kukai is known as one of the three great calligraphers of Japan, and many people have copied his Fengxintie,” the chief editor smiled as he looked at the handwriting that was deeply influenced by the style of the Jin Dynasty, “but in fact, few people know that Kukai’s calligraphy was learned from two famous calligraphers of the Eastern Jin Dynasty, Wang Xizhi and his son Wang Xianzhi.

Wang Xizhi's calligraphy has a subtle and reserved brushstroke, with beautiful structure, reflecting his detached interest and sentiments in writing.

Wang Xianzhi's calligraphy strokes are more unrestrained and varied, with various postures and extraordinary momentum.

This kind of calligraphy, which uses the brush to push inward and restrain, is therefore strict and disciplined; while Da Ling uses the brush to push outward and open up, so it is loose and varied, is called the style of the Two Wangs. "

This manuscript is indeed a little different. This kind of writing style is not something that an ordinary person can write.

Taro Ono nodded at the box full of submissions.

He thought it was just one more manuscript to write and it wouldn't delay his time after get off work.

This manuscript, sent from Yamanashi Prefecture by a young man named Toru Ryukawa, was included in the manuscripts that the editor-in-chief was processing today.

"What does the word snake husband mean?"

Taro Ono hummed a little tune.

"A thousand people have a thousand solutions. No one can fully understand the author's mind. This is a question that does not need an answer."

"There are countless literary masters in the world, but no one understands me, Snake Husband. Both my personality and my writing are quite crazy. I hope my works won't be too bad."

Ono Taro spoke words that even Mishima Kazuya could not understand, and slowly disappeared in front of the door of the publishing house that had been established for more than a hundred years.

Shinchosha is a holy place longed for by Japanese writers.

Mr. Baoan thinks that people like Mr. Ono who are polite and knowledgeable can be considered as literati.

And those authors who got their royalties and went to Kabukicho
"I kept thinking about how a woman could possibly write anything good."

Mr. Mishima curled his lips in disdain.

(End of this chapter)