My era, 1979!

Chapter 187 A Divine Insight!

The pond's surface reflects the sparse stars and moon, as well as the neon lights of distant high-rise buildings. The ripples are delicate, and occasionally a koi carp leaps out of the water with a soft "plop," further emphasizing the secluded atmosphere of the courtyard.

Xu Chengjun tossed and turned in bed.

He simply got up, put on a coat, gently pushed open the door, and stepped into the cool night air.

A solitary hexagonal pavilion stands deep in the courtyard by the water, a stone lantern illuminating just one corner of the pavilion.

Xu Chengjun strolled over and saw a crimson light flickering in the pavilion. Amidst the swirling smoke, a familiar figure sat there, hunched over.

Hey, Du Pengcheng~
Several cigarette butts were scattered at his feet, and the one he was holding was almost burned out.

Xu Chengjun paused, intending to quietly retreat to avoid any awkwardness between them.

But looking at that figure, which appeared even older and heavier in the night, he hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.

Some people may not be fellow practitioners, but they are definitely comrades-in-arms.

Hearing footsteps, Du Pengcheng abruptly looked up and saw Xu Chengjun. His expression instantly turned grim, and the fingers holding his cigarette tightened unconsciously. Yesterday's conflict was still fresh in his mind, and now that they had met on this narrow path, the air seemed to freeze.

Xu Chengjun didn't speak, but silently sat down on the stone bench next to him. The only sounds in the pavilion were the rustling of the night wind through the bamboo forest and Du Pengcheng's heavy breathing.

There was a long silence.

In the end, Xu Chengjun spoke first, his voice calm: "Teacher Du, would you like one for me too?"

Du Pengcheng paused slightly, without looking up, and silently pulled a cigarette case from the pocket of his Zhongshan suit jacket, handing it over. Xu Chengjun took it, glanced at it in the light of the stone lantern, and saw it was "Da Qianmen" cigarettes. He skillfully pulled one out, lit it with the match Du Pengcheng handed him, took a puff, and the pungent smoke filled his lungs, bringing a brief numbness.

I survived on this thing in my past life~
Having not been exposed to much culture in this life, I was immediately overwhelmed by the spiciness of the dish.

"Cough cough!"

Du Pengcheng chuckled, "Don't waste it if you can't smoke it!"

"I can smoke it."

Under his surprised gaze, Xu Chengjun even blew a smoke ring from his eyes.

"Because of what happened this afternoon?"

Du Pengcheng didn't lift his eyelids, and let out a muffled "hmm" from deep in his throat.

"Actually, it's quite normal now..."

"Normal shit!"

Du Pengcheng suddenly raised his head, his eyes gleaming in the dim light, like a suppressed volcano finally finding an outlet. "Do you know what that flag represents?! Do you know how much blood is stained on it?!"

His voice was hoarse with emotion, "On behalf of the 35 million compatriots who died! 35 million!!"

“Yes, I know,” Xu Chengjun’s voice remained calm, even carrying a cold confirmation. “Militaryism…fascism…the War of Resistance against Japan…Nanjing, Chongqing, North China…the countless bones, we remember them all.”

"Yeah yeah……"

Du Peng's image seemed to have been drained of all his strength. He repeated those two words, his shoulders slumped, and after the flames of anger had burned away, only boundless desolation and powerlessness remained.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, the smoke obscuring his wrinkled face.

Looking at him like this, Xu Chengjun suddenly laughed, with a kind of youthful, almost cruel, frankness: "At your age, you can't even handle this little thing?"

"If you can talk, then talk. If you can't, then get the hell out of here!" Du Pengcheng's temper flared up again at his attitude, and he cursed angrily.

"Hahahaha..." Xu Chengjun laughed, his laughter sounding somewhat abrupt in the quiet courtyard.

Du Pengcheng was baffled by his laughter and became even more annoyed.

After laughing, Xu Chengjun turned his head and looked at Du Pengcheng: "Teacher Du, you don't like me very much?"

"You think you're a pretty woman? What do you have that I like?" Du Pengcheng snorted, his tone curt.

