CDJMM – Volume 1 – Chapter 48 Writing in the Republic Era (47)

The man’s act of reselling tickets on behalf of others truly caught Le Jing by surprise. He knew that newspapers in Shanghai had reprinted The Rise of the Dynasty, and he had even earned a handsome reprint fee from it. But he hadn’t expected The Rise of the Dynasty to become so popular in Shanghai—so much so that it had even given rise to a “human reselling” business.

Le Jing was rather pleased.

Writing was a lonely and lengthy endeavor. Even someone as laid-back and Buddhist-minded as Le Jing hoped that the ideas and messages he conveyed through his works could reach more readers. As long as people read, they would think; thinking would bring clarity; and only those who were clear-headed could develop independent thought.

He hoped that his works could spark reflection, become the seed of some dangerous yet awakening idea, and nudge the wheel of history forward just a little.

Le Jing did not know how great a storm this accidental little butterfly of his might stir in the future, but he had already done everything he could. To borrow the words of a certain French emperor: After me, the flood may come for all I care.

The three of them walked and stopped along the way, stretching what should have been a two-day journey into more than a week.

By the time they finally found Ji Qi in Shanghai, Director Ji was nearly driven mad with anxiety.

“Why are you so slow!” Ji Qi said helplessly. “I was even planning to invite you to the premiere.”

“It’s not too late now.” Le Jing smiled. “The film is showing already, right? How’s the response?”

Li Shuran also looked at Ji Qi curiously. When she heard her brother’s novel had been adapted into a movie, the young girl had been thrilled, urging Le Jing to hurry on the road the whole way. Even when he wanted to take her sightseeing for a few more days, she refused—her only wish was to rush to Shanghai to see her brother’s new movie.

At this question, Ji Qi’s expression instantly lit up with excitement: “The response has been phenomenal! Every screening is packed. Even many illiterate viewers have memorized the film’s dialogue word for word. A lot of people left the theater with their eyes swollen from crying, and one frail female student even fainted from sobbing too hard!”

Le Jing raised his brows, puzzled. “Crying? Didn’t you already change the ending? I thought the audience should be leaving with laughter.”

If anyone else had asked that question, it would have been fine. But coming from the author himself, it made Ji Qi’s expression turn complicated. “…My changes were still based on the foundation of your original work.” In other words—sir, your story was a tragedy from the start. Even with changes to the ending, it was never going to turn into a comedy that sent audiences home smiling.

Le Jing was aware of Ji Qi’s general approach to adapting the work, but only in broad strokes. In order to preserve his lasting curiosity and interest in the film, he had never read the complete script. He wanted to personally experience this new story that had been born from his own creation.

That evening, Le Jing finally sat down in the movie theater. With Ji Qi pulling strings, of course their seats were the best in the house, and the tickets were complimentary ones reserved for insiders. But even before the screening began, a little episode unfolded.

The theater’s manager, Mr. Deng, knew Ji Qi. As soon as a staff member told him Director Ji had arrived, he enthusiastically came out to greet him. After a few words of polite exchange, Manager Deng’s eager eyes turned to the three people standing beside Ji Qi.

“And these are…?” he asked.

Ji Qi replied vaguely, “These are my friends. I came to accompany them to watch the movie this time.”

At this, Manager Deng’s eyes grew even brighter. He asked tentatively, “Forgive my boldness—rumor has long had it that Director Ji is acquainted with Mr. Watchman. Could it be that…?”

Le Jing glanced at Ji Qi, who immediately said, “I’m afraid to disappoint Boss Deng, Mr. Watchman’s health isn’t good, so he didn’t come this time.”

Boss Deng’s eyes visibly dimmed. “Indeed, Beiping is still too far from Shanghai.” He sighed, then gave a bitter smile to Ji Qi. “Don’t laugh at me, but every time I watch the film or read the novel Memoirs of a Courtesan, I cry. Bai Moli was a good woman—her life was just too bitter.”

Boss Deng paused, his expression turning emotional. “Later, I went to great lengths to collect Mr. Watchman’s other novels. Even that book banned by the Beiping government, The Last Person Who Didn’t Take Drugs, I managed to get through connections. The more I read, the more respect I felt for him! In my view, only someone of great wisdom and compassion could write such works!”

