Chapter 27: The Choir and the Reviewers Part 4
Chu Wang's heart skipped a beat and he asked, "What's wrong with her? Is there something wrong with the paper she reviewed?"
"No problem, very good... or rather, great."
"Oh." So what's there to talk about...
"It's very rare to find a girl as academically accomplished as Miss Lin. I'd like to chat with her. Would she be so kind as to do me a favor?"
"Uh..." Chu Wang looked up at the sky speechlessly.
"It's okay if you don't want to see anyone. Can you call me?"
“…There’s no telephone at home.”
"Well, that's it. Can you send a quick message?"
"I'm sorry... my family has strict discipline."
"So you can't see me anyway, right?"
Chu Wang thought helplessly: "It's not that I'm trying to embarrass you, it's just that I really can't help it, Professor Xu. If I had been born a hundred years earlier in my previous life, or if I were a few years older in this life, I wouldn't refuse to see you."
He could only sigh and say, "Forget it. Can you tell her for me?"
"Okay." Chu Wang nodded in a daze.
Shanlin Road wasn't far from Yau Ma Tei. After the two rang the bell and got off the bus not far from No. 21, Xu Shaoqian slowly said, "Quitting school due to illness, or dropping out due to family reasons, and missing out on a degree... Miss Lin's future was so much greater, yet she's confined to this place. It's such a pity for her. She could have had a much brighter future."
Lin Chuwang felt helpless. What else could she do? She was halfway through writing her doctoral dissertation, and suddenly she was transformed into a little kid, struggling to survive.
"Please tell Miss Lin: If your illness isn't too serious to prevent you from completing your studies, or if you have any other difficulties, please let me know and I'll do my best to help."
"I will definitely pass it on." Lin Chuwang bowed politely again, said goodbye to Mr. Xu Lai, and hurriedly crossed the road to the vicinity of No. 21.
When I turned around, Xu Shaoqian was still standing there, looking in the direction of No. 21 from afar, and no one knew what he was thinking.
Lin Chuwang sighed and hurried into the tailor shop.
Mrs. Ruan, wearing a dark blue dress with gold feathers embroidered on the edges, looked up and asked with concern, "What's bothering you?"
Chu Wang was deeply distressed and said, "How can I make something appear for others when it doesn't exist in the first place?"
Mr. Saumur said in surprise, "Oh!" and looked over his small round reading glasses: "The Emperor's New Clothes?"
Chu Wang nodded and picked up the scissors and marking line from the mannequin: "It's the emperor's new clothes. But only the tailor can see the clothes, no one else can see it."
"Either you lose your head or you make a fortune. Then, make the emperor happy every day."
Chu Wang smiled. Mr. Saumur always has a lot of truth in what he says.
Seeing that she finally smiled, Mr. Saumur, as if to add icing on the cake, handed her a letter from the drawer.
Chu Wang took the letter and couldn't help but feel a lot of emotion: You, do you know how much effort I put into writing this letter to you?
She was about to put the letter away when Mr. Saumur said, "Go read it in the corner. You can write your reply here and mail it later. It's not very convenient to take the letter home with you."
It turned out that Mr. Saumur knew everything. She was so moved that she almost hugged Mr. Saumur and burst into tears. Then, amid Mrs. Ruan's laughter, Lin Chuwang was driven by Mr. Saumur to the laboratory to read the letter.
——————
Dear Miss Chu Wang,
The night before I packed my bags for the dock at Marseilles, France, I had the pleasure of receiving your letter, a letter that has lasted over a year and seven months. I wrote this hastily while on the ship from Marseilles to England. I chatted with the sailors at the dock, drank some rum, and then hurriedly wrote this letter back in my cabin. I hope I'm not too drunk to speak nonsense.
In the first-class ballroom, drunken French and English people nearly came to blows over The Count of Monte Cristo and Hamlet. I was also quite drunk, and I even tried to tell them the story of Gou Jian's conquest of Wu. Everyone vomited all over the cabin, which was a complete disgrace.
