100 The Roar of October: We've Spent All Our Royalties (Please Support with Votes)

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“Xue Min, we’ve been waiting for you. Let’s go in together!”

Arriving at Zhonghai, he saw Liu Xinwu at the palace gate and jogged over. Old Liu was chatting with Li Qingquan from Yanjing Literature, and upon seeing him, quickly waved him over.

“Teacher Liu, Teacher Li! You’re here too. Do you know what this is about? I’m just a small-time writer!”

Cheng Xue Min greeted them, having been pondering all the way; it must be related to his recent manuscript. After all, he was only nominally affiliated with Old Wu at Zhonghai, and his only contribution was that piece for his mother-in-law’s magazine, October.

Now that the plenary session had officially concluded, newspapers, journals, radio, and television were all ablaze with reports on the conference spirit—it marked the grand curtain rising. As a pioneer of the literary reform, Cheng Xue Min was about to be called to the frontline.

Yet, he was unsure why it was so urgent.

“It’s probably about your article, but it’s not just the three of us. Old Zhang from People’s Literature, Old Zhou from China Youth, your father-in-law Old Feng from China Literature, and heads of major newspapers, journals, radio, and TV news departments—almost everyone’s here!”

Liu Xinwu nodded to Cheng Xue Min, gesturing them to hurry inside as he spoke.

“What?! Everyone’s here? Is something big about to happen?”

Cheng Xue Min’s face turned pale with shock. He had thought it was just about his article, but the heads of cultural departments under Old Wu’s management had all come! Meetings of this level weren’t they supposed to be prepared for at least a month in advance?

“Xue Min, there’s definitely something big. I heard Old Ba from Shanghai has also arrived!”

Li Qingquan from Yanjing Literature added.

“Old Ba from Shanghai?!”

Cheng Xue Min was stunned again. The editor-in-chief of the Shanghai journal Harvest, Old Ba, was in Beijing. No wonder his article had been without follow-up.

When the three of them were led into the main conference room, they finally grasped the meeting’s high level.

“*Ahem!*”

Inside, the room was thick with smoke as one after another puffed away. Cheng Xue Min, caught off guard, inhaled several lungfuls of secondhand smoke, coughing violently.

Almost instantly, the coughing drew the entire room’s gaze to the trio at the door.

Those who knew Cheng Xue Min gave a slight nod but no greeting. Those who didn’t were suspicious—what was a greenhorn doing here?

Everyone present was a head of a department or unit, most well into their forties or fifties.

And suddenly, a barely twenty-something youngster appeared among them—how could they not be suspicious?

In this day and age, seniority and rank mattered most, and for an urgent meeting of this caliber, no unit would dare send a mere kid.

“What? This is the author of The Herdsman, Old Xu?”

“Holy crap, Old Feng, your son-in-law? Really? When did your daughter get married?”

“Old Feng, your daughter got married but didn’t invite us to the wedding?”

“Old Feng, your son-in-law is Old Xu, author of The Herdsman, the one Old Qian just criticized as the top figure in reflective literature?”

“Old Xu, author of The Herdsman, is your son-in-law? That’s impressive. That article was really good!”

“The author of The Herdsman is so young. Why is he here?”

“Yeah! The Herdsman is good, but for a meeting of this level… who called him here?”

“You don’t know? I heard he dropped an atomic bomb on Old Liu’s October. Maybe today’s meeting is about that bomb!”

“Whoa, an atomic bomb? Old Yang, who told you that? Seriously?”

“Teacher Ding Ling mentioned it at the symposium the day before yesterday. Can that be fake?”

“Oh my, Old Feng’s son-in-law… is amazing!”

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After a brief moment of stunned silence, the entire conference room began whispering and pointing at Cheng Xue Min by the door.

Sitting near the center, Old Feng was taken aback when Cheng Xue Min suddenly appeared at the door.

How did Xue Min get here? Who notified him?

Before he could rise to greet his son-in-law and inquire, Zhang Guangnian from People’s Literature, sitting nearby, explained to his colleagues, instantly making Old Feng the center of attention.

