My era, 1979!

I want to translate Chapter 136 into Japanese so that all of Japan can read it!
He looked up and took the sample copy, glancing at the words "Mao Dun's Preface" on the cover, a hint of a smile in his eyes: "Where's Lu Yanzhou? He said he was coming to see us today, why hasn't he arrived yet?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the "ding-a-ling" of a bicycle bell came from downstairs, followed by the familiar sound of footsteps.

Lu Yanzhou pushed in a slightly worn Forever brand bicycle, with a bundle of the latest sample copies of "Qingming" tied to the back seat. He was a pillar of Anhui's literary scene.

The inaugural issue of "Legend of Tianyun Mountain" was originally scheduled to feature the headline, but last month it approached Chen Dengke and offered to give the headline to Xu Chengjun's "Red Silk".

Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he laughed heartily: "Old Chen, Yan Zhen, I'm late! I just went to the printing factory to take a look at the binding of 'Red Silk,' and the red silk illustrations are printed really well!"

"You've got the timing right,"

Chen Dengke pulled over a wooden chair for him to sit on and handed him a glass of cold water. "We were just talking about you. Your 'Tianyun Mountain' is placed as the second piece. You don't have any objections to the layout, do you?"

Lu Yanzhou took the water glass, drank most of it in one gulp, and waved his hand: "What's your opinion? I think 'Red Silk' should be on the front page!"

My piece, "Tianyun Mountain," is about reflection, while Xu Chengjun's "Red Silk" is about taking responsibility. One looks back, the other looks forward; placing them in the same inaugural issue allows readers to see two distinct styles in Anhui's literary scene.

He picked up the sample copy on the table, turned to the page of "The Unbreakable Red Silk", and pointed to Mao Dun's preface. "Look how insightful Mao Dun's preface is. 'Using the red silk as the vein and the superimposed time and space as the needle,' I've never received such praise before!"

Wang Yingqi, a young editor who was organizing the reader's letter preview form next to her, couldn't help but interject. She had just graduated from Anhui University and had only been assigned to "Qingming" magazine for three months.

Her eyes were full of excitement: "Teacher Lu, yesterday a reader called to ask if I wanted to save a copy of your 'Tianyun Mountain' in advance, since I heard it was in the inaugural issue!"
And then there's Teacher Ding Ling's "In the Bitter Cold Days." I read it while organizing my manuscript, and it's so well-written. The characters like Liang Shanqing, the district official, and Li Layue, the village party secretary, are vividly portrayed. They're exactly like my mother's experiences back then; it's sure to touch many people's hearts!

Chen Dengke laughed and said, "Who do you think Ding Ling is? There's only one Ding Ling in the whole country!"

"Old Chen, you're really capable, managing to get Ding Ling's manuscript."

Ding Ling, born in 1904, is now 75 years old. He is a famous Chinese writer, social activist, and outstanding wcjjgm warrior.

A writer with a red hat!

After the founding of the People's Republic of China, Ding Ling held several leadership positions in literature and art, such as editor-in-chief of the "Literary Gazette" and No. 1 member of the China Writers Association.

However, starting in 1955, she was constantly persecuted and in 1958 she was sent to a farm in Heilongjiang Province, where she did not return to the literary scene until 1979.

In her later years, Ding Ling wrote works such as "The World of Demons and Monsters" and "The World in Wind and Snow," founded and edited the literary magazine "China," and nurtured young writers.

This time, I specially submitted "In the Cold Days" to the inaugural issue of "Qingming". It is a novel about the people of Sanggan River organizing a land protection team to fight against landlords and rich peasants after the fall of the liberated area. The editors had been reading it privately for a long time and were hoping that this article would be outstanding.

Yan Zhen leaned against the table, holding a photocopy of Ding Ling's manuscript in his hand, and nodded in agreement: "I didn't expect Ding Ling's writing to be so warm, so vivid, so real."

"Authenticity is the best thing."

Chen Dengke tapped the sample copy, “But if we’re talking about something that’s real and powerful, it has to be ‘Red Silk’. Do you guys remember Xu Chengjun’s first draft, which included a note? It said, ‘The red silk can’t be torn because it’s wrapped with the hope of peace.’ I still remember that.”

