CDJMM – Volume 1 – Chapter 4 Writing in the Republic Era (3)

Stepping out of the room, Le Jing looked up at the azure sky above and felt as if a lifetime had passed.

Counting today, it had been ten full days since he last saw the sky. For the past ten days, he had been bedridden, tormented by violent withdrawal symptoms, drifting in and out of a haze, as though half his life had been torn away. Even with his usual mental fortitude, the mere thought of those painful, humiliating days still made his heart tremble.

At that time, he had been almost like a mad dog. If he hadn’t ordered the servants to tie him down, he would surely have killed those who refused to provide him with opium—even though the servants were only following his previous orders. No wonder Le Zhengye had said that an addict could no longer be considered human.

Fortunately, his struggle had not been in vain. A week later, the withdrawal gradually subsided. After spending another three days recuperating in bed, today he was finally able to get up and walk a few steps.

He should count himself lucky. Li Jingran, that spoiled wastrel, had only been an opium smoker. He hadn’t (or rather, hadn’t yet) touched heroin, cocaine, morphine, or other far more addictive and destructive drugs. Otherwise, he might have been condemned to a lifetime of addiction.

Just then, Li Shuran entered the courtyard. Catching sight of her elder brother standing weak and sickly at the doorway, she hurried over. “Brother, why are you outside? Your body hasn’t healed yet—hurry back inside and lie down.”

Meeting the concern and worry in Li Shuran’s eyes, Le Jing paused slightly, his feelings a little complicated. If, at first, bringing her away from the Li residence had merely been him fulfilling the obligations owed by the body’s original owner, then after these days of interaction, it was becoming harder for him to see her as just a cold duty.

Li Shuran was a good girl. Even though Li Jingran hadn’t been much of a brother before, once she heard the “truth” from Le Jing’s mouth and understood that everything had been a “misunderstanding,” she immediately showered him with a warmth and care several times greater than before.

During his ten days of withdrawal, she constantly asked after him, worrying over every detail. If it weren’t for the propriety between men and women, this little girl would probably have snatched away the servants’ tasks of washing and dressing him.

Like a stray kitten clinging desperately to the kind soul who had taken her in.

Though Le Jing had been muddle-headed most of those days, he still noticed her actions. His nature was cool and indifferent, yet under such persistent devotion, even he couldn’t remain completely unmoved.

So when faced with her worried gaze now, his smile carried rare sincerity. “It’s nothing,” he said, waving his hand with a laugh. “I’ve been lying in bed for over a week. I need to move around a bit, or else my body will rust.”

The boy’s smile was warm and gentle. Bathed in that tenderness, Li Shuran felt as though she stood beneath the sun, her whole body wrapped in comforting warmth.

Her cheeks flushed, but then, noticing his thin clothing, her brows knitted in worry. “Why did you come out in just a single layer? What if you catch a chill?!”

She rushed into the room, grabbed a jacket from beside the bed, and draped it over his shoulders. Looking at his frail frame, her eyes turned red and glistened with tears. “Brother, you’re the only family I have left. You must take care of yourself.”

Le Jing pulled the jacket tighter around him and reassured her again and again that he would take good care of his health. Only then did he coax the girl into a smile through her tears.

After all, the sight of his withdrawal—those frenzied, tormented days—had frightened her badly. It was no wonder she treated him as though he were a fragile porcelain doll.

Remembering the sound of her sobbing by his bedside while he had lain in a stupor, Le Jing couldn’t help but feel complicated. Though Li Shuran wasn’t that much younger than him, perhaps because of his overly early maturity, he instinctively treated her as a child.

Unable to resist, he reached out and ruffled her hair, sighing inwardly: What a simple, naïve girl. To think such a dark and sordid family as the Lis could produce someone like her. Truly, it proves the saying: “a rotten bamboo can still sprout good shoots.”

A good girl like Li Shuran deserved to live freely, with happiness and health all her life.

Lowering his eyes, he met her gaze—those dark, bright eyes brimming with astonishment and deep, unspoken admiration. Feeling uneasy, Le Jing quickly pulled back his hand, coughed lightly in embarrassment, and changed the subject without a trace: “The wind outside is strong. Let’s go in and talk.”

He led the little girl into the sitting room, letting her sit down, and chatted lightly with her for a while. Once the atmosphere had warmed up, he finally broached the subject: “These days while I’ve been quitting drugs, has anyone from home come by?”

The smile on Li Shuran’s face instantly froze at the mention of the word home. Her face turned pale, and she nervously twisted the corner of her sleeve before answering in a low voice: “At first Madam sent people to ask, and later Father… the Master also came.”

Hearing her call Li Tingye “the Master,” Le Jing understood at once that she bore resentment against him. He gently patted her hand in comfort and said softly: “Don’t be afraid. With your brother here, I won’t let them bully you again.”

