Literary Master 1918: Starting with New Youth

October 2nd, Saturday.

As the late autumn sky began to lighten, mist enveloped the rooftops of Doufuchi Hutong.

The newsboy, with a canvas bag slung over his shoulder, trudged along the frosty dirt road, raising his newspaper and calling out in a clear voice:

"Extra number, extra number!"

"Yanjingke's new novel, 'The Bao Family, Father and Son,' is being serialized! It vividly depicts the absurdities within the world of traditional Chinese studies!"

"Sold out if you're late! Hurry and grab yours!"

The shouts drifted all the way into the courtyard of the Yang residence and into the ears of everyone in the front hall.

Yang Zizhen, who was casually eating fried liver by the side of the street, suddenly paused, her eyes lighting up instantly. Without even wiping her mouth, she threw down the bowl and rushed out.

"Yunjin, wait for me, brother. I'll go buy a copy, and we'll watch it together!"

"Uh-huh!"

Yang Yunjin had just responded when her elder brother had already disappeared. She could only continue to sip her porridge, her feet under the table shaking even more enthusiastically.

"Dad, why aren't you agitated?"

"You can't escape it no matter when you look at it."

Yang Huaizhong, sitting in the main seat, looked up, glanced at the open courtyard gate, shook his head, and slowly picked up some pickled vegetables.

She's twenty years old, but she acts like she'll never grow up...

A short while later, Yang Zizhen returned in a flurry, clutching a newspaper in her hand. She was shivering from the cold because she hadn't worn a coat when she went out.

"Look, look!"

He pushed the bowl of fried liver aside, spread out the literary supplement, and gestured for his younger sister to come closer, not even having time to eat his meal.

The brother and sister huddled together, their heads pressed close to the newspaper.

"The Bao family, father and son..."

Yang Zizhen was reading and muttering to himself when his younger sister tapped him on the head, signaling him to be more serious.

The two of them read intently.

Before long, Yang Zizhen couldn't resist reading aloud as she read:

"Morgan's! Hair stylist! Imported goods!"

Because the imitation was so perfect, Yang Yunjin burst out laughing.

Yang Zizhen turned back and recited the poem with great emotion:

"A woman's virtue lies in her lack of talent! What's the point of reading books? It's better to go home and learn needlework!"

"Bao Guowei, well done! That was a satisfying scolding!"

"For hair oil, I only use Morgan's!"

Yang Yunjin laughed even harder, inexplicably feeling that her elder brother was Bao Guowei reincarnated.

After a long while, she stopped, frowning, and said:

"That Bao Guowei is both pitiful and hateful!"

What's pitiful is that Bao Guowei, despite being from the lower class, longed to be accepted by the elite; what's hateful is that he was hypocritical, cold-hearted, and morally corrupt, all while using the name of traditional Chinese learning.

Yang Huaizhong, who had been listening half-heartedly, suddenly paused, his chopsticks clapping:

"This scholar from Yanjing truly has a pen as sharp as a knife, using the words and actions of old-school scholars to expose the deep-seated problems of those who cling to outdated ideas..."

At this point, his face was full of doubt again:

"Did Hu Shih have the courage to write such sharp words?"

How dare a writer who even changed "A Preliminary Discussion on Literary Revolution" to "A Preliminary Discussion on Literary Reform" so openly challenge the old learning?

He didn't believe it anyway, and now it seems that the previous rumor was completely false...

Who in the entire capital of Yanjing could write such words, and who also had a grudge against the Three Eccentrics of Yan University?

It's so hard to guess...

To verify his suspicions, he snatched the newspaper, ignoring his children's wailing, and carefully read its contents.

After quickly reading through sections one through three, he let out a cold snort, handed the newspaper back to his children, and picked up his chopsticks again.

Seeing that her father seemed to have seen through everything and had a knowing air about him, Yang Zizhen gently slapped her younger sister.

Upon receiving the signal, Yang Yunjin eagerly asked:

"Dad, what do you think?"

After finishing the last bit of porridge, Yang Huaizhong looked up at his youngest daughter, chuckled, and didn't offer any comment.

"Let's eat, the porridge is getting cold."

......

At the same time, in Zhonggu Hutong.

Ma Yuzhao, who had spent the night hiding in the study and not daring to return to his room, opened the supplement of the Beijing Dialect Daily that his daughter had bought.

As a disciple of Zhang Taiyan, how could he not know what the world of Chinese studies was like? After reading only the first few paragraphs, his expression became subtle.

"Fiction... Where is the fictional art? It's clearly an insult."

"It's like a portrait in a mirror... Huang Jigang, Huang Jigang, you probably can't escape this calamity..."

After reading it, Ma Yuzhao took off his glasses, rubbed his temples, and shook his head with a wry smile.

