My era, 1979!

Chapter 198 He is an anti-idol idol

For Japanese viewers in the 1980s, it meant sitting in front of the television at 6:15 p.m. every day to watch TV Asahi's "Tetsuko's Room".

Just like many years later, Chinese families would gather around to watch the Spring Festival Gala on New Year's Eve.
It is a warm ritual embedded in daily life.

It was a time to share a relaxing and surprising moment with Tetsuko Kuroyanagi on the screen, who always had a "onion head" hairstyle and a warm smile, and the celebrities she brought along.

January 10, Thursday, evening.

In an ordinary family home in Shibuya Ward, Tokyo, the mother is preparing dinner in the kitchen, and the aroma of miso soup fills the air.

Mika, the high school student, was already sitting on the tatami mat in the living room, eagerly turning on the old-fashioned CRT television.

"Mom, it's about to start! Today it's that 'young master' writer from China!" Meijia's voice was filled with barely suppressed excitement.

For days, the reports in newspapers and magazines about the mysterious Chinese writer had whetted her appetite.

On the television screen, after the familiar program intro, the image freezes on Tetsuko Kuroyanagi's signature warm smile.

The title that followed made Meijia gasp:

"The Amazing Chinese Genius Writer Xu Chengjun - No Beauty, Touma, No Peace and No Prayer"

(Xu Chengjun, an amazing Chinese writer of genius – his beauty, intellect, and prayer for peace)

"Wow..." Mika exclaimed unconsciously; the title itself was incredibly appealing.

The show started.

Tetsuko Kuroyanagi introduced today's guests in her unique, slightly hoarse yet incredibly warm voice.

When the camera switched to Xu Chengjun sitting opposite her, even through the somewhat distorted television screen, his calm and composed demeanor and handsome appearance were still extremely striking.

“Wow…He's really handsome!” Mika couldn’t help but shout to her mother in the kitchen.

The initial conversation was gentle and amusing.

Listening to Xu Chengjun describe his childhood memories of the "drying ground" in a Chinese village in fluent Japanese with a slight accent, Meijia felt a strange sense of intimacy, as if she were seeing a childhood in another country that was equally full of human warmth.

However, as the conversation deepened and Xu Chengjun began to clash with two giants of the Japanese literary world, Ryotaro Shiba and Kenzaburo Oe, the atmosphere in the living room changed.

Although Meijia only had a superficial understanding of some of the profound historical and literary discussions, she could clearly feel the power in the young Chinese writer's words.

He was neither arrogant nor humble, and his logic was clear. Especially when he talked about historical responsibility and the future, his clarity and determination beyond his age made Meijia unconsciously hold her breath.

“Historical nihilism is essentially the same as militarism…”
These words struck Mika like a hammer blow, and also struck the hearts of countless Japanese viewers watching the program.

She saw the camera pan across the audience, where many people looked solemn, and some had tears in their eyes.

Immediately after this somber and profound moment, the atmosphere of the program shifted dramatically. Tetsuko Kuroyanagi cleverly introduced a lighthearted, rapid-fire Q&A segment.

Kuroyanagi: "So, what is 'happiness' to you personally?"

Xu Chengjun: "When the night is quiet, I can fall asleep peacefully; when the sun is shining, I can laugh without any gloom. My heart is at peace and my spirit is free."

This philosophical answer, like a concise poem, expresses a state that many people yearn for but find difficult to articulate.

Kuroyanagi: "Please describe your relationship with writing in one sentence."

Xu Chengjun: "It is my way of communicating with the world, and it is also the homeland where I can find peace for my soul."

This series of concise, wise, and insightful answers, like a gentle breeze, swept through the live stream and deeply touched viewers like Meijia through the screen.

"すごい..." (So awesome...) Mika muttered to herself.

She discovered that Xu Chengjun not only displayed sharp wit when debating with great scholars, but also exuded a natural, profound, and approachable intellectual charm in relaxed conversations.

He seems to write articles effortlessly, each word and sentence shining with a unique brilliance.

