My era, 1979!

Chapter 182 sets a precedent (1.1 words, please vote with monthly tickets)

Just as Xu Chengjun arrived in Beijing.

"Hope" has stirred up a new wave of literary activity.

On January 4th, "Literary Review" was published.

A commentary titled "Dialogue in Time and Space: A Two-Way Journey Between Future Narrative and the Spirit of the Times" has stirred up a huge ripple in the literary world.

As one of the leading authorities in China's literary theory field, Professor Cheng Yuan, the author of the article, is known for his profound scholarship and rigorous vision.

After repeatedly studying "The Box of Hope" and discussing it with his academic colleagues, he wrote this important review, which was successfully published in the prestigious "Literary Review".

In his article, Cheng Yuan, with great enthusiasm and detailed textual analysis, elaborates on the narrative structure of "letters from the future" and "replies in the present" that Xu Chengjun constructed in "The Mailbox of Hope," believing it to be an unprecedented innovation of "spatio-temporal dialogue."

"The Box of Hope" completely breaks away from the constraints of linear narrative and transcends the framework of traditional epistolary novels. It is not a simple interweaving of time and space, but rather constructs a dialogue field in which the 'future' and 'present' can examine, question, and even nourish each other. This 'time-space dialogue' is a bold and successful exploration in narratology.

In the text, the 'future' is no longer an abstract imagination, but is introduced into the 'present' through concrete and vivid details, such as the 'prosperity of individual businesses' and the 'entering of homes with computers'.

The 'present' is not about passively accepting things, but about responding to the 'future' with one's own confusion, struggles, and hopes.

This two-way narrative imbues the text with immense tension; it is no longer a one-dimensional discourse by the author, but rather initiates a direct dialogue between one era and another.

What is particularly valuable is that Xu Chengjun, with his profound literary skills, has grounded this seemingly science fiction setting in the most solid soil of social change in China.

Those "future prophecies" about market vitality, technological change, and the awakening of individual value form a profound intertextuality with the protagonist's choices in the face of real-world dilemmas. This is not merely an innovation in form, but also the most sensitive and artistic capture and expression of the spirit of the "spring tide of reform." Thus, *The Box of Hope* transcends literature itself, becoming an "apocalypse" that records the nation's spiritual history and reflects the pulse of the times.

Professor Cheng Yuan's magnificent 10,000-word essay demonstrates the originality and literary historical value of "The Box of Hope" from multiple dimensions, including narratology, reception aesthetics, and social historical criticism.

At the end of the article, he praised the work as "a lighthouse that opened up a new course for Chinese literature in the new era," and his admiration for it was evident.

However, along with the praise came equally fierce criticism.

Xu Chengjun's avant-garde narrative techniques and futuristic perspective have also touched a nerve in the literary world.

Some conservative writers and critics have been particularly vehement in their criticism of this.

In an article published in *Literary Criticism*, renowned critic Zheng Shouren bluntly stated that this was "a mere formalistic trick that deviates from the fundamental task of realist literature: to reflect life and create typical characters." He argued that this "illusory future fantasy" undermines the seriousness of literature, making the work "grounded in a shallow foundation and filled with unrealistic petty-bourgeois fantasies."

Veteran writer Ma Xiangdongfeng even issued a public criticism, pointing out with great sorrow: "The responsibility of literature lies in cultivating the land beneath our feet, not in gazing at the empty sky. Comrade Xu Chengjun has talent, but he has gone astray. This kind of 'showy' work that is detached from the masses and reality is a betrayal of the revolutionary literary tradition!"

These sharp criticisms, in stark contrast to the high praise from Cheng Yuan and others, sparked a widespread debate in literary circles about "the boundaries and future of literature."

But it was precisely this huge controversy, mixed with the sensation caused by the work itself, that propelled Xu Chengjun's reputation to new heights.

Readers were filled with great curiosity, eager to see what this work, which could simultaneously garner praise from authoritative scholars and condemn the conservative elders, was like.

After "The Box of Hope" was published in Harvest, it quickly became a hot topic of conversation, and even his previous work "Red Silk" experienced a new wave of sales, with sales continuing to rise.