"You have to like it, you absolutely must like it,"

Xu Chengjun spoke matter-of-factly. He stood up, patted non-existent dust off his backside, and said, “Just like you don’t like what happened this afternoon. If we stick to the old ways, the result will be the same as now. Things have to change, Professor Du, everything has to change. Ideas have to change, literature has to change, the economic system has to change… If we don’t become stronger, what you see today won’t just be a parade, it could be real gunboats.”

After he finished speaking, he stepped out of the pavilion, leaving Du Pengcheng and the smoke swirling around him behind.

After taking only a few steps, Du Pengcheng's somewhat hoarse but noticeably calmer and even carrying a hint of complexity came from behind: "Later... I'll talk to Liu Xinwu and arrange for you two to have a seat. You are both... the most promising young people."

Xu Chengjun didn't stop walking; he simply raised his hand and waved it casually in the air as a response.

Du Pengcheng watched his carefree yet somewhat arrogant back, took a final drag on his cigarette, stubbed it out on the stone pillar, and muttered under his breath, "Pah, you stinking piece of trash!"

But the previous hostility had largely dissipated in that tone, replaced by a complex feeling of being understood and a subtle sense of agreement based on shared bottom lines.

Despite differing views, the humiliation and anger that arise when facing that flag are essentially the same.

Xu Chengjun, a cigarette dangling from his lips, wandered aimlessly along the path beside the pond.

The night breeze, carrying the dampness of the pond and the fresh scent of plants, dispelled some of the pent-up frustration in his chest. Reaching a rockery, he saw a figure huddled on a smooth, large rock.

It is Song Liangxi.

She sat there, wearing only a thin silk blouse and a knee-length skirt, hugging her knees, her chin resting on them, gazing blankly at the moon, dimmed by the city lights. A cool evening breeze ruffled her hair, a few strands clinging to her pale cheeks, adding to her delicate beauty. The moonlight outlined her slender neck and exposed ankles, their graceful lines and luminous whiteness seemingly shimmering, possessing a fragile, pitiful beauty in the night—a stark contrast to her bright and flamboyant daytime self.

Xu Chengjun hesitated for a moment, then walked over, took off his coat, and gently draped it over her shoulders.

"Don't catch a cold."

Song Liangxi seemed startled, her body trembling slightly. She turned her head to see him, a hint of surprise flashing in her eyes. She softly hummed in agreement and tightened her coat, which still carried his body heat.

Xu Chengjun didn't speak, but sat down on the rock next to her and continued smoking the nearly burnt-out cigarette. The bluish-white smoke drifted in the breeze, occasionally brushing against Song Liangxi's face, causing her to squint her charming eyes slightly, but she didn't look away.

The two sat there quietly, one gazing at the moon in a daze, the other watching the smoke dissipate. In the distance, many windows of the main building of the New Otani Hotel were still lit, like eyes that could not close.

At this moment, they are definitely not the only ones who can't sleep.
-
The next morning, the restaurant was filled with the aroma of coffee and toast.

The delegation members sat in small groups, chatting quietly, and the atmosphere was slightly more relaxed than yesterday.

Ai Wu had gotten up early and was sipping his orange juice when his gaze habitually swept across the restaurant entrance. Just then, he was surprised to see Du Pengcheng walking straight towards the corner where Xu Chengjun was sitting alone.

Ai Wu was surprised and clicked his tongue inwardly, fearing that his old friend would cause trouble again. So he put down his cup and followed quietly, ready to smooth things over if necessary.

But Du Pengcheng walked up to Xu Chengjun's desk and, contrary to expectations, didn't give him a cold shoulder. Instead, he waved his hand rather boldly and said in a loud voice, "Xu lad, we had a good chat last night! We've become friends through a little misunderstanding! Let's exchange ideas on literary matters more often!" Xu Chengjun was looking down at his schedule when he heard the voice. He looked up and saw Du Pengcheng. His face showed no surprise; he just slightly pursed his lips and replied with a half-smile, "Good morning, Teacher Du."

This scene was observed by Ba Jin, who was talking quietly with Bingxin not far away.

The two literary elders exchanged a knowing glance, and a gentle smile appeared on their lips.

Ba Jin adjusted his glasses and said softly, "Comrade Pengcheng's temper comes and goes quickly. It's a good thing that the younger generation can unite."

Bingxin smiled and nodded: "Yes, the literary field always needs fresh blood. Some clashes are fine, but mutual understanding is key."

