My era, 1979!

Chapter 178 "Study for the Rise of the Chinese Nation!" (7K long chapter, please vote!)
Meanwhile, back at the hotel, Baba Kimihiko was far from as calm as he appeared.

He sat alone in the room, the ashtray in front of him already piled with several cigarette butts.

"Thirteen...or ten?"

He was engaged in a fierce internal struggle.

Logically speaking, according to Iwanami Shoten's rules, giving a foreign newcomer a 10% royalty is already an exception, and it's only because of Professor Maruyama Noboru's face and a certain degree of recognition of the work.

This aligns with business logic and upholds the publisher's authority.

But it was Xu Chengjun's calm yet resolute attitude.
He doesn't seem to be in a hurry at all!
"The more humble you are, the less they will respect you"—Xu Chengjun seems to understand this principle well.

More importantly, Fujii Shozo's almost fanatical translation notes, Maruyama Noboru's personal overseas phone call, and the buying frenzy he witnessed in Shanghai bookstores all repeatedly reminded him that "Red Silk" might be more than just an "excellent Chinese novel."

He recalled Chen Yuan's initial statement, which he had dismissed at the time—"It is no less than the mainstream literary works of the world today."

I recalled reading Fujii's translations, including his analyses of narrative temporal and spatial shifts, multi-dimensional portrayals of human nature, and predictions about the future world...

This may be the first encounter with a literary mind that has the potential to grow into a world-class talent.

It might even be just as he said.

It's not that he wants to publish it in Japan, but that Japanese literature needs this work.

"Iwanami Bunko..."

Baba lit another cigarette, and in the swirling smoke, he seemed to see the place this book might occupy in the future.

If the bet is right, it will be further proof of Iwanami Shoten's keen insight and a landmark event in Sino-Japanese cultural exchange.

If you miss out on a project just because of a few percentage points of royalties, or if it is treated as just an "ordinary excellent work," will you regret it in the future?

"The advantage lies with me..."

Xu Chengjun's confident expression inexplicably flashed through his mind.

This young man is not one of those Chinese writers who are cautious and eager for Western recognition. Where does his confidence come from?
His works themselves?

Or is it the huge market that is awakening behind him?
Are you confident?
"Thirteen percent!"

Baba Kimihiko abruptly stubbed out his cigarette, having made up his mind.

This figure exceeds the norm, demonstrating great sincerity and respect, yet it falls short of the standards for top-tier authors, leaving room for the publisher to maneuver.

The following day, Baba Kimihiko contacted Xu Chengjun again through the foreign affairs department, requesting a final brief meeting.

It was still the same meeting room, but the atmosphere was completely different from when we first met.

Baba Kimihiko cut to the chase, no more beating around the bush: "Mr. Xu, after careful consideration and based on a reassessment of the literary value and market potential of 'Red Silk,' on behalf of Iwanami Shoten, I formally propose the following conditions: the royalties for the Japanese edition will be set at thirteen percent."

He stared intently into Xu Chengjun's eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of anything.

This figure represented a very high level of sincerity in the Japanese publishing industry at the time, especially when dealing with foreign authors.

Upon hearing this, Xu Chengjun raised an eyebrow slightly, but instead of showing the joy he expected, he chuckled softly, his tone carrying a hint of inquiry: "Thirteen percent? Mr. Baba, the fluctuation in this number seems more dramatic than I anticipated. Is it because Fujii-kun's translation is exceptionally brilliant, or Professor Maruyama's recommendation carries particular weight?"

Careless and loose-fitting.

But it points directly to the key to the change in the horse farm's mentality.

It did not originate entirely from the work itself, but was strongly influenced by other factors.

Baba Kimihiko remained composed as he replied, “Mr. Xu, when we evaluate a work, we naturally consider its textual value, academic reputation, and market response. Fujii-kun’s translation has helped us understand the work’s brilliance more deeply, Professor Maruyama’s recommendation confirms its academic potential, and our observations in Shanghai have shown us its potential to transcend cultural barriers. Thirteen percent is a confirmation of the rightful place of ‘Red Silk’ based on all these factors.”

He paused, his tone becoming more serious, with a barely perceptible emphasis: "This is not a compromise with any external factors, but rather Iwanami Shoten's respect for an excellent writer and his masterpiece based on professional judgment. We believe that 'Red Silk' is worth the price, and we are confident that it will gain the recognition of Japanese readers."

Xu Chengjun looked at Baba Kimihiko, whose scrutinizing gaze had been largely replaced by a business-like decisiveness and respect.