"Indeed, Xu Chengjun is very lucky to have two senior figures, Ding Ling and Lu Yanzhou, as his backers, allowing him to carry out this 'Red Silk'!"

Chen Dengke: "It's not just luck; without the ability, there would be no opportunity."

He looked up at the window and could vaguely see the Xinhua Bookstore sign in the night. “It will be released tomorrow. I estimate there will be a queue. You all know Xu Chengjun’s reputation at Fudan University. He has published four poems in Poetry Journal. The song ‘Waiting for You to Return to the North’ that we sang during military training has even reached Hefei. Young people are looking forward to his novel.”

He is now very fortunate to have befriended this future "leader" of Anhui's literary circles.

If things continue this way and they go against Xu Chengjun, he will surely go down in history.

Have you not seen how Mr. Zhou criticized Professor Hu so thoroughly that he was completely bewildered?
Now he's a Xu fanboy!

As Lu Yanzhou flipped through the text of "Red Silk," he paused when he came across the passage about Huang Siyuan clutching an unfinished wooden comb. "When I first read the draft, I said, this kid has brought soldiers to life."

Unlike some military literature that only describes the excitement of battle and forgets that soldiers are also human and also long to go home, this piece is brilliant. Look at Huang Siyuan wanting to carve a wooden comb for Chunyan on the battlefield—that detail is absolutely brilliant!

"you do not say!"

Wang Yingqi handed over the compiled list of sales points, with key points marked in red: "I've spoken to the managers of the three Xinhua bookstores in Hefei and asked them to keep fifty sample copies at each location, in case they're all snapped up early. As for the post office, they said some university teachers have already written to order, asking if they could receive sample copies first, as they want to talk about it with their students in class."

Yan Zhen suddenly remembered something and took out a slip of paper from his pocket: "By the way, Xu Chengjun sent me a letter yesterday, saying that the Fudan University Wave Literature Society wants to hold a reader forum for 'Red Silk' and asked if we could send some sample copies over. What do you think about this?"

"Is this kid just self-promoting?"

"Should we send it or not?"

Chen Dengke took the note, glanced at its contents, and nodded with a smile: "Send it! Send twenty more copies, let them have a good chat. Xu Chengjun, that kid, not only can he write, but he can also stir things up. His Wave Literature Society has only been around for a short time, and it's already making such a fuss. He even dragged Gong Liu to give a lecture. I bet when you go to Shanghai, Lao Zhou, you'll be invited by this kid too!"

Lu Yanzhou replied, "This kid has huge ambitions!"

His words were quite meaningful.

Just then, a worker from the printing factory shouted from downstairs: "Editor-in-Chief Chen! The last batch of posters has arrived. Put them up first thing tomorrow morning!"

The group hurried downstairs and watched as the workers unloaded the posters from the truck. Each poster featured the cover illustration of "Red Silk," and Huang Siyuan's figure, clutching the red silk, was particularly eye-catching under the lights.

Yan Zhen rolled up a few posters and headed towards Xinhua Bookstore: "I'll arrange for someone to put them up tonight, so I don't have to get up early tomorrow. Our inaugural issue of 'Qingming' magazine has some good stuff! But even the best wine needs advertising."

"Don't rush off,"

Lu Yanzhou stopped him, "When it goes on sale tomorrow, if readers ask about 'Tianyun Mountain,' just say I'm giving away autographed copies. Let's also give 'Red Silk' a boost!"

Looking at the lively scene before her, Wang Yingqi suddenly felt her eyes welling up with tears. She picked up a sample copy of the magazine, touched the red silk illustration on the cover, and said softly, "Tomorrow will definitely be very lively. Maybe all the literary magazines in the country will be watching our 'Qingming' magazine to see just how good this inaugural issue is."

Chen Dengke patted her on the shoulder, his tone full of certainty: "It will definitely be good! It has the depth of 'Tianyun Mountain,' the warmth of Ding Ling's 'In the Cold Days,' and the power of 'Red Silk.' Plus, with Mao Gong's preface, our inaugural issue will let the whole literary world know that Anhui can produce good works and run a good magazine!"

As night deepened, the lights in the magazine office grew brighter and warmer.

