Literary Master 1918: Starting with New Youth

On a night in 1918, mosquitoes buzzed, and the room was as stuffy as a steamer.

Amidst the sporadic barking of dogs, Wu Zhu slept very restlessly until the sun was high in the sky, when his older brother woke him up for dinner.

Breakfast was sweet potato porridge. If this were ancient times and it were a relief effort, the official and his entire family would have been beheaded by the imperial envoy.

Since he couldn't smell chicken droppings, Wu Zhu felt uneasy:

"Where did Dad go?"

"Oh, he ate already and said he was going to work first."

Wu Song buried his head in the bowl.

No sooner had he finished speaking than Wu Dayong rushed back, looking tense. As soon as he entered the courtyard, he bolted the gate shut. Then he took out a black cloth bag from his pocket and peeled it open layer by layer like an onion. Twenty silver coins with obvious signs of wear lay quietly in his palm.

Wu Zhu's eyes were stung by the pain, and his heart sank to the bottom. He got up and rushed to the shrine in the main room, opened the small drawer that was used to keep eggs, and found only a pile of blood-stained straw inside.

He rushed out of the yard again, but the laying hens and roosters that loved to catch insects under the trees had vanished without a trace!

Now that things have come to this, how could he not know what had happened?

"Dad! You sold both the chickens and the eggs!"

"Stop yelling! Take it now!"

Without saying a word, Wu Dayong stuffed the silver dollar into his youngest son's hand, pressing it tightly as if afraid his son would open his hand.

"I can't accept it! Did you also sell our few acres of land?"

"And Mother's hairpin, go and redeem it quickly!"

Wu Zhu got anxious.

Wu Dayong suppressed his grief at having to sell his wife's belongings:

"It's too late to redeem it!"

"When Master Zhang heard you were going to the capital to take the imperial examinations, he specially gave you two extra dollars. And your private tutor insisted on giving me three dollars, saying that among his students you're the most promising, and you can't let things falter halfway!"

Wu Song's hands trembled slightly.

He could clearly feel the warmth of the silver coin in his palm; it was his father's greatest love, and a farmer's most simple and genuine emotion.

They hope their child will achieve great things.

No.

Not just the father.

There was also the landlord at the north end of the village and the private tutor at the south end.

In this world, no one's money comes easily; a single silver dollar can last a farmer a long time. Whether it's an investment in advance or genuine help, this kindness should be remembered.

"Twenty dollars, that's all I can do for you, Dad."

"Whether you succeed or fail depends on your own fate; you must make something of yourself!"

Wu Dayong exuded a do-or-die spirit.

Wu Zhu closed his eyes and nodded repeatedly.

"I have one too."

Wu Song also came over and took out an even smaller handkerchief from his inner pocket.

Upon opening it, there were ten more silver dollars, which were forcibly stuffed into Wu Zhu's other hand:

"I was originally planning to use it to get married, but now you can use it. Study hard, and if you pass, you can take your brother and dad on the train."

An elder brother is like a father!

Unable to express the expectations of his father and brothers, Wu Zhu felt as if his throat was being burned, unable to utter a single word of gratitude.

Having only been in this world for a day, his father, brothers, and neighbors have already burdened him with immense kindness, making it almost impossible for him to breathe. He has no choice but to go to the capital, and he is determined to do his best to become a researcher at Yenching University, so as not to disappoint the expectations of his hometown elders.

He still needs to make money, using his skills from his previous life to make money as quickly as possible, not only to repay this money tenfold or a hundredfold, but also to ensure that his father and brothers live a good life.

I even want to ask this world, why can't farmers' children even afford to go to school...?

......

The journey is long, and time waits for no one.

After receiving the funding, Wu Zhu immediately packed his bags—

A few patched clothes, a graduation certificate from Hunan No. 2 Normal School, and a large bag of dry food.

The most crucial thirty silver dollars were sewn into the lining of her underwear using the needle and thread left by her mother before her death.

