Literary Master 1918: Starting with New Youth

November has finally arrived.

As the days draw closer to the start of winter, the weather becomes increasingly dry and cold.

After bidding farewell to Mr. Climbing, Wu Zhu still sneaked up to the rooftop and received a check from Liang Shouming.

The adapted version of "The Bao Family" is 20,000 words long, and this time the rate is four yuan per thousand words, which adds up to eighty yuan in royalties, a considerable income.

After all, if he keeps writing long novels, any newspaper or publishing house will be drained dry by him, which is not conducive to sustainable development.

In addition, "The Bao Family" will be published in the next couple of days. This time it will be published in two editions. The first edition will publish sections one to three, and the second edition will publish sections four to five, just like "Rickshaw Boy" to get paid as soon as possible.

After exchanging brief pleasantries with Liang Shouming, he went downstairs to the first floor.

He frequented the library director's office; he could find it with his eyes closed. He stopped and knocked on the door, and with a series of "thump, thump, thump" sounds, a strong voice came from inside:

"Please come in."

Wu Zhu pushed open the door and entered.

Li Shouchang was writing furiously at his desk, a desk lamp lit up. When someone came in, he didn't even look up, his expression very focused, his mustache trembling slightly with each stroke of the pen.

"Mr. Shouchang, what are you doing?"

Wu Zhu casually picked up a clean teacup and poured himself a cup of hot tea.

Li Shouchang heard the familiar voice, looked up and smiled.

"I'm planning to co-found a 'Weekly Review' with Brother Zhongfu, and we're currently researching its operational model. What brings you here today, to grace my humble abode?"

"I remember there's a journalism seminar tonight, isn't there?"

Wu Zhu's speech at the Journalism Research Conference on Monday spread very quickly on the Yenching University campus. When Cai Yuanpei heard it, he praised him directly: "A model for youth, a pioneer of the new culture." This shows how much he valued him.

Even Cai Yuanpei, who was always cautious in his speech, said this, which greatly elevated Wu Zhu's status.

If anyone had previously opposed his appointment as a teaching assistant, after hearing his views on journalistic ethics, even if they disagreed, they would be unable to find any fault with him.

Wu Zhu slowly sipped his tea and said:

"I always gain a lot from Mr. Shouchang's three treasure halls. In my opinion, they are even more important than the Journalism Research Association. That's why I've come here to ask for your help again."

"Stop joking, what book do you want to borrow this time?"

"I heard that the library has an English version of 'Das Kapital', and I would like to borrow it."

When Wu Zhu explained his purpose, Li Shouchang's eyes lit up. He left with the words "Wait" and hurriedly went out.

When Wu Zhu had drunk half of his tea, he returned carrying three thick volumes of "bricks," gently placing them on the table for us to look at:

"It's better to arrive at the right time than to arrive early. The library does have a complete English version, but the source is unknown. I usually prefer to read Japanese versions, so this set is usually ignored."

"Youyu came over a while ago and said his daughter wanted to see it, but after borrowing it for only two days, she returned it. Her reason was that it was 'like a book from heaven, impossible to understand.' I was still feeling sorry that it was going to be buried in the sand when you came to find me."

Wu Zhu came today because he asked Huai Jin to return it, fearing that someone else might borrow it, so he rushed over as soon as get out of class ended.

He looked at the deep blue, gold-embossed cover, his fingers gently tracing its surface, and inexplicably felt the weight of history, just like the overwhelming sense of heaviness he felt when he first read "Das Kapital" in his previous life.

Now there is an even greater responsibility: if the Chinese translation of "Das Kapital" could be brought forward to 1918, the contribution to the future would be immeasurable.

Surprisingly, he doesn't seem to have that feeling of about to "go down in history"...

Seeing Wu Zhu deep in thought, Li Shou asked with great interest:

"How did you hear about 'Das Kapital'? Few people mention it these days."

"I am a student with a little English knowledge, and I would like to translate it... The analysis of how society works is of great use to our generation in understanding the current problems of China. It is also my way of doing my part for many colleagues who do not understand English."