He knew that this condition had indeed met his expectations and demonstrated the other party's sincerity.

To make money!
Not chilling~
“In that case,” Xu Chengjun finally nodded, his smile becoming more genuine, “I accept this condition. I hope that ‘Red Silk’ can find its audience in Japan.”

Instead of expressing gratitude, he used hope, placing both parties in the position of equal collaborators.

Baba Kimihiko breathed a sigh of relief, but at the same time, he was once again convinced that this young man was no ordinary person.

He extended his hand: "It's a pleasure to work with you, Mr. Xu. I look forward to 'Red Silk' shining brightly in Japan."

"It's a pleasure to cooperate with you." Xu Chengjun shook hands with him, this time with a steady and firm grip.

The negotiations have been concluded.

A psychological battle over royalties ultimately ended with a high degree of recognition of the dignity of creators and the value of their works.

That unspoken 15 percent may be an even higher goal, but the current 13 percent is already a heavy and iconic milestone on the road of contemporary Chinese literature going global.

Upon learning the final terms, Fujii Shozo was so excited he almost jumped for joy, and his admiration for Xu Chengjun reached its peak: "See that! Mr. Xu! This is true power! Even Editor-in-Chief Baba had to bow down!"

Baba paused for a moment, then extended a further invitation: "In addition, we understand that the Japan-China Cultural Exchange Association will organize a delegation of Chinese cultural workers to visit Japan on January 3rd next year for a three-week exchange program. Iwanami Shoten, as one of the co-organizers, has a special nomination slot. We sincerely invite Mr. Xu Chengjun to participate in this exchange visit as an outstanding representative of young Chinese writers. At that time, he will not only have the opportunity to engage in in-depth exchanges with the Japanese literary and publishing circles, but the promotion of the Japanese version of 'Red Silk' can also be carried out in a timely manner. I wonder what Mr. Xu thinks?"

This reason is reasonable, as it not only fits the context of increasingly frequent cultural exchanges between China and Japan at the time, but also provides an excellent platform for the publication of "Red Silk" in Japan.

Fujii Shozo was so excited he almost jumped up. He suppressed his excitement and looked at Xu Chengjun with admiration and expectation.

His tireless, non-stop work these past few days has earned him the highest level of recognition, and he firmly believes that he made the right bet!

Xu Chengjun is the reincarnation of the Chinese God of Literature!
As the translator of this work by Wenquxing, even if he only signs his name, it would be enough for him to make a name for himself in Japanese academia and leave his mark on history!

Faced with Baba Kimihiko's formal and enthusiastic invitation, and Fujii's almost burning gaze, Xu Chengjun hesitated for a moment.

Exchange trip to Japan?

Let's go!
Can a guy who's making money miss this opportunity?
He raised his head, his gaze clear and firm: "Thank you for Mr. Baba's kind invitation and for Iwanami Shoten's high regard. I believe this is a very meaningful thing for promoting Sino-Japanese literary exchange. I personally agree to participate in principle. Specific matters will still need to be handled in accordance with relevant national regulations and procedures."

Baba Kimihiko let out a long sigh of relief, a smile of relief mixed with anticipation spreading across his face.

This trip to Shanghai was far more rewarding than I expected.

A literary ripple, sparked by a novel, is quietly spreading to a wider ocean.

Fujii Shozo, on the other hand, clenched his fists tightly and shouted in his heart: "See you! I'm here! I can't see the difference between my eyes."ていない! そして俺は, このすべてのwitness であり, participant になる!”

"See that? That's Xu Chengjun! My judgment was right! He can conquer Japan! And I will be a witness to and participant in all of this!"

The Japanese~
They fear power but not virtue.
-
12 month 30 day.

It's deep winter now, and your breath turns to frost on the Fudan campus; the year-end is fast approaching.

Xu Chengjun stood on the podium, his gaze sweeping over the Chinese literature students sitting below, who filled the room to the brim.

What is he doing here again?
A lesson on modern Chinese literary history for Zhang Peiheng!

He and Chen Shangjun divided the work among themselves, with him in charge of the Song Dynasty literature section.

Mr. Zhang euphemistically called it "giving young people more lecturing experience."

Xu Chengjun inwardly scoffed – just admit you're being lazy!

The reason why someone in their forties shouldn't be rushing to eighty is quite good!

This time, the older brother didn't even show up!

“Alright, let’s continue with the ‘interesting anecdotes’ in Song Dynasty literature,” Xu Chengjun cleared his throat, his tone relaxed.

