Chapter 79: ‘Alive

On the way back.

Aunt Er, Chen Xiaohong, was still in shock, telling her husband Sun Desheng: “Unbelievable—Li Heng is the one who wrote ‘Alive’.”

Sun Desheng smiled: “Stop calling him ‘that kid’—in a little while, he’ll be a literary giant.”

Chen Xiaohong asked: “My colleagues and bosses are completely hooked—is it really that good?”

Sun Desheng gave an objective assessment: “I’ve only read half today. If you hadn’t asked me over to your brother’s for dinner, I wouldn’t have even picked it up—it’s genuinely captivating.”

Chen Xiaohong tapped her finger: “But he still has a few months left before graduating high school.”

Sun Desheng gave her a knowing look: “Then why didn’t he win over Zijin last year? Why did he write ‘Alive’ this year? Clearly, he’s no ordinary guy.”

Chen Xiaohong turned her head, slightly annoyed: “Why are you gloating? Which side are you on?”

Sun Desheng said: “This isn’t about sides—I’m just stating facts. You three sisters, your sister-in-law, plus all your aunts and cousins, spent every day complaining about him—saying this wasn’t good, that wasn’t good, he was poor, he was worthless, nothing about him ever satisfied you.”

Look—reality proved you all misjudged him. His excellence was beyond your comprehension.”

Chen Xiaohong said: “You were right there too—you never said Li Heng would amount to anything.”

Sun Desheng replied: “They say three women make a play. When you all got together, you never stopped criticizing. Even your brother couldn’t handle you—what could I say?”

Sun Desheng squeezed his cigarette holder, speaking with meaning: “If Li Heng doesn’t get into Jingcheng, whether he becomes your Chen family’s son-in-law is still uncertain.”

Chen Xiaohong frowned: “What do you mean? Zijin’s already slept with him—her reputation is ruined. How dare he refuse?”

Sun Desheng teased: “You weren’t this way just half a day ago.”

Chen Xiaohong paused, then said: “You can call me materialistic, but you have to face reality—Li Heng now has the potential to match our Chen family.”

Sun Desheng asked: “Potential?”

Chen Xiaohong frowned: “Do you really think being our Chen family’s son-in-law is that easy? Is the bar that low? Do you believe we couldn’t find plenty of men with ability, connections, and education if we just said the word?”

Sun Desheng put the cigarette to his lips but didn’t respond.

After walking a while, Chen Xiaohong reached out and linked her arm through his: “What did you mean by what you just said?”

Sun Desheng replied: “Literal meaning.”

Chen Xiaohong stared into his eyes.

Sun Desheng said: “Since ancient times, literati have been romantic. Li Heng isn’t bad-looking—in fact, his appearance is precisely the kind women favor.”

With the added status of being the author of ‘Alive,’ for some women, it’s lethal. In the future, outstanding women will surely throw themselves at him.”

In this era, literati held high status, and women’s views on love were relatively simple—the more accomplished a woman, the more she valued spiritual fulfillment over material gain. Her husband’s reasoning was sound, and Chen Xiaohong fell silent.

But she was a Chen—she had Chen family pride.

After a long pause, Chen Xiaohong scoffed: “Hmph! Even if Zijin’s been slept with, she won’t struggle to marry. I don’t believe he can find anyone better than Zijin.”

“Besides—can one book, ‘Alive,’ feed him for life? Can he brag about it forever?”

Sun Desheng glanced at his wife and chuckled: “I bet you’ll retract that within five years.”

Chen Xiaohong shrugged: “Ha! We’ll see. I’d like to see what kind of tricks he can pull off in five years.”

Nighttime.

Zhong Lan tossed and turned, unable to sleep—staring at the ceiling, then sitting up against the headboard, muttering under her breath: “That little brat,” “Got too big for her britches,” and similar curses.

Seeing this, Chen Gaoyuan, who had been reading ‘Alive,’ closed the magazine and handed it to her: “Take a look—maybe you’ll calm down.”

Fuming, Zhong Lan shoved the book aside: “How dare that little thing do this? He slept with my daughter and now dares to rub salt in my wound? If I get angry enough, I won’t let him set foot in my door this summer when he comes to Jingcheng.”

Chen Gaoyuan sighed helplessly: “Li Heng isn’t acting out of spite—he’s concerned for Zijin.”

Zhong Lan glared, furious: “My daughter was born from my body, she’s my flesh and blood—I can treat her however I please. What right does an outsider have to meddle?”

Chen Gaoyuan, used to his wife’s domineering side, got out of bed and poured a cup of hot tea:

“Your lips are dry and red—drink some water, calm down.”

Zhong Lan took the cup, sipped, then looked up: “Which side are you on?”

Chen Gaoyuan knew he mustn’t oppose her—he had to go along: “Of course, I’m on your side.”

Zhong Lan sipped again, set the cup on the nightstand, and after a pause said: “I don’t approve of this marriage. Forget whether Zijin and that kid are suited—”

“Just think about how Tian Rune’e was humiliated by me last time—she’s surely holding a grudge. If we become in-laws now, I couldn’t face her.”