When Xu Chengjun recounted the story of "Da Niu" from "The New Box of Hope," Meijia finally couldn't hold back her tears. The image of that boy who carried a letter with a kite drawn on it and sacrificed himself on the battlefield was so vivid and poignant.

Xu Chengjun's narrative is not a vehement accusation, but a profound compassion that penetrates the heart more deeply than any shout.

Then came the guitar-accompanied song "Happiness".

When Xu Chengjun picked up his guitar, when the warm and textured sound of the guitar came through the television speakers, when he sang in a voice that was a mixture of sadness and hope:

"Happiness is on the other side of the smoke/under the blue sky you painted..."
Mika was completely immersed in the emotional world created by the song.

The familiar melody in the chorus, paired with such fitting and vivid Japanese lyrics, and the ethereal Chinese interlude at the end, creates a wonderful chemical reaction.

She saw Tetsuko Kuroyanagi on the screen covering her face and crying, and saw the people in the audience clapping vigorously with red eyes.

Mika herself was already in tears, her heart filled with indescribable emotion and a deeper longing for peace.

When the show ended, Mika was still immersed in that emotion for a long time, and she didn't even hear her mother calling her for dinner.

“That Chinese man… Xu Chengjun, he’s truly an amazing person.” The mother came over with the food and said with emotion, clearly having watched the program intermittently in the kitchen as well.

"Yes!" Meijia nodded vigorously, wiping away her tears. "His book is called 'The Unbreakable Red Silk,' and it seems to be coming out soon. Mom, I want to buy it and read it!"

After saying that, she subconsciously turned to her father, Kojiro, who had been sitting silently in the corner, watching the entire program with sake.

“Dad,” Meijia’s voice was still choked with emotion, “what kind of person do you think Xu Sang is?”

Kojiro is a veteran of the vigorous "Zenkai-Dō" student movement in the late 1960s. Time has worn away much of his sharpness, but his deep-seated concern for the current situation and habit of independent thinking have not changed.

He slowly sipped his drink, his gaze still fixed on the television screen where commercials were playing, his expression complex.

Even he had to admit that the young Chinese man on screen possessed amazing talent, clear logic, and a captivating personal charm.

Xu Chengjun's quick Q&A about literature and life even made him nod in agreement; the infectious power of the song "Happiness" also truly touched him.

However, Xu Chengjun's sharp remarks about historical responsibility and the essential connection between militarism and historical nihilism felt like a thorn in the heart of this old-school Japanese intellectual who had experienced that turbulent era and had complex feelings about his country's history. He felt a vague sense of being offended and an evasiveness that made him unwilling to delve deeper.

He was silent for a few seconds before replying in a flat tone that revealed no emotion: "Maybe... he's a very outstanding person."

Meijia, caught up in her boundless admiration for Xu Chengjun, failed to detect the reluctance in her father's words. Instead, with girlish innocence and a competitive spirit, she pressed on, "How does it compare to when you were young, Dad? Didn't you often say that back then..."

"Mika!"

Kojiro interrupted his daughter, his forehead creased with an invisible black line, a strange sense of irritation and embarrassment rising within him.

How the hell can I compare to him?
At the age of twenty, he became famous in two countries, appeared on national TV programs, chatted with tycoons, wrote books that sold in Japan, and could even sing with a guitar that moved countless people to tears...

Back then, besides shouting slogans and throwing stones in the streets, I was eventually hammered by reality and had to see my way. Now, sitting here watching this "broken TV," what do I have to compare myself to?

"You should do your homework, Mika!"

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unquestionable tone as he reached for the remote control on the tatami mat.

"Snapped!"

With a soft sound, the television screen went dark instantly. Xu Chengjun's figure, Kuroyanagi Tetsuko's smile, and the studio lights all disappeared. Only the faint light coming in from the window and the sound of running water from the kitchen where his mother was washing dishes remained in the living room.

Meijia was taken aback by the sudden interruption. Watching her father get up and leave the living room expressionlessly, she pouted. However, the image of Xu Chengjun singing and playing the guitar, along with the lyrics "しあわせは君が生きる世界/僕はそれを守る" (Happiness is the world you live in/And I protect it), lingered in her mind, refusing to leave.

