Chapter 69

Chapter 69

Making a Name for Oneself (6)

Previously, no matter how many sets of the month calendars there were, there were only twelve copies. But the comic book that Boss Liu had agreed upon was a whole new project, with two sets, front and back, adding up to a total of 120 pages.

After returning to the hostel from that dinner with the setup, Yu Manyi began working tirelessly on the comic book, day and night. She had to fit in the storyline that Song Qi had arranged for her. She was so busy that she couldn't even find time to eat.

When she finally looked up again, it was already New Year's Eve.

Fang Qian called the hostel's front desk again to ask if she wanted to go to his house, but Yu Manyi politely refused again. She was preoccupied with the comic book, thinking about You Hong at the factory, and also about You Xiaoqing's grave, which had no one to honor it.

She buried all the injustices she had experienced deep in her heart, so much so that her spirit seemed thin. When she raised her eyes, there was an indomitable toughness in her gaze. She hung up Fang Qian's call at the front desk and, as she turned around, saw Song Qi standing there, having come to fetch her.

He really did come to invite her again, but Yu Manyi truly couldn't go this time. She said, "The draft you wrote is too long. I still have more than thirty pages left..."

"I’m not asking for favors," Song Qi said, handing over an elegant invitation card. "But surely you'll accept this from my aunt?"

It was the same kind of invitation as the one he had given to Jiang Yu. The letter even carried a faint fragrance. Yu Manyi unfolded it and read the heartfelt words. As a writer, it was clear the few lines were written with sincerity. If she refused now, it would seem inconsiderate.

"In the end, it's just one night," Song Qi urged. "Have a meal, stay in her guest room for one night, it won’t delay your mission of saving people."

Yu Manyi reluctantly agreed.

At this time, many of her colleagues from the Commercial Press had already returned to their hometowns. However, transportation was still inconvenient, and many people who were living away from home still stayed in Shanghai. As they walked through the Shikumen alleys, they found the place quite lively. Even though they were outsiders, they could gather with the neighbors, and there were children outside setting off firecrackers and lighting lamps.

They didn't take a rickshaw but walked slowly from the hostel, side by side, all the way to Song Qi's aunt's house.

The large villa was brightly lit, the lights stretching from the yard to the living room. Yu Manyi had already met Song Huazhang twice and was quite familiar with her. The two young people had barely sat down when Song Huazhang called for someone to bring over a gift box, which she presented to Yu Manyi."Bought it from a friend who brought it back from abroad," Song Huazhang said. "It's for young girls. How come you don't even buy new clothes for the New Year?"

How could she be in the mood to buy new clothes? Yu Manyi stiffly held the box, thinking of refusing it, but Song Qi pressed her hand down under the table.

"And you too," sure enough, Song Huazhang turned to scold Song Qi, "She doesn't buy it herself, and you don't know to buy it for her?"

"My fault, my fault."

As expected, Song Qi quickly admitted his mistake, preventing further scolding from Song Huazhang. She took a sip of her wine, then turned back to Yu Manyi with a kind tone:

"Why don't you try it on? Every time I see a young girl dressed beautifully, I get new inspiration."

Song Qi: "Your sources of inspiration are really strange."

"Did I not scold you enough today?"

"I’ll go change, I’ll go change," Yu Manyi saw things weren't looking good and quickly stood up, holding the box. "It’s really my oversight. Visiting elders for the New Year and not preparing properly."

The aunt and niece were quite relaxed. Yu Manyi guessed that Song Qi’s father was probably alienated because he didn’t fit in with them. Someone led her to the guest room where she would be staying tonight. She put her clothes on the bed, then changed into the outfit Song Huazhang had given her.

Inside the box was a complete outfit. At that time, qipaos in Shanghai emphasized elongation, and it seemed like this trend from abroad emphasized it even more. The asymmetrical long skirt was pure black and flowing, and the cut was such that even Yu Manyi, who usually refused to wear short sleeves, was forced to show a bit of her back. Underneath the dress, she had to wear two pieces of shapewear to cinch her figure.

This was definitely not clothing for the working class or laborers. Yu Manyi decided that once she returned to the hostel, she would take it off, as it would be too tiring to paint in such an outfit. But if she wore it to dinner, it would be beautiful indeed. As expected... labor and bourgeois beauty are in conflict, which made her feel somewhat melancholic.

