Chapter 56: Meeting with Krayevsky

Since that gathering, Mikhail had not attended any social events for two or three days, primarily spending time with his mother and sister, taking them around Saint Petersburg to buy things they couldn’t find back home.

Though things were much the same everywhere these days, Saint Petersburg was still the capital, beneath the Tsar’s own gaze, and besides the nobles being more refined, it also had other genuine local specialties.

Mikhail had given his mother and sister some money, but they refused to spend it, seemingly frightened by Saint Petersburg’s prices; during their stay at the inn, they barely ventured outside.

Mikhail could only sigh at how little money he still had, but next time his mother and sister came, things would be very different.

Since his mother and sister refused to spend, Mikhail naturally took the initiative to take them out and buy things.

So on the third or fourth day, Mikhail patted his stomach, thought of the Panayevs’ regular gatherings, smiled faintly, and set off for the Panayevs’ home.

When he arrived, Belinsky, Nekrasov, Turgenev, and several other members of the group were already chatting and playing cards.

The moment they saw Mikhail, everyone stopped what they were doing; Turgenev’s reaction was the most dramatic—he stood up, arms wide open, mouth agape, and said:

“Look who’s here? Our newly crowned great poet of Saint Petersburg, Mikhail! Do you know? Every time I attend a gathering these past two days, I hear someone reciting your poem—it’s driving me mad, my ears are practically calloused. Mikhail, this is all your fault!”

“Indeed,” another young man in the group, who frequently attended gatherings, exclaimed in awe: “Almost every young lady I’ve met has been moved by your poem—what a beautiful piece! Mikhail, you’re already talented enough in novels, yet you’re equally gifted in poetry!”

“You should abandon novels and write poetry instead! You might become the second Pushkin!”

“No, no, no, Maxim, that’s not right!”

Although Belinsky had already heard Mikhail’s poem and was indeed moved by it, upon hearing such words, he put down his cards and shook his head urgently:

“Writing poetry is fine, but Mikhail’s novels contain something exceedingly rare—something our Russia needs more than anything right now! And who says he can’t write both poetry and novels?”

“Huh? What poem? I haven’t heard of it. Could someone recite it for me?”

“Brother, that means you probably didn’t attend any gatherings these past two days. As for reciting it to you? Forget it! I only want to recite it to lovely young ladies!”

Before Mikhail could speak, they were already in chaos; seeing this, Mikhail could only shake his head helplessly, quietly approached the card table, and waited until their noise subsided before calmly saying:

“It’s just a poem—nothing to make such a fuss over. Let’s play cards.”

“Come on, Mikhail!” Belinsky immediately jumped up, alarmed: “My monthly fee is already gone; if I play another round with you, I won’t even be able to enter my own house tonight!”

Belinsky retreated, but the others still had money and didn’t mind losing a few coins, so they followed Mikhail’s lead and began playing.

Turgenev was also broke, but because he could easily run up debts, he stayed at the table, and as he played, he couldn’t help asking again:

“Mikhail, why haven’t you been out much these past two days? I’m sure you’d be wildly popular with the ladies—what a perfect opportunity!”

“Ivan, I need to spend time with my mother and sister,” Mikhail replied, shaking his head. “It’s not easy for us to be together. As for gentlemen and ladies, we’ll cross paths again soon.”

“Alright.”

Slightly surprised again by Mikhail’s calmness, Turgenev also felt a touch of envy for Mikhail’s family—but before he could say more, Mikhail suddenly played his card and said: “Done. I won. Next round?”

Turgenev: “?”

What just happened?

Watching from the side, Belinsky sighed, then remembered something and looked at Mikhail:

“By the way, Mikhail, that General spoke highly of you—even when drunk, he said: Gentlemen, a very fine young man, writes excellent poetry. I don’t quite understand his novels, but they must have their own merit. Shame his family background is so poor—I’ve racked my brain and can’t recall any family named Raskolnikov!”

“That’s the only problem. Everything else is fine.”

Mikhail had heard of the General’s habit: after every guest left, he would comment on them.

Belinsky himself had been criticized by the General: “Look here, gentlemen, this is my situation. This brazen braggart, this crude boor.”

Nothing more was said—poor Belinsky.

In short, after hearing this, Belinsky refused to visit the General’s home again, yet the General kept inviting him anyway.

After relaying this bit of gossip he’d heard, Belinsky thought for a moment and added: “By the way, Mikhail, have you considered publishing your poem? So far, it hasn’t appeared in any magazine. If you’re thinking of doing so, perhaps you could come with me to meet Mr. Krayevsky.”

He’s wanted to meet you for some time now, but seems to have been waiting for you to visit him.

Oh God, I also need to bring up my fee with him—you know how much I dread dealing with him. Why can’t he just pay me outright instead of making me beg for it every time?”

Though his expression was pained, Belinsky, a thirty-something man newly married, had his own struggles: expenses had risen, and without income, things would become truly unbearable.

Of course, Belinsky wielded great influence in literary criticism, but due to his temperament and other reasons, he didn’t know how to monetize it—he truly needed someone to help him.

But first, let’s accompany Belinsky to meet Mr. Krayevsky.

Perhaps we can also discuss raising his fee.

Mikhail nodded and said: “Alright, dear Vissarion, I’ll go with you. Let’s go together.”

“Perfect! With you there, I can breathe a little easier!”

Thank you all! Today I briefly reached #2 on the new book chart—though short-lived, it’s incredibly exciting for a newcomer (hands rubbing together).

I’m still saving up drafts—I’ll definitely post more later.

Special thanks to “Pai Daxing Mobile Game,” “Jian Er,” “Wang Fu,” “Reader 20181107123556783,” “Tasty Orange,” “Wonderful Adventurer,” “Shan Hai Feiyu,” “Reader 20210405225212524,” and “Can’t Think of a Name” for their generous donations—thank you so much!

Thank you again to everyone for your monthly votes and support—I’ll keep working hard! (heart)

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(End of Chapter)