British writer

Sweden,

stockholm,

Swedish Academy.

The permanent secretary, Carl David Ave Wilson, was sitting behind his desk in the round table meeting room, looking at the list in front of him, feeling overwhelmed.

On the list, each name is blacked out or crossed out with a solid line.

I don't know how long,

"Huh~"

Wilson let out a sigh of relief.

grass!

He couldn't help cursing in his heart.

Too many people rejected the Nobel Prize for Literature. Even Tagore, who was far away in India, sent a telegram, saying that he would advance and retreat with the University of London Union.

Wilson thumped the table violently.

"Why!?"

The list on the table was shaken to the ground.

At this moment, Hans Ludwig Fussel, the first chair of the Faculty of Letters, walked around from behind,

He held a cup of steaming hot drink in each hand, put one of the cups on the table, then bent down to pick up the list, blow off the dust on it, and return it to its original place.

Wilson looked back,

"How did you come?"

Fussell pointed to the drink on the table and said in a low voice, "Have a drink."

Wilson sniffed slightly,

"coffee?"

Fussell nodded,

"Well, coffee is much more refreshing than Englishman's black tea."

During this time, the Swedish Academy has begun to consciously "boycott" British products.

Wilson picked up the cup,

He subconsciously observes himself reflected in the wall of the ceramic cup,

His face was very pale, and his eyes were covered with dark red bloodshot eyes, as if he had just entered primitive society from human society.

Fussell asked, "How long has it been since you closed your eyes?"

Wilson stared at the cup,

stare--

With sunken eye sockets and protruding eye sockets, it looks like a walking dead.

"Gudu~"

Fussell swallowed involuntarily,

He cautiously stretched out his right hand, moved it up and down in front of his friend's eyes, and called softly, "Carl?"

Wilson suddenly came back to his senses, put down the cup, and muttered inexplicably, "Manchester City."

Fussell was stunned,

"ah?"

Wilson pointed to the cup,

"This cup is imported from Manchester City."

"puff!"

Fussell spat out a mouthful of old blood on the spot,

Although every effort has been made to avoid the appearance of British goods, the result is still unpredictable.

Wilson smiled bitterly and said, "Forget it, it doesn't matter anymore. Anyway, for the current Europeans, it is never possible to get rid of British manufacturing."

At the beginning of the 20th century, British manufacturing could indeed radiate the world,

This is very similar to modern China.

Wilson took a sip of coffee, with a helpless face,

"The coffee beans are probably also from England..."

Fussell coughed lightly,

"Don't think too much about it."

Wilson stood up and stretched, then walked to the bed, opened the curtains,

The dim light of the setting sun shone into the house.

The population of Northern Europe is not large. Even in the big city of Stockholm, only a few pedestrians can be seen hurrying across the road.

Fussell said, "Have you heard? Lu Shi and George Bernard Shaw went to France for an exchange."

Hearing the name Lu Shi, Wilson suddenly clenched his fists.

He said, "What?"

Fussell said dejectedly: "I don't know if those French people will come up with some disgusting tricks again. I'm worried... Forget it, it's useless to worry."

indeed,

Worrying is useless.

Wilson took another glum gulp of his coffee.

Fussell asked as if remembering something: "When I entered the room just now, I heard you yelling 'Why!?', why what?"

Wilson looked at the table.

Fussell followed his gaze and looked over,

"A telegram? A telegram from Derry?"

He leaned over to read the content, only to find out that Tagore had rejected the invitation for the Nobel Prize in Literature.

There was an eerie silence in the house,

"..."

"..."

"..."

After a long time, Wilson spoke again: "It's okay for those arrogant people in Western Europe to reject us. He is an Indian, why should he refuse? I really don't know what I am..."

The following words were not spoken.

But Fussell can guess well, it should be a word like "goods".

He opened his mouth, wanting to comfort his colleagues,

As a result, the words turned into: "It's Lu Shi who caused the trouble."

Wilson then fell silent.

At this moment, the clerk's voice suddenly came from outside the door: "Mr. Wilson, something is wrong... something is wrong!"

Wilson and Fussell exchanged glances and sighed deeply at the same time.

Fossell went over and opened the door,

"Who is this time?"

Wilson on the other side has already picked up the list and a pen, ready to cross out the names he heard.

The clerk was out of breath from running, and said while panting: "Gentlemen, it is... huh... It is M. Audner who sent a telegram from Paris."

Wilson mechanically scanned the list, muttering to himself:

"Ordner... Ordner..."

Already numb.