She returned to Song Qi after changing into the dress that Song Huazhang gave her, only to find that he had also changed into a new outfit. He had done it faster than her, so it seemed that Song Huazhang had bought outfits for both of them.Yu Manyi glanced at him and noticed that the two outfits Song Huazhang had bought for them had some matching design details. For example, his cuffs matched her collar, and his brooch clearly corresponded to the necklace in her box.

Song Huazhang kindly said, "You’re beside Manyi, and with the matching outfits, you look even better."

"Yes, I can’t do much now, so looking good is the best. Otherwise, I won’t be of any use at all."

What was he implying with his words? Yu Manyi kicked him under the table with the heel of her shoe. The clothing comedy finally came to an end, and the three of them continued chatting while finishing their New Year's Eve dinner.

It was during the meal that Yu Manyi first noticed that Song Huazhang kept a black cat in the villa. The cat even came over and lay in her lap for a while, staring intently at her before leaving. She thought the cat had a blank expression and a subtle demeanor, so she stayed wary of it causing trouble. To her surprise, when she had just laid down in her room that night, the foot of the bed was actually pressed down.

She quickly turned on the table lamp and saw the black cat with her waist cincher in its mouth, its agile body darting out of the bedroom. Yu Manyi sighed heavily, immediately throwing on her robe and running downstairs to chase after it.

Song Huazhang’s house was really too large. She followed the shadow of the cat down from the third-floor guest room and all the way to the study, where the door was slightly ajar. As soon as she pushed the door open, the cat had already disappeared, but the person sitting at the desk suddenly turned around—it was Song Qi.

Why was he writing something in the middle of the night? He had asked her to come to his aunt’s house to rest for the night, but here he was, preoccupied with his own business, not daring to waste time even on New Year’s Eve.

Yu Manyi stared at him, and gradually, she began to feel uneasy.

"I’m just jotting down a few things. I’ll be going to bed soon," Song Qi explained.

There was a sofa in the study too, and Yu Manyi walked over to sit down, watching him with suspicion.

"What are you writing? Are you drawing?"

"No," Song Qi said, no longer hiding it from her, "That newspaper of mine might be revived, so I’m preparing for it."

"Newspaper?""Mm, I need some promotional materials," Song Qi said.

"You’re really busy," Yu Manyi leaned back into the soft cushion of the sofa, her arms crossed, "You clearly studied mechanical engineering, but you still have to run a newspaper... Do you need me to draw some illustrations for you this time?"

Song Qi smiled. "With your current status, how could I afford to hire you?"

He closed his fountain pen and sat down beside Yu Manyi on the sofa. The desk lamp on the study table was the only light, so they were once again in a dimly lit place. She had rushed out and hadn’t even fixed her hair; it hung loose over her shoulders. As she slightly leaned, the tips of her hair brushed against the back of his hand.

It was soft and fragrant.

Months of desk work had left her neck aching, and Yu Manyi rubbed it with her hand. Her long hair cascaded down like flowing water. Before she could take her hand away, another hand suddenly covered the back of hers, then gripped the back of her neck.

The temperature of a man's hand seemed to be a bit higher, and the warmth helped her blood flow more gently. But the strength was too much, and a slight pressure made the back of her neck sore and swollen. She shifted her shoulder slightly and whispered, "Be gentler."

"Is that so?" Song Qi asked, lightening his grip. "How about this?"

She nodded, then turned her face to look at his position.

He was sitting with his back to the light, so she couldn’t quite make out his features, just like the days back in the cellar when she had never really seen him clearly. But suddenly, Yu Manyi felt a strong desire to remember him better. She reached out, using her fingertips to trace his brow bone and nose bridge, sketching the outline of his face.

"What are you doing? Touching me all over," Song Qi’s voice carried a smile in the darkness.

"Nonsense, I’m just remembering your bone structure," Yu Manyi said, "I’m really good at remembering. Once I’ve got it down, I can draw you without looking."

"Didn't you already learn to draw me by heart back then? In the literacy class?"

"You’re not quite the same as you were back then.""Is that so?" Song Qi slowly slid his hand, which was gripping the back of her neck, down to her throat, tightening his fingers a little, pulling her closer to him. "But why do I always feel like you're just the same as when I first met you?"

"That's really disheartening," Yu Manyi didn't resist his approach, "I've changed a lot, clothes, the way I speak... I'm not a relic of the past anymore."

