Literary Master 1918: Starting with New Youth

After nearly half a month of bumpy travel, Wu Zhu finally arrived in Yanjing. Tomorrow is the registration deadline, and overall it was a close call.

The sky outside the window was already dark, but it was still as clean as crystal, completely different from his experience when he arrived in Beijing in his previous life.

As he carried his luggage and stepped out of Zhengyangmen Railway Station, the steam trains billowing white smoke intersected with the ancient city walls, making anyone who came here feel dazed for a moment.

"Jingle bells—jingle bells—"

"Oh! Where are you headed? How about I recommend a fun place to go?"

"Go to Fengtian Guild Hall."

"Okay!"

Wu Zhugang left the Victorian-style building behind and was immediately surrounded by the dense sounds of camel bells and rickshaw pullers' shouts.

The camel carrying its cargo chewed its food calmly, its gaze towards people carrying a hint of disdain, and it occasionally snorted. The rickshaw driver, dressed in a coarse white undershirt, eagerly took the customer's luggage, lifted the rickshaw, and sped off towards its destination.

At that time, the first tram line in Yanjing had not yet been laid, and there were very few cars. Commuting within the city mainly relied on animal power and human power.

of course.

For a penniless guy like him, he relies mostly on his own two legs; as long as he has the strength, he can go anywhere.

There's just a sense of helplessness, like "the world is so vast, but where is home?"

Where should we go now?

He wasn't a student at Yenching University yet, and he had to find his own way to eat, stay, and travel. In this familiar yet unfamiliar city, he found himself unable to move forward at the entrance of the alley.

But this sense of confusion has nothing to do with survival; people at the bottom of society have their own way of living.

Even if he doesn't have a single silver dollar in his pocket right now, and can't even afford to stay in a "carriage inn" or a "chicken feather inn," he can still go to the Hunanese guild hall in Yanjing, where they would provide cheap or even free accommodation for students going to Beijing to study, or he could work in a "temple inn" in exchange for accommodation.

With a degree from Hunan No. 2 Normal University, one is guaranteed not to starve; the main concern is the uncertainty about one's future.

Just like the vast majority of young people in this era.

I used to find it hard to understand when I read about it in history textbooks. But now that I'm standing at this crossroads and seeing the former empire in its current state, even though I know where history is headed and I've decided to make a living as a plagiarist, I still can't help but wonder about my own future.

There are too many choices...

Should one choose the carefree, reclusive path, the radical path, or the conservative path?

After much deliberation, Wu Zhu decided to visit Yenching University first. He casually stopped a passerby and asked, "Excuse me, sir, how do I get to Yenching University?"

The white-bearded passerby asked politely, "Which hospital are you going to?"

Yenching University had three campuses that year: the Arts Campus, the Science Campus, and the Law Campus, corresponding to the First, Second, and Third Colleges. Without asking clearly, it was very likely to be given the wrong directions.

Since Wu Zhu had decided to start as a plagiarist, he naturally wanted to leave a lasting mark on history by creating the Yenching University Red Building:

"The first hospital completed this year."

"First, head west into the inner city, then follow Chang'an Avenue westward, pass through the three gates and turn towards Jingshan Park, then walk forward for a while and you'll arrive!"

"Okay! Thank you!"

.......

In 1918, the main roads of Yenching were paved with gravel or asphalt, but the remaining streets were still mainly dirt roads or stone slab roads. The ruts were crisscrossed with tracks that were almost deeper than a person's calf. Any rickshaw passing by would kick up dust, not to mention horse-drawn carriages and cars. Hence the saying, "Three feet of dust when there is no wind, and a street of mud when it rains."

Worse still, there is no waste disposal system, and people dump their household waste on the roadside at will, creating a foul odor that permeates the air.

Wu Zhu's idealized view of Peking University, shaped by movies and TV dramas, shattered. After walking and stopping frequently, she finally arrived at the gate of Yanda University.

The five-story red brick Western-style building gleamed in the setting sun, echoing the Forbidden City walls in the distance. Students in distinctive attire came and went, some wearing "crying face school badges" designed by Lu Xun on their chests, their long braids and mandarin jackets contrasting sharply with their Western suits, all reflecting the contradictions of this era.

"Hello, I am a student from Hunan No. 2 Normal University. I saw your university's notice recruiting researchers. Is President Cai here?"

Wu Zhu took the Yenching University Daily to the gatekeeper.

He didn't know what the process was for Yenching University to recruit researchers. The daily newspaper stated that it was to "meet with the president's office to discuss all matters and specify the research subjects one wishes to study." As a student from out of town, he certainly couldn't just barge in.

The gatekeeper dropped his pipe, looking surprised.

"Young man, you're really well-informed. Principal Cai has been on sick leave at home these past few days, so you probably won't be able to see him today."

"Then I've made a wasted trip?"

"No, no... When the principal is not here, the professors take turns on duty, but it's getting late now, so you'll have to come earlier tomorrow."

Since President Cai Yuanpei took office, Yenching University has vigorously promoted the democratic management model of "professorial governance", which has led to the establishment of "review councils" and "committees". When the president is not present, the professors are responsible for making decisions.

Wu Zhu breathed a sigh of relief:

"May I come inside the school for a look around?"

"Principal Cai advocates freedom of thought, and I certainly won't stop you if you sneak in. But it's getting late, so please come back tomorrow."

The security guard offered a tactful suggestion.

Wu Zhu had no objection.

With warlordism and social chaos, stricter control is needed to maintain order in the teaching process; ultimately, he is an outsider.

Now that he had figured out the details of recruiting researchers, he needed to find a place to rest. Remembering Brother Li's instructions, he hesitated for a moment and then asked the security guard:

"Excuse me, which direction is Doufuchi Hutong in?"

......

Dark as ink.

Moonlight streamed into Doufuchi Hutong, faintly illuminating the bluestone pavement, and the sound of dogs barking could be heard in the background.

Wu Zhu now had a fruit bag in his hand, filled with tender, seasonal white pears, and he was trying hard to identify the house number.

As we got closer to Tofu Pond No. 9, a strong smell of Chinese medicine hit our noses.

Guided by his memory, he arrived at the door of the house with the number nine. A bronze plaque with the words "Yang Residence in Bancang" was hanging on the gate.

This was the residence of Yang Huaizhong, who had been invited to serve as a professor of ethics at Yenching University!

Boom, boom, boom!

With a mix of trepidation and excitement, Wu Zhu turned the copper ring and knocked on the courtyard gate.

Soon, footsteps could be heard, and only when they stopped in front of the gate did a loud, energetic shout rang out:

"Who is it!"

"I'm a good friend of Brother Li!"

"Which Brother Li?"

The person inside had just asked a question when they were interrupted by a weak voice, and then the door was pulled open.

The two-courtyard house faces south and has a relatively compact layout. An old man and a young man are standing behind the courtyard gate.

The older man was around fifty years old, with small eyes and dark skin, wearing a worn-out knee-length gown. Although he appeared frail, one could sense the solemnity of a scholar.

The youngest looked to be just over twenty, with a robust physique, a handsome face, and wearing a loose-fitting short jacket. His eyes revealed a sense of vigilance.

Wu Zhu guessed that this was Yang Huaizhong, who was known as "Mr. Itakura," and his son Yang Zizhen. They were a little nervous and forgot to greet each other and explain their purpose.

Yang Huaizhong sized up the travel-worn young man before him, his eyes showing little surprise, but rather a wise glint, as if he saw through everything. He spoke first:

"You're Ziren's friend, aren't you?"