Fortunately, Fussell is a normal person,

He quickly walked over and grabbed Wilson's shoulders, shook violently, and shouted, "Carl!"

Wilson looked up.

"What... what?"

Fussell raised the volume,

"Brother, can you wake up a little bit? Hey! That's a telegram from Klass."

Wilson was stunned for another half a second before he could react.

He shuddered,

"A telegram from Klaas from Paris?"

Fussell nodded,

"right."

Wilson couldn't help asking again: "Did you just say that Lu Shi and Bernard Shaw are visiting Paris?"

Fussell: "..."

His face became extremely ugly.

Now, the entire Swedish Academy has turned pale when talking about Lu.

Wilson quickly rushed to the gate, snatched the telegram from the clerk, glanced at it, and his right hand couldn't help shaking.

The telegram followed.

"What's wrong?" Forsyll asked.

Wilson replied: "The literary award...the French actually want to host the literary award themselves. Moreover, it was proposed by Verne and Poincaré together. Also, Lu Shi was also present."

Sure enough, it was Lu Shi again! ?

The muscles in Forsyll's cheeks twitched wildly.

The Swedish Academy of Letters tried every means to attract traffic,

In the end, they actually made wedding dresses for others, and let the French Academy of Letters pick up ready-made ones, and made a lot of money.

Wilson looked at Fussell,

"What should we do now?"

What else can I do?

Fussell took a deep breath and said, "Everything has fallen on Mr. Tolstoy. Now, we must nominate him."

Wilson's expression couldn't help but twist,

"But, before we..."

They vetoed Tolstoy, and they still used high-sounding reasons:

Tolstoy's current works are full of anarchism and fatalism, and Nobel's will stipulates that the winner of the literary prize must "create the best works with ideal tendencies".

This is undoubtedly very far-fetched.

Tolstoy naturally understood this reason, so he also said that "War and Peace" is an "old-fashioned game\

,"So modest is the next step to the Swedish Academy.

Now it would be embarrassing for the Swedish Academy to go back and beg Tolstoy.

Fossell spread his hands,

"Is there any other method?"

Wilson looked embarrassed, and muttered, "It seems...it seems...probably...maybe there is really no other way."

"Let me draft the cable," said Fussell.

He picked up a pencil and wrote on the paper:

——

Mr. Tolstoy is undoubtedly one of the greatest writers of the last century,

In his works, in addition to ruthless criticism of reality, he also earnestly advocates the views of repentance, soul salvation, asceticism, etc., and advocates an ideal and fraternity that can be called "Tolstoyism".

...

Wilson was stunned by the side,

"Ideal and fraternity?"

While furiously writing, Fussell asked, "What? What's the problem?"

Wilson shook his head again and again,

"No, no problem. How could there be a problem? Mr. Tolstoy is the embodiment of ideals~ Besides him, who else is suitable for the Nobel Prize in Literature?"

Fussell nodded,

"Except for him, no one is suitable for the first Nobel Prize in Literature."

Wilson agreed with a firm face,

"Yes, no more!"

...

France,

Paris.

After more than three hours of performance, "Around the World in Eighty Days" finally came to an end.

Lu Shi and the others left the Paris Opera House with the crowd.

the sky has darkened,

The nightlife has just begun, and the lights on both sides of the Seine reflect on the steel body of the Eiffel Tower, which makes people look a bit afraid.

Singing and laughter came from the cafe on the river bank from time to time, very cheerful.

People around are discussing "Around the World in Eighty Days\

,""It's wonderful!"

"I also want to travel around the world like Mr. Fogg."

"First of all, you have to be rich; secondly, you have to be so lucky that you can always save yourself from danger."

...

Listening to people's discussions, several people looked at each other and smiled.

Lu Shi said: "The so-called good luck is just the halo of the protagonist~"

Verne chuckled,

"That word is really interesting."

The others followed suit and nodded,

Lu Shixin coined the term "the protagonist's halo", which is quite expressive.

As they chatted, they walked towards the banks of the Seine and walked along the banks in the evening spring breeze.

After a while, Roland spoke first,

"Mr. Verne just mentioned the Jules Verne Award?"

When Verne came up with this idea, the others were not asking in depth,

The reason is simple, they all doubt whether Verne is serious.

Bernard Shaw was also very surprised, and said: "Mr. Verne, as far as I know, the literature awards are generally awarded with... um... I don't mean to curse you, but it should be like Goncourt and Nobel Prize." situation."

Naming an award with a person's name has the meaning of commemoration and mourning.

