CDJMM – Volume 1 – Chapter 7 Writing in the Republic Era (6)

The day the acceptance notice arrived happened to be the twenty-second day Le Jing had been staying at Li Tingfang’s house.

Although he had full confidence in his manuscript, when he saw the payment receipt slip, Le Jing couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

With these fifteen yuan, the world was vast—where couldn’t he go? Fengtian City was simply too small.

“Brother! Is that the editor’s reply to you? What does it say inside?” Li Shuran leaned forward expectantly, only to grow crestfallen when she realized she could hardly understand a single word.

“My manuscript got accepted. Editor Zhao Xiaosong said it will be published starting tomorrow, three thousand characters per day, five days to finish. This—” Le Jing lifted the thin receipt with a smile, “—was sent by the editor. As long as I take it to the post office, I can collect fifteen yuan in payment.”

Fifteen yuan?!

Though born a young lady of a respectable household, even for Li Shuran this was no small sum. While she never worried about food or clothing at home, Madam Wang never gave her pocket money—and as for the rumored dowry her birth mother had left behind, she had never seen a trace of it since she was old enough to understand.

She knew that even the most favored maidservants in the residence only received four yuan in monthly wages. Yet now, her brother had earned fifteen yuan with just a single piece of writing!

Her gaze fell reverently upon that thin slip of paper, and she murmured, “If Father knew how outstanding you are, he would surely regret treating you that way…”

Le Jing only smiled lightly, unconcerned with what Li Tingye thought. But since Shuran had brought it up, it was the perfect time to raise something he had been considering for quite a while.

Bending down to meet her eyes, Le Jing said, “Shuran, let’s leave Fengtian and go to Beiping. By then, your brother can earn money through writing, and you can attend a proper girls’ school.”

Li Shuran froze.

Although she had guessed before that her brother would one day separate from the Li family and live independently, she had never imagined he would want to leave Fengtian entirely, to go all the way to Beiping! That was where the Emperor resided, a place far, far away. They had no relatives or acquaintances there—what if they ran into bad people?

Fear welled up in her heart, yet when she met her elder brother’s gentle, warm gaze, she found herself unable to say a single word of refusal. In the end, she set aside her worries, smiled, and nodded. “Wherever Brother goes, I’ll follow.”

Even though she was illiterate, she understood this much: men and women were different. A man should go out into the world, test himself, and build his career. If their mother were still alive, she would surely believe the same. She couldn’t be her brother’s burden. As a younger sister, the only thing she could do was support every decision he made.

And besides…

Remembering that slip of paper worth fifteen yuan, warmth rushed through her chest.

And besides—with her brother’s talent, he would surely, no, definitely, make something of himself in Beiping!

Le Jing looked at Li Shuran, who smiled as though nothing was amiss. After a few seconds of silence, he finally patted her shoulder and smiled as well.

Such a pure and guileless heart—how could anyone dislike it?

Having a younger sister didn’t feel so bad after all.

…

But having the receipt slip didn’t necessarily mean Le Jing could collect his payment, for he was still missing the most important thing—household registration papers.

Although in the Republic of China many people might go their whole lives without ever using their household registration papers, if Le Jing wanted to collect his manuscript fee from the post office, he still needed them. Of course, Li Jingran’s household registration was kept with the Li family, which meant that in reality Le Jing was now a “black household” without papers.

But this wasn’t anything difficult to resolve. He could simply have someone collect the payment on his behalf. And he had already chosen the right person—his little servant.

Touching the fifteen gleaming silver coins the servant had brought back, listening to the crisp clinking of the coins, Le Jing’s mood lifted. Now he could formally bring up leaving with Li Tingfang.

※

“Jingran’s submission to Fengtian Miscellany was accepted?” Li Tingfang had just returned when the butler brought him the good news.

“Yes, Defu said the manuscript fee was a full fifteen yuan,” the butler replied happily. With money in hand, Li Jingran could finally leave. For the past twenty-some days that the master had taken him in and given him shelter, the rumors flying around town had been unbearably harsh.

