I am a literary giant in Russia

Chapter 190 Conquering Europe with Literature (6k)

Due to its geographical environment, Russia has always been the country with the largest number of brown bears in the world, accounting for more than 50 percent of the world's total. Therefore, it was not uncommon for Russians to encounter such large creatures during this period.

In Russian folklore, these large creatures are often referred to as "masters of the forest," "masters," or "those who know honey." At the same time, Russia also has many legends and literary works related to brown bears.

In legends, a person who walks out of the forest with a bear without being harmed is considered a saint, and the bear will willingly submit to the saint. Similarly, in the works of Turgenev and Tolstoy, bear hunting scenes often reflect the mental state and social contradictions of the Russian nobility at the time.

It's worth mentioning that a normal adult brown bear weighs at least 200 kilograms and can run as fast as a horse. Although its eyesight isn't very good, its hearing and sense of smell are impeccable.
If Mikhail were to encounter this guy, he would definitely run away without saying a word. With the power of guns these days, if he didn't shoot accurately and missed a vital spot, then the other person would probably be eating Mikhail's food very quickly.

As for the nobles of that era, although they regarded bear hunting as a symbol of bravery, their main approach was still to disregard martial ethics. They would first have experienced serf hunters drive the bear away, then release a large pack of hunting dogs to tear it apart. Only when the brown bear was truly helpless would the nobles jump out and deliver the fatal blow.

Mikhail guessed that this was how the general fought the brown bear hand-to-hand. After all, although the general looked tall and strong, he also had a medium-sized stomach, which should be enough to feed the brown bear.

Since Mikhail had already come to the general's place, he naturally had to stay for a few days at the general's warm invitation. So, on the night the shooting competition ended, the general had a room arranged for Mikhail.

It's worth mentioning that although Nadya had guessed something from her mother's reaction, it didn't really matter even if she hadn't guessed. After all, at the banquet, the general couldn't help but talk to everyone present about Mikhail's performance that afternoon after downing two glasses of vodka.

Just then, Mikhail took a few steps forward, threw out a pistol, which dangled in his hand before transforming into a golden beam that shot straight toward the target.
Of course, the general was just trying to get the ball rolling, and then he started talking about Mikhail's past. However, his story about Mikhail made many of the women in the room look at him frequently. Among them were some of Nadya's cousins ​​and many noble ladies from families that had good relations with the general's family.

Nadya blended in with these people, so even if she showed something, it wouldn't seem too abrupt. Therefore, long before the general was telling the story, while the others were still whispering and asking which one was Mikhail, Nadya had already made eye contact with Mikhail.

As many people turned to look at Mikhail, the seventeen-year-old girl, while talking to her cousin beside her, had a slight blush on her fair face and would occasionally lower her head and smile.

Mikhail has also spoken with some people, since some of these noble youths seem to have heard of his exploits and are indeed very interested in the skill he displayed that afternoon.

Of course, the fat young man Gaidanov, who had embarrassed himself in front of everyone, was unwilling to talk to Mikhail, and even mentioned his noble status from time to time. However, Mikhail, who was already immersed in some thoughts, did not pay much attention to him, but instead pondered how to exchange letters.

Fortunately, Mikhail was a writer and poet. In Russia at that time, it was common for noblewomen to exchange letters with poets and writers. It might have been a little difficult for Mikhail when she was far away, but now that she was so close, it didn't seem difficult to mix her letters with other people's and sneak a quick glance.

As for the letters he wrote to Nadya, Mikhail would write a few paragraphs whenever he thought of them while learning hunting from Turgenev, talking about the natural scenery, the learning process, and the plight of the serfs in the countryside.
As Mikhail pondered this, the banquet had already come to an end without him realizing it. After the banquet, the women would typically go to the living room to chat, enjoy tea, or do needlework, while the men would remain in the dining room to drink, discuss politics, or other matters.

