CDJMM – Volume 1 – Chapter 46 Writing in the Republic Era (45)

The city of Beiping, wrapped in silver and white under heavy snow, was indeed beautiful—but only those with no worries about food and clothing had the leisure to admire such scenery. For many poor people, winter was the hardest season of the year.

Every day, on his way to and from school, Le Jing would see newly fallen corpses by the roadside, mostly old people and children. Before long, street cleaners would cart their bodies out of the city.

Once winter set in, Chunyan officially began running a breakfast stall outdoors.

She and her mother set up a small food stand by the roadside, selling simple meals morning and evening. Because Chunyan’s cooking was excellent and her prices fair, business was booming. But after deducting the “protection fee” paid to the police and the cost of ingredients, she didn’t make much in a month. Still, for Chunyan, it was already a very good start—she was full of confidence in her future.

Her stall was located right along Le Jing’s route to school. Every time he passed by, Chunyan would warmly call him over to eat something. One had to admit, her cooking was truly good—her buns had thin skins, generous fillings, and rich, flavorful juices. Even Le Jing, who usually disliked meat, could eat three or four in one sitting.

Before long, Le Jing simply began having both breakfast and dinner at Chunyan’s stall. This way, Chunyan didn’t have to juggle between business and preparing food just for him.

During this period, Le Jing’s The Wanderer’s Adventures was being serialized in Literary Gazette. Da Mao roamed all over Beiping, encountering all sorts of strange people and bizarre happenings: a cat demon who robbed the rich to help the poor, a former bandit chief who had washed his hands of crime, a young master from a wealthy family who had accidentally fallen into hardship…

One colorful character after another took the stage. They enriched the story while also highlighting Da Mao’s traits—clever and brave, innocent and kind, with clear loves and hates, and full of compassion.

Without realizing it, Da Mao’s charm had won him great popularity among readers, leading many to start paying attention to the plight of street children. Chunyan was one of them. Each time she closed her stall, she would give leftover food to the nearby homeless kids.

Besides her, Le Jing also noticed that charitable acts toward street children had recently increased. Though compared to the countless wandering children in Beiping this was only a drop in the ocean, at least things were moving in a better direction.

It was at this time that Le Jing received a very special letter.

The sender was someone he knew—Fu Kemao, president of the Stray Children Relief Association of Luming Middle School.

In the letter, Fu Kemao said he had been deeply moved by Le Jing’s novel and was determined to do something for pitiful children like Da Mao. So he had founded a relief association at school, encouraging classmates to donate money and goods.

At the end, he timidly invited Le Jing to visit their association sometime and give guidance on their work.

Of course, Le Jing wouldn’t go.

These days, he had been keeping a close eye on the orphanage run by Fu Kemao. The boy was no fool—he had only been too sheltered before, lacking social experience. He had listened carefully to Le Jing’s advice and really made changes.

Le Jing heard that on weekends, Fu Kemao would organize charity sales, auctioning off handicrafts made by the children and using the money to hire teachers for them. With the Fu family’s name behind it, and given that charity was a good cause, these sales soon became fashionable occasions for young masters and ladies to flaunt their wealth. Because of this, Fu Kemao was able to raise some funds for the orphanage’s development.

At the same time, he established strict rules within the orphanage, showing no mercy to children who broke them.

When Le Jing later visited again, he found the atmosphere much improved—at least there were no longer frequent fights.

So he decided it was time to start publicizing Fu Kemao’s orphanage and charity work in his novel. Hopefully, Fu Kemao wouldn’t be too startled when the attention came.

The next morning, as usual, Le Jing and Li Shuran went to Chunyan’s stall for breakfast. But this time, they noticed several unfamiliar children there.

Child labor?

Chunyan asked, “Sir, have you been reading The Wanderer’s Adventures lately?”

Le Jing, keeping his face calm, replied, “A little. Why?”

Tears shimmered in Chunyan’s eyes. “Mr. Wheatfield writes so well. Da Mao breaks my heart, so I wanted to do a little more for these poor children.”

Le Jing suddenly understood. “So you’re doing charity?”