People were saying that Li Jingran, relying on clan leader Li Tingfang’s protection, was acting lawlessly—defying his parents at home, abusing his younger siblings. Others accused Li Tingfang of disregarding morality, stealing away his nephew’s fiancée, and ruining a girl’s reputation… All kinds of slander that made the butler so furious he nearly keeled over. In his heart he hated Li Tingye and Madam Wang to the bone, while his master only laughed it off with a broad mind. The butler, however, wished dearly that he could cut those two down himself!

Although Li Tingfang had always held a certain bias against Fengtian Miscellany, he still trusted in Li Jingran’s character. He believed the boy would not write anything improper. So he resolved that once the work was published, he would buy a few copies himself to carefully read his nephew’s masterpiece.

Just as he was about to say more, a servant announced from outside that Li Jingran was asking to see him.

Li Tingfang’s heart skipped a beat, a vague premonition rising within him. Soon he saw the youth in a plain blue robe, walking with firm steps, upright as a pine. Meeting those bright, star-like black eyes, the premonition in Li Tingfang’s chest only grew clearer.

Sure enough, after a few words of courtesy, Li Jingran raised his request to leave. His gaze was clear, his tone sincere:

“These days, Uncle has helped my sister and me greatly. Your kindness is something I can only repay in the future. Now that I have enough travel money, it is time I depart.”

Li Tingfang nodded knowingly, then asked: “What do you plan to do next?”

Le Jing replied, “I plan to take my younger sister with me to the capital, to try my luck.”

Li Tingfang first nodded, then frowned: “Never mind that your studies are unfinished—your father will never let this go easily.”

“I can continue my studies in Beiping. As for my father…” Le Jing raised a brow and smiled faintly, a trace of cunning flashing in his eyes. “I plan to publish an open letter to my father in the newspaper. In it, I’ll earnestly tell everyone: Today, with the nation in peril and China on the brink of disaster, I can only abandon my small family for the greater good, leave my parents, and travel abroad to study. My sister, though young, has the spirit of a woman who yields no less than men. While the country remains unsettled, she has no mind for marriage, and so must ask her betrothed to choose another virtuous wife.”

Le Jing had considered publicly severing ties with Li Tingye through the press, and the idea was certainly tempting. But after long thought, he had no choice but to abandon it.

For thousands of years, China had been a society rooted in filial piety. Back when the emperor still ruled, a mere accusation of unfilial conduct could cost an official his hat—and many even ended up in prison. Now, though it was the Republic and the emperor was gone, and some self-styled progressive youth did indeed publish declarations breaking away from their feudal families, most people still regarded such actions with deep contempt.

Filial devotion had long been carved into the very bloodline of Chinese culture by centuries of Confucian teaching. A person who abandoned his parents was one despised by the entire cultural order. If Le Jing wanted to make a career in literature, he could not afford to commit such an “outrageous act of rebellion.”

Li Tingfang paused for a moment, then suddenly burst into hearty laughter:

“Marvelous, marvelous, marvelous! In that case, your father will have no choice but to support you.”

The moment the “patriotism” card was played, Li Tingye not only couldn’t oppose it but had to show his full support. Although he was broad-minded and normally paid little heed to the gossip on the streets, seeing Li Tingye eat humble pie and swallow his resentment without a word was rather satisfying.

So he volunteered: “Since it’s for studying abroad, how could the family not provide you with travel expenses? Let me take charge of this. I’ll make sure your father gives you enough silver!”

Le Jing blinked in surprise. This was an unexpected boon. He bowed gratefully to Li Tingfang:  “Your nephew thanks Uncle for his kindness.”

“I know a few people at The Great River Evening News. Your Letter of Farewell to Father would be perfect for them,” Li Tingfang said with a smile. “Hurry and finish writing it. Once it’s published, I’ll take you to meet your father, and then we’ll hit him with a fait accompli.”

Le Jing smiled and nodded in agreement.

Four days later.

As night fell, Zhao Xiaosong sat back in his chair, chuckling to himself at the thought of the newspaper’s rising sales. Usually, their press only printed ten thousand copies. But ever since The Fengtian Locked-Room Murder Case had started serialization, sales had climbed steadily. Today’s issue, with the fourth installment, had sold twenty thousand copies!

