I am a literary giant in Russia

Chapter 100 Enlightenment in Longchang
As time passed, the lively banquet at Mikhail's house gradually came to an end.

The first to leave were Mikhail's friends in the apartment. Because they had a lot of work to do the next day, even though they wanted to let loose, they kept their last bit of sobriety when they thought about the heavy future that was just around the corner, and they staggered home.

If one fails to maintain this courageous clarity in the face of life, then one becomes one of those drunkards who frequently stay out all night, as often seen in St. Petersburg today.

For safety reasons, Mikhail called a carriage for them, while people like Turgenev and Dmitry, who were well-off, were able to stay with Mikhail for a while longer.

With fewer people around, Belinsky, who had been unusually excited, quickly became listless. He looked pale, was panting, and coughed violently from time to time, as if he was about to cough up blood.

This state of weakness was actually Belinsky's most common state.

Because of his already poor health, coupled with lung disease and long-term mental and material torment, Belinsky's physical condition had reached a very bad point, to the point that he had even told his friends rather indifferently some time ago:
“You are all young and healthy, you have hope, but I have no light ahead of me, and I am becoming a useless cripple.”

In this situation, he sometimes avoids having overly serious conversations, lest he become too agitated and worsen his already poor health.

The atmosphere today clearly excited him, but once the excitement subsided, he revealed a rather unhealthy appearance.

Fortunately, the early publication of the magazine "The Contemporary" greatly boosted Belinsky's morale and material well-being, making him look radiant recently. However, the root of his illness remained, especially since tuberculosis was still an incurable disease at that time.

Tuberculosis, an ancient disease, continues to plague many underdeveloped regions even in later generations, and in the 17th and 20th centuries it affected countless people.

Chopin died of tuberculosis, Chekhov died from worsening lung disease, and Lu Xun also passed away from worsening lung disease.
The only saving grace is that tuberculosis is a chronic disease, and if it can be treated properly, at least one won't die young.

In normal history, Belinsky, despite his illness, did not go to Europe for treatment until 1847. His travel expenses were raised by his friends, with the main sum coming from Herzen.

Although Belinsky's condition improved considerably after a period of rest, the subsequent Gogol affair and the Tsarist authorities' brutal persecution of the literary world completely devastated his body, and his lungs rapidly deteriorated.

Things that far ahead are beyond our control for now, but right now, Mikhail is already planning to find some reliable doctors for Belinsky, or even send him to Europe for a period of recuperation.

The doctor's role is extremely important; one should never overestimate the skill level of doctors in those days. After all, given Gogol's wealth and status in Russia at that time, even though he didn't want to talk to anyone or cooperate with the doctors' treatment as he lay dying, they began to force-feed him treatment when he was about to fall into a coma.
First, they put eight large leeches on his nose to suck his blood. Then they lifted him into a warm bathtub, stripped him naked, and gave him a shower. Later, they bled him, put ice on his head, and poured marshmallow root juice into his mouth. Gogol kept groaning and pleading, "Take the leeches off, take them off his mouth..." His groans grew weaker and weaker until he stopped responding altogether.

Mikhail felt a chill run down his spine just thinking about it. As for Mikhail's own health, for some reason, despite living in terrible conditions before, he hadn't had any minor illnesses like headaches or fevers for a long time.

In this era of rampant disease and constant major events, this is certainly a good thing.

After pondering the issue for a while, Mikhail summoned Nekrasov and spoke directly with him about Belinsky's health. Nekrasov, who had been closely following Belinsky's progress, nodded repeatedly. However, when it came to how to implement these plans, he sighed and said:

"I had long thought of having some good doctors take a look at his condition, but you know, patients are often afraid of hearing doctors' diagnoses, and I figured that approach would terrify Belinsky."

As for going abroad for medical treatment, he is now completely focused on his work. I tried to bring it up with Panaev before, but he got angry and refused to put down "The Modern Man" no matter what.

