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

Chapter 92: Xiu Zen Temple Beheading Buddha 9——
He sat on two or three steps of Otani stone that led down to the playground below. Four or five students from the lower grades gathered around him, listening to him with fascination.
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The flower beds on the slopes were in full bloom with May flowers: tulips, sweet peas, anemones, poppies, and overhead, the magnolia trees were covered with large white flowers.

Japan has a militarist background, but the novel does not point out the era until here. The literati sitting together reading suddenly discover that Monk Hongping is reaching out to the surroundings in some excitement.

"Quick, quick, give me the contents after page nine first."

The old monk had not been so excited for a long time. The scholars who were reading manuscripts quietly around him suddenly noticed that the old monk had stood up and started looking around for him.

Longchuan Che distributed a book randomly, with each person taking a few pages.

Sitting under the eaves next to the main hall, Ying Sili was stunned and looked left and right at the copy he had received.

"Here, Mr. Gong Cheng."

The young man raised his hand, and then he saw the old men sitting in the middle walking towards him.

There were four or five old men, some holding pens and some wearing monk's robes.

These people are big names who can shake the literary world with just a stomp of their feet. Ying Sili felt a little numb on his scalp.

I really don’t know how Longchuan Che dared to stop them alone.

The few people didn't seem to be familiar with Ying Sili. They took the manuscript and sat down under the eaves in front of the Buddhist hall.

At this time, the snow in the sky was getting heavier and heavier. The stone lanterns and temple plaques were covered with a layer of snow. The old man looked excited, while Takeda Takako looked at Ryukawa Toru who was leaning lazily on her.

"Why are they doing this?"

Not only the old monk but also the other scholars looked excited.

The writers who were sitting in the courtyard reading the manuscripts were looking around after reading what they had in their hands, trying to find the context of the story.

Longchuan Che held the last chapter in his hand and opened his mouth lazily.

This is to eat.

Takeda Takako blushed and peeled an orange and stuffed it into the other person's mouth.

After chewing the slightly warm orange hidden in someone's arms, Longchuan Che picked up the manuscript of the first chapter and glanced at it.

Mrs. Takeda has recently been particularly fond of bringing oranges and feeding them to Ryukawa.

Maybe I was superstitious about what he said before, that eating oranges would not make the food fishy or astringent.

"Brother, can you show me?"

Before Longchuan Che opened his mouth, a young man came over with a shameless face.

Haori, kimono, peony-shaped family crest.

Ryukawa Tetsu raised his eyebrows, "The Yingsi family also engages in class literature?"

The peony-shaped family crest has the same origin as the Konoe family, and Ryukawa Toru's expression is a little strange.

"A concubine's son is a member of a separate family."

The young man smiled awkwardly and took the manuscript after getting Longchuan Che's consent.

"Tulips, sweet peas, anemones, poppies? Use beautiful words to point out the militarist trap of that era?"

The young man stared at Longchuan Che in a daze.

In the 1950s, Japan fell into the trap of militarism. The rulers brainwashed the people, called on all citizens to join the army, and whitewashed the cruel war with gorgeous rhetoric.

This passage in the article is very interesting.

An old schoolmate who had returned from the military academy sat on the high steps. The originally miserable military academy life became luxurious in his mouth. He was full of pride in every move he made, and the students below listened to him out of envy.

Pointing out the influence of the country on society in that era, Yukio Mishima also used May flowers to embellish the scene.
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The speaker and the audience were all like wooden sculptures, motionless. I sat alone on a chair in the playground, about two meters away from them. This was my etiquette, my etiquette in the face of the flowers in May, the uniforms full of pride, and the bright laughter.

Anti-war and counter-attack, criticizing the militarist trap of the last century, everyone present looked at Longchuan Che with somewhat subtle eyes.

The atmosphere in the field was a little weird for a moment.

As the snow fell heavily from the sky, these writers were changing paper and ink in the temple, studying the works of Yukio Mishima, who was known as the pride of Japanese literature.

Yukio Mishima had a treacherous life. In his early years, he was influenced by romantic literature and wrote "Forest of Flowers". Later, he entered the Japanese literary world under the leadership of Yasunari Kawabata.

"The Temple of the Golden Pavilion" was his masterpiece when he was thirty years old, blending his early wartime experiences.

Although his purpose in writing "The Temple of the Golden Pavilion" may not be pure, it may even be to pave the way for the subsequent coup.

But this work does reflect the militarist trap of that era very well, and also describes the distortion and morbidity of that society.

The war-hungry teenagers and the smug naval alumni.

They would use ornate daggers as decoration and sharpen pencils with them.

This is clearly a war that represents the evil of human nature, and it is clearly the government's unknowing expansionist ambition.
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He accidentally took off his school uniform and threw it on the white painted fence, along with his pants and white shirt... These clothes were close to the flowers, exuding the scent of a young man's skin soaked in sweat. The bees made a mistake and rested their wings on the white and shiny "shirt flower". Especially the hat inlaid with gold ribbons, covering the top of a wooden fence, was like a buckle on his head, both straight and secure.
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Instigated by his junior classmates, he performed wrestling on the dirt platform at the back. The clothes he threw away gave people the impression of a "glorious graveyard".
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The clusters of flowers in May reinforced this feeling. The dark reflection of the hat brim, the belt and dagger thrown aside, separated from his body, radiated a lyrical beauty. These were as perfect as memories...
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In other words, it looks like the remains of this young 'hero'.

Those words, which sounded like the remains of a young 'hero', made one's scalp tingle.

It not only reveals the doomed defeat of militaristic Japan, but also foreshadows the passing of this young life.

Stupid brainwashed people.

Japan is doomed to fail.

Everything was embellished by Mishima with beautiful words, but underneath was a dark and sticky meat grinder.

"War."

Monk Hongping gently stroked the manuscript in his hand. As someone who had lived through that era, he could especially empathize with the situation.

A novel was read from noon to early morning, and candles were lit in the Xiu Zen Temple.

The Buddha statue felt a little warmer due to the swaying wicks, and Ryukawa Tetsu and Monk Hongping sat down in front of the statue again.

“Who would have thought that the self-nature is originally complete; who would have thought that the self-nature can give rise to all things.”

Hongping performed the Buddhist salute to Longchuan Che again with a kind look on his face.

"Mr. Longchuan has wisdom, understands Buddhism, and writes beautiful articles on class literature."

The atmosphere seemed to have become somewhat harmonious and cordial from the late afternoon.

The old monk thought for a moment with a hesitant look on his face, then opened his mouth and said to the young man in black in front of him:
"I would like to include the article "Golden Pavilion" in the selection of this year's Akutagawa Prize. What do you think?"

(End of this chapter)