Chapter 56: A Small Man’s Chronicle of Beiping (Please Keep Reading)

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With nothing to do in the evening, they soaked in the bathhouse... Zou Huofan told Liu Yimin that Zhou Yanru from "Yanjing Literary Arts" was actually quite capable, but the current leadership of the magazine was overly conservative, making the editors' work feel constrained and restricted.

The first editor-in-chief of "Yanjing Literary Arts" had been Lao She. After Lao She, they no longer appointed chief editors, referring to them instead as principal leaders.

"Old Zhou also came out of the northwest, an old comrade with genuine revolutionary consciousness."

Liu Yimin knew of Zhou Yanru. As a renowned editor of her generation, she was an inescapable figure in the history of modern literature. Many contemporary writers had collaborated with her.

For instance, Zhou Yanru and Yu Hua—the early success of Yu Hua could not have happened without her help; she personally called Yu Hua, inviting him north to revise his manuscript. At that time, Yu Hua didn’t even know that travel expenses and room and board for revisions would be reimbursed, plus he’d get a daily stipend.

When Zhou Yanru told him the revision work would pay two yuan per day, Yu Hua was so excited he wished he could go to Yanjing immediately, since his monthly salary back then was only sixteen yuan.

"Comrade Zou, still chatting?"

A somewhat aged voice rang out in the bathhouse. At the sound, Liu Yimin looked over and saw an old man in baggy shorts, hunched over as he walked in. His skin was as dry as black bark, but with the bathhouse steam, it seemed to have gained some moisture.

His old feet, clawlike, gripped the floor with impressive strength.

"Old Ma, done for the day?"

"All done. I put in the last load of coal, the furnace is burning strong. Thought I’d come in for a soak. And this young comrade is—?" The old boiler man, Ma, lay back in the bath, letting out a low sound of deep satisfaction.

"Liu Yimin, a poet our magazine invited. He’ll be heading to Yanda for school in a few days. Yimin, this is Old Ma from the guesthouse—been here since, what, the sixties?"

Old Ma tilted his head and did a quick calculation, then sighed, "Got assigned to the guesthouse to tend the boiler in ’65, when my health gave out. I’ve been keeping this furnace going for thirteen years now!"

"Yimin, Old Ma was born right here, back when the city was still called Beiping. If you want to hear stories of old Beiping, you’re sure to get the real thing from him," Zou Huofan said with a smile.

Liu Yimin looked at the old man before him—at an age when one ought to be staid and steady, yet his manner carried a hint of irreverence. The veins pulsing beneath his face seemed about to burst from his skin.

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"Comrade Zou, don’t make me sound grand. Before Liberation, I was just a lousy rickshaw puller. Born in Beiping, sure, but I never even knew who my parents were. My earliest memory is fighting stray dogs for moldy sorghum cakes under the city gate!"

Perhaps because of his age, seeing Liu Yimin listening intently, Old Ma began to recount his tales, shaking his head as he spoke: "Back in the day, Beiping was a place where anyone above you was a master; anyone below, just stray cats and dogs. What were we? To put it plainly, we were the lowest of the low, trampled underfoot every day, slapped around till their hands ached. All masters—I couldn’t afford to cross them. But I thought, I ought to be a master too. Be a master for whom? For others? They’d never accept it. So I decided to be my own master. If you hit me, you hurt your own hand—serves you right, you fool, who’s really the low one?"

Zou Huofan laughed. "Old Ma’s got the spirit of Ah Q!"

"Who’s Ah Q? Was he from old Beiping too?" Old Ma asked, puzzled.

Zou Huofan chuckled and replied, "If you look closely, Ah Q was from Shaoxing."

"Ha! That’s a ways from here! Later, I started pulling a foreign rickshaw, and then came the Japanese. Students marched and shouted slogans, the Nationalists sent the cops to crack heads. A student hopped in my rickshaw once, I ran like mad, and the bastards couldn’t catch up. The student told me, ‘This is revolutionary work.’ I didn’t understand revolution—all I knew was he didn’t pay me!

"Then the Japanese really came to Beiping, and life got hard—especially after that, when Chinese folks could only eat mixed grain. That stuff made you bleed when you went to the toilet. The Japanese horses ate soybeans, so I’d sneak into the stables and steal some for myself—almost got shot once.

"I collapsed on the ground, heart pounding. Clutching my chest, I waited, not knowing how long it was before I realized I wasn’t dead and ran home as fast as I could. After that, I got smarter—followed the horses and picked through their dung. What they couldn’t digest, I could.

...

"When the Nationalists left and the Liberators came, I joined the crowd at the city gate to watch. No matter who was in charge, life had to go on. I looked for work on the street; when I ran into the Liberation Army, they called me ‘comrade.’ I didn’t understand, thought it was a new name for us rickshaw pullers. After some explaining, I realized ‘comrade’ was a term of camaraderie, meaning like-minded people."

Old Ma was getting tired, so he shifted to a more comfortable position at the edge of the bath, laughing as he said, "Imagine, a lowly rickshaw puller like me becoming a comrade to someone like Editor Zou!"

"We share the same goal, so we’re comrades. Revolution is just a matter of division of labor—there’s no high or low, noble or mean," Zou Huofan said with a smile.

"Exactly, exactly! Me burning the boiler is revolutionary work, and this young comrade is doing revolutionary work too. If I’d understood all this when I was younger, I’d have thrown myself into the revolution too!"

As they left the bathhouse, Zou Huofan remarked, "Old Ma alone is a living history of Beiping spanning decades!"

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"History, seen through the eyes of different people, is always a different landscape."

Liu Yimin nodded. Old Ma’s story reminded him of Master Wen in "Beiping Under Flames." Wen San’s experiences in that novel were equally harrowing, but he always managed to find some joy amid the suffering.

Bragging and getting slapped were everyday occurrences for Master Wen, yet he was always at peace with himself.

"Beiping Under Flames" was similar to "To Live," but with more humor and a greater sense of historical gravity. Compared to "Teahouse," Liu Yimin felt it was more nuanced, though the focus differed. "Beiping Under Flames" emphasized the choices of small people under the weight of history and the awakening of national consciousness.

"Teahouse," on the other hand, focused on the collective fate of people amid changing times, with undertones of reflection and criticism.

Most importantly, writing "Beiping Under Flames" at this moment was not sensitive—the main brushstrokes were before Liberation, exposing the cruelty and cannibalistic nature of the old society.

But for now, he needed to finish the adaptation of "Hachiko" smoothly. He had written more than two thousand words, and the protagonist, Old Xue, had already met Hachi at the train station. Next would be the story of Old Xue returning home to see his wife.

In the few days left at the guesthouse, Liu Yimin decided not to go out, instead staying in to write. He planned to finish and submit the novel within a month. Adapting foreign works earned foreign exchange, and he needed to build his reputation at home first.

If he could finish both novels, his standing in the literary world would be much more secure—nobody would treat Liu Yimin as a mere newcomer anymore.

On the morning of October 5th, Liu Yimin packed his things to go to Yan University. It was still a long way off, and the area around the university was quite desolate. Zou Huofan and Ge Luo rode their bicycles, taking Liu Yimin and his luggage to Yanjing Station, where he would catch the train to Yan University.

Two chapters released together—asking for votes!

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