CDJMM – Volume 1 – Chapter 18 Writing in the Republic Era (17)

When Tang Nan woke up this morning, his eyelids wouldn’t stop twitching. He did a quick calculation—left eye twitch meant misfortune, right eye twitch meant fortune. His left eyelid was twitching, which meant…

Zhang Defu carefully said, “Young Master, Mr. Chen Si came by.”

Tang Nan’s heart leapt with joy. He immediately said, “Quickly invite him into the parlor, serve him tea, and tell him I’ll be right there.”

But Zhang Defu didn’t move. He only looked at him uneasily and whispered, “Mr. Chen Si has already left. Before leaving, he entrusted me with a letter for you.”

A letter?

Tang Nan took it in confusion, tore it open, and after reading just a few lines, his face changed drastically. It was a letter of severance. In it, Chen Si wrote that their paths were different and they could not work together. From now on, they would part ways and have nothing to do with each other. Tang Nan should take care of himself.

Tang Nan’s face darkened. He asked Zhang Defu, “Did Mr. Chen Si say anything before leaving?”

Zhang Defu shook his head and whispered, “Mr. Chen Si just handed me the letter and left. He didn’t say a single word.”

Tang Nan finally lost control. He slapped him hard across the face and, furious, shouted, “He was leaving and you didn’t stop him? Useless trash! One day I’ll kill you myself!”

That Chen Si was someone he had managed to cling onto after painstaking effort, and behind Chen Si stood a senior figure of the Green Gang, one of the “Tong” generation elders. That man had immense influence in Lushi—if Tang Nan could latch onto him, wealth and power would be just within reach! But now, before his dreams could be realized, the ladder had been kicked away. How could he not be shocked and enraged?

Zhang Defu covered his face, shoulders trembling. He dared not make a sound, nor even attempt to dodge.

After venting his fury on Zhang Defu with punches and kicks, Tang Nan finally forced himself to calm down and started thinking about where the problem had gone wrong.

Then he remembered Liao Fang. A week ago, he had sent Liao Fang to scout things out, planning to teach that shameless brother-sister pair a lesson—to make them understand who could and could not be offended. But that useless Liao Fang had been bitten by a dog and lost his nerve. Worse, he even advised Tang Nan to drop the matter, saying the family was threatening to call the police on him.

Tang Nan had nearly laughed out loud at those words. Only cowards like Liao Fang would be frightened by such nonsense. His father was on close terms with the police chief—who in Beiping would dare lock him up?

He dismissed Liao Fang impatiently and was planning to find someone else to teach those siblings a lesson. But in the past few days, the pair hadn’t left their home once, and his men hadn’t found an opportunity to strike. Moreover, those men were only willing to work for him because of Chen Si. Now that Chen Si had cut ties, how was he supposed to give them orders? Could it be that Liao Fang had said something to Chen Si?

His brows furrowed. Convinced he had found the crux of the issue, he gave a cold snort and strode out the door, determined to trouble Liao Fang.

Sitting in a rickshaw, the cold wind cleared his mind somewhat. Just then, he spotted an acquaintance at a street corner chatting with someone. When Tang Nan glanced over, their eyes met. He hurriedly asked the driver to stop, then smiled and waved. “Brother Langming, long time no see.”

Brother Langming was startled and forced a rather unnatural smile. Perhaps it was Tang Nan’s imagination, but he thought the man’s gaze carried something strange. Just as Tang Nan was about to exchange a few pleasantries, Brother Langming grabbed his companion, hastily excused himself, and scurried away—their backs giving the impression of fleeing in panic.

Tang Nan was baffled, not understanding what was going on. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on it. His priority was to find Liao Fang and repair his relationship with Mr. Chen Si. He ordered the driver to continue toward the docks.

All the way there, Tang Nan felt as if he were sitting on pins and needles. Maybe it was his imagination, but he kept feeling that people on the street were pointing at him, whispering about him. Even acquaintances he ran into gave him strange looks. When the rickshaw finally stopped at the docks, he felt like he’d been pardoned, stumbling out like a man escaping.