“In the past, when we looked at these Song Dynasty literati, we always thought they were solemn and serious, and that they spoke of the country and the world. But that’s not the case. They also knew how to live, and each had their own temperament. Take Su Shi, Su Dongpo, for example.”

He deliberately used the fashionable yet serious term "comrade," eliciting good-natured chuckles from the audience.

"His poem 'The Great River Flows East' is magnificent and powerful, a testament to his revolutionary fervor and his celebration of the beautiful landscape. However, even during his exile to Huangzhou, he did not succumb to despair. Instead, he actively immersed himself in local life, connected with the masses, studied the local food culture, invented Dongpo pork, and improved his living conditions. What does this demonstrate? It shows that a true revolutionary literary and artistic worker must not only have lofty aspirations but also be rooted in life, maintaining an optimistic spirit in any environment!"

Su Shi was indeed an interesting person.

In today's terms, that would be considered an in-depth food blogger.

He ate wherever he was demoted. In Huangzhou, he developed Dongpo pork; in Huizhou, he ate 300 lychees a day; and in Hainan, he discovered the deliciousness of oysters. He even wrote to his son, telling him not to let the officials at court know, lest they all come to snatch them up.
He paused, seeing that the students were listening intently, and continued using a familiar analogy:
"Let's talk about Comrade Ouyang Xiu. He wrote 'The Story of the Drunken Pavilion' to express his idea of ​​sharing joy with the people. But when he wrote lyrics, such as 'How deep is the courtyard?' he also had a very detailed observation of women's psychology. This is similar to some of our old revolutionaries who give reports with lofty perspectives, but when they go home and tell stories to their children, they are patient and vivid. People are multifaceted, and revolutionary literature and art allow and need this kind of rich form of expression."

“And then there’s the poet Zhang Xian,” Xu Chengjun said with a smile, in a tone of sharing anecdotes, “He was quite old but still had a young partner. His friend Su Shi wrote a poem to joke with him, saying it was like ‘a pear tree in full bloom pressing down on a crabapple tree.’ You see, even friends in ancient times would make such harmless jokes, full of life, and not always with serious faces.”

"As for poets like Yan Jidao and Qin Guan,"

He then shifted his focus back to the more mainstream evaluation system, saying, "Their works depict more personal emotions, such as the longing between lovers and the sorrow of parting. We should look at them with a dialectical perspective."

"So," Xu Chengjun concluded, his gaze sweeping across the class, "when we study classical literature, we can't treat them like clay idols, only knowing how to bow and worship them. We must see them as living people. Su Shi was a gourmet, Yan Jidao was a flower of worldly wealth and nobility, and Qin Shaoyou was a melancholy god."

They had ideals and aspirations, as well as personal interests; they understood life and knew how to find joy even in hardship. Only in this way can we gain a more comprehensive and vivid understanding of them, of the invaluable literary legacy they left behind, and truly achieve "using the past to serve the present."

The audience listened intently.

Xu Chengjun was also speaking with great enthusiasm. These freshmen from the Chinese Literature Department born in 79 were used to Xu Chengjun occasionally spouting strange phrases like "male god" and "human beauty."
Suddenly it sounded strange, but upon closer examination, it actually made some sense.

Ah, otherwise, he wouldn't be such a great writer!
This creative ability!
His class was two consecutive periods.

After class, I went out for some fresh air and came back to continue with the second period.

My gaze swept across the classroom as usual, but I keenly sensed something unusual about the atmosphere.

The students sitting below, especially the freshmen, had a brand-new copy of the magazine "Harvest" with an elegant cover on their desks, in addition to their textbooks. Some students were even looking down, carefully running their fingers over the pages, their expressions focused, even somewhat dazed.

He understood immediately and smiled.

"Hope" is now available online!
Yesterday, the sixth issue of Harvest magazine in 1979 was published.

It was also the last edition of Harvest magazine from the 1970s. The day before yesterday, Li Xiaolin sent over a sample copy, which he specially marked to keep.

It will be of great value in the future.
He temporarily put down his prepared lesson plan, placed his hands on the podium, and leaned forward slightly: "It seems that my 'breakthrough' as ​​Su Dongpo has met a formidable opponent today."

"You, the girl in the back row, yes, you, can you tell me, is it Su Shi's 'night drinking in Huangzhou, waking and getting drunk again' that captivates you more, or is it a story about a 'letter box' in your copy of 'Harvest' that distracts you more?"

The girl whose name was called was startled. She looked up, her cheeks flushed, but her eyes still held a lingering glimmer of emotion.

