Chapter 48: The Young Li Bai Emerges (Please Keep Reading)

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In the room, Liu Yimin recited while Zou Huofan quickly jotted everything down, afraid that if he hesitated even a moment, he would miss something.

“‘Surpassing Oneself’

We may deceive others
But we cannot deceive ourselves
As we step into the flourishing May
Youth is no longer a mystery
The upward road is always rugged and winding
To forever preserve the original romance—
That is truly not easy
Some are sorrowful
Some are joyful
When we have crossed a high mountain
We have also crossed a truer self.”

“That’s it?” Zou Huofan, having finished transcribing, felt as though he'd just found his rhythm, ready to strike forth with sweeping strokes—only to find the poem at an end! But he knew well that a good poem wasn’t measured by length or word count, but by its content.

He set aside thoughts of quantity and began to appreciate the poem titled “Surpassing Oneself.” While writing, he’d only sensed its beauty, but hadn’t had time to ponder what made it so.

Liu Yimin picked up his lunchbox, washed it in the communal sink, and returned to find Zou Huofan still savoring the poem.

“Yes, we may deceive others, but who can deceive themselves? To step into flourishing May—that represents a bright future, growth. Only by moving forward, traveling the road, does one avoid confusion. Past, present, future—many young people have been lost in uncertainty. Yet even if the road ahead is rough, we mustn’t forget who we once were.”

Liu Yimin sat by the bedside, watching Zou Huofan enthusiastically annotate at the table.

“Yimin, you just said the poetic direction should move from singing of the collective to singing of the individual... and you’ve actually written it. Are you sure you just came up with this?” Zou Huofan eyed Liu Yimin like an old fox, as if waiting for any slip that might give him away.

Some in the literary world were indeed like this—boasting of sudden inspiration, when in truth they revised their work countless times.

“Old Zou, you saw it yourself just now, didn’t you?”

“That’s exactly why I find it hard to believe! Never mind, I won’t disturb you. I have to hurry back to the editorial office!” Zou Huofan, unable to contain himself, grabbed his notebook and left the guesthouse.

At the editorial office, Zou Huofan swaggered in, holding the notebook in the most conspicuous spot in front of him. After pacing the office a few times, someone finally asked:

“Old Zou, what are you doing with that notebook? Don’t tell me Comrade Liu Yimin wrote you another poem?”

“How could that be? It hasn’t been long enough! Even a genius needs time!” someone immediately replied.

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Zou Huofan curled his lip in triumph. “Old Wang, that’s where you’re wrong. Let me show you what a true poetic genius is. This is a poem written by a young man for young people. No, you could say it’s a poem written by a young man for the young republic!”

Zou Huofan felt that Liu Yimin’s poem applied not only to the individual but also to the nation. Especially that line about forever preserving the original romance.

He even thought the poem used the individual as a metaphor for the country!

With everyone’s expectant eyes upon him, Zou Huofan cleared his throat and began to read with emotion:

[We may deceive others
But we cannot deceive ourselves
As we step into the flourishing May
...
To forever preserve the original romance
...
When we have crossed a high mountain
We have also crossed a truer self]

“He really did write it? And it’s quite good. I like the first line best: We may deceive others, but cannot deceive ourselves. The polished exterior and the true heart—the outside is for others to see, the heart is for oneself to read,” remarked Old Wang, the editor who had spoken earlier.

“My fellow townsman came prepared!” Ge Luo clapped and echoed in agreement.

“Old Ge, you’re wrong too!”

“Wrong?”

“Yes, it wasn’t written before. He composed it right in front of me. You don’t know—I asked if he had anything ready, and guess what he said?”

The editors: “What did he say?”

“He said he didn’t have one recently, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have one now. Then he stood up and paced the room—”

The editors: “Seven steps to a poem?”

Zou Huofan shook his head at the curious crowd, then waved his index finger and said calmly, “Not seven steps.”

The crowd was stunned, hardly able to believe it, thinking Zou Huofan was exaggerating. But an old comrade who had survived the flames of war wouldn’t boast for an author’s sake.

So they pressed on: “Six steps!”

“Five steps!”

“Four steps!”

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“Three steps!”

“Two steps!”

“One step?”

From six down to one, Zou Huofan kept shaking his head. Some grew anxious and paced in circles, while others caught on and guessed loudly, “He didn't take any steps at all!”

“Wrong again!”

“Oh, just tell us, Old Zou! If you weren’t an old comrade, I’d doubt you could even stand here right now...” Even Chief Editor Yan Chen joined the commotion.

“He shifted his right foot just a little, and before I could react, he called out!” Zou Huofan, clearly enjoying himself, stopped abruptly, pressing his lips together to hide a smile.

“He moved a little—what did he say?”

“He said—!”

“……”

Seeing everyone was ready to pounce, Zou Huofan hurriedly continued, “He said, ‘I’ve got it!’”

Afterward, he even mimicked Liu Yimin’s small step in the room, lightly moving his toe. Everyone’s eyes followed the motion, then measured with their gaze just how long that little step was.

“Hiss. His small step is a giant leap for the world of poetry!” Yan Chen laughed, tapping his forehead.

“The best part is, he’d just woken up, still groggy, eyes unfocused. At that moment, he reminded me of someone—you know who?”

“Who?”

“Li Bai! Li Bai could compose a hundred poems after a few drinks, and Liu Yimin looked as if he were still drunk right after waking up. I bet I left and he fell back asleep!”

Thanks to this analogy, Liu Yimin quickly earned the nickname “Little Li Bai.” Zou Huofan went on to explain Liu Yimin’s views on the direction of poetry, and everyone grew even more curious about him.

“Old Zou, you must take me to see our fellow townsman tonight!” Ge Luo clung to Zou Huofan’s arm, gritting his teeth.

Seeing Zou Huofan nod, he crossed his arms and declared to the room, “Let me tell you, our hometown has always been a land of culture, with an unbroken literary tradition. Beneath Mount Funiu dwell poets; Yimin, like Li Bai, can compose a hundred poems after a drink!”

Just as Zou Huofan expected, Liu Yimin was indeed napping in the dormitory, unaware that the editorial office had just experienced another collective thrill.

Yan Chen believed this poem would surely resonate with and be embraced by young people, sighing, “Young people understand young people best. When it comes to their confusion, only the young can express it in the right way. Our editorial team must also always preserve our original romance, and always remember for whom we publish, for whom we serve. If we forget as we move forward, we’ll pay a heavy price, comrades—history’s lessons must be learned!”

Zou Huofan: This young comrade deserves a monthly ticket!