He quickly found Liao Fang, but what happened next was beyond his expectations.

Liao Fang rolled his eyes at him and spat viciously. “Get lost! A filthy rat like you disgusts me just by standing here!”

Tang Nan was stunned, then enraged. “How dare you talk to me like that! Do you even know who I am?!”

Liao Fang sneered with exaggerated mockery. “How could I not know? You are none other than Young Master Tang Nan of the Tang family.”

Tang Nan lifted his chin proudly, about to demand why Liao Fang dared speak that way despite knowing his identity. But then, to his shock, the bystanders who overheard Liao Fang’s words all showed disdainful expressions. They began pointing at him, loudly gossiping.

“So this is Tang Nan? What a beast in human clothing!”

“With a son like that, the Tang family can’t be much better!”

“I heard he fancies men—every servant in his household has been forced into his bed!”

“That’s nothing! I heard he lusts after little girls—even newborn baby girls aren’t safe from him!”

“And it doesn’t stop there! Word is he sells our Chinese daughters to Japan, for those devils to abuse for pleasure!”

“You mean you didn’t know? Tang Nan is actually a Japanese spy—he came to China to stir up trouble!”

“They even say he’s turned the Green Gang to his side—now the entire gang listens to him…” 

“Hey! Watch your mouth! You dare say that out loud? You’re not afraid of losing your head?!”

Liao Fang’s face, already dark, grew even darker at hearing the crowd’s chatter. Clearing his throat, he cupped his hands toward the people around and declared, “Villagers, you misunderstand. Our Green Gang has nothing to do with scum like him. As for a vile creature like this, our Green Gang wouldn’t lower ourselves to associate with him.”

Then, raising his chin proudly, he cast Tang Nan a contemptuous smile. “Young Master Tang, you’re not welcome here. Please leave.”

Tang Nan felt as if he were dreaming. Otherwise, how could he have turned into a street rat that everyone cursed and spat at? What were they all saying about him?

Molesting young girls? Trafficking people to Japan? A Japanese spy? Plotting to subvert the Green Gang? How on earth had all these unheard-of crimes ended up tied to his name?

“You’re slandering me out of thin air!” He was furious, pointing at them. “You wait! I’ll remember each of you! My Tang family will never let this matter go!”

“Oh no, Young Master Tang is going to sell us all to the Japanese too.” Someone in the crowd suddenly piped up, which immediately drew a wave of laughter.

“You, you all…”

“Young master! The master is calling you home!” Someone grabbed his arm. Before he could struggle free, several others rushed up, bound him tightly, and threw him into a car.

“Let go of me! Do you know who my father is?! My father is Tang Shude! My father knows the police chief! If you dare touch me, I’ll have the chief throw every single one of you into prison!”

The car sped away, leaving only his curses behind. Before long, his words spread across the city like wildfire, becoming fresh gossip in the mouths of countless idlers.

Never mind how furious the police chief was upon hearing such rumors—for now, the moment Tang Nan was dragged home, his father beat him mercilessly.

“Our Tang family’s century-old good name is ruined by you! How could I, Tang Shude, give birth to such a beast as you!” His father’s eyes were bloodshot as he raised a cane and lashed down hard. “So disloyal, so unfilial, utterly devoid of conscience! How do you still have the face to live?!”

“Father?” Tang Nan stared at his enraged father in shock. “What are you saying? I didn’t do anything!”

“Silence!” Tang Shude bellowed. “Bind this unfilial wretch. From now on, he is not allowed to set foot outside! I shall consider him no longer my son!”

“And you! Zhang Defu—it’s you who corrupted the young master! Drag him down and give him a beating!”

Zhang Defu’s face turned pale with fear as the burly men approached. He shook his head frantically. “No, no, I didn’t, I didn’t! I never did such a thing—please, master, see clearly!”

Tang Shude, impatient, ordered coldly: “Gag him!” The Tang family had raised him and even sent him to school. Not only was he ungrateful, he had the audacity to lead Nan’er astray. Such a servant—it would be better to beat him to death!