Some people were checking the mailing list one last time, some were organizing sample copies to be distributed tomorrow, and some were carrying posters to the street. The sounds of footsteps, page turning, and laughter mingled together, like a lively overture, welcoming the release of tomorrow's inaugural issue.

Looking at the lights outside the window, Lu Yanzhou suddenly said, "I remember the days when I was young and running a magazine. It was just as lively and energetic. Xu Chengjun is the one who added fuel to the fire."

"You're not old yet, why don't you come to 'Qingming' and give back some of your remaining energy?"

"Forget it, if I come to 'Qingming,' that kid Zhou Zhong will be chasing me around cursing me!"

Chen Dengke gazed at the neatly stacked sample magazines on the table; the red silk on the covers gleamed softly under the lamplight.

When the sun rises tomorrow, these magazines, still smelling of ink, will carry the warmth of "Red Silk," the depth of "Tianyun Mountain," and the expectations of all the editors and authors, to readers all over the country.

The story of "Qingming" will begin on the night of the second day of the tenth lunar month and will continue to unfold.
-
"When autumn comes on the ninth day of the ninth month, my flowers bloom and all others wither. The fragrance fills Chang'an, and the whole city is adorned with golden armor."

On the third day of the tenth lunar month in 1979, the autumn sun shone brightly on the ginkgo leaves in Beijing. When the wind blew, the golden leaves fell like flakes in the alleys and on the windowsills of bookstores, as if it were a prelude to literature.

At that time, the Chinese literary world, which had been silent for more than a decade, was hoping for a "breakthrough".

When news of the inaugural issue of "Qingming" magazine spread half a month in advance, literature lovers from all over the country had already gathered their anticipation into a surge, as if they were all waiting for this literary publication to shatter the long-calm surface of the literary world.

No one dared to underestimate the inaugural issue of this national literary magazine.

In an era when "a good book could spread throughout half the city," the author of the inaugural issue's lead story was practically guaranteed a recommendation from the literary world.

But when the news came that the headline was "Red Silk" written by 20-year-old Xu Chengjun, doubts and curiosity immediately mingled together.

"So young, can he really carry the headline of the inaugural issue?"

"So many veteran writers across the country are waiting, how could it be a mere young upstart?"

"Ding Ling, ranked third? Does he deserve it?"

Whether it's retired members of the Writers Association or faculty and students in university literature departments, when they meet and talk about "Qingming," this question always comes up.

It's not that we don't look forward to new talent, but we're too afraid of failing to live up to the weight of the words "inaugural issue".

In Chongqing, long queues formed early in the morning outside bookstores near Jiefangbei.

Among the crowd were elderly men with white hair, wearing reading glasses, their eyes full of expectation.

There were also energetic college students, carrying backpacks, their faces beaming with enthusiasm for modern literature.

"I heard that there's a novel written by a 20-year-old prodigy in this issue of 'Qingming' called 'Red Silk.' I have to take a look."

The middle-aged office worker in the Zhongshan suit had just finished speaking.

Someone nearby chimed in, "Haven't you read his 'The Fitting Mirror'? His writing is exceptional!"

As soon as the bookstore door opened, the crowd surged in, crowding the bookshelves. In just one morning, all 200 copies of the inaugural issue were sold out.

The shop assistant, clutching the order form, ran to contact the warehouse: "Another 300 copies! We can't keep up!"

In the Wangfujing Bookstore in Beijing, "Qingming" is displayed on the most prominent red recommendation board.

Students from Peking University and Tsinghua University arrived on old-fashioned bicycles, with unfinished steamed buns still hanging on the handlebars.

"Who is Xu Chengjun? How could he write such a groundbreaking work at the age of 20?"

The boy with black-rimmed glasses was flipping through a magazine and muttering to himself when a classmate next to him nudged him and said, "Hey buddy, which village are you from? You've never heard of 'Walking Towards the Light' or 'Time'? You must know 'The Fitting Mirror'!"

The boy read it with some skepticism, and soon he lost track of time, leaning against the bookshelf without moving, not even hearing his classmates calling him to go eat.

"Hey, Jiangong, are we leaving or not? The shop assistants still need to sell books!"

"Okay! Let's go now!"

Chen Jiangong reluctantly withdrew from the world of "Red Silk".

Unable to resist, he asked his companion, "Li Ming, can you introduce Xu Chengjun to me?"