"Whether you're feudal or progressive, it makes no difference to me. These are just words created by people to judge others..."

He brought his forehead close to hers, his skin warmer than hers. Yu Manyi closed her eyes slightly. In the moment her eyelashes brushed against his nose, she suddenly had a premonition that if they let things go on like this, it would soon be uncontrollable—however, they were in Song Qi's aunt’s house.

She opened her eyes.

Song Qi didn’t hold her neck tightly; Yu Manyi managed to slip free with a slight movement. He seemed to realize this at the moment, glancing at the crack in the study door, half-closed. The black cat was standing at the boundary between light and shadow, tilting its head, watching them.

"I need to..." Yu Manyi's tone became a little stiff, "I need to go save You Hong!"

"...Indeed, saving You Hong is a big deal." Song Qi nodded, then paused for a moment before slowly pulling back his body, his tone inevitably tinged with regret.

Yu Manyi gave a quick "Mm" and stood up, adjusting the fallen strap of her robe back into place. She didn’t fully open the study door, her body slightly turned as she stepped over the black cat’s back.

Song Qi sat in the dimly lit study, pressing his fingers to his brow. When he looked up again, he suddenly saw the black cat, walking lightly into the room, dropping the piece of fabric it was holding onto his lap.

Song Qi picked it up and took a glance. His face immediately turned red.

"What are you doing bringing this here?!" He hurriedly tossed Yu Manyi's waist cincher back onto the cat, "Take it back! You're disgusting!"

The black cat gave him a disdainful glance, then turned and trotted away with the cincher draped over its back, walking with a swagger. Clearly, the cat didn’t think it was the one being indecent—the indecency, in its eyes, lay elsewhere.

This year's New Year passed quickly. After that uneventful night, Yu Manyi and Song Qi each had their own tasks: one to focus on the publication of the comic series, the other to work on reviving the newspaper...Soon, the first batch of comics was printed in early April, and after hitting the market, they were quickly swept up, with more than half being bought up almost immediately.

However, the stall owners selling these comics noticed that the sales were rather unusual—the actual number of customers was not large, but whenever someone came to buy, they would purchase dozens or even hundreds at once, clearing out the entire stock of the comic at the stall.

In the end, these comics all ended up at several concentrated points, including the guesthouse where Yu Manyi stayed.

Huo Shiwen was also called in to help, and the group stayed in Yu Manyi's room the entire day.

"This comic’s first volume has a total of 60 pages," Yu Manyi told everyone, "Only the pages with the numbers I've written on them should remain. The rest should be torn out, leaving 23 pages, which will still form a complete story."

"Heavens," Huo Shiwen exclaimed in surprise, "Others hide poems in the first letters of each line. But you guys have hidden the plot in the comic, tearing out these pages, and the remaining ones will turn into a new story... Who adapted this fairy tale?"

"Naturally, it was the great literary master Qi Song," Yu Manyi replied.

The work of tearing up the books was simple, satisfying, and thoroughly enjoyable. For three or four days, the concentrated points for these comics echoed with the sound of pages being torn, as new stories were literally ripped out from the old ones.

"When will the second volume come out?" Su Wen asked as he took the comics.

"Isn’t May the peak of the strike?"

"Yes."

"Then we have to make sure the second volume is delivered to the female workers in the Japanese silk factories before May 1st. Can the Shanghai workers in the same factory pass the message on?"

"It will be just like last time when we delivered the flyers. The workers couldn’t understand those flyers, but this time...""This time, they will definitely be able to understand the comics."

Inside the Japanese silk factory, dust and threads were floating everywhere.

You Hong had already lost all sense of time. She couldn’t remember what day she was brought here, nor how long she had been there. It seemed like the New Year had passed outside the factory, as the female workers had heard firecrackers that day. But would she be able to survive until the next year?

She curled up in the waterlogged mud, feeling completely drained. She thought she heard someone pleading for her: "Foreman, foreman, stop hitting her. She's really sick today, I touched her head, she's burning up..."

"Where’s the illness coming from? If everyone stayed home sick, how would the factory make any money!"

Suddenly, her scalp felt as though it was tearing apart, someone was pulling her hair and yanking her head up. You Hong struggled to open her eyes, and through a small crack, she saw a face, the features of which seemed to melt like wax.

She slightly moved her body, feeling her hair being pulled upwards, and then she was slammed back onto the ground. Dust flew, and she was thrown back into the dirt.