However, given the presence of Mikhail, a writer who has recently become quite famous in St. Petersburg, the general had a sudden inspiration and decided to organize a small literary salon, open to anyone interested in poetry, philosophy, or European politics.

However, because the event was held rather suddenly, many people had already made plans beforehand. Those who planned to play cards went to play cards, and those who planned to go boating or fishing went boating or fishing. In addition, not everyone was interested in such activities, so in the end, not many people gathered together.

The general didn't think much of the situation; after all, fewer people were better. He did have a lot to talk about with Mikhail, and too many people would indeed distract him.

Not long after, Madame Danilevskaya, having to entertain some guests, left with a group of people. Before leaving, she gave the general a few words of advice with considerable concern: "Keep an eye on Nadya, and don't let her do anything out of line."

Unfortunately, the general simply waved his hand dismissively and said, "Don't worry, what could possibly happen with me here?"

Mrs. Danilevskaya: "."

It's because you're around that I feel so uneasy.
But in the end, under the watchful eye of Madame Danilevskaya, the group moved to another room, and Nadya also prepared to listen in with rather light steps.

Not long after everyone sat down, the general couldn't help but inquire about Mikhail's future: "My dear Mikhail, what are your plans for the future? I heard that you don't seem to be planning to take a position in any government department, which is a bit of a pity. Do you perhaps have better plans?"

"Some things might be more suitable for me."

Faced with the general's question and feeling Nadya's gaze, Mikhail briefly explained his plans: "I'm going to France for a while. As you know, I've already established a certain reputation there, but I have longer-term plans, and I also have some assets there that I need to manage."

"Is it your royalties? I saw in the newspaper that your book sold very well, but I'm not sure about the specific earnings."

"It's royalties."

Mikhail, not intending to be overly modest, smiled slightly: "According to my current information, it should have already reached at least 100,000 francs, but this is just the beginning. The next book has already been sent out, and I expect it to achieve good results as well. Of course, I have many new plans."

At least 100,000 francs?

Upon hearing this number, many noble young men and ladies from less affluent families were secretly astonished. After all, even if their families had a lot of wealth, their share wasn't actually that much, and they didn't know when they would get it.

"That's quite a lot."

Even the general was somewhat surprised by this figure. Although the amount of money was not much for him personally, the prospects revealed by Mikhail's words were not to be underestimated. A book could fetch at least 100,000 francs, and what about more? Moreover, Mikhail was so young.

"So what are your longer-term plans?"

"My first priority is to establish myself in the French cultural scene. After I've finished my business in France, I plan to travel to other European countries and create some works in the local languages. For example, I'm already trying to write some poems and novels in English."

When Mikhail said this, not only the others on the field, but even the general himself was stunned for a moment. It was already very difficult to gain a foothold in the French cultural world, let alone have an even grander plan.

And what's with writing poetry and novels in English? Does he actually think he can replicate his miracle in France?
The general stood there stunned for a long while. After a long pause, he finally said to Mikhail, half-jokingly and half-seriously, "Mikhail, are you perhaps planning to conquer all of Europe with literature?"

Conquering all of Europe with literature? What kind of nonsense is that?
Is this even possible? And by a Russian?!

While the others on the scene found it somewhat absurd, Mikhail surprisingly nodded without hesitation in the face of such words, and then said decisively, "Yes, that's exactly what I think. I will leave my mark on the literary history of all of Europe, and perhaps in some other areas as well. And such a moment may not be too late, because I will take action soon."

Ok? ? ?
They even dare to say such crazy things?!

What do you mean by "you will take action"? Does taking action guarantee success? Absurd!
Although Mikhail used many words like "perhaps" and "should" in his speech, anyone who was in the room watching him at that moment would not think that Mikhail was speaking casually or lacking confidence.

What lack of confidence? He spoke of it as casually and naturally as deciding what to eat tomorrow!

If an ordinary person had said this, it would have been fine; we could have just considered him crazy. But the problem is that this young man seems to have already achieved some success.