That night, countless Japanese families like Mika's experienced an emotional and intellectual upheaval brought about by the television screen.

The name Xu Chengjun, along with his thoughts, talent, courage, and the moving song "Happiness," is no longer just cold printed words and pictures in newspapers and magazines, but has been imprinted in the hearts of many ordinary Japanese people in an extremely vivid and profound way.

"Dad, do you know how charming Xu Sang is?"
-
Xu Chengjun didn't know.

He wasn't very happy.

He was woken up by noise. He had finally managed to enjoy a single room during his trip to Japan, away from the snoring of Lin Yimin and his buddies, which should have been a perfect time to catch up on sleep. But the noisy voices in the hallway outside, the hurried footsteps, and the impolite knocking on the door abruptly pulled him from his deep sleep.

The grumpiness that usually gets suppressed when you wake up suddenly bursts out.

He opened the door unhappily, with a hint of annoyance at being disturbed.

Upon closer inspection, wow!
The scene outside the door instantly sobered him up considerably.

The delegation leader Ba Jin, deputy leader Bing Xin, secretary-general Lin Lin, and several key members including Du Pengcheng and Ai Wu—almost the entire core of the delegation—crowded outside his room.

Mr. Ba frowned slightly, Ms. Bing Xin looked somewhat worried, and Secretary-General Lin Lin looked anxious.

Linlin immediately retorted, "Comrade Chengjun! You still have the mind to sleep? The noise outside is deafening because of you!"

Xu Chengjun rubbed his still sleepy eyes, looking innocent and bewildered: "I...I didn't do anything. I went to sleep as soon as I got back last night."

Du Pengcheng clicked his tongue, his tone carrying an indescribable mix of admiration and a mischievous excitement: "Hey! It's all because of your show last night! 'Chezi's Hut'! Good heavens! You're really something! Going to their territory, appearing on their national program, saying their culture is just a tributary of ours, and... and making those little devils reflect and apologize on the spot! I, Old Du, have never admired many people in my life, but today I admire you! You're a real character!"

He gave a thumbs-up as he spoke.

Ai Wu frowned as she listened, and forcefully pulled Du Pengcheng's arm: "Old Du! Can't you be serious for once! Is this the time to talk about this? Comrade Cheng Jun's remarks on the program... have had a huge impact! The situation outside is very complicated right now!"

Standing slightly behind the crowd, Song Liangxi's feelings were even more complex and difficult to describe.

Originally, because of the incident with Keiko Matsuzaka and the fact that Xu Chengjun had a girlfriend in China, she forcibly suppressed the budding feelings of affection in her heart, admonishing herself to stay away from this overly dazzling "source of trouble" rationally.

He is talented, opinionated, and has people he cares about; I shouldn't, and can't, get involved with him.

but……

Last night, almost against her will, she watched "Tetsuko's Cabin" with the rest of the delegation.

The Xu Chengjun on the screen seemed different from the one she knew before.

His wisdom and sharpness when engaging with literary giants, the natural philosophical insights and agility revealed in his rapid-fire questions and answers, the deep compassion and determination hidden in his eyes when he sang "Happiness"...

Every aspect of her appearance exuded a fatal attraction, like a giant magnet that easily shattered the psychological defenses she had painstakingly built up.

The inner turmoil did not subside; on the contrary, it surged even more intensely because of this comprehensive display.

Almost subconsciously, she followed everyone to Xu Chengjun's door, wanting to get closer to him and see him one more time.

"We waited for each other at the Red Bridge then, but today I seek the path of yellow leaves alone."

People are like clouds drifting into the river after the wind; emotions are like catkins clinging to the ground after the rain.

Ba Jin interrupted Du Pengcheng and Ai Wu's argument. This veteran of the literary world, who had experienced many ups and downs, appeared most composed at this moment. His voice was calm but carried an undeniable determination: "The situation outside is indeed quite complicated. People are gathered together, and their emotions are all different. For safety reasons and to avoid unnecessary trouble, we may need to change hotels first. Chengjun, you... take a look at the situation and make some preparations."