That “The Watchman” had single-handedly doubled their sales—how could he not be delighted?

“Chief Editor,” one of the editors asked, “how many copies should we print tomorrow? I need to notify the press.”

Zhao Xiaosong gritted his teeth and said, “Tell them to print thirty thousand!”

The editor gasped. “That many? What if we can’t sell them all?” For a small paper like theirs, such a loss would be devastating.

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. Tomorrow is the grand finale of The Fengtian Locked-Room Murder Case. There’ll be even more buyers.” Zhao Xiaosong spoke confidently, even as his mind raced. Perhaps it was time to visit the Li household personally?

Ever since the The Watchman had replied to his letter, he’d heard nothing more. That silence made him restless. If he could tie this cash cow down as their in-house writer, how could their paper not thrive?

He made up his mind. Tomorrow, he would pay a visit to Master Li’s residence—and no matter what, he must bring the The Watchman out into the open!

Morning.

A pale mist lingered on the streets. The clear cries of newsboys rang out: “Extra! Extra! Fengtian Miscellany! Only two copper coins!”

“Boy, give me a copy,” Wang Zhengbai called from a teahouse window. He fished out two coins from his pouch and eagerly unfolded the paper, flipping straight to page four to devour the story.

In the past, he wouldn’t have bothered with such tabloids. But a few days ago, a friend mentioned that Li Jingran had published something in Fengtian Miscellany. Out of curiosity, he bought an issue—only to fall hopelessly hooked.

The Fengtian Locked-Room Murder Case was simply brilliant! He had wracked his brain but still couldn’t figure out how the killer entered the storeroom to murder Master Wang. The mystery consumed him; he ate and drank without relish, his thoughts revolving only around the murderer’s identity.

He even asked his friend about Li Jingran, but the fellow had already departed for his studies! And when he inquired further, that stubborn old Li Tingfang refused to give an answer. Wang Zhengbai had nearly died of frustration!

Yesterday’s paper shocked him even more. The protagonist, Zheng Yuan, accused the Wang household’s steward of the crime. But how could that be? The steward had entered the room alongside the others, right after Master Wang had died. It seemed impossible for him to be the killer. Could it be that Li Jingran had grown careless and simply pinned the crime on someone at random? If so, Wang would have been sorely disappointed.

So, early this morning, he bought the latest issue. He was determined to see how Li Jingran would justify it. If the explanation was too far-fetched… well, there wasn’t much he could do, but he’d certainly be bitterly let down.

Now, as Wang Zhengbai devoured every word, his furrowed brow slowly relaxed. Finally, upon reading Zheng Yuan’s ultimate deduction, realization dawned. He couldn’t help but cry out: “So that’s it! Incredible! Such cunning on the steward’s part!”

His voice rang so loudly that heads turned. Embarrassed, he smiled sheepishly.

“Brother, are you also reading The Fengtian Locked-Room Murder Case?” someone nearby asked.

Wang Zhengbai glanced at the man’s paper and chuckled. “So you are as well?”

“Yes, yes!” the man answered excitedly. “To tell the truth, I’ve spent days wracking my brains over the true killer and his method…” He shook his head, smiling ruefully. “But who would’ve guessed the method was so simple, yet so unexpected? The author—what a genius!”

Indeed, the trick was simple once revealed, yet startlingly original. Who would have thought the murderer killed Master Wang openly, right before everyone’s eyes? Wang Zhengbai, too, was filled with admiration.

He knew the author’s true identity, of course. But he wasn’t about to share that secret.

Suddenly, he recalled the Letter of Farewell to Father published in The Great River Evening News. The image of that tall, eloquent youth came vividly back to him:

“Now that the nation is in peril and war rages on every side, how could I shrink away for fear of misfortune? This is my lifelong aspiration: not for fame in the annals of history, nor for the glory of my clan, but only to devote myself to the country and live without regret…”

Those lines stirred his blood anew.

How could a golden carp remain forever trapped in a pond? With wind and clouds, it will become a dragon.

His friend had indeed placed his bet wisely.

As for Li Tingye—after being so thoroughly outmaneuvered, what must he look like now? Wang Zhengbai was almost tempted to head over to the Li residence just to see his expression.