I am a literary giant in Russia

Chapter 161 I’m so stupid, really
When the young man's dreamy yet melancholic voice had vanished on a physical level, many more voices echoed in the hearts of the guests present, just like the ashes dancing in the fire in his poems, unconsciously evoking a sense of bitterness and melancholy.

As an outstanding female poet, Mrs. Rostopchina was undoubtedly able to feel the delicate emotions in this poem more deeply.

If we set aside professional analysis and rely solely on her personal feelings, then this poem is undoubtedly a flowing melody or a flowing oil painting. At the very beginning, it paints a beautiful fantasy world, where only you and I live in a small town with a touch of nostalgia. Here, there are dark twilights, melodious bells, the sound of a flute seemingly from afar, and lush tulips.
This peaceful happiness is so intense, like waking up groggily from a summer afternoon, where you can't hear a sound or see anyone for a moment. Just as your heart begins to feel anxious, you turn your head slightly and there is that familiar yet unfamiliar person nestled beside you.

When love reaches this point, the thought that "I wouldn't care if you didn't love me right now" becomes a natural turning point. Because everything is so beautiful, whether you love me or not seems less important, simply because this moment is so blissful, and this moment is worth everything.

But at the same time, this turning point is undoubtedly a shattering of this beautiful illusion. Even in the mundane daily life, love can still be felt, but can love really always be so beautiful and eternal?
Will everything end up like this:

The tip of the cigarette trembled, trembled.
Short, grayish-white cigarette butts—even the ash
You're too lazy to even flick it off—

The smoke then danced into the fire.

While this poem is breathtakingly beautiful, it also undoubtedly reveals the paradox of love: it is both beautiful and fragile, perhaps both a haven of happiness and a prison of loneliness.

As for deeper meanings, there is still much to be explored. The complex attitude towards love presented in this poem, as well as the unusual yet wonderfully applied imagery such as "flute sound" and "cigarette ash," undoubtedly represent another breakthrough in contemporary Russian love poetry. But before delving into these things, looking at the slightly silent crowd, Mrs. Rostopchina still shared her understanding in its entirety.

After her simple explanation, some of the guests who had previously seemed thoughtful appeared to have touched upon something deeper, gaining a more profound understanding of the poem's merits. Therefore, when the renowned and talented Mrs. Rostopchina spoke:
“Dear Mr. Mikhail, you have once again brought a wonderful love poem to our Russian poetry scene. I believe I will never forget it in my life.”

The guests present finally realized what was happening and expressed their appreciation for the seemingly calm young man and their love for the poem. However, some of the male nobles seemed a little reluctant, while the noble ladies and young women reacted so enthusiastically that it could be considered somewhat impolite.

As for the noble ladies who had already gained a certain degree of autonomy, their gazes toward the young man were more direct and bold. Some noble ladies, on the other hand, appeared even more reserved, but their peripheral vision seemed to be sizing up whether the young man's eyes were looking at them.

For some noble ladies from good families and with good looks, there is never a shortage of people fawning over them. But this young man behaved quite calmly. After thanking everyone for their praise and briefly sharing his thoughts, he went straight back to his original seat, seemingly without any attachment to the attention and praise he received.

Now that Mikhail had sat back down, even though Mrs. Rostopchina felt she still had a lot to say, she could only continue hosting according to the original program. After all, there were still two or three new writers who would be reading their works after Mikhail.

As for who would be reciting next, Mikhail knew perfectly well that it was the two gentlemen sitting next to him. Concerned that they might be under too much pressure, Mikhail gave them an encouraging look.

However, while Mikhail interpreted this look as encouragement, the two young men saw it in a completely different light.

The two young people, who had been ambitious not long ago, now felt utterly scorned: "."

It felt like he didn't even need to breathe; just one look from him was enough to make us feel defeated.
Under these emotional circumstances, one of them completely deflated, barely managing to finish reciting his poem, utterly devoid of his initial confidence. The other, on the contrary, was inspired with the courage to challenge Mikhail. However, after passionately reciting his poem, he discovered that both the host, Rostopchina, and many of the noble ladies and young women present seemed still immersed in the atmosphere of Mikhail's poem.
What's the point of this competition?!

Mikhail was unaware of their inner thoughts, and even had no idea that he had any grudges against these two gentlemen. In fact, Mikhail had no time to care about such things. Although he seemed calm and composed throughout the process, to be honest, he had actually been gone for a while.

All I can say is that, as Xiao Chunan, Mikhail had never been looked at like that by so many women in his entire life.
Just as Mikhail, who appeared calm but was actually sweating profusely, was drinking tea to calm himself down, Old Dostoevsky, who had been watching Mikhail's performance from beginning to end and was excited by it, also cast an admiring glance at Mikhail: "I knew it would be like this."

“Fyodor, it’s not as easy as you think.”

Since they were buddies, Mikhail certainly wouldn't hide his flaws, so he said truthfully, "I was just putting on a brave face. I've never been in a situation like this before."

"That's it."

Hearing Mikhail's words, and seeing that the way he wiped his sweat didn't seem fake, the young Dostoevsky thought about it carefully and felt that this seemed normal. However, just as he pondered for a moment and was about to say something to comfort Mikhail, he turned around and saw this scene:
Mikhail had somehow found himself looking towards the noble ladies, a bright smile on his face and his mouth slightly open, as if he were mouthing something to them.

