Chapter 50: Moving Towards Death to Find Life

Influenced by that article, certain leaders who had not grasped the full picture—acting on the principle of minimizing mistakes—had a talk with the publishing house.

Following an all-night meeting among the leaders, the original plan to print an additional fifty thousand copies was temporarily shelved because of the article. Mo Changshan, who was among the first to receive the news, was utterly furious!

The fifth day of the Lunar New Year.

Mo Changshan, who had originally intended to welcome the God of Wealth, abandoned that thought entirely and stormed straight over to the Shanghai People's Fine Arts Publishing House, unleashing a torrent of abuse right outside the office of Associate Editor-in-Chief Jiang.

"You internal-fighting coward... Don't think I don't know that you were the one who denounced so many people back then. Karma will come back to bite you sooner or later."

From the adjacent editor-in-chief's office came two speechless, disdainful hums. "He's not even here, what's the use of yelling? If you've got the guts, say it at the meeting."

"Editor-in-Chief Chen, you're in."

Chen Lida naturally knew that Mo Changshan was shouting precisely for him to hear, but Jiang Weishan had indeed behaved quite poorly in this matter.

Although the Vanguard Publishing House was technically a joint-operation unit, it was ultimately managed by the Fine Arts Publishing House.

They were essentially the same organization, practically family, yet stabbing one's own family in the back was simply unacceptable.

Yet, quite a few people had chosen to side with Jiang Weishan on this matter. He himself had witnessed the scene at the Xinhua Bookstore the other day, where copies of *Stormriders* were being snapped up instantly.

It had been goodness knows how many years since their publishing house's comic books had experienced such a phenomenon.

Although the comic book industry currently appeared to be in its heyday, with last year's print runs reaching an all-time high—exceeding four hundred million copies across more than a thousand newly published titles nationwide, to the point of causing a paper shortage—the sheer volume of publications had also intensified competition. It was impossible for Xinhua Bookstore to display every single comic book on its shelves.

The ones that sold well were put on display, while the ones that didn't were left to gather dust in warehouses.

The bestseller status of *Stormriders* had struck a sense of crisis into the hearts of many comic artists, making it entirely natural for them to band together and suppress it.

Still, for the people at the top, a fight between two children in the family was always a headache, though fortunately, there was still a way to resolve it.

Editor-in-Chief Chen tapped his fingers on the desktop. "Given the current situation, even if I sign off on it, the Xinhua Bookstore probably wouldn't dare put *Stormriders* back on their shelves. This coming May, there's an inspection delegation heading to Hong Kong. You can come with me and see if there's any possibility of getting it published there. Once we earn some foreign exchange, nobody will dare to oppose it any longer."

Mo Changshan understood immediately that Editor-in-Chief Chen had no intention of taking his side; he was merely trying to smooth things over.

"If we wait until May, that fellow Zheng Fei might actually fly the coop. He might just go looking for some other daring publishing house."

Chen Lida gave him a cold look. He still harbored some resentment toward Mo Changshan over the fact that the entire copyright for *Stormriders* remained in Zheng Fei's hands.

"How to appease the artist is your job. What's the use of telling me?"

Seeing that the boss was angry, Mo Changshan immediately put on a smiling face.

"Well, it's like this, Leader: Zheng Fei doesn't even have a bicycle yet. He usually walks to the studio, which wastes a lot of time. Could our publishing house spare a bicycle purchase voucher for us?"

Chen Lida frowned. "After the Chinese New Year, go see Director Zhao in the administrative office and tell him to set one aside for you. And while you're at it, go down to the finance department and collect the royalties for *Stormriders* yourself."

"Understood, Leader."

...

What the two of them did not know was that on this very fifth day of the Lunar New Year, a young man was walking with a manuscript in one hand and a Red Peony cigarette in the other.

He arrived at the Hami Building, located at 149 Yuanmingyuan Road by the Bund, and smoothly submitted the article ghostwritten by Li Wenwen, titled *A Jobless Youth Decides to Die*, to the *Wen Wei Po*.

...

*Wen Wei Po*.

Before Lu Xinhua's *Scar* was published, it had first been published right here.