On that day, bookstores in Beijing sold over 1000 copies, and orders from suburban bookstores continued to be sent to the publisher, with envelopes covered in "urgent" notices.

In the ancient bookstores on Nanjing East Road in Shanghai, the arrival of "Qingming" has delighted literature lovers.

An elderly writer-looking man picked up a magazine, saw Xu Chengjun's name and the title "Red Silk," and frowned slightly. "Isn't it too hasty to put young people like this on the cover of a magazine's inaugural issue so early?"

But after he finished reading "Red Silk," his expression gradually became serious. "This 20-year-old?" "He's not simple. His insight into human nature and his grasp of the times far surpass those of his peers."

In Shanghai, more than 3800 copies of "Qingming" were sold in one day, many of which were bought by people in the literary and art circles who were eager to study this emerging literary star.

Ru Zhijuan's first reaction upon seeing it: This kid can write a novel like this?! He has so much potential to be discovered! Time to urge him to finish the manuscript!
After reading the chapter in this issue of "Qingming", Li Xiaolin realized that "Hope" is a continuation of "Red Silk".

On this day, universities, editorial departments, and literature enthusiasts in Shanghai were all going crazy for "Qingming".

The song "Waiting for You to Return to the North" has made Xu Chengjun's name known in every corner of Shanghai.

Even the old ladies in the old alleys would say: "Young man Xu Chengjun, you wrote 'Waiting for You to Return to the North Village' so well, and you can even write poetry, you're really amazing!"
Where is Xu Chengjun most famous?
Not Hefei, but Shanghai!

At the Vanguard Bookstore in Nanjing, the book "Qingming" is also highly anticipated.

The literary societies of Nanjing University and Southeast University simply organized a "collective purchase," with students sitting on the steps with copies of "Qingming" in their hands, reading and taking notes as they went.

During the discussion, a literature graduate student wearing a Zhongshan suit excitedly slammed his fist on the table: "Red Silk is absolutely amazing! It hides a grand sense of the times within its delicate emotions, completely breaking away from the conventions of traditional novels!"

After the first 600 copies sold out, the school's printing plant received many more photocopying orders. Students passed around photocopies of "Red Silk," the pages filled with dense annotations, creating a unique "literary scene" that autumn.

On the Fudan University campus.

The Wave Literature Society organized its members to study "Red Silk" together in the lecture hall of the Chinese Department.

The president's new work.

Everyone was filled with anticipation, immersed in Xu Chengjun's unique war narrative.

No one questioned why this 20-year-old deserved to be on the front page of the inaugural issue of "Qingming" magazine.

Xu Chengjun has already proven to them—

No matter how hard you try, you'll only ever see my back.
Outside the Chinese department classrooms, students, lecturers, and professors of all kinds would more or less chat about the poem "Qingming".

Zhu Dongrun pulled Jia Zhifang aside for a drink, then showed his old friend the sample magazine Xu Chengjun had given him, looking at him with a smile.
The student is promising and has written works that have the potential to be remembered.

He should have a drink, right?

Zhang Peiheng, Wang Shuizhao, and Chen Sicheng began discussing the philosophical insights behind "Red Silk".

Wang Shuizhao has a pupa inside her heart.

He was crawling in the shadows—he was supposed to be my student!

mine!

Junior Sister Zhu Bangwei couldn't wait for the sample copy Xu Chengjun had promised to send, so she went to buy a copy of "Red Silk" early in the morning. When she read the description of Huang Siyuan's sacrifice, tears streamed down her face.

International student dormitory.

Fujii Shozo's knuckles turned slightly white as he gripped the magazine, his gaze fixed intently on the three characters "Xu Chengjun"—

I learned that Xu Chengjun, whom I had met by chance before, is a rising young writer in China.

He has examined many of his works with a critical eye—there's something there, something worth paying attention to.

This person is actually a celebrity.

Fujii Shozo, born in 1952, is a renowned Japanese expert on Chinese literature.

He has served as a professor in the Faculty of Letters and the Graduate School of Humanities and Social Sciences at the University of Tokyo, and has also served as a senior professor of overseas humanities at the School of Letters of Nanjing University and a distinguished professor at Nagoya University of Foreign Studies.