Seeing Mikhail speak such bold words in a very calm tone, the general, who hadn't expected Mikhail to actually admit it so readily, was stunned for a long time. After a long pause, a thoughtful expression appeared on the general's face. He then looked Mikhail up and down, and after a while, the general asked, "And then what?"

The others on the field: "?"

What else can we do after that? Is there any further approach?
"Pursue the person I like, and then marry her."

The others on the field: "???"

what?
Isn't it just wanting to get married? Why are you making it sound so complicated?!

That's quite an exaggeration.
Feeling the uproar on the field and the general's suddenly deep gaze, Mikhail, though somewhat unable to hold back, still tried to remain calm and added, "Of course, in the process of completing the former, what I just said can be accomplished, but I do need some time."

Strictly speaking, Mikhail hadn't said everything. He still intended to make achievements in other areas, but he was worried that if he did, the general would immediately roar and pounce on him.
"That's it."

The general nodded ambiguously, seemingly still deep in thought, and said, "Then I look forward to your performance next, Mikhail." After that, he turned to the others and began to speak to them.

Once the atmosphere had gradually returned to normal from the shock, the general teased Mikhail one last time: "Mikhail, perhaps this is what a poet is like. What you just said is already a moving love poem."

Then he found a suitable excuse to go out with others, leaving the young people to continue their conversation.

After the general's words, many people present did indeed take Mikhail's words as some kind of flamboyant love poem. However, even so, the many noble ladies who had witnessed Mikhail speaking so calmly were still somewhat excited and soon couldn't help but whisper among themselves.

Among them, a noblewoman looked at her cousin with slight nervousness and said, "Nadya, why do you look like that? What happened?"

"It's okay, it's okay, I'm fine."

"Oh, right, did you hear what they were saying just now? I never expected to hear something like that! And he gave the impression that he could actually succeed!"

"yes."

While similar conversations took place among the noble ladies, the noble youths reacted in various ways. Some were savoring the poetic words, preparing to tell them to their lovers at a suitable opportunity; others were secretly envious of the seemingly enormous fortune; and still others were pondering how far they should go in their relationship with this commoner writer.
Of course, there were also people like Gaidanov who were furious because Mikhail's crazy talk had once again stolen everyone's thunder.

Already harboring some resentment towards Mikhail, Gaidanov couldn't help but remark on what had just happened: "Mr. Mikhail, you've gone to so much trouble just to get married. Do you perhaps want to marry a noblewoman? Oh, right, judging from the prospects you've described, even if you were a commoner, you would still have a chance to accomplish this, after all, you're so wealthy."

After saying what he thought was humorous, the slightly overweight young nobleman solemnly began to speak about what he believed to be the right path in life: "What you just said sounds quite exciting, but in my opinion, it is almost impossible to achieve. Tell me, how many people in all of Russia would believe that what you are talking about can be accomplished?"

So the real proper path is to enter officialdom, starting directly as a ninth-rank civil servant upon graduation. Oh right, it's probably difficult for someone like you to start like that right away, isn't it? But we're different. We can quickly rise to the eighth-rank civil servant, or even higher, and then continue climbing the ranks.”

Whether the path I'm describing will lead to success is another matter, but the path you're describing must be very difficult.

Before Gaidanov could continue his long-winded speech, Mikhail smiled and said, "How about I tell you a story right here? Perhaps it can reflect something."

Ok?
When Mikhail got to this point, many people in the audience were undoubtedly intrigued. They had thought it was just a verbal sparring match, but now they actually had a story to hear? And it was even created on the spot, so quickly?

Seeing the reactions of everyone present, even though Gaidanov really wanted to defeat Mikhail in his area of ​​expertise, he found it difficult to continue. So, after reluctantly nodding, Mikhail quickly began reading a short story:
"At a post station, two friends, one fat and one thin, met. The fat man had just finished eating, and his lips were shiny with oil, like ripe cherries. He exuded the scent of liqueur and orange blossom."