She was a little embarrassed, but she still mustered her courage, her voice trembling slightly with excitement: "Teacher Xu... it's... it's your 'Letterbox of Hope'... I just bought it yesterday, and I finished reading it in the dormitory last night with a flashlight... Squad Leader Huang Siyuan, Soldier Li Changcun, Brother Liu Daniu... I... I couldn't hold back..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but her slightly red nose and moist eyes said it all.

Her words were like a switch, instantly igniting the long-suppressed atmosphere in the classroom.

"It's truly 'The Mailbox of Hope'! Teacher Xu, so many of us bought this issue of 'Harvest'!"

"I had to go to several post offices to buy it, this issue is selling like hotcakes!"

"Teacher Xu, your writing this time is amazing! How did you come up with that time-space intersecting mailbox?"

“I cried when I watched it, especially when I was hoping to receive the black box containing my father’s belongings…”

"It's not a relic! That box is the one we hoped to keep using! It's a legacy! It's the continuation of our spirit!" a student immediately retorted excitedly.

"Yes! I still remember the phrase, 'I wish to dedicate this heart to China and give my years to the mountains and rivers!'"

"And then there was that part where Liu Daniu told the reporter, 'I was already dead then,' which completely stunned me..."

"Is this writing style avant-garde? It feels different from 'The Fitting Mirror,' but even more moving!"

"Teacher Xu, is this science fiction, fantasy, or realism?"

"I think it's a profound realism wrapped in a science fiction guise! The core is so solid!"

"Our dorm was arguing until midnight last night about the identity of Hope's father and the ultimate symbolism of that box..."

The classroom was like a pot of boiling water, and the students could no longer contain their excitement and desire to discuss.

They waved their copies of Harvest magazine, either excitedly expressing their feelings or eagerly throwing questions at Xu Chengjun.

The eyes of the young people sparkled with the light ignited by the words, a pure love and strong resonance for a good story.

Looking at the lively scene before him, Xu Chengjun felt a surge of warmth in his heart.

He knew he had poured a lot of emotion into this novel, but the readers' quick and direct feedback still deeply moved him.

Instead of immediately stopping the out-of-control scene, he listened quietly for a while with a gentle smile to everyone's arguments and praises.

After a few minutes, he raised his hand, signaling everyone to be quiet.

"Alright, students, quiet down. I'm very happy and grateful to see everyone's enthusiasm." His voice clearly reached everyone's ears. "It seems that 'The Box of Hope' has already hitched a ride on 'Harvest' and arrived in your hearts before me."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the vibrant faces.

"Thank you for your love, thank you for your tears, and thank you for the sincere feelings you have given for Huang Siyuan, Li Changcun, Liu Daniu, and Xiao Xiwang. Being able to touch your hearts is the greatest happiness for an author."

"As for the writing style,"

He continued, answering the student's question, "What it's called isn't important. Science fiction and fantasy are just shells. What matters is whether the core of the story is real and whether the emotions are genuine. What I want to write is about watching over each other across time and space, about sacrifice and inheritance, about the patriotism rooted deep in our blood. That letter box can be anything; it carries memories, promises, and an undying hope."

He picked up a piece of chalk, turned around, and wrote four powerful characters on the blackboard: Hope Never Dies.

Xu Chengjun's voice was not loud, but it was like a pebble thrown into a still lake, creating ripples in the hearts of every student.

"Students,"

His gaze swept calmly across the entire room. "Whether in the smoke-filled past or in today's world where all industries are waiting to be revitalized, 'hope' has never been an empty slogan. It is a spark in the dark night, an undying starlight in desperate situations, and the most resilient heritage in the blood of our nation."

He paused for a moment, allowing the power of his words to settle.

"Please remember the emotion we feel today because of these words, and remember that every inch of peace on this land beneath our feet is soaked in sacrifice. Today's peaceful sky is thanks to countless 'Huang Siyuan,' 'Li Changcun,' 'Liu Daniu'... It is they who have lifted us up with their burning youth and precious lives."

The classroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, yet the young man's heart was pounding with excitement.

The emotions that had stirred by the story had now settled into a deeper reflection; the excitement in their eyes as they looked toward the podium had transformed into heartfelt respect.

Xu Chengjun has never stopped planting seeds since he came into this era.

Perhaps, a seed called "ideal" has quietly fallen into this fertile soil.

This, perhaps, is the true power of literature.

It is unassuming, yet it can build the strongest fortress in people's hearts.

It is not noisy, yet it can make the most resounding voice in the times.

When setbacks occur, when challenges arise, when people are trapped in dire straits, it always awakens the silent power in its unique way, inspiring more people.

stand out.

Keep going.

