Chapter 72: Getting Familiar with the Environment

Seeing that nervous, shy youth return, Belinsky couldn't help but exchange a glance with Nekrasov. Just as they were wondering what was going on, Dostoevsky couldn't hold back and asked:

"I heard them say that the respected Mikhail seems to be making a huge gamble? What exactly is this gamble?"

To be honest, upon hearing the words "huge gamble," Old Dostoevsky's heart immediately gave a violent thump; he felt a strange excitement, yet his heart also throbbed with pain.

Only God knows how much he missed those lost rubles.

Hearing Dostoevsky ask this, Belinsky and Nekrasov couldn't help but smile at each other. Then Nekrasov said with a smile:

"The 'huge gamble' they speak of is likely the collection of works we are preparing together, and your novel will be placed at the very beginning of this collection."

"Oh?"

Perhaps because his eagerness to know the specific contents was too great, the youth for a moment forgot all about his own novel and simply continued asking: "If it is merely publishing a collection of works, why call it a huge gamble?"

In Dostoevsky's impression, publishing a collection of works did not seem to earn much money, nor did such a precedent seem to exist; moreover, if it was just publishing a collection, how much money could it possibly cost?

"Because Mikhail has already gradually invested nearly two thousand rubles into it."

Doing a quick calculation in his mind, Nekrasov continued with some emotion: "This does not even include the price Mikhail paid for the manuscripts he provided for this collection. You know, Mikhail's novels, even at the hands of the rather stingy Mr. Kraevsky, could fetch a high price that many people simply cannot get."

"Nearly two thousand rubles?!"

Hearing this figure, Dostoevsky was stunned, and at the same time instinctively asked: "Then the respected Mikhail must be very wealthy?"

"No, his situation is quite ordinary." After pondering his words for a while, Nekrasov continued: "Not long ago, he was still living off a bit of manuscript fees, and he is still doing so now. As for the money invested in the collection, some was given to him by others, and some seems to have been borrowed."

"Ah?"

Hearing this, Dostoevsky felt only hot blood surging constantly to his head. In a short while, a flush of excitement appeared on his slightly pale face. After confirming that Nekrasov was not joking and taking another careful look at Mikhail's attire, Dostoevsky let out a sigh like a wail, his voice trembling:

"God, how could he do this? Does he not consider his own life at all? To have invested so much money is one thing, but that it was borrowed is another. I really cannot imagine what the respected Mikhail will do if the collection does not sell well."

In that instant, the young Dostoevsky even wanted to rush over and have a serious talk with Mikhail, even if it meant using himself as an example!

Well, Old Dostoevsky in this stage was a gambler, but not yet a true gambler; let alone the consequences of the last gambling session, which truly made his heart ache.

So the current situation could be described roughly like this: Old Dostoevsky, this little gambler, was truly frightened by a true gambler.

"We have also advised Mikhail this way."

Seeing Dostoevsky's reaction, Nekrasov felt as though he was seeing his former self; therefore, he spoke with deep empathy: "But from beginning to end, Mikhail seemed to have great confidence in his own decision. As time passed, I even couldn't help but want to take a gamble with him!"

Just as he once told all of us at the gathering: There was originally no road on earth; when enough people walk it, it becomes a road!

Of course, I know this sentence certainly extends far beyond this alone; in the future, even more people will surely repeat Mikhail's words!

However, for now, you can hear from this sentence Mikhail's persistence and his relentless forward drive regarding this matter."

There was originally no road on earth; when enough people walk it, it becomes a road.

Reciting this sentence several times in his mind, Dostoevsky also involuntarily looked toward Mikhail.

At this very moment, that beautiful youth was still wearing his somewhat worn-out overcoat. His face showed little expression, possessing only an indescribable tranquility. His posture was so relaxed; he leaned back in his chair, with one leg crossed over the other.

When it was not his turn, he propped his head up with his wrist, calmly watching the games of the others on the field.

Yet with such an attitude, the gentlemen present, all dressed respectably, showed not a hint of displeasure; indeed, they occasionally looked at him, as if consulting his opinion on some matter.

The moment fragmented sunlight fell upon him, Dostoevsky, for a fleeting instant, truly thought he saw an angel.

Perhaps because Dostoevsky had been staring for a bit too long, Mikhail, who had originally been worrying about the pain in his neck, finally realized something and then looked over in his direction.

The reason for the neck pain was very simple; probably anyone who had slept too much on a hard, stiff sofa would have a very painful neck.

And when Mikhail locked eyes with Old Dostoevsky again...

Mikhail: "???"

What kind of look is that, brother? You're really making me a bit scared.

And Belinsky and Nekrasov, please don't say anything superfluous, okay?!

Thinking briefly about how Old Dostoevsky would react after hearing their words, the corner of Mikhail's mouth couldn't help but twitch. But since things had come to this, Mikhail could only play all the remaining cards in his hand and then sighed, saying:

"I won."

No sooner had he finished that sigh than the others immediately began to denounce Mikhail:

"Mikhail, why do you sigh even though you won? Have you really been possessed by the devil?"

"Just based on that sigh of yours, you should be judged as having lost!"

"Have mercy, Mikhail! Is there any way of winning like yours? Even if I went to a casino, I could at least win two rounds there!"

Facing such denunciations, Mikhail, seeing Belinsky and the others in a state of extreme anxiety, felt only noise. But seeing Dostoevsky suddenly become excited again and speak earnestly to Belinsky and the others, Mikhail's heart gave a thud and then finally grew dark.

You are really making me afraid to publish this collection.

Forget it, forget it; if it is to be published, let's just get it published quickly.

Otherwise, I might not end up in prison for my writings, but I will first go in to get familiar with the environment due to debt.

A big thank you to the benefactors "Shanhai Feiyu," "You Shui," "Xifang Bayi," "Luoluo Timi," "Donskoy," "Zuo Ju You," and "Tianqi Bian Liang Zong Shizai Qiu Hou Ji Chang Yu" for their donations. Many thanks!

By the way, a friendly recommendation for a seedling novel: "In Russia: I Have a Daily Intelligence System."

A story set in contemporary Russia; those interested can go take a look.

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(End of this chapter)