Chapter 9 Huai Luxun

What a thunderbolt on a sunny day, at the banquet in Nantai, I suddenly heard Lu Xun's death! After sending a few telegrams and gathering my luggage overnight, I hurried on a ship bound for Shanghai the next day. At ten o'clock in the morning on the 22nd, the boat docked at home, took a bath at home, swallowed two mouthfuls of food, and ran to the Wanguo Funeral Home on Jiaozhou Road. All I met were sincere faces, warm faces, sad and angry faces, and tens of thousands of people. The hearts and lungs and clenched fists of young men and women who are about to burst. This is not an ordinary mourning event, nor is it a gloomy sorrow. It is just like the momentary silence that fills the space between heaven and earth when a major earthquake is coming or dawn is approaching.

Life and death, body, soul, tears, lamentation, these problems and feelings seem too insignificant here. On the other side of Lu Xun's death, there is still a greater and more violent light shining. A nation without great figures is the most pitiful group of creatures in the world; a country that has great figures but does not know how to support, love, and admire is a slave state without hope.Because of Lu Xun's death, people realized that the nation can still do something, and because of Lu Xun's death, people saw that China is still a semi-desperate country with a strong sense of slavery.

Lu Xun's coffin was buried in the shallow soil in the dark night; but a reddish crescent moon appeared in the corner of Xitian. October 24, 1936 in Shanghai