Amid the heated discussions, many well-meaning individuals and sharp commentators began to believe that, compared to the profound and weighty "Red Silk," "The Box of Hope," with its unprecedented narrative experimentation and strong concern for the future, better embodies the core of Xu Chengjun's "neo-realism."

Xu Chengjun: When did I advocate for this?
It not only aims to profoundly reflect reality, but also to boldly engage with it and even predict its various possibilities. It is no longer merely a record of the times, but an attempt to engage in dialogue with them and anchor the direction for the future.

In an instant, all voices, whether praise, doubt, or criticism, converged into an unstoppable torrent, making Xu Chengjun's name and his "The Box of Hope" the most dazzling and undeniable phenomenon in the literary world that year.

Just like the emergence of "The Wounded".

One looks to the past, the other to the future.
-
As Ba Jin stepped out of the train car under Xu Chengjun's escort, a middle-aged man in a Zhongshan suit with a refined demeanor greeted him with a smile. Behind him were perhaps one or two ordinary staff members of the Writers' Association.

"Mr. Ba, you must be tired from your journey!" Lin Lin warmly extended her hand, then her gaze naturally fell on Xu Chengjun standing to the side.

Ba Jin smiled and introduced them to each other: "This is Comrade Lin Lin, our 'chief steward' for this trip. Lin Lin, this is Comrade Xu Chengjun, whom I mentioned to you before."

Lin Lin immediately extended her hand to Xu Chengjun, her eyes filled with understanding and welcome: "Comrade Chengjun, welcome to the team! Your work is generating a lot of buzz right now; Iwanami specifically asked to see you. Young man, you're remarkable!"

Lin Lin is the vice president of the Chinese People's Association for Friendship with Foreign Countries, a position that carries an official title.

Most importantly, he is also a writer and poet, and serves as the secretary-general of the exchange group, fully responsible for some administrative tasks.

Lin Lin warmly shook hands with Xu Chengjun, offering a few polite words about his "young and promising" qualities. However, a fleeting, almost imperceptible, scrutiny crossed her smiling eyes...

Perhaps it can be described as the habitual, superior way that those within the system weigh young people.

Xu Chengjun was all too familiar with that kind of gaze.

In his previous life, he worked within the system and had seen far too much.

This isn't malicious; in fact, to some extent, they are very aware of your value.

But this is a deeply ingrained "old tradition": to put pressure on someone before meeting them, to gauge their worth.

If you manage to suppress them, they'll become your obedient "one of us"; if you can't, then if you're truly capable, you can at least save face for each other and maintain a superficial politeness, but forget about access to deeper resources.

Of course, there are always exceptions, and Xu Chengjun is destined to be that exception.

After exchanging pleasantries, Lin Lin led Ba Jin and Xu Chengjun out of the station and into a pre-arranged vehicle to their hotel, the Jingcheng Hotel.

As the car stopped in front of the imposing Beijing Hotel, Xu Chengjun looked up and couldn't help but feel a strange sensation.

Originally built in the early 20th century, this hotel has undergone expansion and is now one of the most prestigious international venues in Beijing, symbolizing status and prestige.

In his previous life, when he came to the capital, he would at most just look at it from afar as a tourist, marveling at its history and grandeur, never imagining that one day he would be able to step into it as a guest.

On the way, Lin Lin also gave Ba Jin and Xu Chengjun a general overview of the delegation members who had arrived in Beijing.

"Mr. Ba, this time our group is led by you, and Comrade Bingxin is the deputy leader. The members are Gong Mu, Deng Youmei, myself, Ai Wu, Du Pengcheng, Aodesier..."

Every name he uttered was like striking a resounding bell in the literary world.

These names are all quite prestigious, carrying the aura of at least the vice chairmanship of a provincial writers' association.

The youngest is 50, most are in their sixties or seventies, and the oldest, Bingxin, is already 79 this year.
Xu Chengjun listened quietly.

My position on this trip does seem rather special and "out of place."
This situation was just like those "national orchestras" he had seen in his previous life that went abroad for cultural exchanges.

