Literary Master 1918: Starting with New Youth

September 20th.

The sand and dust, carried by the strong winds, rolled in from beyond the Great Wall.

The vast city of Yanjing was swallowed up by yellow sand, even the tables in the house were covered with a thin layer of sand. Wu Zhu was filled with sand as soon as he went out, and finally understood what it meant to say "no Yanjing without flying sand".

I've been feeling rather aimless these past few days, my mind just can't process anything. I'm either lying around in my shared apartment like a corpse, or I'm at Yenching University organizing the materials I've already sorted out.

Mr. Pa Weng said he wanted to find vernacular literary works from all dynasties to add persuasiveness to his claim that "vernacular literature is the orthodox form of literature." The workload was quite large, but Mr. Pa Weng did not neglect his mouth.

As a result, he gained more than 20 pounds and now looks much more robust and manly than before.

He didn't know if it was because of the publication of "Medicine" or because of his naturally handsome appearance, but lately he'd been constantly surrounded by students at school. Most of them were female teachers from the Higher Normal School auditing classes at Yenching University, who would always tease him under the guise of asking him about modern literature. Each time, he'd be so flustered that he'd flee in embarrassment, and he was starting to think he didn't want to be a slave at Yenching University anymore...

Am I, a plagiarist, truly not cut out to be a romantic literary giant?

Garlic bird, garlic bird... Forget about school beauties, finding a suitable partner is already a blessing!

Wu Zhu calculated the time and realized it should be the day he received a reply from "Fiction Pictorial". When he returned home from Yenching University, he made a special trip to the Sixth Post Office and, sure enough, he received a reply.

When he saw that thick email, he knew that the manuscript had most likely been rejected, otherwise he wouldn't have sent it back.

However, the editorial department of "Fiction Pictorial" is quite particular, as they actually went out of their way to use such nice envelopes.

He collected the letters, tucked them all under his arm, and walked towards Sanyanjing Hutong.

Besides the returned manuscript of "Rickshaw Boy," there were also letters from Mr. Zhongfu to his readers, as well as a letter that Yang Zizhen handed to him at the school.

He had originally intended to invite Yang Zizhen over to take a look, but he didn't know what was wrong with this person. After handing him the letter with a dark expression, she ran away without saying a word. If it weren't for the strict family rules of the Yang family, he would have really suspected that there was something ambiguous in the letter.

"Is that Wu Zhu?"

"It seems so. Why don't you shout it out and you'll know?"

"What if I called the wrong name?"

"So what if you made a mistake? He doesn't know who you're calling."

"Kuretake!"

Wu Zhu heard a shout behind him, and turned around to see three figures disappearing into the sandstorm.

Judging from the voice, it was Guo Xingang. As the three of them got closer to him, they discovered that Wang Kunlun and Chen Gongbo were also with him, each holding an English version of "Critique of Pure Reason," a work by the German classical philosopher Immanuel Kant.

"How did you all end up together?"

"Ahem! I audited a philosophy class today and learned so much! We'll come back together after Brother Wang and Brother Chen finish their classes."

Guo Xingang suddenly put his arm around Wu Zhu, which was quite unusual for him.

Wu Zhu suddenly realized what was going on, and casually waved the letter over his shoulder:

"The novel I sent to Songhu a while ago was rejected by 'Fiction Pictorial'..."

"Huh? How could that be?"

Wang Kunlun found it hard to believe.

He and Guo Xingang were among Wu Zhu's earliest readers and had high expectations for his next novel. They thought that with Wu Zhu's talent, submitting a manuscript to an editorial department like "Fiction Pictorial" would be a simple matter, and they never imagined that their work would be rejected.

Wu Zhu felt uneasy.

Having spent so many days and nights writing "Rickshaw Boy," even developing tenosynovitis in my wrists, the fact that it was rejected by the Shanghai literary scene left me with a sense of frustration.

He believed that Bao Tianxiao, the editor-in-chief of *Fiction Pictorial*, wouldn't look down on this novel; otherwise, he wouldn't have used such a nice envelope. But if the manuscript wasn't accepted, it wasn't accepted. He could guess the reason for the rejection. The problem was that submitting it to *New Youth* now wasn't realistic; if he got caught, wouldn't he be seen as a traitor submitting his work abroad?

"Brother Wu, this is the reality now. Don't be fooled by how popular 'New Youth' is. Your novels that exploit human suffering don't even have the same market value as 'The Soul of Jade Pear'."

