met free Chapter 1256 Flattery?
Chapter 1256 Flattery?
Chapter 1256 Flattery?
When the editorial office door was flung open, Hu Shi was discussing the next issue with several colleagues. Seeing Mr. Cai storm in, he stood up in surprise: "Mr. He? What brings you here?"
"Shizhi!" Mr. Cai slammed his hand on the table, splashing water from his teacup. "Take down those articles that slander Zihan immediately!"
Hu Shi's smile froze. He adjusted his glasses, his tone turning cold: "Master He, it was he who agreed to a public debate. Now he avoids the fight and instead blames us for publishing critical articles?"
"You—" Mr. Cai trembled with anger, "Zihan has been working tirelessly in the hotel these past few days, completing the simplification of over three thousand Chinese characters! He's currently working on the pinyin system! How could he have time to waste on these verbal disputes with you!"
Upon hearing this, Hu Shi's pupils contracted sharply: "Impossible!"
He exclaimed in disbelief, "Over three thousand words in just a few days? This is absolutely impossible!"
Mr. Cai sneered, pulled a few pages of manuscript from his briefcase, and slammed them on the table: "See for yourself!"
Hu Shih picked up the manuscript with trembling hands, his eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses widening. The paper was densely covered with simplified characters, fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and his lips trembled but he could not utter a word.
"Zihan is of noble character and disdains engaging in verbal disputes with you; he focuses solely on getting things done." Mr. Cai's voice was as icy as ice: "You, on the contrary, judge a gentleman by your own petty standards! Compared to Zihan, you..."
He couldn't finish his sentence. A sudden, violent coughing fit struck him, and Mr. Cai bent over, his face turning bright red from coughing.
Hu Shih then seemed to realize his mistake and hurriedly stepped forward to help him up: "Mr. He! Please don't be angry, we were wrong."
Mr. Cai shook off his hand and staggered to grab the door frame for support.
He stared at the slogans "Democracy" and "Science" hanging on the editorial office wall and suddenly felt a deep sense of irony. Had these people, who spent their days shouting slogans, ever truly stooped down to do anything practical?
"Appropriate."
Mr. Cai's voice was weary and disappointed: "The reform of the Chinese language concerns the fate of the nation; it is not child's play. Zihan has no official position, yet he has devoted himself to compiling textbooks and reforming Chinese characters with his own passion. On the contrary, we have wasted the people's hard-earned money and achieved nothing..."
"I am inferior to him, and you are even less inferior to him!"
Outside, dusk was falling. Winters in Beiping come early, and the streetlights along the streets lit up one after another, casting dappled shadows on the snow.
Mr. Cai wrapped his coat tighter and walked alone into the cold wind. His figure looked particularly lonely in the snow, yet exceptionally resolute.
Hu Shi and others felt a sharp pain in their hearts as they watched Mr. Cai walk alone in the snow.
The kerosene lamp in the editorial office of New Youth stayed on all night.
Hu Shih hunched over his desk, the nib of his pen scratching across the manuscript paper. He would sometimes pause and frown, and sometimes write furiously, the stray hairs on his forehead sticking to his temples with sweat.
"Mr. Hu, are we really going to pull this article, 'On Bai Zihan's Cowardice in Battle,' entirely?" The young editor with round-framed glasses held up the newly removed lead plates, his tone tinged with reluctance: "All the content for this issue has already been formatted."
Without looking up, Hu Shih paused heavily under the title of "Apology Statement": "Retract everything, and deduct the losses from my salary."
The north wind outside whipped snowflakes against the glass, but inside the editorial office, it was stiflingly hot. Hu Shih unbuttoned his collar, dipping his pen repeatedly in the inkwell. When he wrote, "We bark and howl, while Zihan silently practices," the editor beside him secretly gasped in astonishment. They had worked together for some time, and had never seen Hu Shih bow his head to anyone before.
"Shizhi, isn't this apology letter a bit too much?"
"Too obsequious?" Hu Shi sneered, grabbing the manuscript paper and rustling it loudly. "You think my writing 'We bark and howl, while Zihan silently practices' is obsequious? Do you know how long it normally takes to compile the simplification of over three thousand commonly used Chinese characters?"
"If it were me, I could probably only simplify less than ten characters in a month. Zihan accomplished in three days what I couldn't do in three hundred months. This will save our country's education at least ten years. Even if you asked me to kneel down and kowtow, I would do it willingly, let alone flatter me!"
“Zihan didn’t ask for an apology; he’s magnanimous.” Hu Shi’s voice suddenly lowered, his fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the manuscript. “But I can’t pretend nothing happened.”
He looked up at the gradually brightening sky outside the window, where the pale blue morning light was already reflecting on the snow: "When the newspaper is published, save me a copy. I want to apologize to Zihan in person."