In fact, he had also submitted his manuscript to the *People's Daily*, but it had been rejected, and he had received a formal rejection letter instead.

"Comrade Lu Xinhua, after careful consideration, your submitted manuscript will not be published and is hereby returned to you. We welcome future submissions."

Later, through an introduction by an acquaintance, he managed to establish a connection with *Wen Wei Po*.

*Wen Wei Po* showed tremendous generosity, making an exception by dedicating an entire page to his short story, *Scar*.

That particular issue of the newspaper featuring *Scar* became a historic milestone for *Wen Wei Po*, with print runs surging to 1.8 million copies.

When *Scar* was published, Lu Xinhua was still a first-year student in the Chinese Department at Fudan University. He was twenty-four years old that year.

Ever since then, Scar Literature had erupted with wild momentum—featuring works like Zhang Xianliang's *The Soul and the Flesh*, Ye Xin's *Days of Frustration*, and Liu Xinwu's *The Homeroom Teacher*—gradually forming a distinct circle that commanded half of the literary landscape in China.

...

Editorial offices are peculiar places; sometimes they are utterly idle, but when work piles up, it can be agonizingly demanding.

A young staff member was still complaining about being bored.

An older editor gave a cold snort. "If you find the day shift boring, would you like me to transfer you to the night shift instead?"

The young man hurriedly shook his head.

"The folks on the night shift are way too hardcore; I can't keep up with them at all."

Right at that moment, the elderly gatekeeper downstairs walked in carrying a manuscript packaged in a kraft paper envelope.

"Editor Hu, take a look at this."

Seeing the gatekeeper, everyone knew full well that he must have accepted someone's cigarettes again, but no one exposed him.

The old man possessed the most seniority here; even their editor-in-chief might not have worked there longer than he had, and on occasion, even the head of the publishing house treated him with polite deference.

However, the moment they saw the title written on the envelope—*A Jobless Youth Decides to Die*—everyone instantly perked up.

"Now that's a striking title."

"Ha! You can tell right away this is going to stir things up."

Other newspapers would typically steer clear of such titles, but they were different. As a publication that proudly stood at the forefront of ideological liberation, they loved this sort of article.

"My name is Zheng Fei, an unemployed youth who graduated from junior high school only to find myself immediately out of work.

...

...

Living in the shantytown district, I possessed neither a stable iron rice bowl nor any organization willing to take me in. A person like me had become a societal outcast, loathed by everyone in the city.

Therefore, I decided to 'die'.

However, my death was not a literal one, but rather finding life through death... letting go of complaints against my circumstances, letting go of resentment toward all injustices.

I began to reconcile with myself.

In order to feel that life was still flowing within me, I became an apprentice to a mural painter... and diligently practiced my painting skills at night.

(Omitted)

Through unremitting effort, I finally underwent a transformation, and after much difficulty, I managed to publish my debut comic book, *Stormriders*, at a publishing house called Vanguard.

..."

Throughout the entire article, there was not a single explicit mention of having been singled out and criticized by name in a certain newspaper, yet that underlying context permeated every single line.

Reading this, several editors suddenly had a flash of insight. No wonder the name Zheng Fei sounded somewhat familiar—after all, there actually happened to be a copy of the *Stormriders* comic book right there in the editorial office.

Besides the comic, the editorial office also possessed a copy of that newspaper featuring the article titled *What Is Hiding Inside the School Bag?*

They had held rather critical views of that article, feeling that the author was making a mountain out of a molehill and maliciously using formulaic rhetoric to suppress someone.

Discussions had been brewing in the editorial office about whether to write an article to bash that fellow surnamed Jiang, but they never expected that the actual protagonist of *Stormriders* would come straight to them with a submission.

The veteran editor spoke up.

"What do you all think of this article?"

The other editors smiled. "It's brilliantly written, what else is there to think? Speaking up for the unemployed youth, it seemingly recounts numerous hardships, yet leaves the reader brimming with hope... What a magnificent concept of finding life through death."

"I think this fellow named Zheng Fei doesn't even need to draw comics anymore; he might as well just come work as an editor at our newspaper office."

"Publishing his article alone isn't enough, in my opinion. Why don't we do an exclusive interview with him as well?"

"Now that's an idea we can definitely use."