Compared to the two of them, Du Pengcheng, born in 1921, was indeed still a "junior" with some sharp edges.

Seeing this, Ai Wu breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as he stepped forward, saying, "Old Du, you've changed your mind pretty quickly!"

Du Pengcheng laughed, patted Ai Wu on the shoulder, glanced at Xu Chengjun, and said nothing more, but his attitude was clear.

There was no deep-seated hatred between them.

When it comes to national righteousness, everyone else is just another face in the crowd.

The next two days will focus on literature itself.

The delegation held several formal symposiums between Chinese and Japanese writers at the Japan PEN Club and the Tokyo Kaikan.

The first high-level symposium was led by veteran writers such as Ba Jin, Bing Xin, and Yasushi Inoue from Japan, and the theme was to review the long-standing literary ties between China and Japan.

Yasushi Inoue, born in 1907, is considered a giant of the Japanese literary world. He is a novelist and poet, known for his profound and grand historical novels, and is especially good at creating works set against the backdrop of China's Western Regions and the Silk Road, such as "Dunhuang", "Loulan" and "Confucius".

He is also the most famous Japanese left-wing writer.

He served as the president of the Japan-China Cultural Exchange Association for a long time, promoting cultural exchanges between China and Japan. He was about the same age as Ba Jin, had a close personal relationship with him, both had experienced the cruelty of war, shared a common and persistent pursuit of peace, and held deep respect for each other's cultures.

Their friendship is itself a beautiful story of friendly exchanges between Chinese and Japanese literary circles.

Besides Yasushi Inoue, other Japanese attendees included renowned novelist Tsutomu Mizukami, Hiroshi Noma, a representative writer of the "post-war" literary movement, and Kenzaburo Oe, one of the leading figures of Japan's new generation of literature.

The atmosphere at the symposium was both solemn and warm.

Ba Jin spoke first; his voice was not loud, but it was full of power.

He recounted the close interactions between pioneers of modern Chinese literature such as Lu Xun and Guo Moruo and the Japanese literary world, mentioning his own early experiences of encountering Western literature through Japanese translations, and emphasizing the importance of cultural exchange in breaking down barriers and enlightening minds. He specifically stated that the essence of literature lies in communicating with people's hearts, transcending the temporary fog of politics and history, and seeking the common goodness and beauty of humanity.

Inoue Yasushi then spoke, highly praising the profound influence of classical Chinese literature on Japanese literature, recounting its extensive knowledge from the Book of Songs and Tang poetry to classics like Water Margin and Dream of the Red Chamber. He also discussed his creative process in writing historical novels with Chinese themes, expressing his deep affection and profound understanding of Chinese civilization.

He said emotionally, "Although we are separated by the sea, our literary bloodline has always been connected. Especially after experiencing that unfortunate period, we should cherish this newly rebuilt bridge of cultural exchange even more."

Ms. Bingxin, with her unique gentleness and wisdom, added that she used literature to maintain her belief in the brilliance of humanity during and after the war.

She mentioned several Japanese writers she admired who held anti-war views, believing that literature should be a force for healing wounds and uniting goodwill.

The dialogue among these elders went beyond simple pleasantries, delving into core themes such as literature and history, war and peace, and tradition and modernity.

What they share is a profound reflection on war and a deep concern for the fate of humanity.

Of course, there are also strange and earnest hopes for lasting friendship between the people of China and Japan.

Xu Chengjun sat in the audience, listening to the conversation between these literary giants, and was deeply moved.

Xu Chengjun was listening with great interest when someone suddenly sat down next to him. He turned his head and saw that it was Kenzaburo Oe.

This Japanese writer, who later won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1994, is known for his profound anti-war sentiments and humanitarian concerns.

He is a respectable representative of the Japanese intellectual community.

Throughout his life, Oe opposed the revival of militarism. In 2004, he co-founded the "Article 9 Association" with Takeshi Umehara and others, resolutely defending Article 9 of the Japanese Constitution and opposing the exercise of the right to collective self-defense. He stated bluntly, "Revising the constitution is a betrayal of peace," and organized numerous protests to criticize the Abe administration's attempts to amend the constitution.

