Chapter 13

13

That crushing sense of carrying the weight of historical destiny returned once more.

Wen Yan wrestled with his thoughts for a long while before letting out a sigh and heading over to find Zhang Yuanji first.

The elderly gentleman was not with his friends either. He stood alone beneath the veranda gazing at the flower beds, holding a cup of water, lost in thought.

Wen Yan walked over.

“Granduncle.”

Zhang Yuanji snapped back to reality. He hesitated as if about to speak, but in the end softly uttered only two words.

“You’re here.”

In that moment, Wen Yan actually understood his expression.

Zhang Yuanji had a bellyful of words to say, yet felt there was nothing worth discussing with an ignorant young playboy like Shen Po.

“Are you and Zhang Ming classmates?”

“It seems so. I just transferred departments, so I don’t know her yet.”

As for Shen Po’s own little infatuation with Zhang Ming, there was no need to bring that up for now.

Zhang Yuanji gave a low hum of acknowledgment.

The two fell into an awkward silence once more.

Wen Yan had no choice but to break the deadlock. “Granduncle, I don’t think this Asai’s intentions are simple.”

Zhang Yuanji asked, “Oh?”

Suspecting that his granduncle did not realize the gravity of the situation at all, Wen Yan could only press on earnestly.

“Just during the day, Japanese troublemakers caused a scene outside the library, and tonight this Asai Sui comes asking to borrow books for an exhibition. Don’t you think that’s too much of a coincidence? The way I see it, the Japanese are using both the carrot and the stick. Since you turned him down just now, they probably won’t give up. I’ve heard the Japanese have always had a keen interest in Chinese culture. On top of that, with the September 18 Incident^[1] last year, you know what happened to the Three Northeastern Provinces. I’m afraid they have other moves up their sleeves. The library is too big of a target. Would you consider moving some of the rare books out?”

Zhang Yuanji was well aware of Shen Po’s reputation and was slightly taken aback that the young man could speak with such insight.

But soon after, Zhang Yuanji shook his head.

“The Japanese won’t make a move on the Commercial Press^[2].”

“Why?” Wen Yan had no idea where the old gentleman found such confidence.

“Ever since the September 18 Incident, Japan has harbored ambitions toward China, but they would never dare make a move in a place like Shanghai. After all, the international concessions are here. If anything truly happened, the international repercussions would be enormous, and the foreign powers would step in to mediate. Besides, the library has guards on duty at night, so they couldn’t steal the books anyway. It’s not as if they could resort to brute force.”

Though Zhang Yuanji felt Wen Yan was overthinking things, he patiently explained it to him nonetheless, since the junior’s concern clearly came from a place of sincerity.

But Wen Yan refused to let it go. “What if they really do use brute force? Look at how Britain and America kept backing down against Germany after the Great War. They won’t necessarily stand up for us. When the time comes, the Japanese will just fabricate an excuse, claiming we provoked them first, just like in the Three Northeastern Provinces. Did any foreign power step up for the Northeast?”

Zhang Yuanji still shook his head. “Shanghai is different from the Northeast. There are foreign consulates and concessions here. The Japanese pride themselves on being a civilized nation ever since the Meiji Restoration; they would never risk damaging their international reputation by destroying culture.”

Wen Yan was utterly rendered speechless by these words.

True, Shanghai was an international metropolis with foreign consulates and intricate webs of conflicting interests. Everyone assumed that even if the Japanese made a move, they would never choose a place like Shanghai. Yet the Japanese did just that. It was a classic case of “the less you think they dare to do it, the more likely it is to happen.” History proved that after Japan struck, the various powers offered nothing beyond mere condemnation. Only when Japan realized they could not achieve a quick victory on the battlefield did they even consider mediation from other nations.

So-called justice could only ever be negotiated from a foundation of strength.

But how could Wen Yan explain this to Zhang Yuanji?