Sometimes, it's not enough for a pop singer to be popular or have a large market to represent the country. The real candidates need to be selected based on a comprehensive evaluation of their artistic achievements, mentorship background, industry experience, and even political reliability.

At this moment, Xu Chengjun is like an independent musician who was unexpectedly stuffed into a team of national treasure-level folk music masters, even though he has his own fans and unique creative ideas.

But in this seniority-based system, he is still the "newcomer" who needs to be scrutinized.

After settling into my room at the Beijing Hotel, before I could even fully appreciate the atmosphere of this top-tier hotel of the era, a gentle knock sounded at the door.

A staff member came in carrying something, speaking respectfully: "Comrade Xu, this is the clothing prepared for your visit. Please try it on to see if it fits."

It was a dark suit of excellent quality and impeccable tailoring.

Before setting off, a master craftsman in Shanghai came to measure the dimensions.

He took the heavy suit and secretly marveled at it.

This outfit was undoubtedly extremely precious in an era when resources were scarce.

It represents more than just a piece of clothing; it represents the dignity of this trip and the image of the country.

Having some free time in the afternoon, Xu Chengjun took some change and food coupons and strolled out of the grand but somewhat heavy gate of the Beijing Hotel.

As soon as you step outside, you are greeted by the unique atmosphere of Beijing in the early 1980s, a blend of imperial grandeur and everyday life, a completely different feel from Shanghai.

Shanghai is a city of both "density" and "foreignness." The narrow alleyways are packed together, concealing countless lives of careful calculation; under the shade of plane trees, even in simplicity, there is always a lingering trace of the old Shanghai cosmopolitan charm.

The capital city, on the other hand, is characterized by its "spaciousness" and "simplicity".

Standing at the entrance of the Beijing Hotel, one is greeted by the expansive Chang'an Avenue, where the flow of bicycles resembles a silent yet mighty tide, their bells ringing in unison—a spectacle far more magnificent than in Shanghai. Not far to the east lies Wangfujing. Though lacking the modern shopping malls of later generations, the Dong'an Market is bustling with activity, a mingled mix of Beijing-style snacks, daily necessities, and new and used bookstores, the air thick with the rich aroma of fried liver and braised pork, carrying the rugged honesty unique to the North. Further afield, Tiananmen Square stands majestically and silently, the square vast and empty, kites fluttering in the crisp early winter air, exuding a solemnity and spaciousness characteristic of a political center unlike anything found in Shanghai.

The pedestrians on the street were mostly dressed in more uniform blue, gray, and green, and their styles were more conservative, unlike those in Shanghai who, even when cautious, still managed to exude a certain "sophistication" and playfulness.

The shouts were delivered in crisp Beijing dialect, unlike the soft, lingering Wu dialect.

Everything here gave Xu Chengjun a sense of familiar strangeness—grand scale, calm temperament, lacking the meticulousness of Shanghai's cramped and intricate atmosphere, but possessing the openness and composure of the capital.

He didn't go far, around four o'clock, he hurried back.

Lin Lin informed me that there would be a banquet tonight.

Back at the Beijing Hotel, the atmosphere was different. The lobby was filled with more refined and distinguished figures.

In the evening, the delegation members were guided to the Kunlun Hall of the Beijing Hotel.

At that time, the Beijing Hotel was China's top-tier international hotel, and its banquet venue represented the country's prestige. The decoration style was a solemn and grand combination of Chinese and Western styles: a tall dome with dazzling crystal chandeliers hanging down, and the walls may be decorated with huge murals or reliefs depicting Chinese landscapes, but the tables and chairs were Western-style round or long tables covered with clean white tablecloths, and the tableware was a combination of neat and shiny silverware and Jingdezhen porcelain.

The intention behind this arrangement is quite clear.

This will showcase China's openness and international integration to Japan during its upcoming visit, while also upholding its own cultural heritage.
In addition to members of the exchange delegation, the dinner also included officials who had come from Japan earlier, as well as the Japanese ambassador and counselor to China.

As for the dishes, they better reflect this meticulous design that "takes into account both Chinese and foreign elements, with our own style as the main focus".