At the same time, he repeatedly called on Japan to face up to its history of aggression against China, advocated listing the Nanjing Massacre as one of the "three major humanitarian disasters of the 20th century," and denounced the Japanese government's "ambiguous attitude" toward history in his Nobel speech.

During his visit to the Nanjing Massacre Memorial Hall in 2006, he bowed three times to the survivors and promised to "tell the truth to young Japanese people."

Oe speaks fluent English; he is not an uncultured writer like Fumio Yamamoto or Shinya Tanaka.

He graduated from the French Department of the University of Tokyo and has a profound academic background.

English is a breeze~
“Mr. Xu,” Oe’s English had a slight Japanese accent, but his choice of words was precise, “I had the privilege of reading your book, ‘The Unbreakable Red Silk,’ through the Iwanami Shoten. I deeply admire the core ideas of the work, especially its profound reflection on the nature of war and its heartfelt call for peace.”

Xu Chengjun responded in equally fluent English, his gaze steady: "Mr. Dajiang, thank you for reading. However, strictly speaking, I am not simply an 'anti-war advocate.' What I oppose are unjust wars, aggression, massacres and tortures—these are tramples on the dignity of life based on power and greed. Of course, pursuing and maintaining peace is an eternal theme for humanity and one of the noble missions of literature."

A hint of interest flashed in Oe's eyes, and the two began to talk about the imagery of "red silk," gradually expanding their conversation to postwar Japanese literature.

Xu Chengjun discussed Oe's own works, which expressed his concerns about the nuclear threat and the human condition. He also mentioned Hiroshi Noma's "The Red Moon on the Face," which revealed the lasting trauma that war inflicts on the individual psyche, and Yoshie Hotta's "The Solitude of the Square," which questioned history and personal responsibility.

“A core theme of Japanese postwar literature,” Xu Chengjun said eloquently, “is how to rebuild human subjectivity and morality on the ruins. This is intrinsically similar to our own reflections on how to remember and move forward after experiencing trauma.”

The topic then shifted to the popular literary movement in the West at that time.

Xu Chengjun offered a precise commentary on how Gabriel García Márquez's magical realism, during the Latin American "literary boom," fused myth, history, and reality to create a unique narrative space. He also discussed the American "Beat Generation's" rebellion against mainstream postwar values ​​and their pursuit of spiritual freedom, as seen in Kerouac's "On the Road." He even mentioned the French New Novel movement, such as Alain Robbe-Grillet's subversive attempts at traditional narrative and "humanism."

“The exploration of literary form is endless,” Xu Chengjun said. “But no matter how innovative the techniques are, what touches people the most is the genuine concern and profound insight into the common human condition—love, loss, trauma, hope, and the struggle against injustice. Like in ‘Red Silk,’ I tried non-linear narrative and multiple perspectives, but at the core, I wanted to let the individual lives that are obscured by grand narratives have their own voices heard.”

Kenzaburo Oe became increasingly alarmed as he listened.

He had only happened to meet this rising young Chinese writer and wanted to exchange a few casual words. He never expected that this young man, who was only twenty years old, would not only be so knowledgeable about the development of Japanese postwar literature, but also have such a precise and accurate grasp of contemporary Western literary trends. His sharp views, broad vision, and profound thinking completely exceeded his expectations.

This goes beyond mere talent; it reveals an exceptionally broad range of reading and independent thinking behind it.

In a moment of excitement, Oe couldn't help but stand up and exclaim in Japanese:
"Red Deer げている!...いや, sorry, これはまさに...Apocalypse のsuch as Zhuo Jian だ!"

("Unbelievable!...No, my apologies, this is...a revelation!")
He immediately realized his lapse in composure and quickly switched to English, but his excitement remained undiminished: "I apologize, Mr. Xu, please forgive my lapse. But your insights are truly astounding! To be so young, yet to have such a profound understanding and grasp of world literature, is truly... truly a force to be reckoned with, no, truly admirable!"

This immediately drew the attention of many people in the hall, focusing on the well-known Japanese writer who suddenly stood up and the composed Chinese youth.

One is a future Japanese Nobel laureate, a flag bearer of the left wing.

Another hope for Chinese literature is nationalism.

Yes, everyone in the literary world can see what Xu Chengjun is thinking.

He didn't hide it either.

(End of this chapter)