"Be rational. In this era, novels that are noble and profound are far less appealing than those that are simple and interesting. You, an outlier, will always be too highbrow and unable to penetrate the lives of ordinary people. It's just intellectuals having a good time."

"If you keep writing and cursing, what will happen to your future if you anger the government? You won't even be able to become an official. You'll have come to Yenching University for nothing. It's not worth it."

Chen Gongbo seemed to see through everything, offering advice casually, but it sounded sarcastic no matter how you looked at it.

Wu Zhu did not refute, but Guo Xingang became unhappy and started to argue, while Wang Kunlun just watched from the side without taking sides.

In this period of transition between old and new literature, ideological contradictions inevitably reflect in reality. If the theoretical differences among the four students in the dormitory are so great, one can imagine the extent of social division.

In Wu Zhu's view, Chen Gongbo is the most typical example of this kind of split. He wears Western-style suits, reads Western-style philosophy, and dresses up as a meticulous academic elite every day. But deep down, he is nostalgic for traditional literature. He can occasionally shout "Mr. Democracy" and "Mr. Science". Most of the time, he advocates for traditional literature with a neutral stance and will occasionally bring up traditional ideas, just like now.

As the saying goes, Rome wasn't built in a day. When Mr. Zhongfu founded "New Youth," he declared, "If I run this magazine for ten years, the thinking of the whole country will be completely changed." But now it seems that this is far from enough.

This was the most typical "literati" Wu Zhu had ever encountered, reminding him of a fictional scholar. The inspiration for his long-awaited third novel also flashed through his mind at this moment.

As he pondered the possibilities, he asked:

"No need to argue, just submit it to another editorial department. Do you have any good suggestions?"

"Hmph! Those pedantic intellectuals in Shanghai don't want us! We'll just go to Beijing!"

Guo Xingang was fuming, breathing heavily like a bellows, and coughing repeatedly, probably due to his weak constitution.

Chen Gongbo relentlessly pursued the matter:

"I still suggest that Brother Wu write some novels about ordinary people, so as not to waste such a good writing talent."

"Brother Chen, I don't like what you're saying. What do you mean by 'novels for the common people'?"

"Novels that ordinary people like are naturally novels for ordinary people, like 'Saturday.' Literature is just for leisure and entertainment!"

"Nonsense! Does what the people like necessarily benefit them? 'New Youth' wants the people to stand up, while 'Saturday' tells them to be content with the status quo. Only the blind can't see that!"

Guo Xingang and Chen Gongbo started arguing again, their voices growing louder and louder, making Wu Zhu's temples throb.

These days, he has heard similar arguments in many places at Yenching University, and his ears are tired of hearing them.

The group argued all the way to the shared apartment. Neither side was angry, and there was no personal attack, but each believed they were right and the other was wrong.

"Brother Wu, I think you could try submitting your work to the Beijing Daily in Yenching. Professor Liang from our philosophy department works there part-time. Don't go looking for trouble with the literary scene in the south."

Wang Kunlun stopped Wu Zhu, who was about to open the letter, and cautiously offered his advice.

Wu Zhu's eyes lit up!

Founded in the late Qing Dynasty, the Beijing Daily was characterized by its use of Beijing dialect throughout its articles and enjoyed widespread influence before the Xinhai Revolution. In 1906, it exposed the dark side of the Qing government, resulting in its closure and the exile of its founder, Peng Yizhong, to western Xinjiang. After resuming publication in 1913, it was interrupted by the "Guichou Disaster Report" and was ordered to cease publication again by Yuan Shikai. Fortunately, it was able to resume publication smoothly after Yuan Shikai's death.

Because its customer base was mainly ordinary people, its prices were not only cheap, but it also set up reading and discussion areas, which made it very influential among merchants and laborers. It also actively exposed the dark side of society and had a very strong sense of patriotism and responsibility.

Therefore, submitting "Rickshaw Boy" to them will most likely result in acceptance!

Wu Zhu silently gave a thumbs up:

"Your idea is good. I'll go to the post office later and submit it to the Beijing Daily."

"No, no, you always have to open it before you submit it. Can I take a look?"

Wang Kunlun raised an eyebrow.

Before the work is successfully published, it's definitely not advisable to hand it over to outsiders; Wu Zhu is aware of this level of copyright awareness. However, directly refusing wouldn't be appropriate, so he simply followed Mr. Pa Weng's example and offered his roommate a rosy promise:

"Next time, definitely next time. Once my submission is successful and they send you a sample copy, I'll show it to you as soon as possible."