The editorial office was completely silent, except for the scratching sound of Hu Shi's pen rubbing against the paper.
Beijing wakes up late in the twelfth lunar month. When newsboys begin their sales pitches through the snow, the sun has just climbed over the eaves of the Forbidden City.
"Extra! Extra! Hu Shih has published an apology in the newspaper!" A newsboy wrapped in a tattered cotton-padded coat waved the newspaper, his face, red from the cold, peeking out from under his scarf.
On Qianmen Street, several scholars in long gowns gathered around upon hearing the commotion. The young man at the front pulled out two copper coins: "One serving, please!"
The moment the newspaper was unfolded, everyone gasped. The front page prominently featured Hu Shi's handwritten "Public Apology to Mr. Bai Zihan," filled with deep remorse.
"This middle-aged man in the melon-shaped hat pointed at the newspaper, his finger trembling slightly. 'Just a few days ago he was criticizing him for seeking fame and fortune, how come suddenly...'"
"Look at this!" the young man suddenly raised his voice, drawing the attention of passersby. He read aloud: "'While we sit and discuss doctrines, Zihan has already completed a simplified three-thousand-character plan; while we talk empty words about saving the country, Zihan is already drafting a Chinese Pinyin system. True integrity lies not in verbal sparring, but in silent practice.'"
A buzz of discussion arose from the crowd. A businessman in a suit squeezed through the crowd: "Excuse me, where can I still buy this newspaper?"
Before noon, this issue of "New Youth" had spread throughout Beijing. In teahouses and taverns, people eagerly passed around Hu Shi's letter of apology.
In front of Peking University's Red Building, the snow had been trampled into mud. Hu Shi had just stepped out of the Faculty of Arts when he was surrounded by a dozen students. The leader, a boy holding a copy of *New Youth* magazine, his face flushed red, exclaimed: "Mr. Hu! Has someone threatened you? We..."
"A threat?" Hu Shi chuckled, his breath condensing into frost on his glasses. He took off his glasses and wiped them, his voice suddenly becoming serious: "If you think I, Hu Shi, am the kind of person who would write such an article if threatened, then you greatly underestimate me—"
He paused, his gaze sweeping across each young face behind his glasses: "They're underestimating Bai Zihan too much."
The students exchanged bewildered glances. A girl with braided pigtails asked timidly, "Did Mr. Bai really complete the simplification of over three thousand commonly used Chinese characters in just three days?"
Just as Hu Shi was about to answer, he caught a glimpse of two familiar figures approaching through the snow. Lu Xun's signature black cotton robe was covered in mud, and Qian Xuantong's mustache was still covered in ice crystals. Both of them had terribly gloomy expressions.
"You all go back to class first." Hu Shi patted his students on the shoulder and turned to greet his two old friends. Before he could even speak, Qian Xuantong bombarded him with questions: "Shizhi! What's wrong with you? That article is simply..."
Hu Shi calmly pulled a stack of manuscripts from his briefcase. The yellowed Xuan paper was densely covered with simplified Chinese characters, each with its evolution and origin noted beside it. At the top, written in red ink, was the title "Simplified Chinese Characters: First Draft".
"This is... Could it be that what you wrote in the newspaper is true, that he...?"
Qian Xuantong's questioning came to an abrupt halt. He snatched the manuscript, his withered fingers trembling on the paper. Lu Xun leaned closer, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper.
The three stood silently in the snow, the only sound the rustling of pages turning. After a long while, Qian Xuantong finally spoke with difficulty: "Where did this manuscript come from?"
“Mr. Cai left this yesterday.” Hu Shi’s voice was soft, yet it sounded like a heavy hammer striking the snow.
"Now you know why I wrote that article, right?" Hu Shi said with a wry smile, putting away the documents. "While we were still thinking about how to engage in verbal battles, Zihan was already buried in practical work." He looked up at the gray sky, snowflakes falling on his face and melting into icy water: "In terms of breadth of vision, I am no match for him; in terms of ability, I am also no match for him in completing the simplification of commonly used Chinese characters in such a short time."
Qian Xuantong and Lu Xun exchanged a glance, then both shook their heads with bitter smiles. How much better off could they be? After a brief silence...
Lu Xun suddenly turned and walked away, his black cotton robe leaving a trail in the snow. Qian Xuantong hesitated for a moment, then hurriedly chased after him: "Yu Cai! Where are you going?"
"Go back and write your article!" Lu Xun roared without turning his head, his voice scattering in the north wind. "Are we supposed to wait until Bai Zihan even creates a phonetic alphabet before apologizing?"
Three days later, the special edition of "New Youth" caused a sensation throughout the city.
Not only did Hu Shi publish another long article, "From Debate to Construction," but the apology articles by Qian Xuantong and Lu Xun were even more surprising.