He shook his head and sighed again. “It’s such a pity the gentleman has always lived in seclusion. Other than that one time he was released from prison, he’s never accepted interviews. I’ve never had the chance to meet him. I thought this would finally be the opportunity, but it turns out his frail health can’t withstand the fatigue of travel. Ah!”

That heavy sigh struck like a hammer in many people’s hearts. Ji Qi couldn’t help but look at Le Jing: Readers like him admire you this much, don’t you want to respond? Even Li Shuran and Yang Jinglun turned to glance at Le Jing.

Le Jing: …

Although he was truly grateful for Boss Deng’s appreciation and recognition of his works, he had no intention of revealing his identity. He always believed that the most beautiful relationship between author and reader should begin and end with the work itself. As long as readers loved the story, there was no need to transfer that affection onto the author.

So he smiled and said to Boss Deng, “In that case, you can write a letter to Mr. Watchman, and Director Ji Qi can pass it along.”

Boss Deng’s eyes lit up, looking eagerly at Ji Qi. “That wouldn’t be too much trouble, would it?”

Ji Qi gave a meaningful smile. “Not at all. Don’t worry, Mr. Watchman will definitely write you back.”

Boss Deng misunderstood, thinking Ji Qi would use his connections to get Watchman to reply. Deeply moved, he thanked Ji Qi over and over, even wanting to treat him to a meal, which Ji Qi politely declined. After a while of small talk, Ji Qi finally managed to escape the overly enthusiastic Boss Deng.

He rolled his eyes at Le Jing, who was watching the whole scene with amusement. “You just sit there and enjoy yourself!”

…

The movie screen lit up, and Le Jing pulled back his wandering thoughts, focusing all his attention on the film.

Unlike the novel, which began with Bai Moli’s dying moments, the movie opened with a group of prostitutes sitting together, drinking tea and chatting. One of them cracked sunflower seeds while saying, “Hey, did you know? This very room—ten years ago, it was lived in by a famous courtesan named Bai Moli.”

Her companion rolled her eyes carelessly. “Famous? How famous? Wasn’t Xiao Juhong famous too? In the end, wasn’t she just rolled up in a straw mat and dumped into a mass grave?” She curled her lips into a cold sneer. “People like us, no matter how glorious we are while alive, how many of us ever meet a good end?” Her words drew agreement from the others.

But the first prostitute only smiled mysteriously. “The Bai Moli I’m telling you about was different.”

“Different how?”

“The difference was… she redeemed herself. She became free.”

Then the film transitioned, beginning to narrate Bai Moli’s legendary yet ordinary life.

Her early years followed the same storyline as in Le Jing’s novel: she contracted a venereal disease, fell from the Qingyin courtesan class down to a fourth-rate brothel, the money she managed to save was stolen again and again by the madam and her cronies, she was insulted by fellow prostitutes, beaten half to death by clients, and every attempt at self-redemption ended in failure…

As the plot progressed, the theater was soon filled with sobs. Li Shuran was crying so hard she hiccupped, and in the flickering light, Le Jing noticed even Yang Jinglun was secretly wiping away tears.

Le Jing felt a pang of emotion too. Qiu Ju, who played Bai Moli, truly brought the character to life. Especially that look of utter despair when Bai Moli discovered her money had once again been stolen by the madam—absolutely brilliant!

Compared to the original novel, the film had made several changes. The biggest was the girl Bai Moli adopted and supported. In the book, Le Jing had only written a few lines about her, but in the film, she had far more screen time. The scenes of the two comforting each other and licking their wounds together became some of the rare tender moments in the first half of the movie.

Then, just when the sickly Bai Moli was dragged by the madam and her cronies to the mass grave to be buried alive, the plot took a dramatic turn. The little girl she once supported had grown into a young woman. Thanks to Bai Moli’s help, she had been able to go to school and eventually qualified as a government-sponsored student to study abroad. While studying in the United States, she scrimped and saved, working herself to exhaustion, until she finally managed to earn enough money to redeem Bai Moli’s freedom.

She had originally returned to China without telling Bai Moli, planning to give her a surprise. But instead, she accidentally heard from a familiar courtesan that the madam was plotting to harm Bai Moli. She rushed frantically to the mass graveyard and, at the very last moment, managed to save Bai Moli.

Later, after Bai Moli recovered with the help of the doctor her younger sister had invited, she went to study abroad in America together with her sister. The final scene of the film lingered on Bai Moli, now in a spotless white nurse’s uniform, moving gracefully between hospital wards, smiling as she cared for her patients, who respectfully called out to her, “Nurse Bai!”

