Literary Master 1918: Starting with New Youth

Chapter 86 Liang Juchuan's Suicide (Part 2)

Liang Ji bid farewell to his family and did not go to the residences of any of his friends.

He groped his way through the darkness and arrived at Jingye Lake near his home.

Throughout China's magnificent history spanning thousands of years, this place was once a royal garden and the terminus of the Grand Canal, witnessing China's rise and fall alongside the city walls.

Jingye Lake was incredibly dark in the darkness. The faint lights from the surrounding area were mercilessly swallowed up when they were cast into it, without even causing a ripple.

He put down his bamboo basket on the bank, found a large rock to sit on, and even though the air was icy cold, the images from just moments before still lingered in his mind: the warmth of the charcoal fire, the enticing aroma of food and wine, and the joyful laughter of his children and grandchildren.

Once you go back, it will be within reach.

Liang Ji wrapped his clothes tighter around himself, a thought of retreating rising within him.

But the moment the thought arose, a series of images exploded in his mind!

When he was nine years old, his father died in a snowstorm. His family was too poor to bury him in his hometown of Guilin, leaving him only the words "integrity" and a room full of books.

Under the dim lamplight, his mother, Liu, taught young children and mended clothes to make a living, while also engraving the responsibility of "you should establish yourself through learning" into his very bones.

Later, he studied hard, took exams repeatedly, failed, became an official, and his mother also fell seriously ill and passed away. He witnessed foreign invasion and the country's gradual decline.

He was not a stubborn old-fashioned person. Under such circumstances, he suddenly realized that he supported reform and modernization. He even risked his life to found the Beijing Daily with his close friend Peng Yizhong, and was committed to enlightening the people.

At least at that time, he believed that the country could be reborn through "learning from the East and applying it to the West".

However, the beautiful picture suddenly shattered.

The Xinhai Revolution tore everything apart.

After the emperor abdicated, he had hoped for a republic, but a series of failures extinguished his hopes.

The Second Revolution, the National Protection Movement, Zhang Xun's Restoration...

What does this farce bring about?

It is a power struggle under the guise of "universal reform," a breakdown of ethics under the slogan of "breaking down familism," and an ugly state where everyone "seeks profit and fame, displays arrogance and flattery, and knows nothing of conscience!"

The law is talked about in grand terms, but it has become an excuse for indulgence.

A society that has lost its cohesive "national character" and the foundation for cultivating "conscience" and "respect" is like a plate of loose sand that crumbles at the slightest touch. How can such a country become strong?

Now, with the rise of new literature, the "poetry, rites, and moral principles of the ancient sages" that he regarded as his life are being denounced as "servility" and "cannibalism."

He was acutely and clearly aware that the principles he believed in, the moral code that made the state what it was, were now more foul than the excrement in a latrine, and were being ruthlessly uprooted.

But he was forced to witness it all.

The wind was getting stronger, and rain could fall at any moment.

"If a nation's character is lost, it will cease to be a nation."

"7

Liang Ji gazed at the shimmering lake and murmured the slogan that had resonated in his heart for six years.

As early as 1912, he made a vow to "die for righteousness to save the world from its current state." In the years that followed, he seemed to live a peaceful life, but in reality, he was tormented day and night.

During sleepless nights, he revised and rewrote his will, pondering it repeatedly, just to explain to the world that his death was not based on the Qing court, but on righteousness!

It is not only about cherishing the old, but also about awakening the new!

The final scene of his life's revolving lantern stopped at the office of the Beijing Daily, where Liang Shouming gave his firm answer to the question, "Will this world get better?": "I believe the world is getting better day by day."

Liang Ji believed in his youngest son, who was now an adult, because he had seen a young man like Wu Zhu, but he would not live to see that day.

Wu Zhu, who appeared out of nowhere, shattered his hopes with four novels, making him unable to wait any longer.

He wanted to use his death, his useless martyrdom, to set an example of progress for this world that had fallen into the abyss.

Jingye Lake was the place he chose to be buried.

At the moment he suddenly understood, he no longer felt cold.

Liang Ji propped himself up on the stone, solemnly straightened his clothes, smoothed out every wrinkle, and fastened every button.

He took out an oil-paper package from the bamboo basket, and inside was a thick stack of suicide notes. The top one was titled "A Letter to the World," and it clearly stated:

[My death is for the Qing Dynasty. I am not against the republic; on the contrary, I strongly support it. I died in indignation because I failed to live up to the Qing court's abdication and its failure to implement republican policies that benefited the people.]

Turning the page further down, there was a newly written suicide note, the ink still wet, intended for a person named Wu Zhu.

Young Wu, you are young and have a bright future ahead of you. May your fire not only burn away everything, but also nurture and warm. After the old is destroyed, how can the new be established? After ruin, how can construction begin?

This is beyond my comprehension, yet it truly rests on your shoulders the future destiny of the nation. My son, Shouming, though devoted to classical learning, also seeks novelty; perhaps one day we will have the opportunity to exchange ideas.

As I face death, these are my last words. Whether you judge me or condemn me, I only ask that my heart bear witness.

Liang Ji did not rummage through the contents further. Instead, he wrapped the contents in oil paper and placed the basket along with it in the lakeside pavilion.

"Splash!"

The icy raindrops finally poured down from the dark sky, soaking his clothes and graying temples.

The howling wind sounded like the heavens and earth mourning.

He stood facing the Forbidden City, letting the cold rain pour down on him, and bowed three times with utmost respect.

Then he repeated this action towards his parents' graves.

Finally, he turned to Jingye Lake, without roaring or howling, and whispered in despair, "Without the spirit of the nation, what use is my life?"

"I must first sacrifice myself before I can awaken the people to the necessity of national character for the very foundation of the nation!"

"I, Liang Ji, Liang Juchuan, am going to my death today not for my family or clan, but for the sake of the world and its order, and to ensure that I am not corrupt."

"Behold, as the nation crumbles and the land sinks, the scholar proves to be a true man!"

He finished speaking.

All was silent except for the whistling wind and rain.

With no more lingering attachments, Liang Ji finally forgot the direction of his home, turned around, and resolutely walked towards Jingye Lake, taking his final step.

"thump!"

There was no struggle, no cry for help.

After a splash, it was as if no one had been there.

Two figures rushed over from not far away, hid under the pavilion, looked at the now calm Jingye Lake, and rubbed their eyes in disbelief.

"Damn! They really jumped? — These bookish pedants!"

"Brother, why don't you go touch his basket?"

"What are you doing touching a dead person's thing! With that kind of suicidal stubbornness, what couldn't you do? What good is being dead! Who'll remember you when the sun comes up tomorrow? You're just bringing bad luck to the patrol officers!"

"Let's go then."

The two stumbled away from the place, fleeing in completely opposite directions, afraid of getting even the slightest bit of bad luck on them.

In the early morning of November 10, 1918, Liang Juchuan, a Confucian scholar in the late Qing Dynasty, drowned himself in a lake to awaken the world.

He died a martyr in his old age and never returned.

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