The two literary awards, Goncourt and Nobel, were established only after the death of the namer, and the foundation established with the estate.

In addition, there is the Mao Dun Literature Award,

The award is sponsored by the Chinese Writers Association and established according to the will of Mr. Mao Dun to encourage the creation of excellent novels.

Another example is the Hugo Award and the Pulitzer Prize.

Verne looked serious,

"You heard me right, I do want to set up a literary award to encourage science fiction creation."

Poincaré was surprised,

"Sci-fi?"

He just thought it was a literary award of all themes, the orthodox one.

People don't know what to say.

In fact, the Jules Verne Award existed in history, but it was only from 1927 to 1932, and the prize money was not much, 5,000 francs, so Lu Shi didn't have much impression.

The reason why this award disappeared is because the award was for the best science fiction author,

At that time, science fiction was still a very small category,

It was not until the Hugo Awards and Nebula Awards that the situation improved.

What's more, the French always like to commit literary problems from time to time, which makes the candidates very few.

Poincaré chuckled lightly and said, "Jules, you really scared that old gentleman just now."

The corner of Verne's mouth raised an arc,

"Just to scare him."

Everyone couldn't help but looked at each other and laughed.

Poincaré asked: "Jules, why do you stick to science fiction works? With your achievements and status, it is definitely no problem to create a comprehensive award."

Verne waved his hand.

"No, I'm just a writer of popular novels, so I never considered a comprehensive award. It's inappropriate for me to award Mr. Xiao's "The Widower's Estate" or "Mrs. Warren's Career" .”

Bernard Shaw said: "You don't have to belittle yourself."

Verne stared back at him,

"I'm just humble."

The two writers are at loggerheads again.

Lu Shi coughed lightly, brought the topic back, and asked, "Then what's the reason?"

Verne took a deep breath and said, "There are actually many reasons. Professor Lu, I am not afraid of your jokes. The first reason is to take advantage of the first Nobel Prize in Literature to 'screw up'."

"Tsk..."

Lu Shi was slightly speechless.

Verne's operation reminded him of some kind of traffic trick in the fan circle of later generations.

He said: "The Swedish Academy sent us to fight. How can we not fight?"

The rest of the people were taken aback for a moment, then burst out laughing.

Bernard Shaw said: "I have long said that Lu is not a typical Chinese."

Verne took up the conversation,

"The second reason is to develop science fiction."

Everyone understands.

In some cases, the award is equivalent to a call for essays, which can encourage writers to devote themselves to the creation of a certain category.

Verne has written science fiction all his life, so he naturally hopes that science fiction can be carried forward.

He said, "Besides, I also have selfish motives in it."

If the Jules Verne Award can be successfully established and continues, Verne will definitely become a figure recorded in the history of literature, and he may be called the "father of science fiction".

Bernard Shaw felt the same way,

"I can understand."

The two characters of name and profit,

Since the profit is already enough, and the manuscript fee can't be spent in several lifetimes, then the next thing I want is nothing more than fame.

Lu Shi asked, "Is there a third reason?"

Verne nodded, the expression on his face became very sincere,

He looked at Lu Shi enthusiastically,

"The third reason is that I want to see the possibilities of science fiction."

Anyone can see the fanaticism in Verne's eyes.

Roland asked, "Possibility of science fiction?"

Verne nodded,

"Yes, all possibilities. After talking so much with Professor Lu, I realized that I was just a frog at the bottom of a well. It turns out that science fiction can have so many branches. I want to see how towering these branches will grow into. big tree."

This is the purest wish of a writer, a writer.

No one can refute it.

After a while, George Bernard Shaw said: "Sometimes, I often think how lucky I am to see such cross-generational dramas as "Yes! Prime Minister" and "Roman Holiday."

Verne solemnly,

"You really understand me."

Bernard Shaw nodded first, then shook his head,

"But the problem is that it's hard to achieve your wish. It's like people who haven't watched "Yes! The Prime Minister" absolutely don't realize that drama can be created like that. Although science fiction has so many categories as Lu said, but in With no precedent, who can write a work corresponding to it?"

This question is difficult to answer,

But also easy to answer.

Poincaré, Verne, and Roland suddenly looked at Lu Shi at the same time,

Stare—×3

The sight is sharp.

Verne said: "Professor Lu, since you are here for an exchange at the Collège de France, can we ask you for a manuscript?"

Lu Shi: "Ah, this..."

Poincaré also persuaded: "Does Professor Lu want to reject us? You are the embodiment of ideal~"