Chunyan waved her hands shyly. “It can’t be called charity. I just feed them a meal, that’s all. They’re quick with their hands and feet, and they help me quite a bit too.”

“That’s enough. At least they can survive.”

His writing had truly helped some street children change their circumstances. Though the help was still small, every child saved meant a little more hope for Huaxia’s future.

Among the children helping at the stall, one girl especially caught Le Jing’s eye.

She looked very young—about six or seven. Her face was sallow and thin, her head disproportionately large compared to her frail body. Her patched clothes revealed a neck, wrists, and calves covered in dense bruises. Barefoot, she darted about greeting customers.

Chunyan introduced her: “This is Xiao Ni.” Then she said to the girl, “Xiao Ni, this is Master Le Jing, the gentleman I used to work as a cook for.”

Xiao Ni was small, her gaze somewhat dull. She knelt down nimbly and kowtowed to Le Jing, speaking in a halting rhythm: “Xiao Ni greets Master. I will work hard.”

Looking at the clear strangulation marks on her neck, Le Jing sighed deeply inside, his heart filled with disgust.

He didn’t know Xiao Ni’s past, but he could easily imagine what a filthy, sordid story it must have been—born from the vile, bestial cruelty lurking in human nature.

The more people and things Le Jing encountered, the more curious he became about human nature. Humans were truly too complex, too difficult to fathom. Good people could do bad things, bad people could do good things, and it was often the apathetic, mediocre evil—those who simply went along with the tide—that had led to tragedies like the Jewish Holocaust and the decade-long catastrophe after the founding of New China.

Whenever such thoughts arose, he would feel restless. If not for those occasional flashes of humanity’s brilliance shimmering across the vast sky of mankind, perhaps he would have long since given up on humanity altogether—perhaps even become a thorough misanthrope.

Le Jing crouched down, helped Xiao Ni up, and gave her a gentle smile at eye level. “You don’t need to call me master. Calling me that makes me sound old. Just call me brother. And besides, this is a new era now—kneeling isn’t allowed anymore. From now on, just bow if you meet someone.”

Xiao Ni’s mouth opened wide in shock. She hadn’t expected this wealthy young master to be so kind and approachable. After staring blankly for a long while, she finally gave a timid nod.

At mealtime, Le Jing had already noticed how especially diligent Xiao Ni was. Her eyes were quick, always attentive to people’s expressions. Though she was young, she was astonishingly deft at clearing tables, serving dishes, carrying plates, and washing them—clearly she was no stranger to hard work. Yet she was far too quiet, and her speech had a strange cadence. Le Jing guessed it might be due to some injury to her vocal cords.

But the food stall was small after all, with limited customers. Chun Yan and her mother alone could handle everything, so Xiao Ni’s help was only marginally useful. In Le Jing’s view, since Chun Yan’s business had just started, with little profit and few patrons, hiring help was a completely unnecessary expense. Perhaps Chun Yan’s decision had something to do with Xiao Ni’s injuries.

At noon, when Chun Yan came to cook at Le Jing’s home, she took the initiative to explain.

“This child Xiao Ni, her fate is bitter.” Chun Yan sighed and recounted her background in detail.

It is said that all happy families are alike, but each unhappy family has its own misfortune.

Xiao Ni was born into a family that valued sons over daughters. Before her, her parents had already drowned three of her sisters. Xiao Ni was also destined to be drowned, but at that very moment a fortune-teller happened to come to the village.

Le Jing didn’t know if the fortune-teller was just making things up or if he truly had a good heart, but he told Xiao Ni’s father that the reason he hadn’t been able to have a son was because he had drowned too many daughters, damaging his karmic virtue. And so, Xiao Ni was spared.

But in this world, there were fates worse than death, and endless ways to trample upon human dignity.

“When I first saw Xiao Ni, she was chained inside a pigsty—naked, eating pig slop alongside pigs.” Chun Yan’s eyes reddened, and even now, recalling that scene filled her with outrage. “Beasts! Every single person in that family is a beast! Xiao Ni’s status in that house was lower than a dog’s. She ate and slept in the pigsty every day, and still had to do all the household chores. Whenever her parents were displeased, they beat and scolded her! If I hadn’t taken her away, she would’ve been beaten to death sooner or later.”

