Literary Master 1918: Starting with New Youth

September 15th finally arrived amidst the eager anticipation of countless students.

Ma Yu, unusually, got up early during the summer vacation. Using a poor appetite as an excuse, he slipped out of the house and walked briskly through the streets and alleys in the early morning sun. He sneaked to a bookstall near Yenching University, spent the 10 cents he had spent on breakfast, and bought the latest issue of "New Youth".

The vendors were two young students, dressed in neat student uniforms. One was tall and handsome, and the other was short. They looked like brothers. They worked very efficiently, unlike the book vendors whose eyes revealed their shrewdness. They were even more innocent than babies.

"Here you go."

"Young man, put this in the books!"

The older young man handed the book to Ma Yu and then told his younger brother to keep the accounts.

Ma Yu didn't rush to open the book, and asked in confusion:

"I haven't seen you at Yenching University. Are you students who just arrived in Yenching?"

"We are Chen..."

Before the younger brother could finish speaking, the older brother covered his mouth and interrupted him.

"We are students from Aurora University in Shanghai. We heard that Yenching University has opened a preparatory program for work-study programs in France, so we took a long vacation to come and check it out. The books are all brought from Shanghai; they are cheaper than those sold in Yenching Bookstore, and we guarantee they are all genuine products from Qunyi Publishing House. The opening book of this issue is a novel, and it's very well written!"

"Go for it! Keep it up!"

After exchanging a few pleasantries, Ma Yu silently walked to the side, squatted down, and held the book up to her eyes.

She initially suspected Yang Zizhen was lying, but since even students preparing to study in France said so, she was determined to try this salty and bland dish!

As a loyal fan of Lu Xun, I praise his writing when it's good and criticize his writing when it's bad; my main principle is loyalty!

The table of contents of "New Youth" is located in the shield-shaped frame in the center of the cover. The colors are relatively simple, with only red and black, but the combination makes it look bright and solemn.

The title of the first article immediately caught her eye.

"medicine."

The title itself looks rather eerie...

That's exactly the chilly feeling she wanted; it suited her perfectly!

"Young man, please give your stool to this lady."

The younger brother did not refute, but moved the stool behind Ma Yu and gently placed it down, then returned to the book stall and squatted down.

"Thank you."

Ma Yu thanked him, sat down gracefully, placed the book on her crossed legs, and gently opened the cover.

"Bamboo Gentleman... Not a bad pen name... Let's see if your writing skills are strong enough!"

The opening scenery description quickly drew her into the story, as if she were the old man in the story, taking that bag of foreign currency out the door, but what was he going to do with it?

Should I buy medicine for Xiaoshuan who has a cough? The writing is good, but the story is just too boring...

Ma Yu sniffed and then looked down.

Old Man Shuan was startled again. He opened his eyes and saw several people walk past him. One of them even turned to look at him; his features were indistinct, but his eyes gleamed with a predatory light, like a starving person seeing food. Old Man Shuan looked at the lantern; it was extinguished. He pressed his pocket; it was still there, stiff as a board. Looking up in both directions, he saw many strange figures, in twos and threes, wandering around like ghosts.

September in Yanjing was hot and dry, but this description was like a north wind blowing, making her body suddenly feel cold, straightening her back a bit, and putting away her contempt.

When she saw Lao Shuan exchange his foreign currency for human blood buns, and then bake and cook them for Xiao Shuan at home, she finally understood what the "medicine" was all about!

How can a steamed bun stained with human blood cure tuberculosis? This is hardly medicine!

It's clearly just ignorant, superstitious self-comfort!

Don't believe me? Just look.

After Xiao Shuan finished taking the "medicine," his heart started pounding, he clutched his chest, and coughed again, indicating that the blood-soaked bun not only failed to work but actually accelerated his illness...

She had only just seen the second section when the plot twist came so suddenly and explosively that how could she not be shocked?

"Brother, look at this comrade, he has the exact same expression as you at the beginning."