His research focuses primarily on Chinese and Taiwanese literature, with a particular emphasis on 20th-century Chinese-speaking literature and film. He has achieved fruitful results in studies of Mr. Zhou and Mo Yan, and is the vice president of the International Association for the Study of Mr. Zhou, a director of the Japan Society for Chinese Studies, and a council member of the Oriental Society.

He was the first scholar to systematically study the history of the dissemination of Mr. Zhou's texts, and also the first person to introduce Mo Yan's novels to Japan, thus promoting the dissemination and study of Chinese literature in Japan.

He heard about the inaugural issue of "Qingming" from several Chinese students, so he dragged his roommate, Ozawa, a Japanese exchange student, to buy a copy early in the morning.

He wanted to see if Xu Chengjun could really write works at the same level as outstanding young Japanese writers.
When he first saw it, he still carried the 'pride' typical of Japanese scholars.

What can a 20-year-old Chinese youth write for the lead article of the inaugural issue of "Qingming" magazine?
It's nothing more than using contemporary themes to pile up emotions; at best, it can be considered a "creative work by a talented newcomer."

Japanese literature is far ahead of Chinese literature of this era!
But at this moment, the cigarette butts in the ashtray were piled up like a small mountain, and next to the rare book borrowed from Professor Maruyama Noboru, which was spread out on the table, the pages of "Red Silk" were covered with annotations in red pen.

The half-finished wooden comb hidden in the red silk by Huang Siyuan, the old wounds on Xu Jianjun's shoulders and back, and the bewildered eyes of the Vietnamese soldier Nguyen Van Hieu—these words, like warm steel needles, pierced through his preconceived notions about "contemporary Chinese literature."

"No... this is not a traditional war narrative at all."

Fujii sat up abruptly, his Adam's apple bobbing violently.

He studied Lu Xun for seven or eight years, was familiar with the narrative logic of Mao Dun and Ba Jin, and also read extensively in Faulkner's stream of consciousness and Márquez's magical realism.

Xu Chengjun's writing style is a combination of the "time and space folding" of Western modernism and the "using objects to express emotions" of classical China, which he has reconstructed.

Although it is written about the battlefield in 1979, it makes the sounds of steel chisels from the Third Front construction in the 1960s and the lively atmosphere of Shanghai alleyways in the 1980s resonate between the lines. Without deliberately showing off its skills, it makes "trauma" no longer a slogan, but a living thing that can be touched.

He turned to the passage where Xu Jianjun knelt in front of Huang Siyuan's parents and suddenly remembered "Anecdotes from the Western Front" that he had read two months ago in People's Literature.

Both novels deal with war, but the former is a tragic "heroic narrative," while in "Red Silk," the hero cries, feels guilty, and even shouts "Siyuan, hide quickly!" in his dreams.

This anti-heroic writing style, compared to a Nobel Prize-nominated war novel he read at the University of Paris last year, has an added layer of Eastern philosophical undertones.

It's not that we don't glorify sacrifice, but rather that we place it within the folds of "family" and "country," allowing readers to see the blood and tears behind the medals.

"Philosophy...is this the kind of philosophical thinking a 20-year-old writer should have?"

Fujii grabbed a fountain pen and scribbled furiously in his notebook: "1. Non-linear narrative breaks through the binary opposition of 'war-peace,' similar to Proust but more grounded in Chinese rural life."
2. The characters' perspectives are equal (Chinese soldiers/Vietnamese soldiers/women in the rear), transcending the Western context of Bakhtin's polyphonic theory;
3. Trauma writing does not rely on descriptions of violence; it uses imagery such as "red silk" and "enamel mug" to achieve psychological impact, exhibiting a stronger Eastern aesthetic than Freud's trauma theory..."

He suddenly stopped writing at this point.

No, Xu Chengjun has even transcended the framework of "trauma theory"!

Huang Siyuan's wooden comb and Xu Jianjun's scars are not meant to denounce war, but to question "the weight of peace"!
When Xu Nian'an pointed to the wooden comb in the display case and asked, "Is this the one that Grandpa Huang didn't finish carving?", her philosophical reflection that "death is not the end, forgetting is" had reached the height of Camus's "resistance to absurdity," yet it was still earthy and not obscure at all.

"Mr. Maruyama! We must tell Mr. Maruyama immediately!"

