Chapter 59: Reply Letter

After returning from Krayevsky, Mikhail tidied up the manuscript a bit more, checked it over several times, and, satisfied there were no major issues, had someone deliver the poem "I Love You a Bit More Than Nature" along with his new novel.

After finishing this task, Mikhail returned to his desk, stared at the letter from the General's daughter, scratched his head, and for a moment didn't know how to react.

In fact, although he had told the General's daughter his address, Mikhail hadn't really expected her to write back; after all, the place he currently lived in was St. Petersburg's famous street of paupers and gathering place for the destitute, and just seeing that address, she could probably guess his current status.

Even if she didn't have too many noble airs, the gap was simply too large; Mikhail had thought that once the Miss saw his address, her interest in him would likely vanish by half, but now, her letter had indeed arrived.

After receiving the letter, Mikhail didn't rush to read its contents; instead, he first studied the material and scent of her letter for quite a while.

In present-day Russia, although industrialization had made some progress, the overall industrial process remained slow, and the papermaking industry was no exception, with limited output and uneven quality.

Therefore, in these times, nobles all used imported refined paper, and would even use letter paper with patterns or scents to symbolize their status and rank.

A pauper like Mikhail, of course, used that kind of rough and brittle paper, and even that cost him a not-insignificant sum; moreover, writing on such paper, if one applied even a little force, could easily poke a hole through it.

As for what to do when you need to use the toilet? Brother, don't ask, brother.

But speaking of which, after finishing his study, Mikhail was also at a loss; wouldn't he have to buy some good paper to write a reply? That would be another expense.

After sighing, Mikhail finally opened the Miss's letter:

"Respected Mr. Mikhail Romanovich:

Greetings to you. I have thought for a long time over the past few days and finally organized my scattered thoughts; if there is anything incorrect, I hope you will not laugh at me..."

After exchanging these few pleasantries, the Miss spoke of her thoughts on Mikhail's previous few short stories; to Mikhail's surprise, her perspective on these stories was quite close to that of ordinary people, without any remarks that would make Mikhail shake his head.

Although he had felt during their last conversation that the young Miss was quite nice, seeing this again now, Mikhail was still very gratified.

In these times, a good noble was like a good official; both were one in a hundred rare finds, and Mikhail was happy to deal with such people.

Don't look at how the nobles Mikhail knows now are all quite decent, but this is basically because the circle he joined was like that; if you spread out the map and fired a cannon, nine out of ten wouldn't be an exaggeration.

And after telling Mikhail her thoughts on those stories, the Miss also briefly recounted one or two interesting things that had happened recently.

Simply put, when a certain young noble read a poem in public, his stomach suddenly rumbled for quite a while, causing him to lose all face in high society.

Another thing was that a certain Mr. took advantage of a time difference to do something remarkable: after recording Mikhail's poem at that day's gathering, he went home and read it directly to his wife, but did not mention Mikhail's name.

Thus, deeply moved, his wife and her husband shared a wonderful night.

And when she heard from others' mouths who that poem actually belonged to, she immediately expressed her regret: "Oh God! If only I had known, I was entirely doing it for the sake of that poem!"

Mikhail: "???"

Damn it, what do you think of our poets' poems?

Of course, because the other party was still a young Miss, although she felt she ought to let Mikhail, the person involved, know about this matter, she was too embarrassed to say it plainly, so she used a large amount of vague language to describe the event.

But this did not prevent Mikhail from seeing the truth within it.

After writing these things, the letter ended there; and although the other party seemed not to have said any polite words like "looking forward to your reply," before Mikhail could rejoice in saving an expense, he found something else inside the envelope: several sheets of blank refined paper.

It seemed to say nothing, yet it seemed to say something.

Mikhail pondered over these blank sheets of paper for a long time, hesitated for quite a while, and finally chose to pick up his pen, preparing to write a reply to the other party.

And on the day after Mikhail finished his reply, his new novel was finally placed before the solemn Mr. Krayevsky's desk; regarding the new novel sent by Mikhail, he was both excited by the likely rapid growth in magazine subscriptions and decided to read this novel with the most critical attitude.

While suppressing the manuscript fee, he also wanted to make sure this young man didn't take his own novel too seriously.

Of course, after finishing his criticism, Mr. Krayevsky would certainly warmly encourage that young man.

With such thoughts, Mr. Krayevsky quickly began his reading.

Because his desire to criticize this novel was so urgent, Mr. Krayevsky even forgot to look at the novel's title and went straight to the main text:

"Officer Ochumelov, wearing a brand-new military greatcoat and carrying a small bundle under his arm, was walking through the market square. A red-haired policeman strode briskly behind him, holding a sieve filled with confiscated gooseberries. The square was quiet all around, with not a single person in sight..."

A patrol officer; these were people often seen in St. Petersburg now; some police served Your Majesty the Tsar directly, going to do major things with heavy fists, while others maintained daily social order; although Mr. Krayevsky, as a person, disliked causing trouble, he had indeed dealt with these people.

Undoubtedly, this novel seemed about to provide a new character for contemporary Russian literature.

Although shocked by that young man's creativity, Mr. Krayevsky still did not abandon his plan to criticize, but in any case, he continued reading further:

"You actually bit someone, you damn thing?" Ochumelov suddenly heard the commotion. "Guys, don't let it get away! Biting people right now won't do; catch it! Ouch... ouch!"

(End of this chapter)