Before leaving, Wu Zhu used a worn-out brush to leave two notes.

One is an IOU for a loan, and the other says:

A man should leave his hometown with lofty ambitions; if he does not achieve his goals, he will not return!

Wu Song, who could recognize simple characters, held the paper up to his eyes and, just like when he was a child reading aloud, haltingly read it to his father:

"What is a man supposed to do... after leaving the pass? What is he supposed to learn... after returning?"

Wu Dayong squatted on the threshold, staring intently at his youngest son's thin, upright back as he disappeared step by step into the village entrance, until his shadow was completely gone. Only then did he raise his rough, calloused hand and roughly wipe his cheek.

"The child has grown up..."

......

Transportation was extremely inconvenient in this era.

Wu Zhu lived in Lingling. If he wanted to go to the capital, he had to travel north along the Xiang River and first arrive in Tanzhou.

Then we took a ferry from Tanzhou to Xiakou to transfer to a train. These two waterways alone took ten days.

Of the thirty silver dollars in his hand, only nineteen remain now, but fortunately, they arrived safely at the Beijing-Xiamen Railway hub.

With a mix of trepidation and excitement, he stepped into the magnificent Dazhimen Railway Station, spent fifteen silver dollars to buy a third-class ticket to the capital, and, clutching his small bundle, weaved through the diverse crowds, squeezed into the carriage filled with the stench of sourness and coal smoke, and found a seat by the window.

At the current train speed, it would take at least thirty hours to reach the capital, and I wouldn't dare to sleep along the way.

Wu Zhu cautiously observed his surroundings, fearing that someone might steal his last four silver dollars. In his melancholy, he began to think calmly.

At that time, Yenching University's research fellowship program was just beginning. To be admitted, one needed to pass an interview with the university's senior management. The benefits and treatment were not very good, but the advantage was that one could come into contact with the most cutting-edge scholars.

Sometimes connections are a resource, and the most precious one at that.

Therefore, given the current economic situation, regardless of whether I pass the interview or not, I will have to earn money to make a living.

The best method I can think of right now is to earn money by writing articles.

During this period, hailed as the Eastern Enlightenment, newspapers and magazines of all kinds sprang up like mushrooms after rain, and the literary market needed all sorts of ideas.

Fortunately, he had a lot of ideas in his head, but because he had too many choices, he hadn't decided what to copy yet.

Essays criticizing current affairs? Serious literature reflecting the state of the world? Novels full of imagination?

The main problem is that the literary giants of this era possessed exceptionally sharp pens, and their fighting spirit and abilities were at the peak of history. Publishing articles recklessly would easily invite attacks from the masses, and he was unsure whether he could survive such "literary beatings."

Unlike the later generation of self-proclaimed Lu Xun's successors, who were actually portrayed as submissive, emotionally vulnerable individuals...

"Make way, make way."

Just before the train was about to depart, a group of young people poured into the carriage.

They were travel-worn, but their eyes were bright, radiating a vitality unlike that of ordinary passengers. After boarding, they dispersed and found their own seats.

One of the young men, tall and refined-looking with long hair parted in the middle, slowly approached the empty seat next to Wu Zhu:

"Young man, is there anyone here?"

Wu Zhu looked up when he heard the sound.

The moment his eyes met the young man's, his heart pounded wildly, and blood rushed to his head.

He had seen this face countless times in various places in his past life!

His mind went blank:

"No one's here, no one's here! Please have a seat!"

"Well, we're from the same hometown, so I'll gladly accept your offer."

The young man sat down briskly, without engaging in much conversation. Instead, he untied his bag, took out three books, placed them on his lap, and began to read them with great interest.

Wu Zhu glanced at the three books out of the corner of his eye: "New Youth," "A Panoramic View of the Dark Curtain," and "The Soul of Jade Pear." The train slowly started moving at that moment.

As he stepped into the grand sweep of history, he clutched the baggage in his arms, feeling an unprecedented sense of disorientation and reality.