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

Chapter 84: Xiu Zen Temple Beheading Buddha 1
Early morning under the snow.

The glass in the room was covered with a thin layer of mist.

In the room on the second floor of Yumotokan, the man's upper body clothes were stripped off, and his sticky kimono smelling of alcohol was thrown outside the bed.

The hair on the tip of his nose felt itchy as someone tickled him. In Longchuan Che's arms lay a woman sleeping soundly.

Probably never imagined such a scene.

When you wake up, you can see the woman's trembling eyelashes and rosy lips.

In the snowy house, the woman's black hair was spread out, and she curled up in her arms like a child.

"I can't see the bad look from before."

Long Chuan Che muttered to himself and reached out to pinch the other's chubby lips.

The fingertips felt soft, as if they were pinching the finest white jade. Long Chuan Che stretched his head over and sniffed it.

Fortunately, there was only a faint smell of alcohol.

"Don't bother me!"

With a bang, Longchuan Che's hand was knocked down.

The boy was stunned as if he couldn't believe that the woman who was as well-behaved as a kitten last night was now in this state.

"It's so annoying."

The woman murmured something and it turned out that she was not awake yet.

The woman pulled her warm body out of the quilt, and feeling cold, she shook left and right and wrapped herself up like a caterpillar.

The morning light is dim.

Longchuan yawned lazily as he walked towards the dining area on the first floor.

Yumotokan Ryokan is where the Writers Association organizes tours. Ryukawa Toru walked down from the second floor and saw many writers wearing black haori and whispering to each other as they walked towards the hotel's dining area.

Most of the people who come here are middle-aged people between 3.40 and years old.

It is difficult to write serious literature without some experience.

Longchuan Che was very conspicuous among a group of middle-aged people. Someone hesitated for a moment and called him.

"Longchuan-san."

Just like going to the cafeteria with a group of people at school, Longchuan Che would turn around and look at the person who called him when he was happy.
"Oh? Mr. Kaga."

The silver hair was combed meticulously close to the scalp, and the old man still maintained his serious and rigid image.

"go to eat?"

"Ah."

"Where is Longchuan-san's maid?"

"Mr. Kaga," Ryukawa Tetsu turned his head and looked at him strangely, "Isn't it impolite to care about other people's female companions?"

Kaga Youfeng was stunned for a moment, then waved his hands awkwardly.

"Don't get me wrong, Long Chuan-san. I just think it's not good for young people to behave like old nobles."

I don’t know if this old man really couldn’t tell the difference between a joke and being serious, but he explained to Ryukawa Tetsu in a very serious manner the harm that the old noble families had brought to Japanese society in the last century, and why they had disappeared.

"With the help of political privileges, they successfully obtained the operating rights and important shares of state-owned banks, but when the country was in crisis, they chose to stand aside and even bit the grassroots people."

The old man kept chattering on and on, and Longchuan Che regretted walking with him, although the people around him looked at him with envy when they saw him standing with the old scholar.

"Yeah, yeah, okay."

Longchuan Che blocked his ears, thinking that he could escape danger by getting to the restaurant, but he ended up sitting with the old man in the crowded restaurant.

"They are the dregs of the old era, and they will naturally die out in the new era."

The scum you call is living well in Yamanashi Prefecture.

Longchuan Che sighed and waved towards the restaurant door.

"here."

The only person Ryukawa Toru knew here was Takeda Takako, who got up later than the master.

The woman had a strange mask on her face and her eyes looked furtive.

She peeked outside to make sure there was no one she was worried about seeing before walking in with the things in her hands.

"What are you doing?" Long Chuan Che pulled the mask on the other person's face. The other person looked like a guilty thief at this moment.

"I, my sister might be here."

The woman said somewhat shyly.

When traveling with Ryuukawa Tetsu, I would probably get furious if I were touched by him.

Mrs. Takeda squeezed Ryukawa Tetsu's hand, looking somewhat pitiful. "She scolded me and you had to help me."

Perhaps when you have close contact, you will become more and more dependent on a person. Last night, Mrs. Takeda tasted the man next to her all over her body with the help of wine, and shook his hand in a somewhat intimate manner.

Longchuan Che ignored the other person and took out the thing he was holding in his hand.

"Why did you bring this?"

A thick stack of snow-white manuscript paper and the notes used last night.

This is what Ryukawa Tetsu uses to write novels and essays.

"Can I take a look?"

While the two were chatting, Kaga Youfeng, who was sitting next to them, raised the silver-framed glasses on his nose.

Japanese writers' manuscript paper is very easy to recognize.

There are 400 words on a page, and the thick stack is about or words.

“It’s a long novel.”

The old man muttered to himself.

Long Chuan Che thought about it and decided not to hand over the thick book, but instead gave the essay "Flowers Never Sleep" to the other party.

"essay?"

The old man was stunned for a moment, then started reading without saying anything.

In fact, if Ryukawa Toru was the author, it would be a precious opportunity to have him give guidance on the novel.

But if the other party doesn't want to.
"what?"

The old man exclaimed in surprise.

He drank miso soup and watched his wife peel an onsen egg for him.

Longchuan Che raised his eyebrows.

"what happened?"

"Very interesting." The old man raised his glasses and looked at Longchuan Che again.

This essay is more of the author's perception of aesthetics than an essay.

The well-known fact that the flower never slept suddenly became an opportunity for the new discovery of the flower.

Yasunari Kawabata used an early morning dream to narrate his exploration of the aesthetics of nature.

The flower is always there and it is beautiful. Whether it can be discovered depends on the observer.

Ryukawa Che feels that this short essay is very suitable for the current literary world.

The language of "Snow Country" is beautiful, almost like a flower of beauty that the old man presents to Japan.

But a group of writers, led by a few old men, inexplicably resisted his new style of writing.

Ryukawa Tetsu would like to use this article to ask you whether you really have the eyes to discover the beauty of tradition or whether you have already fallen into the whirlpool of so-called class literature and are unwilling to extricate yourself.

Boys can be sure that "Snow Country" will be very popular among ordinary people. After all, even a fool like Mrs. Takeda can remember many words in it after reading it once.

Kawabata Yasunari's articles are hailed as representatives of Japanese aesthetics. It is difficult not to accept them unless your mind is imprisoned by certain ideas.

“It’s interesting, the flowers are there, they just need to be seen.”

The old man chewed it twice and felt it had a strong Buddhist Zen flavor.

“But it can only be published in some small publishing houses and is not suitable for current mainstream literature.”

After saying this, the old man returned the notebook to Longchuan Che.

Mrs. Takeda suddenly noticed that the boy squinted slightly in the sunlight, and she had the illusion that she wanted to get ready to have a talk with him.

Literature is a product of the times.

Japanese class literature was born out of social problems such as the bubble economy, Aum Shinrikyo, the Hanshin Earthquake, aging, and crime.

Ryukawa Toru originally thought that Kawabata Yasunari's literary beauty would be easy for people to accept.

But in fact, the current literary world is rejecting him.

"Kill the Buddha if you meet him, and kill the ancestor if you meet him."

Can people like Miya Makoto Ichitaro, who can represent the Japanese literary world to some extent, be considered the ancestors of class literature?

Longchuan Che touched the paper in his hand.

I think they probably calculated it.

(End of this chapter)