So that’s how it was.

Le Jing thought again of Xiao Ni’s strange, halting speech. Now it seemed it wasn’t a damaged voice, but simply because she hadn’t spoken properly for too long.

Immersed in her anger, Chun Yan didn’t notice how the young man’s eyes grew darker as she spoke, something dangerous brewing in them. “They let you take Xiao Ni away?”

“Of course not!” Chun Yan sneered. “I paid two silver dollars to buy her!”

Two silver dollars.

By today’s value, that was about two to three hundred yuan.

Truly… cheap.

Humanity’s pure malice had never failed to disappoint Le Jing.

This world had selfless saints who would cut their flesh to save others, and it had demons who trampled on life without a thought. Though all were human, their natures seemed as if they belonged to two entirely different species.

Some wore human skin, but were scarcely human at all.

Later, when Le Jing went again to Chun Yan’s stall to eat, he quietly asked Xiao Ni, “Do you want revenge on your parents?”

Xiao Ni froze mid-wipe of the table. Her dull eyes suddenly lit with a blazing fire.

Word by word, she said: “I want them dead.”

Le Jing smiled. “Do you want me to help kill them?”

Xiao Ni shook her head. Her eyes were pure, natural, almost childlike. She gave Le Jing a shy smile and said, somewhat awkwardly, “Thank you, brother. But no need. I’ll kill them myself someday.”

In that instant, Le Jing suddenly felt like laughing.

Hahahahaha—how amusing.

Those scum would never know what kind of monster they had raised.

The girl they locked in a pigsty with pigs, raised without human care, had never developed human notions of good or evil. What she had was only innocence, ignorance, and animal instinct.

She didn’t even have a sense of self.

What had driven her to survive till now was nothing more than the raw instinct to live.

One day, this girl would kill her parents.

And then, she would become a murderer.

Because she had never been nurtured with empathy, nor taught the concepts of morality, she would have no principles or bottom line.

If she truly grew into such a person, then Le Jing would have no choice but to kill her.

“Chun Yan, if you trust me, entrust this child to me,” Le Jing told her. “She’s still missing the most important thing. I must help her find it—otherwise, I’ll only be able to kill her.”

Chun Yan trusted him deeply. To her, Le Jing was the most cultured, educated person she had ever met. Without hesitation, she nodded her agreement.

So Le Jing brought Xiao Ni to Enlightenment Middle School and enrolled her. This time, he acted very decisively, not even asking Xiao Ni for her opinion.

Standing on the campus, bewildered, watching the streams of students come and go, Xiao Ni asked, “I’ll study here in the future? Not work anymore?”

“Of course not. I won’t waste money on you for nothing.” Le Jing told her coldly. “In your spare time, you’ll work for me to pay off the debt.”

Xiao Ni nodded obediently, accepting everything without resistance. Naturally so—after all, she had no sense of self yet.

Le Jing was no saint. The only reason he chose to help Xiao Ni was because she was both a child and an anomaly. From her, Le Jing felt a long-lost freshness and curiosity.

He was deeply curious: what kind of person would a beast become, once it had read books and learned reason and common sense?

…

A few days later, Le Jing received a telegram from Ji Qi. In it, Ji Qi informed him that the film Memoirs of a Courtesan had been completed, and invited him to Shanghai to watch it.

In the end, Bai Shaoyao did not star in the film. No matter how much Marshal Xue adored and indulged her, he could not allow his concubine to travel thousands of miles to Shanghai for a film—especially since he was at odds with the government there.

So the final leading actress was Qiu Ju, a former Qing courtesan who had once sworn never to be a concubine. After being redeemed by that doctor from Shandong, she hadn’t followed him back to his hometown. Instead, they both settled in Beiping, where Qiu Ju continued her stage career.

After Bai Shaoyao declined the role, the producers once again prioritized selecting from among the stage actors of Memoirs of a Courtesan. Thanks to her superb acting skills, Qiu Ju was quickly chosen as the new lead actress. Most of the supporting roles also went to stage performers.

Thus, Le Jing took sick leave from school for himself and Li Shuran, and together with editor Yang Jinglun, boarded a train bound for Shanghai.