After returning, I thought about what you said about the Siberian cold front. It was really thanks to you that I was lucky enough to avoid it. From Germany, in the freezing cold, I arrived in Marseille wearing only one layer of clothing. I wonder what the next journey to London will be like.
By the time this letter arrives, winter will be almost here, right? I hope Hong Kong's winter isn't as cold as London's. Then, perhaps we'll be experiencing the same weather when I receive your letter next time.
When I wrote this letter, I wanted to tell you everything; but after I finished writing it, I found that the words were not enough to express my meaning, and I had no way to revise it.
Let me just laugh and wish you well.
Si Yansang
05.09
In the 14th year of the Republic of China, on the Marseille Bruno
——————
She lifted the letter and sniffed it; it still lingered with the sweet, sweet aroma of rum. This had probably been written hastily on the boat, and the letter had been expedited, so there were no poems or photos. This was all the better for it, as it saved her the trouble of racking her brains trying to understand the similes and parallelisms. She thought for a moment, then wrote:
——————
Dear Mr. Yan Sang,
I received your letter.
Everything's fine with me. Hong Kong's coldest hours are about the same as late summer in Germany. But Hong Kong summers are a must for ice cream. After a year of working as an apprentice in a tailor shop, I can probably make some decent dresses, just enough for everyday wear. Mr. Saumur, the Frenchman who works at the tailor shop, is from Provence, and Mrs. Nguyen used to work as a maid for some French Vietnamese from Marseille. They're very nice people, and maybe they could tell you about Alexandre Dumas and Gou Jian. I learned some French witticisms from them, and I'll tell them to you next time I see you.
I often hear people say that the food in England is worse than that in Germany. I wonder if you can stand it. They love to cook with butter and put cheese in their dishes. I hope you don't get so fat that I can't recognize you.
People around me say that I have grown a lot taller. I hope that when I see you again, I won’t have to look up at you anymore.
Best wishes to you
01.11.1925
Your sincere wishes
After reading newspapers and magazines from that era for over a year, Lin Chuwang had more or less grasped the essence of the lovely Republican era letter style. After writing the letter, she put it aside and, before dinner, walked to the post office with Mr. Saumur to mail it.
Apart from his participation in the war, Mr. Saumur rarely talked about himself. Sometimes when she went to post a letter, Mr. Saumur would ask her to help post it, often to the small town of Los-Angoe, but she never saw Mr. Saumur receive a reply from there.
Lin Chuwang had a busy and fulfilling winter, commuting between the Qiao Mansion, Shanlin Road, and Yau Ma Tei. After three months, she had become a wealthy woman, worth 30 silver dollars. Meanwhile, her classmates hadn't made much progress with Ye Wenyu this semester; they were just choir members whom she had met a few times. Lin Chuwang couldn't help but feel anxious for them.
Chaplin's The Gold Rush had been released in Hong Kong for almost six months. After the final exams, half the girls in the class suddenly decided to go to the theater to see the 5 p.m. showing of The Gold Rush this weekend. When class ended at 3:30, Xie Miya approached Lin Chuwang mysteriously and said, "Let's go."
"Where are you going?"
"Kowloon, Great World Theater."
"What are you going there for?"
"Watching a show."
"Whose film, Chaplin?"
"Mr. Ye Wenyu and his admirers."
“…”
Xie Miya dragged him onto the tram before he'd even packed his schoolbag. The whole way there, Lin Chuwang wondered, "Is communication so advanced these days?" Why would all the girls in the class know that Ye Wenyu was going to the 5 p.m. show? He wondered what Ye Wenyu would think when he saw so many familiar faces crowding the theater.
The two of them bought seats in the corner of the last row, presumably for convenience. Perhaps because the film industry wasn't well-developed, a classic film could play for six months to a year. Couples flocked to the cinema on weekends, so even after peak season, the theater still had plenty of empty seats. From a distance, she could see her two older sisters, accompanied by their Shanghainese friends or poetry club members, occupying either side of the theater. Even from such a distance, Lin Chuwang could sense the tense atmosphere.