“Xue Min, your seat is over there!”

Liu Xinwu scanned the room and spotted a nameplate reading ‘Cheng Xue Min’ at a corner seat and pointed him there.

“Thanks!”

Cheng Xue Min glanced over, saw his seat, nodded to Liu Xinwu and Li Qingquan, and moved towards the corner.

During this, he also noticed his father-in-law Old Feng, Teacher Ding Ling, and the venerable Mao he’d met once before.

Next to Mao sat an elderly man whom Cheng Xue Min immediately recognized as Old Ba, editor-in-chief of Harvest—he’d seen his portrait and statue in textbooks.

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Cheng Xue Min had just sat down when a female comrade beside him greeted him in surprise, confirming he was really Teacher Gu’s son-in-law and the author Old Xu of The Herdsman.

Cheng Xue Min smiled politely and greeted her back, recognizing her as an old acquaintance of his mother-in-law, Mrs. Feng.

Soon, Old Wu appeared at the front, leading in an elder leader.

In an instant, all the heads of departments in the room were stunned, then one by one stood up and applauded.

Cheng Xue Min, still bewildered, stood and clapped along, caught up in the excitement.

Under Old Wu’s chairmanship, after a brief opening, the elder leader gave a speech, clearly about conveying the spirit of the meeting.

The directive emphasized that cultural propaganda was the first front for transmitting this spirit, requiring strict, timely, and effective leadership.

The elder leader’s speech was brief, and he left midway.

Next came Old Wu’s work instructions.

When the meeting ended, Cheng Xue Min thought that was it. Actually, the meeting seemed to have nothing to do with him.

They hadn’t mentioned the article during the session.

Of course, it was unlikely his article alone would be singled out at such an important meeting.

He was called simply to listen to the meeting spirit or perhaps because the soon-to-launch magazine Today would have him as deputy editor, responsible for conveying the spirit.

If so, Chen Shumin should be called too, not just him.

“Xiao Liu from October, Old Zhang from People’s Literature, stay behind!”

“Right, has Xiao Cheng arrived? You stay too!”

Unexpectedly, as the meeting was declared over, Old Wu stopped Liu Xinwu from October and Zhang Guangnian from People’s Literature.

Instantly, all present focused their attention, unsure if Old Wu had further important instructions.

When Old Wu added a phrase afterward, all eyes turned fully to Cheng Xue Min.

Cheng Xue Min was dumbfounded. The meeting had ended—why was Old Wu calling him back?

It was about that atomic bomb.

Everyone soon realized the true reason Old Wu had summoned the author of The Herdsman was not just to hear the meeting spirit but for another directive concerning that bomb.

Keeping Liu Xinwu from October was proof enough.

But what did the atomic bomb have to do with Zhang Guangnian from People’s Literature? Why was he kept as well?

If anyone, it should have been Li Qingquan from Yanjing Literature, since Yanjing Literature was the first to publish The Herdsman.

At least, if not Li Qingquan, then Old Feng from China Literature—he was the author’s father-in-law.

Thus, when the three were called back, Old Feng and Li Qingquan were equally surprised.

Even Zhang Guangnian of People’s Literature was puzzled.

Nonetheless, he gestured for Liu Xinwu from October and Cheng Xue Min standing in the corner to follow him.

“Dad!”

Cheng Xue Min deliberately bypassed the large conference table and whispered a greeting to his father-in-law.

“Go ahead, it should be good news!”

Old Feng smiled warmly, nodding for him to proceed confidently.

“All right!”

After the brief exchange, Cheng Xue Min jogged to catch up with Liu Xinwu and Zhang Guangnian, who were led by Secretary Yang into Old Wu’s office.

Old Wu’s office also housed veterans Mao, Ba, Ding Ling, and others.

“You’re here. Xiao Liu, Xiao Cheng, Old Zhang, find a seat. Mao and Ba and I will talk a bit more.”

After greeting the three, Old Wu let them settle in and continued talking with Mao and Ba.

Cheng Xue Min sat upright listening, gradually grasping the gist.