Hearing this, Li Shuran let out a long sigh of relief, and even Yang Jinglun excitedly pumped his fist, whispering, “That’s wonderful!”

Their reactions were not unique. In fact, inside the theater, a girl suddenly stood up and began to applaud, calling out: “Bai Moli is amazing!”

The theater erupted in applause, but it was abruptly silenced by the next scene of the film.

On the screen appeared again the courtesans from earlier. After listening to the long and bizarre tale of Bai Moli’s life, they fell into a brief silence before sighing in unison.

“How many of us could ever be as lucky as Bai Moli?”

The screen then went dark once more, and the movie ended completely.

In the deep silence that followed, a few loud sobs broke out, only to be quickly drowned beneath the noisy chatter of the crowd.

Following the surging tide of people out of the cinema, Le Jing could see some silently wiping their swollen, red eyes, while others laughed and chatted with friends about the plot.

All the way back, Li Shuran remained quiet. It wasn’t until they were near the hotel that she finally couldn’t help but ask Le Jing: “Brother, how can all the courtesans become as lucky as Bai Moli?”

Le Jing lowered his head and answered seriously: “When the profession of courtesans no longer exists.”

Li Shuran pressed further:“Then how can we abolish the profession of courtesans?”

Ji Qi sighed, joining the conversation: “That’s something that can be both very hard and very simple.”

Yang Jinglun followed up: “Exactly. It depends on whether those in power have the courage and determination. Otherwise, if it only relies on the sympathy and anger of the people…” He smiled and shook his head bluntly: “It’s harder than climbing to the sky.”

Le Jing also sighed in his heart. Since ancient times, reforms from the bottom up were always easier; he preferred to call such movements “revolutions.”

After the founding of the new nation, drugs and prostitution—those festering cancers of the old society—had been wiped out in one stroke, only because the new party had overturned the table and started afresh.

But that, too, had been built on several factors: a strong central government led by idealists, and a powerful, loyal army that carried out orders without hesitation. Without any one of those elements, this terminally ill nation could never have revived so quickly.

The three adults fell silent. Only Li Shuran, with innocent determination, said: “Then I’ll study hard and become a high official in the future, so I can help the courtesan sisters live good lives!”

Le Jing couldn’t help but smile at this dream—so naive it was almost laughable. He reached out and patted the girl’s soft hair, encouraging her: “Work hard.”

Women’s rights had always been won bit by bit, through the unrelenting struggles of generations of pioneers.

In the not-so-distant future, it was precisely because millions of women went to the battlefield, fighting and bleeding with the same iron courage as men, that their sacrifices finally pushed nations to grant women political rights.

In the decades that followed, women stepped into politics, science, economics, literature, and even left their footprints in outer space.

Only then did history begin, piece by piece, to remember the faces of women.

Yet rights not fought for by oneself would never be cherished. Stirred up by greedy and shortsighted people, undermined by selfish individuals, and suppressed by those clinging to their gendered privilege, women’s rights in modern times suffered stigmatization, and society even began to regress.

History, after all, is a spiral. Humanity is a race that never truly learns from its mistakes, destined to repeat them.

Still, Le Jing did not worry about the ultimate future of women’s rights.

Because human nature seeks benefit and avoids harm. Once most women realized their space for survival was being squeezed, they would inevitably speak out for their own interests. Before that, there might be much suffering and sacrifice. But every struggle had value. For even as history spiraled, it still moved upward.

Ji Qi stayed at their hotel for a while before excusing himself and heading home.

But a few hours later, just as Le Jing was about to turn off the lights and sleep, a sudden knock came at his door.

From outside came Ji Qi’s anxious voice: “Li Jingran! Hurry, get up, something big has happened!”

Le Jing quickly threw on his clothes and opened the door. “What happened?”

Ji Qi’s face was dripping with sweat, his breath ragged. “A telegram from Literary Gazette was delivered to my house. It says an editor at the paper exposed the fact that you’ve been publishing under a new pen name, ‘Wheatfield.’ They even dug up your new address. Right now, who knows how many reporters are crowding outside—and many people are writing in the papers calling for you to be blacklisted in Beiping!”

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he added anxiously “Maybe… you’d better just stay here in Shanghai, and not go back.”