Chapter 32: Executed

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Inside the conference room, a group of people were engaged in a heated debate. The original manuscript of *Wind and Cloud* was being passed from hand to hand among the editors and artists.

After glancing at it for a few moments, one man scoffed, "Relying on violence to attract readers lacks any artistic merit. Letting this kind of thing spread will only damage the significance and ideological value of our nation's fine arts."

No sooner had he finished speaking than someone retorted, "From ancient times to the present, serial pictorials have always served the story. When did art start putting the cart before the horse? If you only care about art and ignore the story, you might as well go pursue pure artistic creation and stick to traditional Chinese or oil painting."

Another person, having finished looking through it, exclaimed, "I actually recognize this creative technique. It should be the manga style that is prevalent in Japan and Hong Kong. I have a few such comic books in my office; if judged by their standards, this contributor’s drawing skills can certainly be considered top-tier."

"It’s not entirely an imitation of them, either. This manga incorporates quite a few elements of traditional Chinese painting. From the perspective of artistic accomplishment, it has its merits."

While the group argued incessantly, a deputy editor-in-chief surnamed Jiang, who had flipped through *Wind and Cloud*, spoke up: "Art must serve the people. I see no trace of the people in this work, only unfettered imagination and a bizarre, grotesque world. Our serial pictorials should focus on education; all this violence will only have a negative influence on children."

However, an artist countered, "We have published far too many educational books. I am truly tired of drawing these 'little national heroes.' Honestly, I would quite like to draw the story in this manga."

"Hahaha, me too. After drawing the same thing for twenty or thirty years, it really gets tedious."

Deputy Editor-in-Chief Jiang’s face darkened, clearly quite displeased by their remarks. In the past, such comments would have been enough to land them in prison.

"In any case, my opinion is: do not accept it."

Just then, the person chairing the meeting tapped the table and pondered for a moment. "Let’s leave it at this for today. The final review results will be announced to everyone in a couple of days."

Zheng Fei’s *Wind and Cloud* was like a giant boulder, smashed heavily into this titan of serial pictorial publishing, stirring up massive waves. In a very short time, it split the people at the publishing house into two factions. One felt that the format of the serial pictorial limited the development of artistic creation, while others stood firm on tradition, believing that the serial pictorial was the very foundation of their existence.

...

Zheng Fei was still in his room drawing when, one afternoon, Old Man Sun shouted, "Little Fei, a gentleman from the Concession area is here looking for you. Get out here and see him."

Only Old Man Sun would insist on calling the JA District the "Concession" and always look at people from that area with disdain.

Upon seeing the thin, frail young man before him, the editor from the Shanghai Fine Arts Publishing House was quite surprised; he found it hard to believe that this was the person who had drawn that *Wind and Cloud* manga.

"May I ask if you are Zheng Fei?"

"I am. That’s right."

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"I am an editor from the Shanghai Fine Arts Publishing House, my name is Zhang Jijin. I’ve come to inform you of the results of your submission review..."

But Zheng Fei looked at the item in his hand and already knew the outcome. If the submission had been approved, they wouldn't have brought the original manuscript back to him in person. The fact that an editor had come to return the work rather than mailing it could be considered a gesture of great respect.

Zheng Fei invited him inside. Seeing the walls and tables covered in drafts, Zhang Jijin felt a sense of regret.

"The reason you didn't pass the review this time isn't because of the content or quality, but mainly because there are too many conservative people in our publishing house who, for the time being, cannot accept new things."

"Did it not even pass the first round of review?"

The editor looked a bit embarrassed. "It just barely made it to the second round."

"That’s not bad, then."

Zheng Fei had long anticipated this outcome. To be honest, if it had gone too smoothly, he would have thought something was wrong with this world.

Just as Zheng Fei was contemplating which art publishing house to submit to next—Tianjin or Liaoning—Editor Zhang spoke up:

"I’ve come here today because the editor-in-chief entrusted me with a message. There are some things that are not convenient to put in writing, so I’ll just tell you directly."

