Chapter 2: Vanka

When Mikhail finally arrived at the pre-arranged meeting spot from their letters, his classmate Dmitri Vasilievich Grigoryevich was already waiting for him at the end of the street.

The moment the other saw him, he came striding over eagerly, gave him a hug, and greeted him warmly: "Long time no see, Misha! Is your illness any better? God bless you, heaven knows how glad I am to see you."

"Long time no a no see, Dima, I'm much better." Because he had been so busy, Mikhail's illness had not actually fully recovered, so when the bear of a man in front of him threw his arms around him, Mikhail felt he could barely breathe.

But not wanting to disappoint the other's enthusiasm, Mikhail still braced himself and replied: "Glad to see you're still so full of energy."

Another thing worth mentioning: although in his past life Mikhail was a master's student specializing in Russian literature, he still felt that Russian names were ridiculously long, and all the declensions and variants were enough to drive a person mad.

Fortunately, right now he could still count as half-proficient in Russian; the rest would have to wait until he had absorbed more of the memories in his head.

Speaking of names, take his current name as an example — Mikhail Romanovich Raskolnikov. Mikhail means "incarnation of God," Romanovich is the patronymic, and Raskolnikov is the surname, that is, the family name.

Others could address him directly as Mikhail; with a bit more respect, or when others mentioned him, they would call him Mikhail Romanovich; those familiar and closer to him would call him Misha.

The bear of a classmate in front of him was no different.

Speaking of which, although Mikhail is now a university student in the law faculty, he has indeed been forced to suspend his studies for a while due to poverty. And although the original host had never been one for socializing and avoided all social engagements, he did still have one or two classmates he hit it off with.

Dmitri was a good friend he had made during his school days. Coming from a landowning family, an ordinary Russian was already quite emotional, but he was a Russian among Russians, usually caring more about other people's affairs than his own.

Compared with Dmitri's imposing and rough looks, Mikhail was handsome, with a pair of beautiful black eyes and a head of dark-brown hair, of above-average build, slender and well-proportioned. If only he weren't so unsociable and overthinking things, struggling to speak up, he wouldn't have driven himself into such a corner if he had just gotten to know a few more people.

These thoughts flashed through Mikhail's mind in an instant. By the time the other finally released his tree-trunk-like arms, Mikhail, breathing again, hurriedly said: "The purpose of my coming to find you I've already told you in the letter, you've seen it, right? Here, this is my manuscript."

"Of course, my friend, I really didn't expect you to have talent in this area." Taking the manuscript Mikhail handed over from his bosom with great interest, although Dmitri acted very interested, he didn't read it on the spot, but said to Mikhail, who looked a bit haggard:

"Let's go, let's first find a tavern and have a drink together! And get something to eat — look how weak you've become."

"Is that appropriate?" Mikhail, ravenous, was tempted.

"Come on, why are you still being so polite as before?" Laughing heartily and clapping Mikhail on the back, the rather nattily dressed Dmitri dragged Mikhail, who nearly got beaten to death by the pat, forward: "Let's just go to the tavern on the street ahead, it's a rare quiet spot, that way I can read your little novel first. What did you write? A hero's tale?"

"A story about a poor child."

"Oh?" Dmitri's expression immediately grew much more solemn: "Then I'll have to read it carefully. You know, I'm also writing a novel on this subject, but I often feel that the poor people I write are not even one ten-thousandth as vivid as those in real life."

"Mm."

That's right, the bear-like Dmitri, who seemed like he ought to be charging across a battlefield, was unexpectedly also aiming to become a writer.

And although he came from a landowning family, he had always harbored enormous sympathy for the common folk at the bottom, and in making friends he didn't care about the other's background — otherwise he wouldn't have ended up hanging around with a pauper like Mikhail.

Speaking of which, this was also a sort of traditional old trick among some Russian aristocrats of this period.

Tracing it back to the root, one has to go to the 1814 war in which Russia repelled Napoleon's invasion. Although the many young aristocrats of the Russian upper class hated Napoleon's invasion, after learning about it they couldn't help but admire the spirit of liberty and democracy in Napoleon's code.

Having long witnessed the fiery revolutionary movements sweeping Europe and the miserable lives of the serfs at home, Russia's progressive young aristocrats, after gathering to discuss it many times, ultimately made a decision that went against their ancestors.

Namely, to overthrow the tsar's autocracy, liberate the serfs, and establish a free, equal, and democratic realm.

This was what later became the Decembrist revolt, which shocked all of Russia.

Ordinary people did not understand their actions. They said: how strange — when other people rebel, it's a cobbler wanting to be a lord; what do these lords want to rebel for, to become cobblers?

Although their actions ultimately ended in failure, their spirit did indeed survive in some form.

To this day, although Tsar Nicholas I is still throwing heavy punches at these very unusual citizens — including but not limited to prohibiting aristocratic youths from studying in Western Europe, banning the import of books from Western Europe, and stopping the teaching of philosophy to students at universities —

He still cannot fully suppress the surging undercurrent of revolutionary sentiment at home. Even the original host, during his university days, seems to have joined some sort of little group………

Wait, isn't that me?!

No way, buddy! You're nearly dead poor, and everything you're doing could land you on the gallows?!

Thinking stiffened at the thought, Mikhail's face turned green.

But then again, as the saying goes, to get on with life you need a little green on your head. Even though the original host had left behind a mess that could land him on the gallows at any slip, he wasn't going to die just yet.

Not only wasn't he going to die, he could even have a hot meal at a mid-range tavern — red borscht with plenty of lard and beef, plus a bit of fried ham and grilled lamb chops — what more could he ask for?

Eat first!

Mikhail didn't even know how long it had been since he'd had a proper meal. Because of unpaid rent, the three meals a day his landlady provided could only be described as rinse water.

Seeing Mikhail wolf down his food, Dmitri, who had already eaten before coming, couldn't help but shake his head — his friend really did look starved, and thankfully he wasn't as proud as he used to be.

While Mikhail was eating, although the tavern was still a bit noisy, Dmitri still began reading Mikhail's novel with great interest. Before actually reading it, the bear-like man also set a little expectation for himself in his heart:

It's Misha's first time writing a novel, so it probably won't be that great.

So after I finish reading, I shouldn't say too much, try to focus on encouragement. If he still wants to keep at it afterwards, then the two of us could compare notes and improve together.

With this thought, Dmitri began his reading.

As for the title,

"Vanka"…………

(End of chapter)