This was indeed a thorny issue—his wife was stubborn, and Tian Rune’e was no less so. Once they clashed, reconciliation would be unlikely for a long time.

Chen Gaoyuan sighed inwardly: “The kids are still young. Marriage is at least years away—after university. There’s plenty of time. Don’t worry about this yet. And—”

Zhong Lan asked: “And what?”

Chen Gaoyuan considered his words: “They’re both young. Who knows? They might meet someone better in the future. The future is unpredictable.”

Zhong Lan raised an eyebrow: “You’ve watched your daughter grow up—she’s stubborn. She’s fought with me half a year over that kid. Do you believe she’ll easily change her feelings?”

Chen Gaoyuan stayed silent, silently agreeing with his wife.

Zhong Lan slammed the magazine: “My daughter is mine to scold—not his. If he dares to mistreat her, I’ll peel his skin off.”

Chen Gaoyuan had no reply—his wife was ranting again. He reached for ‘Harvest’ to resume reading.

Unexpectedly, Zhong Lan grabbed the Beijing Evening News from the nightstand and shoved it at him: “Read this to pass the time. I’m too angry to sleep tonight—I want to see what this kid wrote that gives him so much confidence.”

With that, Zhong Lan picked up the magazine, flipped quickly to the ‘Alive’ section, and began reading, furious.

One minute later, she sneered: “That’s it? I don’t see anything special.”

Three minutes later, she continued mocking: “Plain language, dull writing, the protagonist’s a societal cancer. You’ve all been fooled.”

Chen Gaoyuan, having just savored a small cup of tea, merely glanced at her and stayed silent.

Ten minutes later, Zhong Lan muttered: “Not good,” but kept reading.

Half an hour later, Chen Gaoyuan returned from visiting Old Man Chen’s room and asked: “Lanlan, can I talk to you about something?”

Zhong Lan gave no reaction—eyes fixed on the page.

Chen Gaoyuan smiled, postponed his matter, and got into bed, falling asleep immediately.

Around two a.m., Chen Gaoyuan turned over and asked: “It’s this late—why aren’t you asleep?”

Zhong Lan didn’t look up: “I haven’t finished criticizing yet. Sleep. Don’t worry about me.”

The next morning, Chen Zitong woke to find the kitchen silent and rushed to her parents’ bedroom door:

“Mom, if you’re not cooking, what am I supposed to eat? I have to go to school.”

Zhong Lan opened the door, exhausted, and handed her two bills: “I’ve got a headache today—buy your own breakfast.”

She glanced toward her eldest daughter’s room: “Where’s your sister?”

Chen Zitong pouted: “She left already. Mom, should you see a doctor for your headache?”

“No, I’ll sleep it off.”

“Should I call your office to take leave for you?”

“I’ll call myself.”

“Mom—”

“Why are you so nagging?”

Pretending, keep pretending—she’d clearly stayed up reading ‘Alive’ last night. Chen Zitong mimicked her mother’s usual tone when scolding Li Heng, amused, and headed to school.

Don’t ask how she knew her mother had stayed up reading ‘Alive’—she’d woken during the night, noticed the light still on, and peeked through the door crack.

The next day, the China Youth Daily published a review of ‘Alive’ on its most prominent page.

Title: “Beyond Life and Death, Nothing Matters.”

The critic was Yan Jiayan, renowned Chinese historian, literary critic, professor at Peking University’s Chinese Department, and academic titan in modern Chinese literature studies.

The review read as follows:

Regarding ‘Alive,’ first, its language is plain—no ornate phrases, no embellishment. It reads naturally, like a cool breeze from the mountains brushing your face—I was utterly enchanted by every word.

Second, the content rings true. Fugui is real—he exists. He is merely a shadow of the majority during that time, sharing a common fate. The plot is tightly woven, compelling me to read straight through. Yet even after finishing, I couldn’t resist rereading, savoring it slowly—perhaps I’ll gain even more.

As for character portrayal, I was deeply moved. Each figure has distinct traits—they’re a group of lovable people. But reality is cruel: they ultimately cannot escape fate’s grasp, inch by inch pushed into the abyss of death.

All the disasters China endured over the past sixty years befell Fugui and his family one after another. The relentless blows may leave readers unable to sympathize—but the writer, using sincere, heartfelt prose, has forged Fugui into a hero of existence.

When this heavy novel ends, the will to live is the one thing Fugui cannot be stripped of.

This is an extraordinary masterpiece—it will become a classic.

The moment this review appeared, it sparked massive uproar across Dajiangnanbei, instantly igniting the entire literary world. Suddenly, reviews flooded out like spring mushrooms after rain.

…

Shanghai, ‘Harvest’ Magazine Office.

Editor Zou Ping walked through the Writers’ Association building’s three-story corridor and overheard at least four groups discussing ‘Alive’ and Yan’s review.

With a cheerful mood, he stepped into the editorial office and immediately heard a colleague congratulate him:

“Zou Ping, this issue sold out! ‘Alive’ has gone viral!”

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(End of chapter)