The story of "Kong Yiji" flowed through Lionel's mind.
That down-and-out scholar, drinking in his long gown, gradually resonated with this era.
As a classic literary figure, "Kong Yiji" represents the group of old Chinese intellectuals who were confused and struggling in the cracks of their time.
In France, this group was equally large—the glory of the First Empire and the Second Empire, as well as the long, tumultuous royal eras, created a vast number of loyal supporters and dependents of "His Majesty the Emperor/King."
Each time France underwent a revolution and the monarchy was overthrown, they were among the discarded and marginalized.
From Paris to the provinces, these people successively lost their original status and respect, some even falling to the bottom rung of society.
Maupassant later wrote a short story, "Le Petit Bal" (The Minuet), which, through a pair of court dance teachers from the era of Louis XV, conveyed an elegy bidding farewell to the old era.
Compared to "Le Petit Bal," the story Lionel was writing, which was inspired by "Kong Yiji," was less "tenderly sentimental," and the group it depicted was no longer those "literati," but rather soldiers of France, those who had pledged allegiance to Napoleon.
He wanted to rip off this veneer of decency and portray the spiritual decay of the nation following the downfall of the dynasty—
[The layout of the taverns in the Alps was different from elsewhere: they all had an L-shaped counter facing the street.
Inside the counter, there were both ice buckets and hot water, allowing every kind of wine to reach its suitable drinking temperature in the shortest time.
Workers, when they finished work around noon or dusk, would often spend 1 sou to buy a glass of iced brandy—this was more than twenty years ago; now each glass costs 2 sous—and stand by the counter to drink and rest heartily.
If they were willing to spend one more sou, they could buy a small plate of boiled salted beans, or a few olives, as accompaniments; if they spent 5 sous, they could buy a cured salted fish, a slice of fried bacon, or a small piece of cheese, but most of these customers were workers in rough canvas overalls or short jackets, generally not so lavish.
Only gentlemen in decent woolen coats or long formal wear would stroll into the private booths behind the bar, order wine and small dishes, and sit leisurely to drink.]
While writing this passage, Lionel carefully searched through his original self's memories of his hometown in the Alps, ensuring every detail matched the French background of the time.
However, he also "surprisingly" discovered that from 1850 to the early 20th century, the world's monetary system seemed to be in a relatively stable state, with the exchange rates between the British pound, French franc, US dollar, and China's Guangxu silver coins and Japan's silver coins fluctuating little.
Next came the second paragraph.
The original story began with "I" as the narrator—but the protagonist was not "I," but rather an object of "my" observation.
This is a typical style where "the narrator is greater than the character," meaning the "I" who narrates the story of "Kong Yiji" is greater than the "I" who overtly participates in the story, the twelve-year-old shop assistant.
By having the mature "I" of twenty years later review and observe the experiences of the childhood "I," a narrative effect combining both "adult" and "child" perspectives is created...
This also needed to be preserved in this novel—
[From the age of twelve, I worked as a bartender at the "Edelweiss Tavern" at the edge of town.
Monsieur Legrand, the owner, said I looked too foolish and feared I couldn't serve guests in long formal wear, so I should do things outside.
Although the short-coated customers outside were easy to talk to, there were quite a few who were garrulous and endlessly nitpicky.
They often insisted on seeing the brandy poured directly from the bottle, checking if the bottom of the glass had been watered down, and then watching the glass placed into the ice bucket to chill, only then feeling reassured: under such strict supervision, watering down was very difficult.
So after a few days, Monsieur Legrand again said I couldn't do this job.
Fortunately, my introducer's influence was great, and I couldn't be dismissed, so I was assigned the boring task of exclusively carrying trays.]
With the background environment and the perspective character established, it was time for "Kong Yiji" to make his appearance.
[From then on, I stood at the counter all day, solely in charge of carrying my trays.
Although there were no mistakes, I always felt a bit monotonous and bored.
The boss had a stern face, and the customers were never pleasant, making it impossible to feel lively; only when "The Old Guard" came to the shop could I smile a few times, which is why I still remember him.
"The Old Guard" was the only person who stood to drink while wearing a woolen coat.
He was very tall; his face was pale, often streaked with scars between wrinkles; and he had a disheveled, grizzled beard.
Although he wore woolen fabric, it was an old blue formal coat of the Imperial Guard, its epaulets long since frayed, its elbows patched with dark fabric, and its hem ragged and shiny with grease, as if it hadn't been washed since the Battle of Waterloo.
When he spoke to people, he always filled his sentences with "His Majesty the Emperor," "column attack," and "for the honor of France," making it half-understood.
Because he always mentioned the Emperor and the Imperial Guard, others gave him a nickname, "The Old Guard," based on the tune of the old, half-understood military song he often hummed, "Guards Die, But Never Surrender."
As soon as "The Old Guard" entered the shop, all the drinkers looked at him and laughed, some calling out, "Monsieur 'Old Guard,' you have a new scar on your face!"
He didn't answer, but said to the counter, "A glass of brandy, and a small plate of salted beans."
Then he laid out three copper sous.
They then deliberately shouted loudly,
"You must have stolen someone else's things again!"
Monsieur "Old Guard" opened his eyes wide and argued, "How can you so baseless slander a person's good name..."
"What good name?
The day before yesterday, I personally saw you steal sausages hanging at Monsieur Dupont's house, and you were chased and bitten by the watchdogs."
"The Old Guard" then flushed red, veins bulging on his forehead, arguing,
"Taking... taking spoils of war cannot be considered stealing!
...Can something done by someone who shed blood for the Empire be considered stealing?"
This was followed by incomprehensible words like "the honor of the Imperial Guard," and "Long live the Emperor," which caused everyone to burst into laughter: the tavern inside and out was filled with cheerful air.]
Writing to this point, Lionel himself laughed.
He suddenly realized that France, as one of the few European countries that truly had an imperial system and centralized power, bore some resemblance to imperial China in terms of social customs and popular sentiment, to a certain extent.
However, it was already late night, and there was no rush to complete this novel.
Lionel decided to stop writing here for now; he had class tomorrow and did not want to be late.
And on the same night, Victor Hugo, residing on Avenue Hoche in Paris, received a letter from his friend and fellow member of the French Academy, Professor Hippolyte Taine—
[Dear Monsieur Hugo:
It has been over a year since our last meeting at the Sorbonne.
I wonder how your health is now...
If you could attend this year's "Poetry Gathering" at the Sorbonne, it would be an honor for the "Poetry Gathering."
Additionally: the promising talents participating in the "Poetry Gathering" have begun submitting their works to us; though these works are nascent, it would be a tremendous honor for these students if they could receive your esteemed commentary.
Always respectfully yours, Hippolyte Taine
...]
(End of chapter)
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