The Republic of Wine

should create ‘typical characters in typical circumstances,’ so I made the image of the little red demon more colorful by adding some oil here, a little vinegar there, and a bit of gourmet powder here and there. The scaly boy was a little hero who, moving through Liquorland like a shadow, performed many good deeds, eliminating evil and eradicating the bad, stealing from the rich to give to the poor. He has come to the aid of all the rascals on Donkey Avenue, who treat him like a god. I haven’t yet had a chance to behold his majestic countenance, but that doesn’t prove he doesn’t exist. Many people on Donkey Avenue have seen him, and everyone in Liquorland knows about him. Anything he does at night and where he did it is known all over town the next day. Whenever his name is mentioned, cadres grind their teeth, common citizens are beside themselves with joy, and the head of Public Security’s legs cramp up. Sir, the existence of this young hero is a natural consequence of social development; his gallant behavior has actually achieved the goal of calming the people and venting their anger, which has led to an increase in social stability and solidarity. His existence helps redress imperfect laws that cater to those in power. Why do you think the people haven’t risen up against Liquorland’s corrupt cadres? The scaly boy, that’s why. Everyone has been waiting to see him punish those corrupt officials. Being punished by him means being punished by justice, which means being punished by the people. The scaly boy has become the embodiment of justice, the enforcer of the people’s will, the pressure valve of law and order. If not for him, Liquorland would be mired in chaos. He may not be able to stop the officials’ corrupt behavior, but he can reduce the people’s anger. In point of fact, he has been an invaluable aid to Liquorland’s municipal government, but, ironically, some muddle-headed officials have called for his arrest.
    Are the scaly boy and the little red demon the same person? Please forgive my presumptuousness, but I think your question is terribly naive. What does it matter if they’re the same person or not? If they are, so what? And if they aren’t, so what? The fundamental principle of literature is to create something out of nothing and to make up stories. My creation has not been altogether fashioned out of nothing, and is not entirely made up. To be honest, the scaly boy and the little red demon are identical and disparate at the same time. Sometimes one divides into two and sometimes two combine into one. Long separation ends in unification, long unification leads to separation. Heaven operates this way, so why not humans?
    In your letter, you also claimed that the scaly boy’s skills were portrayed with such grand exaggeration that they lost their veracity, a criticism I find hard to accept. In this day and age, when scientific breakthroughs occur daily, and humans can plant beans on the moon, what’s the big deal about flying on eaves and walking on walls? Twenty years ago, our village showed a movie called The White-Haired Girl Ballet , in which the heroine walked on the tips of her toes. We took that as a challenge: If you can walk on your toes, why can’t we? Practice! If we can’t master the skill in one day, we’ll take two; if two days won’t do, then three; if three days still aren’t enough, then how about four days or five? Why can’t we learn it in six days or seven? Eight days later, except for the really dumb Dog Two Li, a whole bunch of us kids had learned to walk on our toes. From then on, our mothers were forced to add thicker padding to the tips of our shoes. Now, if a group of no-talents kids like us could accomplish that, how about a genius like the scaly boy, who, additionally, bore a deep-seated hatred toward these people. He practiced his skills for vengeance; half the effort produced double the results.
    You prattled on and on about kung-fu novels, but I haven’t read a single one, and have no idea who Jin Yong or Gu Long are. I work only on serious literature in the style of Gorki and Lu Xun; strictly following the one and only true method of ‘combining revolutionary realism with revolutionary romanticism,’ I have not taken a single wayward step, not once. I would never do anything that required me to sacrifice principle in order to please a few readers. On the other hand, since even a serious novelist like yourself has fallen under the spell