Wu Zhu revealed his already decided plan.

Li Shouchang thought he had misheard, but seeing that Wu Zhu's expression didn't seem fake and that he looked confident, he was overjoyed. He grabbed Wu Zhu's shoulders and shook him vigorously.

"Translating *Das Kapital*? Excellent! Your ambition is truly commendable!"

He also studied "Capital," but his insights were mostly fragmented, and he didn't even know if his understanding was correct. Due to limited energy, he was unable to translate it systematically.

Therefore, how could I not be excited to hear that someone was willing to put in the hard work and take on this arduous task?

Once such an important work is completed, it will lay the most solid foundation for the development of Marxism-Leninism in China!

Wu Zhu was almost dizzy from being shaken, and stopped Mr. Shouchang's actions:

"Ugh... I need you to find some reference books, such as works on classical political economy, preferably in English, since I can only understand English and that's how I understand Marx's sublation."

"Sorry, please take these three books for now. I'll look for more for you tomorrow when I have some free time. I'll buy any books the library doesn't have myself!"

Realizing he had lost his composure, Li Shouchang quickly released his grip, made a promise, and pushed the three copies of Das Kapital in front of Wu Zhu.

Looking at the three thick volumes, Wu Zhu felt a little intimidated and only picked up the first one:

"Translating such a work is by no means a task that can be accomplished in a day, nor can it be done by one person alone. I plan to start from the first volume and translate it section by section in an orderly manner, striving to make it easy to understand while preserving the original meaning."

"I was too hasty. Your clear-headedness proves your determination. Let's start with this book. We can discuss any difficulties we encounter."

"Alright, I'll take my leave now."

......

After leaving the library director's office, Wu Zhu did not rush back. Instead, he went straight to the second reading room, greeted Brother Li, and sat down in his reserved seat.

It was already dark outside the window, so we needed to light an oil lamp. The small corner was both dark and warm.

That's why he didn't go back. Why go back and spend his own money when he could take advantage of the Beiyang government?

Outside the window, the green pines sway in the wind, their shadows shimmering.

It is a good time to step into history.

Having lived in this world for so long and seen countless enthusiastic people, besides making money, he must do something else, right?

When Wu Zhu opened the first volume of "Das Kapital," the names of Marx and Engels, as well as the names of the translators, Cy Moore and E. Avery, immediately came to mind, along with images of several bearded men.

This version of "Das Kapital" was translated and published by Engels after Marx's death. It was first published in London by Sananshahn Publishers in 1887 and has been reprinted many times since, and even pirated "pirate editions" have been printed.

Judging from the workmanship and printing quality, the copy that is now in front of Kuretake is likely the 1889 New York edition.

Marx was destitute in his later years and cared a lot about the English version, hoping to earn royalties to support his daily life. However, he did not live to see that day and had to hand over the work to Engels.

"Without your sacrifices, I could never have completed this enormous work of three volumes. I embrace you with heartfelt gratitude!"

"At 2:45 PM on March 14th, the greatest thinker of our time ceased to think… He fell peacefully asleep in his armchair… His name and his work will live on forever!"

"This is the kind of work I enjoy, because it allows me to be with my old friends again."

When Engels, after Marx's death, compiled and published the last two volumes of Capital, and defended Marx's ideas—

As Lenin said, he "built a magnificent monument to Marx," and he "also inscribed his own name on it indelibly," yet he always humbly referred to himself as "the second violinist."

Now, Wu Zhu will inscribe his name on the legacy of his predecessors.

There was no excitement, but rather a heavy sense of responsibility.

Only by truly understanding this history can we know where the responsibility truly lies.

He turned to the English preface and bent down to read it carefully.

Many people don't like reading the preface of a book, but this is absolutely not the case with "Capital," because it contains methodology, core viewpoints, and many programmatic statements.

He unfolded the prepared notebook, picked up his pen, and wrote on the top of the manuscript paper:

Capital

[Preface to the First Edition (English Version)]