Chapter 58: A New Novel

Though fantasy is beautiful, when the three arrived at the editorial office of "The Fatherland Notes" where Krayevsky was currently based, Belinsky immediately felt as if kicked back into reality, sighing heavily.

Yet at the same time, he had to gather himself and try to appear composed before meeting Krayevsky.

After Belinsky had steadied his emotions, Mikhail entered Krayevsky’s office with him, finally seeing this publisher in person.

He was already quite old, his hair slightly streaked with gray and neatly styled, his expression a slightly artificial solemnity and severity.

But upon seeing who had arrived, the publisher quickly donned a warm, affable smile, rising to greet the two: “Long time no see, dear Vissarion. And who is this handsome young man? I need not guess—surely it is none other than Mr. Mikhail Romanovich, the man now famed throughout St. Petersburg?”

In truth, on the surface, Krayevsky always went out of his way to appear warm and affable toward Belinsky and the writers and poets associated with him—after all, what easier way to win over sincere, inexperienced youths and convince them to donate their talents for free?

But often, to truly understand a person, one must look not at what they say, but at what they do.

When "The Fatherland Notes" was first launched, Krayevsky was deeply in debt; under such circumstances, Belinsky and others enthusiastically contributed to the magazine, often without pay—but once the magazine truly prospered, Belinsky and the others received almost no increase in their fees.

Even after Belinsky married and his expenses soared, Krayevsky raised his payment by only a trivial amount, still claiming financial hardship and crushing debts—yet Belinsky and the others all knew Krayevsky had long since repaid every debt.

That was why Belinsky grew increasingly dissatisfied with this man.

But given Belinsky’s nature, he had never been good at dealing with people, let alone someone who outwardly treated him with such warmth and affection—so even though he knew the man’s hypocrisy, Belinsky could only endure a few polite pleasantries.

Now, however, Krayevsky preferred to spend more time speaking with this young, untested, yet extraordinarily talented writer than with Belinsky, who knew his true nature.

If he could win over this young man and secure his continued contributions to "The Fatherland Notes," why should he worry about subscriptions at all?

He wouldn’t have to!

Yet for some reason, this young man showed no sign of being flattered by the cultural authority’s warm, affable words—only offering polite greetings and brief small talk.

Though surprised by the young man’s demeanor, Krayevsky showed no sign of it, merely inviting Belinsky and Mikhail to sit, exchanged a few more pleasantries, and told several jokes he considered brilliant.

In response to everything else Belinsky said, he nodded with a smile, agreeing wholeheartedly, his tone gentle, occasionally offering his own insights on literature—on first hearing, one might truly believe he possessed considerable knowledge in these matters.

But when Belinsky brought up the issue of payment, the man’s face instantly hardened with shrewdness, his earlier warmth and affection replaced by hollow solemnity.

“Yes, Vissarion, I owe you your due payment. I had planned to deliver it to you personally, but since you’ve come to ask me now—even if unexpectedly—I am willing to settle every penny of your fee.”

Mikhail: “?”

What else would he do? Not pay it all?

Then again, there are plenty who not only take your money but demand your gratitude while doing so.

“Hmm.”

Belinsky, his expression slightly displeased, said nothing extra—only nodded—then received a payment that even Mikhail found surprising.

To be fair, the fee was decent—at least far higher than Mikhail’s—but given Belinsky’s central role in "The Fatherland Notes" and his immense reputation in literary criticism, such a sum was far from generous.

And if Belinsky had family to support, this amount would require careful budgeting indeed.

After paying Belinsky’s fee, Krayevsky deliberately handed over the money in front of Mikhail, then turned to him with a gentle tone:

“Dear Mikhail, Vissarion must have already told you, yes? We are willing to publish your poem and pay you a fee. If you have a new novel, we welcome it warmly—I’m even willing to raise your rate further. What do you say?”

Honestly, if Mikhail’s poem hadn’t recently become wildly popular among St. Petersburg’s upper class, Krayevsky fully intended to pay him the same rate as before—but for the sake of those noble gentlemen, he’d raise it a little.

Now, with repeated raises, Mikhail having learned Belinsky’s rate, and Krayevsky’s tone so warm and natural—how could he possibly refuse?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Krayevsky,” Mikhail said apologetically, “I came here specifically to tell you this: another magazine has approached me—offering a hundred rubles for this poem and a new novel. I was about to accept—I’m short on money right now.”

Krayevsky: “?”

Upon hearing Mikhail’s words, Krayevsky quickly calculated in his mind—though the fee was indeed high, considering the poem’s popularity among the upper class and the success of his novels, he quickly concluded the deal was still profitable.

But! It was far, far below what he had planned to offer.

“You know, Mikhail,”

After a swift mental recalibration, Krayevsky resumed his solemn demeanor: “Few magazines in Petersburg are as open and inclusive as 'The Fatherland Notes.' Young writers must consider their future—and that future lies with 'The Fatherland Notes.'”

After Krayevsky rattled on for a while, Mikhail’s expression remained unchanged—he merely sighed: “I know all that, but I’m barely able to afford food now.”

Krayevsky: “?”

Yet how is it that your cheeks are plump and your face glowing?

After another long internal calculation, seeing Mikhail’s resolve unshaken, and recalling the magazine’s recent surge in subscriptions, Krayevsky’s face twitched—then he switched to a warm tone:

“I understand, Mikhail. How about this? We’ll match the same offer—but can we first ensure the quality? If it matches your previous work, we’re even willing to pay more!”

More was impossible—and he’d likely end up lowering it further.

How could one casually write novels like those before?

But he still had to say it.

Seeing Krayevsky had spoken thus, Mikhail appeared to hesitate for a long while, then finally nodded in agreement.

Once settled, Krayevsky had little desire to speak further; Belinsky and Mikhail chose their moment and promptly left his office.

After stepping outside and walking a short distance, Belinsky couldn’t help asking: “Mikhail, is it true another magazine approached you with such a high offer? Your poetry and novels are indeed worth it, but every publisher in Petersburg is notoriously stingy.”

“Someone did approach me—but not with such a high offer.”

Mikhail shrugged: “But it was close—I just exaggerated a bit.”

“...Perhaps I really should learn from you.”

“It’s a simple method, Vissarion. One must always try to claim what is rightfully theirs.”

“Yes—but I never imagined you’d treat Mr. Krayevsky this way on your first meeting. When you spoke ill of him behind his back, I thought you were just venting.”

After a moment of reflection, Belinsky suddenly brightened and turned to Mikhail: “And you mentioned your new novel—have you written another? I’ve been a loyal reader since the start! What is it this time?”

“You’ll find out soon, dear Vissarion,” Mikhail smiled. “It’s a very interesting novel.”

Together, these two chapters exceed five thousand characters—consider this a modest bonus update (dog head).

Special thanks to “kiniko,” “Dongkong,” “svchost.exe,” and “jamesxu-SBZ” for their generous donations—thank you so much!

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(End of Chapter)