[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-my-life-as-a-literary-giant-in-russia":3,"chapter-my-life-as-a-literary-giant-in-russia-my-life-as-a-literary-giant-in-russia-chapter-3":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","My Life as a Literary Giant in Russia",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2317178,4531,"Chapter 3: A New Gogol Is Born!","my-life-as-a-literary-giant-in-russia-chapter-3",3,"\u003Cp>Nine-year-old Wan Ka Zhukov was sent three months ago to work as an apprentice at the cobbler Alya’s shop. On Christmas Eve, he did not go to bed. He waited until the master and his wife and the other craftsmen had left for morning prayers, then took a small bottle of ink and a steel pen with a rusted nib from the master’s cabinet, spread out a crumpled sheet of white paper before him, and began to write.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Did you directly establish the character and setting?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Moreover, although serfdom still exists, according to Dmitri’s understanding of the current social conditions, in some regions serfs have apparently gained limited freedom, and nobles often do not allow a serf’s child to live idly—if there is enough work on their own estate, sending the child elsewhere as labor is common.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These thoughts flashed through Dmitri’s mind, and he quickly continued reading.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before writing his first word, he turned several times in fear to glance at the door and window, casting sidelong glances at the dark icon and the shelves lined with lasters, sighing intermittently. The paper lay on a long bench; he knelt before it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Dear Grandfather, Konstantin Makarevich!” he wrote. “I am writing to you. I wish you a happy Christmas and pray that God grants you all good things. I have no father or mother—only you are my kin.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Poor child, writing a letter with such trembling fear—he must have suffered terribly…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The following narrative confirmed Dmitri’s suspicion beyond doubt:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yesterday I was beaten. The master grabbed my hair, dragged me into the yard, and whipped me mercilessly with the leather strap used by the craftsmen, accusing me of falling asleep while rocking the baby in their cradle.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Last week the mistress ordered me to clean a herring. I started from the tail, and she snatched the fish, shoving its head straight into my face.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They make me sleep in the hallway. Whenever their baby cries, I cannot sleep at all—I must keep rocking the cradle nonstop.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Dear Grandfather, show the mercy of God—take me away from here, bring me home, back to the village. I can’t endure it anymore… I beg you on my knees. I will pray for you forever. Take me away, or I will die…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The child’s account, though seemingly extraordinary, is in fact alarmingly common to anyone familiar with the current society.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This story is not merely a record of social conditions—it uses deep emotion to let the orphan Wan Ka speak for himself:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Come, dear Grandfather,” Wan Ka continued writing. “I beg you, for the sake of Christ and God, take me away from here. Have pity on this unfortunate orphan—everyone here beats me. I am starving, suffocating, and I cry constantly.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“A few days ago the master hit me with a laster and knocked me unconscious. I barely survived. My life is worse than a dog’s… Say hello to Alyona, the one-eyed Yegorka, the coachman, and don’t give my accordion to anyone. Signed by Sun Yiwan Zhukov. Dear Grandfather, come for me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This poor orphan places all his hope in his grandfather—but is his grandfather truly a good man?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was already written earlier!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“By day he sleeps in the servants’ kitchen or jokes with the maids; by night he puts on a bulky sheepskin coat and walks around the estate, striking his wooden clapper.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Now his grandfather must be standing at the gate, squinting at the glowing red windows of the village church, stamping his felt boots, joking with the servants. His clapper hangs from his belt. He shivers, claps his hands, pulls his neck in, now pinching a maid, now twisting a cook’s arm, laughing with a hoarse old voice.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such a rotten old man would never have sent his own grandson to be an apprentice if he truly cared!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And even this faint hope—could it ever reach him?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wan Ka folded the written paper into quarters and placed it in an envelope he had bought the night before for one kopeck… He thought a moment, dipped his pen in ink, and wrote the address: For delivery to grandfather in the village.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he scratched his head, thought again, and added a few words: Konstantin Makarevich.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Can a letter with no proper address ever reach his grandfather?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wan Ka did not know. He only:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Settled his heart with hopeful thoughts. An hour later, he fell asleep… In his dream he saw a stove. His grandfather sat on the stove, barefoot, reading the letter to the maids… A dog circled near the stove, wagging its tail…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Mikhail wrote “Wan Ka,” he had considered whether it was appropriate. After some research, he realized that although Wan Ka was a story that would not appear for decades, it still fit perfectly in the present.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It only needed slight adaptation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In fact, compared to reality, this story seemed almost gentle!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I wonder what Dmitri’s reaction will be…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Mikhail, wolfing down his food, was thinking this, suddenly he felt a sound beside his ear—growing louder, until it drew the attention of everyone else in the tavern.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Mikhail looked up, the giant bear of a man before him was weeping uncontrollably, sobbing like a child, on the verge of wailing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sensing Mikhail’s gaze, the giant man seemed embarrassed. He hastily pulled several rubles from his coat and placed them on Mikhail’s table, his voice choked:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’ve paid for the meal. Take these rubles, my friend—don’t refuse me! I’ll come back to discuss the story later! You live in the top floor apartment near Sheina Square, right? I’ll be back soon!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With that, Dmitri hurried out, leaving Mikhail, meat still in his mouth, stunned in his seat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, Mikhail swallowed the meat in his mouth and casually picked up the rubles on the table.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This money would keep Mikhail alive for a while longer—long enough to wait for his payment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dmitri is my savior!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And his reaction—this story must have real potential?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After dinner, Mikhail shook off his recent gloom and returned home in high spirits, ready to write more stories while the inspiration lasted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, he still had to sneak past the landlord before entering his room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wrote until nightfall, then slept like a baby in his coffin-like room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But as he slept, a violent knocking at the door jolted him awake.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He opened his eyes—total darkness. Outside, not a glimmer of light.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It must be the dead of night.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Who the hell is disturbing people at this hour?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the landlord wouldn’t come for rent at this time!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Furious, Mikhail lit a candle with resentment, flung open the door—and saw the giant bear Dmitri entering with a thin young man whose eyes glowed unnaturally bright.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As soon as they entered, Dmitri and the young man seized Mikhail’s arms—one on each—and lifted him up together, shouting in unison in the dead of night:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“A new Gogol is born!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mikhail: “???”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1160,"2026-06-20T14:41:53.633Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","7aa775b5dea87aa21fbbbcfcbad43b3eafc1bbba77e94dff4197d8d099a56417","my-life-as-a-literary-giant-in-russia-chapter-4","my-life-as-a-literary-giant-in-russia-chapter-2",105,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmy-life-as-a-literary-giant-in-russia-cover.jpg"]