Indeed, to align with the meeting spirit, the cultural front hoped to produce several representative and influential works. They hoped Mao and Ba would exert effort, not necessarily by writing themselves but by mentoring manuscripts.

“Alright then, Old Ba, since you say so, I’ll have this young comrade Cheng Xue Min set an example for everyone. What do you think?”

At the end, Old Wu slapped his thigh and spoke straightforwardly.

Suddenly, Cheng Xue Min was pulled in. Looking up, he grew even more nervous.

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Because it was his turn!

“Comrade Cheng Xue Min?” Old Ba looked puzzled, glancing at Old Wu in confusion.

“This young comrade is Cheng Xue Min, author Old Xu of The Herdsman!”

“But having him set the example and lead the charge is not about The Herdsman!”

“Xiao Yang, go get his manuscript and let Old Ba see it!”

Old Wu introduced Cheng Xue Min to Old Ba and signaled Secretary Yang to fetch the manuscript.

“Hello, Old Wu!”

“Hello, Old Mao!”

“Greetings, Teacher Ding!”

Seizing the opportunity, Cheng Xue Min rose and greeted Old Wu, then the familiar Mao and Ding.

Finally, he greeted the spirited elder Old Ba warmly.

“You’re quite impressive, young man! To become Old Wu’s personally chosen vanguard, I must thoroughly read your work!”

Old Ba warmly shook Cheng Xue Min’s hand, genuinely impressed.

Such a young talent had caught Old Wu’s eye and was now personally appointed to set an example for cultural journals and newspapers.

Old Ba was eager and curious to see how good this example could be.

Before the meeting began, a rumor spread that this young man had dropped an atomic bomb.

“Old Ba, you flatter me. I’m quite nervous!”

Cheng Xue Min responded humbly, overwhelmed by the honor.

“Old Ba, here’s Xiao Cheng’s manuscript. Please have a look.”

Secretary Yang quickly handed the manuscript to Old Ba with both hands.

“All right, all right, excuse me while I read it.”

Old Ba took the manuscript, nodding repeatedly as he sat down and put on reading glasses.

That atomic bomb?

Among those present, only Zhang Guangnian from People’s Literature had not yet seen the manuscript. He wanted to sneak a peek but lacked the courage.

He also wondered why Liu Xinwu’s atomic bomb had prompted Old Wu to summon Cheng Xue Min alone.

If more colleagues were called, Zhang wouldn’t think much, but why was he called too?

Liu Xinwu felt proud but also puzzled why Old Wu had called Zhang from People’s Literature along.

“Here’s the thing! Xiao Liu, we called you here to ask: October is a bimonthly, right?”

Old Wu finally opened the topic, addressing Liu Xinwu.

Liu Xinwu’s heart skipped a beat, a bad premonition rising. He nodded subconsciously, replying, “Yes, Old Wu, October just resumed publication and is bimonthly.”

“When is the next issue due?”

Old Wu nodded, clearly aware already.

“End of next month.”

Liu Xinwu’s unease solidified. The elder leader’s instructions at the meeting had emphasized the timeliness of transmitting the meeting spirit through cultural fronts.

But October’s next issue was a whole month away!

By then, it would be too late.

Afraid to lie outright, Liu hastened to add, “Old Wu, October can issue an extra edition. The next issue’s content is set and can be published immediately.”

Liu Xinwu finally realized why Old Wu had also called Zhang Guangnian.

People’s Literature was a semimonthly with two issues a month.

Sure enough!

Though Liu Xinwu proposed a remedy, Old Wu shook his head.

“That’s too rushed; the first shot of this vanguard might not be effective.”

“Switch to People’s Literature! Xiao Cheng’s article will be published in this issue of Old Zhang’s People’s Literature!”

“Besides, Xiao Liu, October’s influence is still a bit lacking. I admit I underestimated this before.”

“What?! But Old Wu… we’ve already paid Xue Min the fee for that article!”

Liu Xinwu’s face darkened instantly, utterly despondent. In the end, he stubbornly pleaded his case.

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