Although his movements were very subtle, they were still noticed by some people because many people on the field were unconsciously paying attention to him. In particular, the area where the noble ladies were located, Mikhail, seemed to lower their heads slightly in embarrassment.

Old Do, who witnessed all of this: "."

I was so stupid, really.
Just as Old Tuo gave up on comforting Mikhail, on the other side, Nadya, who had successfully exchanged the secret code with Mikhail, couldn't help but cover half of her plain face with her embroidered fan. Although Mikhail's mouth movements looked like an ordinary "Good evening," it didn't stop the seventeen-year-old girl from blushing slightly.

Her face flushed even more when she thought of the poem Mikhail had just recited and the way he had looked at her.

She was indeed seriously pondering and analyzing the poem, trying to glean Mikhail's attitude towards love from this love poem. Although the love in the poem was beautiful enough, its fragility and vulnerability were equally undeniable. So how could she arrive at the answer to this question? Just as Nadya was thinking about these things, the discussion about Mikhail broke out around her again. Nadya had heard many such discussions that evening and should have been used to them by now, but when she heard this particular discussion:
Was he looking at you just now? Did he want to say something?

"Who knows? Maybe. I'm used to things like this. He's good-looking, but unfortunately he has nothing but a magazine company."

"Yes, I guess he'll be entering the officialdom and slowly climbing the ranks next, which will probably take at least ten years. However, if he can gain greater literary fame in other countries, it will likely help his future."

"That will take a long time."

The seventeen-year-old girl couldn't help but say, "Besides what you can see on the surface, he has many other precious qualities that are irreplaceable."

Although everyone was surprised by her sudden outburst, Nadya closed her embroidered fan slightly and continued, looking at the seemingly arrogant noblewoman, "And I can assure you that he was looking at me and talking to me just now."

Strictly speaking, since entering the social circles of the nobility, Nadya has attracted a lot of attention because of her family background, appearance, and musical talents. However, due to her personality and other reasons, she usually keeps a low profile. Therefore, when she suddenly spoke up, the somewhat arrogant noble lady did not know what to say for a moment.

She remained silent, but many of the other noble ladies, after hearing Nadya's words, took the opportunity to ask more questions about Mikhail. Seeing that quite a few people were still interested in Mikhail, Nadya became a little flustered, unsure whether to speak or not, and if so, how far to go.

Just as Nadya was struggling with this question, the two young men sitting next to Mikhail had finished reading their work and returned. To be honest, Mikhail thought their work was quite good, but the timing of their presentation was a bit off. Therefore, seeing that the two seemed a little dejected, Mikhail, having indeed listened to their work, casually offered a word of encouragement:
"Very well written."

Ok? !

Mikhail was just saying that, but the two young men suddenly looked up and stared at him with suspicion for a while. When they saw that what Mikhail said didn't seem to be a lie, their feelings suddenly became very complicated, and they would look at Mikhail with very complicated eyes from time to time.

Mikhail, sensing that look and feeling something was off, remained silent.

Why are you looking at me like that?

Ha people.

I should have kept quiet
After the reading of the work is completed, the literary salon will continue with the next segment.

In reality, so-called literary salons often turned into social gatherings for the nobility and a pretentious exercise in cultivating refined tastes, or even into various vulgar transactions. Tolstoy later wrote about such boring and tedious salons in his works.

But Mrs. Rostopchina's salon was indeed different. In addition to the normal procedures, her salon often discussed radical topics such as serfdom and marriage autonomy. So much so that in the Third Department, her salon was directly called "the headquarters of the rebellion in lace".

After she was exiled to Moscow, she started even more secretive underground gatherings with Herzen, Vyazemsky and others. Later, when Herzen went to Western Europe and founded his magazine "Polaris" which criticized the Tsar, it was this lady who helped transport and distribute handwritten copies of the magazine.

From this perspective, aside from the literary salon, Mikhail might have had dealings with this lady in other places in the future.

Even speaking only of the present moment, for some reason, whenever the salon discussed any sensitive topics, this lady seemed eager to hear Mikhail's opinion.

Mikhail: “?”

This has really caused me a lot of trouble.
Fortunately, having spent a long time with Belinsky and his ilk, Mikhail was quite adept at using similar slang, and thus managed to express his true opinion in a relatively subtle way.

Meanwhile, quite a few noble ladies and young women did try to strike up a conversation with Mikhail throughout the process, to which Mikhail could only respond normally and let things take their course.

As time passed, the salon had undoubtedly come to an end. However, before the formal closing, Mikhail, at Mrs. Rostopchina's request, recited his poem once more.

During the recitation, Rostopchina and other noble ladies and young women hurriedly copied down the poem. In the end, Rostopchina specially asked Mikhail to sign her manuscript and solemnly invited Mikhail to attend her salon more often, implying that a salon like this could not be without a talent like Mikhail.

Mikhail could only nod in agreement for the time being. As for whether he would come often, it would depend on the specific circumstances. To be honest, he had received far too many invitations to salons, and if he were to attend them all, Mikhail would really not have much time to get a proper night's sleep.

While various events, large and small, were unfolding in St. Petersburg, Old Butcher and Old Bie in France were also about to face new challenges.
(End of this chapter)