They said that although we have the resources to do a good job with the magazine, our lack of experience could still lead to mistakes. Since many writers are hostile to *Modern Man*, these mistakes give them the opportunity to launch attacks on our magazine.

Mikhail: “.”

What kind of chosen working class?
“However, Mikhail, if you were to persuade him, I think you would succeed.”

Nekrasov, as if struck by a sudden thought, continued, "Think about it, your novel alone will ensure our magazine has no shortage of subscribers for a long time, not to mention your other works. Moreover, as long as you're there, our magazine 'The Contemporary' will never lack confidence. Besides, you know a general's daughter."

That last sentence was a bit redundant!

Upon hearing this, Mikhail nodded, waiting to find time in the next few days to have a proper talk with Belinsky. As for now, he would let him continue to enjoy this rare moment.

Since it was a banquet, Belinsky must have had a few drinks, so much so that in his high spirits, he unconsciously found himself at Mikhail's card table, even inviting a few friends to join him. However, just as he was about to start, something occurred to him, and he suddenly sobered up. He first glared angrily at Turgenev, who was boasting to someone, and then looked at Mikhail with a pleading expression.

Turgenev: “???”

Why that look again?

Mikhail: “.”

You're making me feel really embarrassed.

Enough is enough. I, Mikhail, am no devil.
Seeing the look Belinsky was giving him, Mikhail, who was somewhat tense, waved his large hand.

With a wave of his hand, Belinsky and his men immediately broke into cheerful smiles, nodding repeatedly as they enthusiastically began playing cards without Mikhail present.

Seeing this scene, Mikhail, who had been idle for a while, finally remembered his earlier doubts. So he stood up and walked towards Dmitri and Old Do, who seemed to still be chatting.

Perhaps because he remembered the good thing Dmitri had mentioned, Mikhail seemed very enthusiastic when he joined in, but he still spoke first and asked, "Dmitri and Fyodor, did you know each other before? How come I've never heard you mention it?"

"Ok?"

Upon hearing Mikhail's words, Dmitry and Dostoevsky, who had been talking, immediately looked over. They exchanged a knowing smile before Dmitry replied:
“We met each other at a group gathering. It was Fyodor’s first time there. I had already heard that you had discovered him and his work, and that you highly praised his work. So we started chatting soon after, and we talked a lot about things related to you!”

But that's all just idle talk. What I want to tell you today is something else entirely. Mikhail, do you remember that party we went to once or twice back in college? Of course, things are very different now than they were then. Some people have dropped out, but many more have joined in.

Moreover, what we are discussing is a completely new idea that is different from the past!

What a sublime idea that is! No one could help but anticipate the new world it would create! It is far more powerful than any other idea I have ever heard before!

Mikhail: “.”

Small group meetings, Dostoevsky, new ideas, and I've attended them before.
Something feels increasingly off.

As he listened, Mikhail, who had been so enthusiastic, quickly wilted, his smile gradually fading, and a strange chill suddenly enveloped his entire body.

As his mind raced, Mikhail seemed to vaguely recall something, and looking at the somewhat agitated Dmitry and the slightly excited Dostoevsky, Mikhail finally couldn't help but ask:

"So what is this new idea? And where do you meet?"

“Mikhail, have you heard of Fourier and Saint-Simon? Have you heard of the idea of ​​utopian socialism?”

At this point, the bear-like man excitedly recounted a coincidence:

"We're having a gathering at Mikhail's house, hahaha, of course, another Mikhail, Mr. Mikhail Vasilyevich Petrashevsky. The gatherings happen every Friday. Would you like to come and listen? Or you could read his book; he's currently preparing to publish a 'Pocket Dictionary of Loanwords in Russian,' in which he will introduce this theory in a simple and easy-to-understand way."

Mikhail: “.”

Despite having mentally prepared himself, Mikhail's eyes still went black several times after actually hearing Dmitry's words.

Wow, I was worried about Dostoevsky before, but now it seems I'm much more authoritative than him.
(End of this chapter)