He couldn’t speak of events that had not yet occurred, so he could only bring up the May Fourth^[3] Movement from years before.

“Granduncle, do you still remember the trigger for May Fourth? It was because the powers at the Paris Peace Conference after the Great War secretly planned to transfer Qingdao’s privileges to Japan. In their eyes, as long as there is profit involved, who wouldn’t they sell out? These books of yours are the lifeblood of our culture. Nothing must be allowed to happen to them!”

Zhang Yuanji smiled. “Last time your mother saw me, she complained that you only care about playing around. It seems she misjudged you. It is wonderful that you care so deeply about the country and the people. Tell you what: I’ll issue you a special library pass so you can go view those rare editions in the future. But remember our deal: no taking them home, and no damaging them. Those are my treasures!”

Right then, Zheng Sheng came over. Zhang Yuanji patted Wen Yan on the shoulder, telling the young folks to enjoy themselves, and walked away.

Wen Yan let out a long breath, overcome by a feeling of powerlessness, having nowhere to exert his strength.

Zheng Sheng asked, “What did you and Grandfather talk about to give you that expression?”

Wen Yan recounted how Asai Sui had approached them and summarized the conversation that followed.

Zheng Sheng frowned. “I know many people have always kept an eye on Grandfather’s rare volumes. Last time, an American scholar even came knocking, asking for photocopies of a batch of them. But with the Japanese wanting to borrow the original copies for an exhibition, Grandfather probably won’t agree. The journey is too far, and even a scuff on a book cover would break his heart.”

Even so, Zheng Sheng’s view was largely the same as Zhang Yuanji’s. He also believed the Japanese would at most use their embassy to apply diplomatic pressure or offer inducements.

“If things reach the diplomatic level, Grandfather knows influential friends who can speak up. Failing that, he can mobilize his literary friends to launch a campaign in the newspapers. Asai Sui wouldn’t dare use force.”

Wen Yan: “…”

He couldn’t blame the grandfather and grandson for being too naive, because he knew where the crux of the problem lay.

Wen Yan was deducing the process from a known outcome.

Zhang Yuanji and Zheng Sheng, on the other hand, had no knowledge of the outcome and were relying on everyday logic to predict what would happen.

By conventional standards, Zhang Yuanji’s approach was far more sound. They understood the contemporary landscape far better than Wen Yan did, and their connections and social experience far surpassed his. Before an esteemed public figure like Zhang Yuanji, Wen Yan, a fake greenhorn but a real transmigrator, truly seemed naive.

The problem was that Zhang Yuanji’s conventional way of thinking aligned with the mainstream perspective of the era, and the mainstream was completely wrong!

Yet Wen Yan couldn’t reveal the outcome in advance; even if he did, no one would believe him.

And so, the plan to approach Zhang Yuanji directly and convince him to move the books out of harm’s way had utterly failed.

Wen Yan let out another sigh.

He felt that ever since becoming a wealthy young master, instead of heading out to dance halls to seek pleasure every day, he was busy trying to rescue rare ancient books. Was there any transmigration more exhausting than his?!

“Grand-Uncle said he would give me a special library card. Do you know what it’s for?”

Zheng Sheng looked surprised. “Did the old gentleman really say that? Ordinary people can’t just get their hands on one of those. That special library card lets you browse rare ancient texts that aren’t loaned out to the public. I had to beg him for a long time before he finally gave me one.”

At that point, he felt a bit skeptical. Given Shen Po’s past “glorious track record,” could he really settle down and study ancient texts that ordinary people couldn’t even decipher?

Zheng Sheng hesitated. “You aren’t just going to take a quick walk through and then go brag to your friends, are you?”

Wen Yan said, “How could I? Do I look like that kind of person to you?”

Zheng Sheng: You certainly look like one to me.

Wen Yan naturally had no intention of bragging to anyone.

When one plan failed, another came to mind.

He was currently mulling over a new idea-

Stealing the books.