Someone was stepping on her hand, and it was then that she realized the pain was so unbearable she couldn’t even scream. The woman who had been pleading for her again spoke up: "Foreman, foreman, you can hit her, but don't step on her hand. She used to be a painter, if you break her hand, she won't be able to draw anymore..."

She could still paint?

A tear finally fell from You Hong’s eye as she lay in the dirt. She had almost forgotten her time at the Commercial Press… the art department, the dormitory in the translation department, and the jealousy over the library’s fourth floor… All those past memories felt as though they happened in a past life.

"Draw? She still wants to draw? Let’s see if she can survive these five years first!"

A sharp, excruciating pain shot through her hand. The last second before You Hong lost consciousness, she actually felt a strange sense of relief. She hoped she could just die right there. And when the foreman saw that she didn’t respond to the beating, he angrily and helplessly kicked her in the chest.

"She's really out cold! Her wages for this week don’t count!"In dreams, it's good, in dreams, there's no pain. Unfortunately, in the end, she still has to wake up... Why can't she just die?

You Hong woke up in the middle of the night, which was a rare occurrence. She usually worked herself to exhaustion and would fall into a deep sleep immediately, rarely waking up in the middle of the night. What surprised her was that there were still a few girls awake in the factory building.

This Japanese silk factory had over 2,000 female workers, and more than thirty foremen managed them like pigs in a pen. They couldn't read, and some of them spoke dialects that even others couldn't understand. Their lives revolved around work, with very little communication... So what made them wake up in the middle of the night?

You Hong struggled to prop herself up and looked over at the group of girls huddled together.

They were crying, gathered around a small book, reading and crying by the moonlight. One of them saw You Hong had woken up, and since they knew that You Hong had attended school before, she quietly came over and said to her:

"You Hong, look at this little book, the girls in the factory have been passing it around lately. If you get absorbed in it, you won’t feel as much pain."

You Hong glanced at it, too weak to raise her hand, and simply asked, "What is this?"

"It's us," another girl cautiously crawled over from among the sleeping girls.

"It's a picture book without words. It shows a girl who was sold by her parents to the silk factory. She works day and night, is beaten every day, never gets enough to eat, and doesn't have proper clothes. Isn't that just like us..."

You Hong struggled to sit up and took the book from her.

This wasn't a picture book; it was a comic. She had seen them on the street before coming to the factory. At the time, she had thought it was a vulgar form of art and looked down on it. So, when Yu Manyi wanted to buy one to look at, You Hong even pulled her away.

However, this so-called vulgar art was the one most easily understood by these illiterate girls. You Hong turned over the first two pages, and as she carefully examined them in the moonlight, her eyes suddenly widened.

This was...

This was Yu Manyi’s drawing style! It was the style she had taught, scolded, and urged her to develop—her own style!What a talentless fool, the drawings are not pretty at all, rushed and hasty, but every stroke is filled with true feelings. You Hong quickly turned two pages and then heard one of the factory workers who had brought the comic over say to her:

"But it's not finished yet. This book was brought in by the female workers from outside, it only has the first part. You Hong, you’re educated, help us look at this last page. What does it mean? Is it saying that the next part will have more content?"

You Hong lifted her eyelids to glance at her and then quickly flipped to the last page.

She didn’t raise her head; she felt like a soul floating outside her body as she heard herself ask, "What do you think this last page means?"

"We guessed," the girl said timidly, "The last page seems to be saying that we shouldn’t be born this way... We were born not necessarily to be in this factory, working like oxen, being beaten and starving. We still have another way to live. But... can we really have another way to live?"

Good, good, Yu Manyi.

You Hong raised her head, tears welling in her eyes, but she still spoke calmly, "Then we wait. Maybe the next part will tell us whether there is another way to live."

April—April quickly ended.

You Hong had been beaten so badly that day, and in the following days, she coughed up blood while eating, but she still endured the work. She had a feeling, a premonition, that Yu Manyi was about to do something.

Throughout April, the first part of the comic, in dozens of workshops, passed back and forth among the factory workers, and perhaps it also circulated among the female workers in other factories.

On the eve of May, the new comic finally made its way into the factory.

Perhaps the foremen had noticed the abnormality. They saw that there was now defiance and resentment in the workers’ eyes, and some even showed signs of anger. But no one dared to speak out. They just silently simmered in anger.