"You talk too much, don't bother them!"

The whispers coming from the bookstall brought Ma Yu back to her senses.

She looked toward the third section.

She finally understood that the blood on the "blood-soaked bun" was actually the blood of those who had been executed, and the conversation among the people in the teahouse was colder than the coldest winter.

The person who was the catalyst for the "medicine" generously sacrificed his life, but the public regarded him as a madman and even profited from his blood.

Xiao Shuan ate Xia Yu's blood, and the ignorant devoured the essence of the enlightened...

The Xia family and Aunt Hua are blatantly implying and describing the current state of disease in China, aren't they?

By the time Ma Yuren reached the end, he was numb, feeling as if he were seeing "Diary of a Madman" for the first time, and he felt extremely distressed.

This is too dark; it leaves one with no hope whatsoever.

"Comrade, don't be discouraged, keep reading."

The older brother, who had been watching the area closely at the bookstall, offered a reminder.

Ma Yu nodded, turned the page, and looked at the fourth section.

Xiao Shuan did indeed die, buried in a nearly overcrowded, chaotic graveyard. The prescription ultimately neither cured his illness nor saved his life...

Here, Aunt Hua encountered a woman with hair in her fifties. The woman appeared to be Xia Yu's mother. Upon seeing Aunt Hua, the woman showed an expression of shame, demonstrating the depth of her misunderstanding of Xia Yu...

What mother would feel ashamed because of her son? Is Zhu Junzi also implying that Xia Yu has actually become detached from the people, which led to this situation?

Let's assume that Zhu Junzi has some original ideas!

Ma Yu's heart finally stopped sinking. She continued reading, and when she read about the wreaths on the grave, she almost instantly understood the metaphor: a glimmer of light in the gloom, ultimately leaving behind hope.

The gentle breeze warmed up at that moment.

She smiled, radiant and captivating, only when she saw the "iron-cast crow" "fly away like an arrow."

This bamboo gentleman is quite something! He uses the crow to both dispel superstition and to demonstrate his steadfastness; he is truly talented!

Ma Yu closed "New Youth" with great emotion, not continuing to read. She only wanted to take the book to her father so he could see just how impressive the articles written by the new students at Yenching University really were.

She wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes without leaving a trace, got up, returned the stool, and nodded her thanks to the two young men at the bookstall.

"Thank you both for your hard work."

"It's alright, comrade, take care."

The two young men spoke in unison, showing a remarkable understanding.

Ma Yu really wanted to meet this "Bamboo Gentleman" at that moment, but she didn't know where to look for him. She hadn't gone far when she bumped into a middle-aged man with a short beard.

She looked up, about to apologize, but was met with a death stare from the middle-aged man, which made her momentarily flustered.

"father......"

"Weren't you out for breakfast? Why are you holding 'New Youth' magazine?"

"Never mind that! Look quickly."

......

This issue of "New Youth" is selling like hotcakes. Discussions can be heard everywhere on the Yenching University campus, like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, creating waves that are three meters high.

"What does it mean that the crow flew away? Was Xia Yu's blood shed in vain?"

"No! The wreath represents hope. I think this 'Bamboo Gentleman' is meant to imply that hope is too faint, like that crow that has flown off to who knows where."

"You're talking nonsense! This clearly expresses a resolute stance. If it were as pessimistic as you say, then we have no hope!"

In the corridor on the first floor of the Red Building, students gathered in twos and threes, arguing heatedly, their faces flushed, as lively as if it were Chinese New Year.

The publication of "Medicine" overshadowed the brilliance of subsequent articles, and even Chen Zhongfu's editorials went unnoticed.

Besides discussing the content of "Medicine" itself, the students were also interested in who "Bamboo Gentleman" was.

"Hey! Isn't this 'Bamboo Gentleman' the one who argued with Gu Lao Er before? Looks like the rumors were true!"