In particular, Lu Xun's "Letter to a Pragmatist" begins with the self-deprecating statement, "I have never hesitated to speculate about the Chinese with the worst malice, yet I lack respect for true warriors."
This made things even more interesting. The apology articles by Qian Xuantong and Lu Xun were published, which was even more surprising. These two were the main forces that proposed abolishing Chinese characters, and their words were far more intense than Hu Shi's. How come they are now also publishing apologies?
Just as the outside world was making a great fuss about this matter, Hu Shi and the other two appeared at the hotel where Qin Hao was staying, each holding a copy of "New Youth".
Muddy footprints still lingered on the stairs. The door at the end of the second-floor corridor was ajar, and the soft scratching of a pen could be faintly heard.
Just as Hu Shi was about to knock on the door, Lu Xun stopped him. The three of them held their breath and approached the door, peering through the crack—Qin Hao was hunched over his desk by the window, writing furiously. A pile of manuscripts, half a foot high, lay on the desk, the ink gleaming faintly in the inkstone. He was so focused on his writing that he didn't even bother to brush away the stray hairs falling across his forehead.
In fact, Qin Hao had already recognized the footsteps as not belonging to the waiter when the three of them went upstairs. Seeing that the three of them did not speak, he simply pretended not to know.
"Cough," Qian Xuantong finally couldn't help but clear his throat.
Qin Hao looked up as if suddenly realizing something, his face showing just the right amount of surprise: "What brings you three gentlemen here?"
He hurriedly got up to greet him, but his sleeve "accidentally" knocked over the inkstone.
The inkstone fell, spilling ink all over the ground, and Qin Hao, Hu Shi, and the other two had many ink splatters on their robes.
The four of them looked at each other and smiled.
"Please have a seat, all three of you. I'll have the waiter bring some tea." Qin Hao put down his pen and was about to greet the three of them.
“No need.” Lu Xun walked straight to the desk, his gaze fixed intently on the stack of overturned manuscript papers: “What is Zihan writing?”
Qin Hao casually said, "We're working on writing the Chinese Pinyin..."
Before he could finish speaking, Qian Xuantong had already eagerly flipped open the manuscript. After reading only a few lines, his mustache began to tremble violently: "Using Latin letters to annotate Chinese pronunciation? Zihan, what's the meaning of these two tables?"
Qin Hao explained, "This is a table of initials, and this is a table of finals..."
Hu Shi leaned closer, his eyes widening behind his glasses. The manuscript not only scientifically marked the initials and finals of Chinese characters, but also included tone marks and detailed pronunciation diagrams.
"Zihan," Hu Shi's voice was filled with shock: "You've been researching this for a while now?"
Qin Hao nodded: "Don't laugh at me, I'm from Shaanxi, so my accent is a bit off. In my spare time, I've been thinking that with so many places and so many dialects in our country, the pronunciation of the same Chinese character can be completely different, making communication difficult. This has also contributed to the rise of local warlords. If we could unify the pronunciation of Chinese and everyone could speak the same language, wouldn't it be easier to unite as one?"
"These were just ideas before, but I didn't expect them to come in handy this time in Beijing... I hope they will be useful."
Lu Xun suddenly bowed deeply, the hem of his black cotton robe sweeping across the ground. This unexpected action stunned everyone.
"Brother Yu Cai!" Qin Hao hurriedly went to help him up.
"Don't move." Lu Xun stubbornly maintained his bowed posture, his voice muffled as it came from below: "This bow is for my previous offense."
As he straightened up, tears welled in his eyes: "At first, I thought that opening a window in the room would definitely cause dissatisfaction from many people, so I simply suggested tearing down the roof so that everyone could sit down and discuss opening the window."
"I only thought about proposing solutions, but I never thought about putting them into practice. Zihan's actions have really taught me a lesson."
Qian Xuantong also bowed deeply to Qin Hao, who quickly helped him up, saying, "Mr. Qian, you are too kind."
Hu Shi glanced at Lu Xun, then at Qian Xuantong, and suddenly burst into laughter. He took off his glasses, wiped away the tears of laughter, and solemnly took out a hardcover notebook from his briefcase: "This is a joint apology letter from the editorial department of our magazine, *New Youth*. Everyone wrote something in it."
He turned to a page and pointed to a passage: "This was added by Brother Shouchang—'Mr. Zihan taught us what true unity of knowledge and action means.'"
Qin Hao closed his notebook, then clasped his hands in a fist and bow to the three men: "Your contributions to promoting vernacular Chinese and spreading new culture are also for the benefit of the country and its people..."
Lu Xun waved his hand: "Zihan doesn't need to cover for us. Compared to Zihan, we are just a bunch of pedantic scholars who only know how to argue."
"Indeed, Zihan's achievements in simplifying Chinese characters and compiling the pinyin for Chinese characters are enough to be remembered for thousands of years."