Chapter 61: Drama

While Belinsky gave his brief summary before everyone, Mikhail, whose throat had gone dry from listening, naturally found a seat and drank tea in large gulps.

Unlike the limited supply at his landlord’s, Mikhail could truly drink his fill at Panayev’s home, and the tea tasted far superior to what his landlord provided.

Of course, he still had to drink at his landlord’s when necessary—otherwise, it would truly be a loss…

During the breaks between sips, Mikhail also observed the reactions of the listeners; most wore broad smiles, and Turgenev laughed so hard he nearly collapsed onto the sofa.

Panayeva, the mistress of the villa, also laughed heartily, causing Nekrasov, who had been laughing too, to unconsciously glance at her and offer a different kind of smile…

As for Belinsky’s gentle and kind friend Panayev, he was attentively listening to Belinsky’s words.

You bastard, Nekrasov…

Speaking of which, Panayev was not only a true man but also a genuine brother.

Though he had gone through some turmoil, Panayev ultimately chose forgiveness and remained Nekrasov’s steadfast ally for the rest of his life.

But their story will be set aside for now; after Belinsky spoke briefly to the group, he quickly sat before Mikhail and involuntarily seized his hand, saying:

“Dear Mikhail, though I’ve been shocked by you before, I must say this time: you will give Russian literature an immortal literary figure! Good heavens, how many hypocritical, fickle, opportunistic men do we have in Russia today—and yet these very men often hold high positions. Isn’t that strange?

In my mind, it rivals Gogol’s ‘The Inspector General’! If ‘The Inspector General’ exposed the vile, sycophantic nature of Russia’s bureaucratic class, then this ‘Chameleon’ reveals how men with even a sliver of power, under the influence of these figures and Russia’s system, imitate them and corrupt social morals!

Without the big chameleons, where would so many Ochumelovs come from?”

Mikhail: “.”

Don’t you dare write anything too blunt in the commentary after I told you this!

Lately, Belinsky has been favoring Mikhail above all others—every one of Mikhail’s short stories received a commentary penned personally by Belinsky.

According to Belinsky’s wife: “You wouldn’t believe how passionately he writes your critiques—he often paces back and forth in our small room as he writes, occasionally exclaiming to me, ‘Good Lord, how can he write so well?’ I believe writing your critiques is the most joyful part of his work.”

Clearly, Belinsky was typing with great delight.

Fortunately, due partly to censorship and partly because Belinsky genuinely didn’t want Mikhail placed in an overly confrontational position, he usually expressed only his personal opinions in the critiques.

This time, clearly, Belinsky remained deeply interested in critiquing Mikhail’s story.

Turgenev, who had been laughing for a long while, now leaned over and said: “A brilliant satirical story! Mikhail, it would be a shame not to adapt this into a play—if staged, I’m certain it would shake all of St. Petersburg!

Even in France or England, I believe it would draw massive attention. You know, I lived there for years; their art is excellent, but men like Ochumelov are everywhere. Perhaps we could work together someday and write a play?”

A play?

Mikhail had plenty of ideas stored away, but how exactly to write one—he’d need to study and learn properly.

Thinking this, Mikhail naturally accepted Turgenev’s proposal.

After this pleasant gathering at Panayev’s home, Krayevsky, publisher of ‘The Fatherland Notes,’ quickly sent his opinion, and Mikhail read it with a shake of his head, then replied bluntly:

“That’s truly regretful, Mr. Krayevsky. Perhaps this story doesn’t yet meet ‘The Fatherland Notes’ standards—I still need to work harder. Therefore, I’ve decided to submit it to another magazine.”

After Mikhail sent this reply, before he received any further letter, Krayevsky rushed to his door in a panic; upon seeing Mikhail’s living conditions, the man first froze, then quickly pulled Mikhail close and said warmly:

“Dear Mikhail, you haven’t sent your manuscript to another magazine yet, have you? I came straight over the moment I received your letter. I’ve thought carefully—our magazine should be more forgiving toward young writers. Now that I see your circumstances, I understand completely. I’m willing to advance you the full payment upfront!

So your manuscript really hasn’t been sent elsewhere, has it?”

Though he truly didn’t want to pay such a high fee, and though the story left him feeling uneasy, one couldn’t possibly refuse rubles.

Krayevsky was certain this story would be wildly popular with readers.

Thus, after receiving Mikhail’s reply and seeing that the young man wasn’t fooled by his words, Krayevsky immediately took a carriage to his door.

Clearly, this was a sharp young man—far shrewder than Belinsky and his friends.

Though he had rushed over in haste, upon seeing Mikhail’s living quarters, Krayevsky’s bent posture straightened considerably.

But when he noticed Mikhail’s reluctant expression, as if unwilling to agree, Krayevsky’s straightened back bent slightly again.

“Alright, Mr. Krayevsky.” After some back-and-forth and a slight increase in payment, Mikhail finally nodded and said: “Then this story will remain in ‘The Fatherland Notes.’”

To be fair, this man was truly skilled at haggling—but fortunately, this story’s value was high enough that even if Krayevsky felt he’d been cheated, he had no choice but to swallow his pride.

After receiving the manuscript, Krayevsky wasted no time—he immediately prepared to publish the story and boost magazine subscriptions.

Honestly, though Mikhail had already received a substantial sum, he still felt slightly shortchanged—but fortunately, he’d soon be working for himself.

(End of Chapter)