The skinny man had just come in, carrying a suitcase, packages, and cardboard boxes. He smelled of ham and coffee grounds. Behind him stood a thin woman with a long chin, his wife; and a tall male student with one eye squinting, his son.

"Porfiri!" the fat man exclaimed when he saw the thin man. "Is that you? Old friend! So many winters and summers have passed since I last saw you!"

"Oh my!" the skinny man exclaimed in surprise, "Misha! My childhood friend! Where are you from?"

The two friends embraced and kissed three times, gazing at each other with tears in their eyes. Both were filled with a delightful surprise.

“My dear!” the skinny man said after the kiss, “I never expected this! This is so unexpected! Hmm, look at me! Still as handsome as ever! Still as dashing as ever, young master! Good heavens! So, how about you? Made a fortune? Married? Look, I’m married… This is my wife, this is my son.”
“We were classmates when we were kids!” the skinny man continued. “Do you remember how everyone used to tease you? They gave you the nickname Herostratus because you burned a textbook with a cigarette; and me, the nickname was Ephialtes because I loved to gossip. Haha!”

When Mikhail read this passage, everyone present felt that such an encounter could not have been better. After all, what could be more wonderful than a good friend reuniting after many years?
But another question seems to arise: what is the author trying to illustrate through this event?

Fortunately, their doubts didn't last long; almost immediately after the next sentence, the whole story took a completely different turn:
"So, how are you doing, my friend?" the fat man asked, looking at his friend with enthusiasm. "Where do you hold office? What rank have you reached?"

"I'm an official, my dear! I've been a civil servant, eighth rank, for two years and received the Order of Stanislav. The salary is meager... well, may God have it! My wife teaches music; and I, in my spare time, make cigarette cases out of wood. Pretty good cigarette cases! I sell them for one ruble each. If anyone buys ten or more at once, you know, I give them a discount."

We've managed to get by, albeit barely. You see, I used to be a clerk, and now I've been transferred here, still in the same department, but I'm the department head… I'll be working here from now on. So, how about you? I suppose you've already reached the rank of fifth-grade civil servant? Hmm?”

“No, my dear, you have to go even higher,” the fat man said. “I’ve already reached the rank of third-class civil servant… I have two stars.”

Once the official titles were announced, even though many in the audience seemed to realize what was about to happen, some still didn't want to hear it. Unfortunately, Mikhail's narration continued:
The skinny man suddenly turned pale and froze, but the flesh on his face quickly twisted in all directions, making a very happy smile, as if sparks were shooting out of his face and eyes.

He shrugged, bent over, and curled up into a ball... His suitcase, parcels, and cardboard boxes seemed to shrug their shoulders and wrinkle their faces as well... His wife's long chin seemed to grow even longer; Nafanair stood up straight, fastening all the buttons on his uniform...

"My lord... I... am truly honored! If I may be so bold as to say that a childhood friend has suddenly become a great benefactor! Hehe!"

"Sigh, never mind!" The fat man frowned. "Why are you talking like that? We've been friends since childhood, there's no need for that bureaucratic flattery!"

“God have mercy… What are you saying, sir?…” the thin man said with a forced smile, shrinking even more into a ball, “Your kindness… is like the nectar that gives life… Sir, this is my son Nafanair… and my wife Louise…”

The fat man wanted to protest, but the ugly look of adoration, fawning, and obsequiousness on the thin man's face disgusted the third-rank civil official. He turned his head away from the thin man and extended his hand to say goodbye.

The thin man extended three fingers, clenched his fist, bowed deeply, and chuckled obsequiously, "Hee-hee-hee!" His wife smiled back. Nafanair brought his feet together, and his cap fell to the ground. All three were pleasantly surprised.

After Mikhail slowly finished reading the story, Gaidanov seemed to have thought of something, and in any case, he broke out in a cold sweat.
(End of this chapter)