At the start of the banquet, both guests and hosts enjoyed themselves immensely.

Delegation leader Ba Jin delivered a brief speech in Mandarin with a Sichuan accent. The Japanese representatives responded enthusiastically, praising Chinese literature and specifically mentioning their admiration for masters such as Ba Jin and Bing Xin.

As dishes such as braised sea cucumber with scallions and crab meat and shark fin soup were served, the conversation gradually became more enjoyable.

When the conversation turned to literature, a Japanese scholar asked, "We are very interested in the literature of your country in the new era, especially imaginative works like 'The Box of Hope.' I wonder if Mr. Xu Chengjun is here today?"

All eyes immediately turned to Xu Chengjun.

He calmly rose to respond, behaving with propriety.

He had barely sat down when Du Pengcheng, sitting diagonally opposite him, put down his chopsticks, his voice steady yet tinged with doubt:

"I've also read Comrade Cheng Jun's 'Letterbox of Hope.' The ideas are very 'novel.'"

He emphasized the word "new," saying, "However, literary creation must be rooted in the soil, writing about the fiery land beneath our feet, about workers, peasants, and soldiers. If we pursue 'newness' and 'novelty' in form too much, or even write about some intangible 'future,' will we become like a tree without roots, detached from the masses? The essence of our revolutionary and realistic literary tradition lies in shaping typical characters in typical environments. Young people still need to understand this point well and cannot lose it."

Du Pengcheng was an outstanding representative of revolutionary realism and military literature during the "Seventeen Years of Literature" period. His literary principles were "creating heroic archetypes" and "serving politics."

Xu Chengjun's "The Box of Hope" plays with narrative experiments.

Obviously, it won't get a very good review.

These words caused a slight pause in the atmosphere.

You're being a bit inconsiderate of the occasion!
Ai Wu listened and gently interjected, trying to ease the tension: "Peng Cheng is right. However, the spirit of exploration is also worth encouraging. My writing of 'Southward Journey' can also be considered a kind of exploration, the key is that this exploration must grow from life."

He turned to Xu Chengjun and asked, "Chengjun, where did this idea of ​​'writing letters from the future' come from? There must be some real reason behind it, right?"

Just as Xu Chengjun was about to answer, Gong Mu cleared his throat and spoke with the boldness of a poet and the rigor of a theorist: "I think that form can be explored, but the soul cannot be lost. The visions of the future in 'Hope' may not be incompatible with our enterprising will to 'move forward, forward, forward.' It's just that we must grasp the relationship between the 'tool' and the 'way,' and not put the cart before the horse."

His words, though seemingly fair, actually reflect a stance of upholding tradition.

At this point, Deng Youmei smiled and smoothed things over. Being relatively younger and having experienced some ups and downs, he had a more open mindset: "Brothers, don't scare the young people. I think Cheng Jun's 'letterbox' is quite good. At least it lets us old folks know what the young people are thinking and hoping for. Literature can't always be so serious, can it? Mr. Ba, don't you think?"

He skillfully steered the conversation toward the group leader.

Ba Jin had been listening quietly, and now he nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping gently over everyone before finally settling on Xu Chengjun: "Exploration is good. When we were working on new literature, we were also exploring. The important thing is sincerity, having something to say, not exploring for the sake of exploring."

He didn't say much, but he set a tone of inclusiveness.

However, Du Pengcheng seemed to want to elaborate further. He turned to Aodesier beside him and said in a voice that was not loud but loud enough for the people nearby to hear: "Comrade Aodesier, your literature on the grasslands is rooted in life and writes about the true feelings of the herdsmen. That simple and powerful force is what can truly move people's hearts."

Aodesir, a kind and gentle man, simply smiled and said in Mandarin with a Mongolian accent, “Where we live, the world is vast, and stories all come from horseback riding and from yurts. Young people’s ideas are like eagles on the grasslands, soaring high and seeing far, which is good.”

He offended no one, maintaining a magnanimous nature like that of the grasslands.