This anger brewed silently during the day, inside the towering red walls of the factory, silently brewing, in every instance when someone was beaten.

That second part of the comic was secretly passed around the workshops at night, and it finally reached You Hong's hands.It's true, the drawings in the second part really illustrate a whole new way of life. It turns out they didn’t have to work tirelessly day and night in the factory, didn’t have to be beaten, didn’t have to stand by the waste bin eating leftovers.

It turns out, outside the factory, many workers had already stood up. The cries that had crossed the high walls these days came from workers just like them—they had thought only students were involved in these movements!

The second part depicted many beautiful scenes, things the female workers had never even thought of, because they couldn’t imagine anything beyond what they had seen. There were two thousand bonded workers in the factory—why should they fear thirty foremen? Indeed, the foremen had iron rods and strength, but they had two thousand people!

There wasn’t a single word, no need to read, those simple yet powerful images had conveyed all the information.

They had been deceived. What the foremen and their parents had described was nothing like the reality of the factory. They didn’t ask for much; they only wanted to live like human beings. The bonded workers had finally understood why the strike was happening!

The atmosphere inside the factory became oppressive and strange. More and more disobedient female workers kept their mouths shut even when beaten. Everyone was holding back anger, holding back their yearning for the life they were supposed to have.

You Hong seemed to regain her sense of time. She even began to pay attention to the calendar she could see through the window as she passed by the factory office every day.

May came, and the first wave of the strike finally arrived. The cries of workers outside the red walls reached You Hong’s ears, sending shocks through her nerves. Many of the female workers heard it too. One by one, they stopped working on the silk goods, lifting their heads to look outside, like sheep lifting their heads to the sky.

The foremen immediately sensed something was wrong. They picked up iron rods from the ground and started patrolling. Anyone who looked distracted was struck harshly on the back with the rod.

That day, they were taken to an open space to work, not in the enclosed factory. The foremen realized it was a huge mistake. One of the foremen, who had been beating workers with an iron rod, saw more and more workers looking up and issued an order, "Go back, all of you, back to the factory!"

No one moved.

The chants from outside the walls grew louder. Suddenly, a sharp scream rang out from the crowd. You Hong quickly turned around to see a foreman dragging a disobedient worker to the wall, tying her wrists with a rope, and then suddenly lifting her up!

He pulled out a belt and shouted, "If you keep looking, you’ll end up just like her!"Many of them had been hung up and beaten, and You Hong was no exception. Her wrists still bore the scars from being suspended for an entire afternoon that day. She suddenly heard a ringing in her ears and felt a surge of anger. It felt as though she were a pressure cooker, her resentment and fury building up to an extreme in the daily suffering.

Suddenly, she jumped onto the table where the silk goods were drying and let out a scream that sounded like a tear in her vocal cords, "Let her down!"

All the female workers turned to look at her.

The foremen reacted more violently. They exchanged glances, immediately pulling out their belts and picking up iron rods, walking toward You Hong, who had jumped onto the table. Once they reached her, it would be as easy as crushing an ant.

But they didn't get any closer.

Outside the high walls of the factory, suddenly, as if fired from a catapult, countless leaflets flew in. Some had words on them, but many did not. Among them were several the size of a small picture book, with three smooth sides and one rough side, as if torn from a book.

Many recognized it. The girl on the single sheet was the same one from the little picture book. That girl was holding a sharp knife that pierced through the entire paper.

"Don’t pick them up! No one pick them up!"

"Whoever bends down, I’ll hit them!"

"Are you—are you going to—"

No one cared about the work in their hands anymore. No one even bothered to pick up the leaflets. The foremen stepped back, seeing the eyes of all the bonded workers they had beaten, tortured, and insulted. Suddenly, flames appeared in their eyes.

Some of them picked up chairs, some grabbed spinning wheels from the table, and some lifted scissors. Others took the iron rods that had been left unattended on the ground, and some even held needles in their fingertips.

Perhaps there was no real sharp knife, because everything in this world could become one. Two thousand people, exactly two thousand bonded workers, stood before them, and those thirty foremen with iron rods could do nothing but retreat.

"What exactly do you want to do?!" Finally, one of the foremen, gathering his courage, shouted.The scorching sun blazed down, and the leaflets fluttered in the air. Inside and outside the factory, there were slogans—male workers, female workers, workers from Shanghai, migrant workers—everyone, all gathered into this wave.

"We want to be human!!"