"Although our publishing house cannot publish your *Wind and Cloud*, we can recommend your work to other publishers who might be interested. Would you be willing?"

Hearing this, Zheng Fei’s eyes lit up. "So, does that mean the head of your publishing house actually thinks highly of it?"

Editor Zhang smiled without answering. "That is all your speculation; I didn't say that. After all, the reform and opening-up has only just begun, and some of those with overly advanced thoughts are still undergoing 're-education'."

"By the way, let me ask you one thing: is your father Zheng Yuanshan?"

Zheng Fei looked puzzled. "You know my father?"

"We weren't exactly close, but over ten years ago, I collaborated with him once. I almost got myself killed because of him; I had to write a five-thousand-word self-criticism just to escape unscathed."

Zheng Fei gave an awkward laugh, genuinely curious about what his "cheap" father had published to get himself sent off to the frontier.

Editor Zhang sighed with emotion: "I just never expected that it was enough for your father to be 'advanced,' but you are even more so. Your whole family is nothing but trouble."

Before leaving, Editor Zhang left a note behind. "Although this publishing house is a bit smaller and lacks the reputation of the Shanghai Fine Arts Publishing House, there are many young people there, their ideas are more active, and there aren't so many stubborn old men. If you are planning to get it published, you might want to try there."

After the editor left, Old Man Sun shook his head. "So, you were rejected?"

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"You’re still too young. One must keep their feet on the ground. You should go and gain some experience in Director Wang’s production team for a while."

The little girl, Hong Xiaoyun, said to Old Man Sun, "That’s just because they have no vision. Even though I don't know many characters, Brother’s drawings are better than any of those serial pictorials."

Zheng Fei patted the little girl’s head. He had finally decided to leave Shanghai for a while, but unlike before, if he felt there was an opportunity in Shanghai, he would return immediately. The thought that he wouldn't see this little girl for another half a month made Zheng Fei feel a bit sad.

Seeing Xiaoyun rooting for him, Zheng Fei boasted, "I can’t help it. My work is just too excellent; a small place like the Shanghai Fine Arts Publishing House simply couldn't handle it."

Sun Daqian shook his head. "Your mouth is ten times tougher than the stone piers of the Suzhou Creek."

Zheng Fei did not linger. He took his manuscript and headed toward the address on the note, stopping at an intersection to buy a pack of Da Qianmen cigarettes.

Shortly after, he arrived at a dilapidated alley. It was completely different from the Shanghai Fine Arts Publishing House. There wasn't even a sign, just a few characters pasted on the window. However, in this day and age, publishing houses were state-run, and serial pictorials were highly profitable; even if it were a neglected department, it shouldn't have fallen into such a state.

It was shabby, but it had everything it needed. At the entrance of the stairs, there was a desk where an elderly man sat with his eyes closed, resting. A radio was playing on the desk, broadcasting an opera, and he was humming along.

Zheng Fei gave an awkward smile. "Excuse me, is this the Xianjin (Progressive) Publishing House?"

Hearing someone call him, the old man muttered groggily, "Is it time to eat?"

After he fully woke up, he realized his lack of composure and smiled at the young man before him. "Little comrade, who are you looking for?"

Zheng Fei twitched his mouth. He had originally intended to give him that pack of Da Qianmen, but seeing him like this, he decided against it.

Zheng Fei hated repeating himself. With a heart full of trepidation, he placed the manuscript for *Wind and Cloud* on the table. "I am here to submit my work."

Upon hearing the word "submit," the old man instantly became full of vigor. He took the kraft paper envelope on the spot and hurried upstairs, knocking on a door. "Editor-in-Chief Mo, someone is here to submit a manuscript! It’s a thick stack, looks like a serial pictorial."

Immediately after, Zheng Fei heard a clatter from upstairs, as if someone had fallen off their chair.

"Is the person who submitted it still there? If so, tell him to come right up! I want to have a good talk with him personally."