I'm a student with a special ethnic talent, stay away from me!
Just as this idea was beginning to ripple, a gentle yet weighty voice rang out, coming from Bingxin, who was sitting next to the head of the table.

"The words of Pengcheng, Aiwu, and Gongmu are all reasonable and are for the good of our literary cause."

Ms. Bingxin smiled gracefully. She first affirmed everyone, and then gently changed the subject, "However, I always remember that during the May Fourth Movement, when we advocated new literature, wasn't that also about breaking the old framework? Times have changed, and the face of literature should also be enriched."

Her gaze was loving, and her tone became even more resolute: "Comrade Chengjun's 'Hope,' I think, is more than just novel in form. It contains our entire nation's hope for a better life, and isn't that hope the most tangible reality? Moreover,"

She raised her voice slightly to ensure the Japanese staff could hear her clearly, “I heard that our friends at Iwanami Shoten in Japan highly value the innovation and intellectual value of Comrade Cheng Jun’s works, and therefore especially hope to have in-depth exchanges with him. In a way, this has set a precedent for contemporary Chinese works to take the initiative to reach out to Japan and attract the attention of their academic circles, thanks to their own literary charm and spirit of exploration.”

"It set a precedent."

These four words, spoken by Bingxin, were like the gentle tapping of a jade chime, leaving a lingering resonance.

This is not only a literary evaluation, but also a way to vindicate Xu Chengjun and Chinese literature in the new era on a diplomatic occasion.

And this is actually the case.

Originally, with the "thawing" of China, the first works Japan introduced were those by "rightist" writers such as Liu Xinwu's "The Class Teacher" and Wang Meng's "Butterfly".

By the mid-80s, works by "educated youth writers," represented by A Cheng's "The Chess King," caused a phenomenal sensation in Japan. Their unique cultural heritage and philosophical implications that transcended politics marked the beginning of Japan's genuine attention to the artistic value of Chinese literature.

In the late 80s, Han Shaogong's root-seeking literature, Can Xue's avant-garde experiments, and Mo Yan's magical realism were successively translated and introduced.

However, the title that originally belonged to Liu Xinwu has now indeed been taken by Xu Chengjun.
Upon hearing this, Du Pengcheng swallowed the words that were on the tip of his tongue, letting out a barely audible sigh as he picked up his wine glass and took a sip.

A faint smile appeared on Ba Jin's lips as she cast a grateful glance at Bing Xin.

Secretary-General Lin Lin immediately seized the opportunity, raised her glass with a smile, and said: "Mr. Bingxin is right. Come, let's toast to a broader world for Chinese literature and a brighter future for Sino-Japanese cultural exchanges!"

The atmosphere at the table became lively again.

Taking the opportunity, Deng Youmei whispered to Xu Chengjun, "Kid, stay calm. Mr. Bingxin has given you an extra layer of protection."

Xu Chengjun nodded.

The Japanese representatives also joined in at the right time, chatting with Ba Jin and Bing Xin about Kawabata Yasunari and the origins of classical Chinese and Japanese literature, and the atmosphere became harmonious and warm once again.

Xu Chengjun only stirred up a ripple.

Despite the massive institutional framework, the symposium still managed to revert to its original path.

So, could it be considered that both the host and guests had a pleasant time?
But after the banquet ended.

Du Pengcheng was still a little uncomfortable: "Why let such a young guy come with the exchange group? Does this reflect the country's image? Exceptional treatment? There are so many exceptions. I think Liu Xinwu is also good, why not make an exception for him?"

Ai Wu, who was fairly familiar with him, said, "Say less."

"Can't I even talk about it?"

“He earned it himself. I was too embarrassed to say it at the dinner table, but Iwanami Shoten is going to publish his book ‘Red Silk’ and his trip was funded by the Japanese side.”

Bingxin heard this and didn't hold back. At her age, she had nothing to hide.

Unlike Ba Jin, who was to become the first vice chairman of the Writers Association after the Fourth National Congress of Literary and Art Workers, clearly intending to succeed Shen Lao.

"Huh?" Du Pengcheng was a little dumbfounded; no one had told him this.

Liu Xinwu is really causing trouble!
(End of this chapter)