Hearing this, Ma Yu, who was sewing something nearby, looked up at her father with clear yet foolish eyes:

"Father, are you saying that this customer from Yanjing is cursing Uncle Huang?"

"That's right... It wasn't just Huang Jigang, but also Gu Tangsheng and Liu Shenshu, none of them escaped. Even their students were indiscriminately included in the attack."

As Ma Yuzhao was talking, he seemed to have thought of something and couldn't help but laugh out loud.

That's so vivid...

He recalled the previous rumors and sighed:

"You little rascal, you're really good at getting things done quietly and without making a sound."

"What?"

"It's nothing."

Ma Yu suspected that her father was hiding something from her, but she had no evidence.

Ma Yuzhao had no intention of explaining. After all, the young man must have his own reasons for wanting to keep his head down. He just didn't expect that this young man, who had been in Beijing for so long, would do so many things quietly.

He changed the subject and asked his daughter:

"What did you think of Wu Zhu after your few interactions with him?"

Upon hearing Wu Zhu's name, Ma Yu's face flushed red. Her needle and thread trembled, pricking her fingertip. But she had no time to cry and stammered, "..."

"He, he... he writes exceptionally well, with a powerful pen and profound satire!"

"Just because the writing is good? I'm asking about the person himself."

"I'm not like the articles I write; I'm not serious at all, and... I'm also very gentle!"

Ma Yu twisted the needle and thread between her fingers, her head bowed, unable to look her father in the eye.

Seeing his daughter's expression, Ma Yuzhao understood and didn't press her for more information.

"Wu Zhu is no ordinary person, and his achievements extend far beyond 'New Youth.' From our interactions so far, he seems to have a good personality; he's very open and straightforward in everything he does. If you truly admire him, there's no harm in getting to know him better."

This is no different from saying, "I know you're attracted to him, and I support your relationship."

Ma Yu wished she could disappear into a crack in the ground, her voice barely audible.

"Dad, what are you saying..."

......

On the other side, No. 8, Nanchizi Duanku Hou Hutong.

Hu Shih's residence here is already occupied by his entire family.

Besides family and cooks, there were also colleagues from Yenching University, making it quite popular.

Not to mention that Jiang Dongxiu is now pregnant, and the atmosphere in the courtyard is even more harmonious. Everyone is looking forward to the birth of Hu Shi's first child, and they try not to make any noise every day so as not to disturb the pregnant woman.

But on an otherwise ordinary Saturday, the yard was in complete chaos.

"Sir, Mr. Hu, please tell me the truth!"

When Fu Mengzhen burst into the courtyard holding the "Beijing Daily," Hu Shi had just finished eating bread and milk, made himself a cup of Americano, and was preparing to revise the draft of "An Outline of the History of Chinese Philosophy."

Hearing the familiar loud voice, Hu Shi was somewhat taken aback and came out of his study to ask:

"Mengzhen, what are you doing?"

"Did you write this?"

Fu Mengzhen, breathless, handed the Beijing Daily to Hu Shi, which drew people from all the rooms to come out and watch the conversation between the two.

Everyone knows the two have a good relationship, but Fu Mengzhen wasn't like this before.

Hu Shi took the newspaper blankly and quickly glanced at it.

At first, he was a little confused, but when he saw the words "Huang, Gu, Liu" and Bao Guowei's mannerisms, cold sweat gradually broke out on his forehead.

Holy crap, who wrote this?!

He flipped back to the beginning and saw the pen name "Yanjing Guest," immediately understanding why Fu Mengzhen had come to him—

Regardless of who wrote it, everyone now believes that Yanjingke was him.

Fu Mengzhen happens to be an impatient person, and he must have been holding back for a long time. When he saw "The Bao Family Father and Son" today, he made a special trip to get to the bottom of it.

"This was definitely not written by me!"

"Even if I oppose the old-fashioned learning style, how could I so specifically name names and make such a sarcastic and bitter mockery? This is clearly putting me on the spot!"

His voice was trembling, and he spoke more and more urgently, as if he could already see Huang Kan and others holding newspapers and coming to the philosophy faculty office to question him.

Even if a newspaper like *Gongyan Bao* or *Dongfang Zazhi* were to publish another editorial titled "Hu Shi, under the pseudonym Yenjing Ke, fiercely satirizes masters of Chinese studies," his carefully cultivated image of moderate reform would be ruined in an instant...

Was it a scheme set up by the old school to frame him?

Is someone within the New Literature movement trying to muddy the waters?

Or is it that a rival wants to ruin his reputation in one fell swoop?

Thinking of these possibilities, he felt as if all his strength had been drained away, and he collapsed to the ground.

The onlookers swarmed forward.

"teacher!"

"That's appropriate!"