“I’m not afraid.” Li Shuran shook her head, her eyes bright, her lips curving up uncontrollably. “Uncle scolded the Master away.” She stifled a laugh. “Uncle was so fierce—when the Master came out, he was so frightened he almost stumbled.”

What she didn’t say was that after noticing her standing nearby, Li Tingye had cast her a vicious glare—cold and furious, like he was staring at a disobedient dog. That single glance completely severed what little father-daughter affection she still harbored.

Le Jing felt a little more at ease. Even though he already knew from history that Li Tingfang was a man of his word, hearing it confirmed with his own ears still made him breathe easier. There were still twenty days left before his one-month deadline with Li Tingfang, and he had to make the most of them.

But before that, there was something else he needed to confirm.

“Shuran,” he asked tentatively, “if one day the Master and Madam begged you to return home, would you go back?”

Li Shuran immediately shook her head, her reply firm and decisive: “Even if they begged me, it would only be because they have some bad intentions. I’ll never go back!” She clutched Le Jing’s sleeve tightly, blurting out anxiously, “I want to stay with Brother. Wherever Brother goes, I’ll go too!”

She wasn’t a fool. Compared to the Master and Madam who treated her like a stray dog, of course the warm smiles and gentle eyes of her elder brother were far more worthy of trust.

Le Jing studied her expression carefully and knew these were her true feelings. With that, his biggest worry was laid to rest.

He nodded solemnly. “I understand. From now on, you’ll stay with me. Your brother will make sure you live a good life.”

Just the thought of Li Tingye and Madam Wang, that loathsome couple, was enough to stir even a mud figurine into anger. Le Jing lowered his eyes, concealing the darkness and chill within them. Leaning close to Li Shuran’s ear, he whispered softly: “Shuran, do you want to destroy the Li family?”

He waited patiently. After a brief silence, a crisp voice answered: “I don’t want to.” The girl’s expression was earnest. “Brother has more important things to do. There’s no need to dirty your hands for those people.”

Le Jing blinked, the coldness in his gaze fading. He gave a soft laugh, ruffling her hair with a sigh. “Good girl.”

Such a clear and pure child—she stirred in him an overwhelming desire to protect her.

Only that idiot Li Jingran could have been so blind, failing to treasure such a good girl, and even mistaking the kind-faced but cruel Madam for a loving mother.

“Master, the newspapers you ordered me to buy—I’ve got them.”

Li Shuran’s gaze turned toward the doorway, fixing on the thick stack of newspapers in the servant’s arms. No wonder there had been no attendants serving in her brother’s room earlier; he had sent them out to buy newspapers. But Brother had never read newspapers before… so that too was just an act to fool Madam? As expected of Brother!

Le Jing had no idea his newly devoted little sister was singing his praises again in her heart. He simply took the newspapers from the servant and quickly skimmed through them.

There were over a dozen papers, all popular ones on the market—some small local publications, others national dailies. The content reflected contemporary tastes and aesthetics, and each paper had its own distinct style. If Le Jing wanted to submit articles, he needed to study these thoroughly.

After careful consideration, he selected two papers: a locally popular small paper, Fengtian Miscellany, and a nationally distributed paper, The Literary Gazette.

The former was somewhat akin to modern-day pulp fiction (like Story Weekly), publishing sensational and bizarre tales to grab attention. On the front page alone, Le Jing found a lurid story titled The Adulterous Dismemberment Case—a mix of erotica and horror. Fengtian Miscellany was widely read locally, but it had no real prestige (after all, no serious intellectuals would admit to liking such papers).

The latter, The Literary Gazette, was on a completely different level. Headquartered in Beiping, it was a nationally renowned publication with branches across the provinces, including in Fengtian. Every piece it printed was the work of celebrated authors, with elegant language and profound thought. Many of its works were later anthologized into school textbooks.

In his heart, Le Jing wanted to submit to The Literary Gazette. To see his work printed alongside writers who had earned a place in history—that temptation was irresistible! But after cooling down, he chose Fengtian Miscellany as the platform for his very first piece.

The Literary Gazette was a national paper with extremely high standards, its editors cautious and exacting. True, back in his modern life, he had admired several of its authors and carefully studied its style, even imitating the semi-classical prose of the era to write a few essays. But that had only been for fun. If his submission were rejected now, it would mean a complete waste of precious time and energy—something he could not afford to lose.

His “running away from home” had been so sudden that he was nearly penniless. Even the money for these newspapers had come from the “pocket money” Li Tingfang provided. He needed to save enough for his escape within the next twenty days. For that, a paper like Fengtian Miscellany—with its lower entry threshold and looser rules—was his best choice.

As for The Literary Gazette, he could try that later, once he and Li Shuran had settled down.