"Possibly! That person was a researcher under Professor Qian, and his name happens to contain the character 'bamboo'."

"I don't think so. Besides Mr. Lu Xun, who else could write such an article?"

"Forget it! Mr. Lu Xun stopped writing a long time ago."

"This person's writing style seems to be deliberately imitative, but it reads very naturally, even colder than Mr. Lu Xun's. It's like quenching a red-hot steel block by plunging it into ice water. He's truly a genius!"

Although the discussion was lively, it was ultimately separated by a magazine. While the students could feel the weight of the words, they found it difficult to grasp the deepest core of the discussion.

Only those who have gazed into the abyss in the darkness can truly understand the meaning behind the theme; even the author, "Bamboo Gentleman," may not be entirely clear...

Unfortunately, life is unpredictable.

......

Inside a teahouse in Yanjing, the shouts of waiters, the bargaining of vendors, and the clattering of the storyteller's gavel blended together into a cacophony.

Several middle-aged men, dressed in long gowns and exuding an air of extraordinary bearing, gathered together, passing around copies of "New Youth" magazine. They read very slowly, occasionally letting out a sigh.

"Incredible, absolutely incredible. Look at this line, 'holding the baby who is the only son in ten generations,' it brings to life the pitiful hopes of ordinary people."

"Blood-soaked buns..."

"How many people in China today are unknowingly profiting from the suffering of others?"

The scholar, with a refined demeanor but a scar on his face, sighed.

The remaining people nodded silently.

Another man, missing four fingers, stared at the table, exuding a steely aura. His eyes were lost in thought, as if recalling a glorious past.

Who placed the wreath on Xia Yu's grave? Is it an indication that the comrade is still alive?

The scholar closed "New Youth," remained silent for a moment, and then spoke with difficulty:

"No discussion."

As soon as he finished speaking, the once bustling hall fell silent except for this one table.

The middle-aged men who met up all thought of the discussion among the onlookers in the teahouse in the third section.

The characters in the book are numb; real people are self-deprecating.

"Oh!"

"We are all just a bunch of people who have come to nothing."

"From the Xinhai Revolution to the Second Sino-Japanese War, it wasn't easy for anyone to survive. Let's just leave it at that."

The man with the missing finger picked up the teacup, gulped it down, and strode away.

The remaining people exchanged glances, got up in twos and threes, and left the teahouse in a scattered manner.

......

Shaoxing Guild Hall, Bushu Study.

The morning light streaming in through the window couldn't penetrate the smog that could choke cockroaches; dust tumbled and leaped in the air, as if celebrating something.

Zhou Zuoren stood at the gate, using the door panel as a fan, constantly shaking and fanning himself, trying to blow away the gloom and his brother's depression.

Zhou Shuren slumped in a rattan chair, picking up a jujube blossom pastry with one hand and holding the latest issue of "New Youth" brought back by his younger brother with the other. He stared blankly at the pages, and no one knew what he was thinking.

The assassination attempt did not cause serious injury, but now he has stopped copying the inscription and remains silent for long periods of time, like a cuckoo with its throat being choked, unable to utter a single cry.

Even when reading, his eyes were unfocused, clearly indicating that he was absent-minded or lost in thought.

It was a feeling of struggle, like fighting against an invisible hand, yet unable to shout out loud. No one but him knew why.

"Big brother, are you watching?"

"Here I am."

Zhou Shuren remained motionless.

He read very slowly, as if savoring each word before swallowing it.

One reading wasn't enough. After turning to the last page of "Medicine," he turned back to the first page and started reading from the beginning.

As the plot unfolded, his gaze finally changed, growing colder, and he exhaled a long breath.

"He wrote down what I had wanted to write."

"Brother, you mean... plagiarism? But this author is a student who only arrived in Yanjing at the end of last month..."

Zhou Zuoren attempted to explain.

Zhou Shuren closed the book, shook his head, looked out the window at the locust tree, and whispered:

"This child resembles me."