Fujii ran quickly to the only external telephone in the international student dormitory on the first floor, his fingers trembling with excitement.

During a brief pause in the busy signal from the receiver, he caught a glimpse of "Studies in Modern Japanese Literature" on the corner of the table.

His paper on "Chinese Literature Connecting with World Literature" was just published in the magazine, in which he argued that "it will take at least ten years for contemporary Chinese literature to break through regional limitations again." However, "Red Silk" proved him wrong.

"This isn't just catching up, it's taking the lead!" Fujii roared at the busy signal.

He recalled that last year when he was taking a class at the University of Tokyo, his teacher asked, "Are there any young writers in China who can be compared to Kenzaburo Oe?" He smiled easily.

'Japan is at least 30 years ahead of China in literature!'

But now, Xu Chengjun's "Red Silk" breaks away from "Western centrism" in its narrative techniques and surpasses most contemporary war literature in its depth of thought.

Compared to the "Buraiha" literature of postwar Japan, it has a clearer understanding of the relationship between the collective and the individual.

The call finally connected, and Maruyama Noboru's gentle voice came through: "Seisan? Calling so late, is it urgent?"

"Teacher! You absolutely must read the inaugural issue of 'Qingming' magazine! Xu Chengjun's 'Red Silk'!"

Fujii's voice crackled like popping beans, "At the age of 20, he wrote a work that can be placed in the history of world literature! It's not imitating the West, but blending Chinese 'emotion' and world 'reason' into something new—Zhou Jun has never written about war like this, Mao Dun has never written about human nature like this, and even Kenzaburo Oe has never hidden philosophy in the soil like this!"

Maruyama Noboru was silent for a moment on the other end, then chuckled softly, "You rarely get this excited. Looks like you've really found a treasure?"

"It's not a treasure, it's a thunderbolt!"

Fujii placed his hand on the cover of "Red Silk," saying, "I suddenly thought that if it were translated into Japanese... Japanese readers would know that contemporary Chinese literature is no longer the 'political slogan literature' they think it is. Writers like Xu Chengjun can help Sino-Japanese literary exchanges break free from the old framework of 'Lu Xun and Haruki Murakami'!"

After hanging up the phone, Fujii stared at the word "translation" on his notebook, his heart pounding faster and faster.

He recalled his struggles while translating Lu Xun's "The True Story of Ah Q," and the stereotypes Japanese readers held about Chinese literature.

But "Red Silk" is different. It has the tension of war, the warmth of family, the depth of philosophy, and the "humanity" that can resonate with readers from different cultural backgrounds.

If it could be translated and placed in the Iwanami Bunko, it might change the entire Japanese academic community's evaluation of contemporary Chinese literature!

Most importantly, Japanese literature should learn from advanced Chinese literature!
This is awesome!

too crazy!

"No... I can't wait any longer."

Fujii suddenly stood up, grabbed his coat, and rushed out the door.

His leather shoes made a "thump-thump" sound on the stairs, and he didn't hear the international students passing by greeting him.

He had to find Xu Chengjun right now to confirm the possibility of translation, and even wanted to talk to him immediately about every detail in "Red Silk": Was the "Ruan Wenxiao's perspective" a reference to Kenzaburo Oe's "multiple perspectives"?
Is the imagery of red silk influenced by the metaphorical and allegorical style of the Book of Songs?

The lights in the Chinese Department building were still on. Fujii rushed into the corridor, panting, and saw Xu Chengjun sitting in the classroom revising a manuscript. The desk lamp cast a long shadow of him.

He suddenly recalled the afternoon he first read "The True Story of Ah Q," and the shock he felt when he thought, "So this is how literature can be written," was now being recreated in the writing of a 20-year-old Chinese youth.

No, it's about surpassing.

"Mr. Xu Chengjun!"

Fujii pushed open the classroom door, his voice filled with barely concealed urgency, holding up the annotated copy of "Qingming" in his hand. "I am Fujii Shozo! I have a request regarding 'Red Silk'... no, it's something that must be done—I want to translate it into Japanese so that all of Japan can read it!"

Xu Chengjun turned his head, looking puzzled: Who the hell are you?
Fujii: It's me! It's me! I gave you my business card!

(End of this chapter)