Shortly before the movie started, a group of boys carrying tennis rackets rushed in, apologizing to those behind them and taking seats in the front row. Ye Wenyu stood out the most among the boys. He wore a red and white jersey, looking very youthful and sporty; his hair damp with sweat didn't detract from his handsomeness. The movie began, and the visible light flickered across everyone's faces frame by frame. But Ye Wenyu, in the front row, wasn't paying attention to the movie at all, constantly turning his head to look at the back row.
Xie Miya and Chu Wang weren't paying attention to the movie. Chu Wang, having seen it countless times, lowered his voice and asked, "Who is he watching?"
"Maybe some lucky girl in our class."
"ha?"
"Shall we make a bet?"
"What's the bet?"
"I bet he's got a crush on one of your sisters. The bet is a cappuccino from the Bluebird Cafe."
"Ha, then I have no choice but to take a gamble." With seven or eight girls, she had at least a 70% chance of winning.
When Chaplin cooked and ate his shoes, they laughed along with the others, then forgot about it as they watched the movie. When the show ended and people started to leave, Xie Miya grabbed Lin Chuwang and smiled, looking ahead: "Look."
The small theater, which held thirty people, had only half left. The remaining half was filled with familiar faces. Suddenly, the boys, jostling, pushed Ye Wenyu forward. Amidst the laughter, Ye Wenyu, blushing, walked to the right of the back row—the direction of Yunyan and her poetry club sisters.
Yun Yan and several girls were about to get up and leave the cinema. Amidst the boos, Ye Wenyu mustered up the courage to step forward and stop Yun Yan.
Under the envious gazes of the girls and Yunyan's shock and confusion, Ye Wenyu was so nervous that he stuttered: "You, you are... the president of the Huajian Poetry Society, Lin Yunyan, right?"
Lin Yunyan nodded in surprise.
"I often hear people talk about your poetry, and I admire it very much... No! I envy you very much! I wonder if your society would accept a person as uncouth as me?"
The unintentional expression of "admiration" caused everyone to laugh.
"What's your name?" Lin Yunyan said this very calmly, but his eyes intentionally or unintentionally looked at Xue Zhenzhen's team on the other side. Xue Zhenzhen sat in the dark, looking at Lin Yunyan with a sidelong glance, and it was unclear what expression was on her face.
Ye Wenyu scratched his hair, took out a pen and a piece of paper from his bag, and wrote tremblingly for a while. He handed it over with both hands and said with a smile: "I am not very good at writing Chinese characters. President, please don't look down on me. I am sorry for the embarrassment."
Yun Yan took the paper and looked at it, then burst out laughing, making Ye Wenyu even more embarrassed. At this moment, the girls nearby came over to scramble for the paper, and it flew straight to Lin Chuwang and Xie Miya. They picked it up and saw that the three characters "Ye Wenyu" had been written as five or six characters. The paper was a mess of "艹世木文山" (艹世木文山), all the same size, and the last half of the "驭" ("carriage") was absurdly large.
Chu Wang sighed, "I lost."
The author has something to say: The boys who went to college at that time were all about seventeen, and Yunyan was fourteen, so there wasn't a big age difference.
The war between Yun Yan and Xue Zhenzhen is about to begin.
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I really want to know what’s up with the idea of being a saint == If you have to respond to a little injustice without knowing the situation, you have to lash out with such eloquence? You won’t even know how you died. . . . People can endure a little in their lives, but you really can’t do it just for the sake of momentary pleasure, otherwise you won’t even know how you died. . .
Hey, I'm a little confused by some of the comments... I'll remove the "cool article" tag... I really can't accept mindless criticism
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I was playing outside and suddenly saw some comments that made me angry, so I added a few paragraphs to give a unified answer. This is not a fake update tt
But I am very happy to have more encouragement from the little cuties
Mmmmm everyone
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