“Okay, Mr. Ba, I’ll follow your instructions.” Xu Chengjun readily agreed. “Then I’ll wash up first, it’ll be quick.”

Is it necessary to change hotels?

As Xu Chengjun squeezed toothpaste, he strolled to the window, lifted a corner of the heavy curtain, and looked out into his room facing the street.

Good guy!
Even Xu Chengjun, a man of great experience, couldn't help but whistle inwardly at the sight.

The street below the hotel was already teeming with people of all colors, clearly divided into several groups:

There was a large group of fans, mostly teenage and twenty-year-old female students and young office ladies, holding signs with his name and the word "support". They were dressed fashionably and had eager eyes. They were obviously "fans" of his looks and talent after last night's show.

Others are slogans on torn pages from cardboard or notebooks—"Xu Chengjun, please support us!" and "Xu-san, fan desu!"—written in neat and excited handwriting.

Their faces showed a mixture of shyness and boldness as they tiptoed, peering intently into the hotel window and whispering excitedly to each other.

A small group of right-wing group members, carrying banners and clearly provoked by his historical remarks on the show, were seen holding signs with bold, glaring characters that read: "Criticize Chinese writers and Japan!"

"History is forged by Xu Na!"

They attempted to charge forward, but were firmly kept outside the cordon by a human wall formed by a team of riot police officers wearing white helmets and carrying police shields.

There were also numerous reporters, carrying heavy, shoulder-mounted Udeo cameras, Nikon F2 or Canon AE-1 film cameras around their necks, and black microphones bearing the logos of their respective stations—NHK, TBS, Fuji Television—weaving through the crowd like sharks smelling blood, trying to capture any worthy news…

Red, white, yellow, green... flags, slogans, clothing, and hair colors were mixed together, creating quite a spectacle, comparable to a small gathering.

Ba Jin and Bing Xin had never seen anything like this before.

In this era, literature is literature, and idols are idols; the boundaries are clear.

The concept of "literary idols" is practically nonexistent in China. Oh, wait, the concept of idols doesn't even exist.

What's so special about Xu Chengjun?

They felt uncertain and uneasy.

However, it's not available in China, but it is in Japan!

In January of 1980, an 18-year-old girl named Seiko Matsuda had just finished promoting her debut single, "Barefoot Season".

On the television screen, she sported a voluminous "saintly" hairstyle, wore a sailor-collar top and tennis skirt, and flashed her signature buck teeth and a bright, untroubled smile, singing a lively and upbeat melody. She represented a pure, meticulously packaged "idol" product used to sell dreams.

She is a product of Japan's desire for sweetness, healing, and dreams after the country's rapid economic development.

Her charm lies in her perfect image, approachable persona, and catchy pop songs. Her mission is to become the dream girl of young men and women, and the most dazzling star on the industrial assembly line of record companies and management companies.

Madness! The Japanese were mad for her! They killed countless film crews!
Meanwhile, the group of young girls downstairs screaming for Xu Chengjun, many of whom may have been going crazy for Matsuda Seiko's new look yesterday, are now captivated by a completely different kind of "attraction".

So, in this comparison...

Xu Chengjun is not an idol.

He is an "anti-idol" idol.

He has not undergone industrial packaging; his charm comes from his own contradictions and destructive power—beneath his handsome, Eastern features lies a sharp, Western-style analytical edge; beneath the calm core of a writer lies the stage presence of a rock star; he discusses the most weighty and grand historical issues, yet the melodies flowing from his fingertips are the most comforting.

He offers not a sweet, fragile dream, but an intellectual adventure and an emotional refinement.

This is undoubtedly a more profound and devastating shock to young Japanese people who are used to seeing standard idols.

The commotion downstairs was a strange echo produced when two completely different "charms" converged in the same era. And Xu Chengjun, this "troublemaker" from China, inadvertently became the fuse that ignited it all.

As he brushed his teeth, he glanced at the "Red vs. White" ukiyo-e print downstairs and mumbled something indistinctly:
"Wow, that's incredible."

(End of this chapter)