He looked at the young and sincere faces below the stage, his voice gentle yet containing an undeniable power:
"Fellow students, let us live up to the expectations of our predecessors and the times!"

"Study for the rise of the Chinese nation!"

Xu Chengjun's words echoed in the quiet classroom.

We should "study for the rise of the Chinese nation!"

The silence in the classroom was broken when this familiar yet unfamiliar slogan was shouted out so sincerely and with such emotion.

That wasn't noise, but a deeper, more profound power that burst forth from within.

Lu Qi, a computer science student who audited the class today, subconsciously straightened his back, his eyes behind his glasses shining with an unprecedented light.

Previously, I questioned Xu Chengjun, but later I was moved by his literary talent and often came to audit some of his classes. Today, perhaps it has a different meaning.

He will be a vice president at Microsoft in the future.

But that's definitely not the case now.

There was no applause, no cheers.

But an invisible, scorching current surged through the classroom.

You can see it in those suddenly bright eyes, and feel it in those young faces that are holding their breath and concentrating.

The emotions that had previously been stirred by the novel's plot were now guided and sublimated, coalescing into something more solid—a passion with a clear direction, an ideal that had found its foundation.

The students began to quietly and solemnly tidy up their books and notes, their movements much slower than usual, as if they were performing a solemn ceremony.

No one was in a hurry to leave; the air was filled with a quiet excitement that came from sharing some important secret.

The students exchanged glances, and each saw the same fire in the other's eyes as they themselves felt.

They were no longer just whispering about the plot of the novel, but about "what we should do" and "what kind of people we should become in the future".

Xu Chengjun stood by the podium, watching this scene unfold.

He knew that the seeds of literature had been sown, and that his love for his country and his homeland, like spring rain, was silently seeping into this fertile soil waiting to sprout.

Because of a novel, and even more so because of these words, a mark may have been etched into the lives of many students, one that could influence their entire lives.

The four powerful characters on the blackboard—"Hope Never Dies"—seemed to be imprinted on everyone's hearts.

"Got to go?"

The student packing his things was slightly taken aback.

Xu Chengjun steered the conversation back on track: "So, now, can we temporarily put away the 'letter box' and travel back more than nine hundred years to see how Mr. Su Dongpo, in the midst of life's difficulties, used words to carve out a new world? Let's see how his 'hope' shone brightly under the moonlight on the riverbank in Huangzhou?"

Oh right, get out of class isn't over yet~
The students smiled knowingly, carefully putting the Harvest magazine into their bags and reopening their Chinese Literature History textbooks and notes.

Classroom order has been restored.

Xu Chengjun's calm and sincere response to the readers' enthusiasm has been deeply imprinted in the hearts of every student.

This literary history class became exceptionally different because of a work that caused a sensation as soon as it was published.
-
"...When we stand at the threshold of the new millennium and look back at the Chinese literary scene at the end of the 20th century, Mr. Xu Chengjun and his representative work, 'The Box of Hope,' are undoubtedly an inescapable landmark. For me, a student who entered the Chinese Department of Fudan University in the late 1970s, Xu Chengjun is not just a name written in a literary history textbook, but a vivid spiritual presence that once resonated greatly on campus."

If we re-examine it from a professional perspective, the value of "The Box of Hope" in literary history lies in its successful "grafting" and "transcendence" of a narrative paradigm.

Finally, it must be emphasized that Xu Chengjun's works are "foreshadowing" (to borrow a phrase from Mr. Chen Yinque). His works from the 1980s and 1990s accurately captured and responded to the spiritual yearnings of a generation during a period of social transformation: in an era of increasing material wealth and increasingly diverse values, how do we place our historical emotions? How do we establish our personal spiritual coordinates? The answer given in "The Box of Hope" is—to find strength in the echoes of history and to establish oneself in the inheritance of responsibility. Through the character of hope and the resounding words in the classroom, "Study for the rise of the Chinese nation," he completes not only the storytelling but also the search for roots and the laying of the foundation for the spiritual world of a generation of young people.

For me personally, Xu Chengjun's works, especially *The Box of Hope*, are enlightening books. They taught me that excellent literature can both stay grounded, profoundly reflecting reality and history, and also look to the stars, using its unique aesthetic form to illuminate people's hearts and凝聚 a nation's spiritual strength to move towards the future. In the complex context of the turn of the century, his writing undoubtedly provides a profound and brilliant example of "what literature should be."

—Excerpt from "A Century in Retrospect: Enlighteners in the Literary Field of the 1990s," a literary criticism journal, 2000.

(End of this chapter)