※

When Le Jing next heard news of Tang Nan from Yang Jinglun, three weeks had already passed. The rumors that had shaken the city eventually ended with Tang Nan’s disappearance.

Some said Tang Nan had died. Some said his father locked him away. Some said he had been sent abroad. Whatever the truth, Tang Nan could no longer be found in China.

As for Zhang Defu, he vanished from school and was never seen again.

The once-prosperous Tang family suffered heavy losses because of their eldest son’s infamy. To distance himself, the police chief sent officers in and out of the Tang household daily, unearthing countless crimes.

“That Tang family always committed evil deeds. Now that the chief is distancing himself, he’ll just pile crime upon crime and lock them all away. As for when they’ll get out—who knows?” Yang Jinglun sighed. “This is Heaven’s retribution, the Tang family brought it upon themselves!”

Heaven’s retribution?

Le Jing tidied up his manuscripts and lowered his gaze with a quiet laugh.

He did not believe in Heaven’s will. He only believed in himself.

Gustave Le Bon once wrote in The Crowd: “The moment an individual becomes part of a group, he no longer bears responsibility for his actions. Every man then reveals the side of himself freed from restraint. Crowds do not seek truth or reason. They believe only in blind obedience, cruelty, prejudice, and fanaticism—knowing only simple and extreme emotions.”

And how did the saying go—when truth is still putting on its shoes, lies have already run through the streets.

At first, Le Jing had merely bribed a few small-time reporters to publish some ambiguous, half-true articles. These “insider exposés” were vague, never naming names, giving the public ample room for imagination.

Next, he had Zhou Da bribe a few second-rate prostitutes. They didn’t need to say much—just casually mention to clients that a certain young master of the Tang family was unusually close with his valet, inseparable, even sleeping together.

Then, spread the rumor that this young master had a taste for little girls—supposedly learned during his studies in Japan—and that he frequented brothels only for virgins.

Whispers followed: the Tang family was powerful, the young master perverse. It was said little girls often died in his bed, yet the police turned a blind eye.

Later, idle men in taverns, drunk on wine, would ramble: “Don’t be fooled by how refined that Tang young master looks—he’s actually a member of the Green Gang.”

And finally, all Le Jing needed to do was wait.

The public’s appetite for gossip and their curiosity about the private lives of the wealthy would fill in the blanks themselves. Based on the hints he planted, they would expand, embellish, and repeat until the snowball of rumor grew larger, more convincing, until even Le Jing himself marveled at its completeness.

It was, in fact, the very same standard formula used in later times for celebrity smear campaigns.

In the internet era, media PR had a “72-hour rule”: if a rumor was not clarified within 72 hours, it would never truly be clarified.

In the Republic era, slow communication was a double-edged sword. On one hand, it slowed the spread of rumors; on the other, it made clearing them nearly impossible.

Judging by the destructive power of this rumor, it might never be cleared away in Tang Nan’s lifetime. He would likely be reviled for generations. For rumors do not vanish suddenly. They resurface again and again, until the public finally grows tired and loses interest. Only then do they die.

But by that time, the rumor has already become what people accept as “truth” and “history.”

Wasn’t it said that when Chen Sheng and Wu Guang rose in rebellion, they relied on a rumor—that a fox cried out, “The Great Chu shall rise, Chen Sheng shall be king”?

Throughout human history, truth and rumor have always been twins, inseparable, intertwined.

History itself, after all, is just a little maiden to be dressed up however one pleases.

Le Jing placed his pen into the holder and let out a soft laugh, casting Tang Nan forever into the dust of history.

He now had far more important things to do.

He would submit a new manuscript under a new pen name to another newspaper.

This time, the subject would be a genre destined to be wildly popular in the future—time travel.

A story of a traveler crossing into an alternate ancient dynasty, rising up in rebellion, and founding a new empire.

Beneath the cloak of a time-travel tale, he would tell of the Red Revolution.

A red specter, through his new work, would soon drift across the land of China.